Wild Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Federal agent, and by law I have to carry my credentials and my piece. You shouldn’t put two and two together and come up with five. Understand?”
    Madox nodded. “I do. But put yourself in my position. And I’ll put myself in yours. I’m Federal Agent Harry Muller, and I’m listening to a man who tells me that all the circumstantial evidence I see in front of me—evidence of surveillance—can be explained as bird-watching. So, do I let you go? Or do I demand a more logical and truthful explanation? What would
you
do in my position?”
    “Sorry, I can’t hear you over your loud shirt.”
    Mr. Madox smiled, then opened the Sibley guide, put on his eyeglasses, and selected a page. He asked Harry, “Where are you most likely to encounter a loon, Mr. Muller?”
    “Near a lake.”
    “That was too easy.” He flipped a few pages. “What is the color of a cerulean warbler?”
    “Brown.”
    Mr. Madox shook his head. “No, no, Mr. Muller. Cerulean
means
blue. Sky blue. One more. Two out of three is passing.” He flipped through the book again. “What color is the male—?”
    “Hey, take that book, put a coat of K-Y jelly on it, and shove it up your ass.”
    Mr. Madox closed the guide and threw it aside. He turned to his computer screen. “Here are your digital photos. I don’t see any birds in them. I see, however, that you seem interested in one of my utility poles . . . and let’s see . . . here’s a telescopic shot of the tower behind my lodge . . . close-ups of my lodge . . . ah, there’s a bird perched on my roof. What is that?”
    “A shit-seeking hawk.”
    Madox picked up the Handycam, switched it to Replay, and looked through the viewfinder. “Here’s the pole again . . . you noticed the plastic boughs, I assume . . . here’s the lodge again . . . nice views from where you were standing . . . that bird is flying away. What was that? Looks like a great blue heron, but he should have migrated south by now. It’s been unusually warm this fall. Global warming, if you believe that crap.” He put down the camcorder and asked, “Do you know what the solution is to global warming? No? I’ll tell you. Nuclear winter.” He laughed. “Old joke.”
    Madox sat back in his chair and lit another cigarette. He blew perfect smoke rings and watched them as they rose and dissolved. “That’s a lost art.”
    Harry Muller glanced around the room as Bain Madox practiced his lost art. He could hear the breathing of the two men behind him as he shifted his gaze to a wall that was covered with framed certificates of some sort. Harry thought that if he could get a handle on who this guy was, it might be helpful.
    Madox noticed Harry’s gaze and said, “The one on the top left is my certificate for the Silver Star. Next to it is the certificate for the Bronze Star, then the Purple Heart. Then there’s my commission as a second lieutenant in the United States Army. Next row are the usual service medals, including the Vietnam Campaign Medal and a Presidential Unit Citation. I served in the Seventh Cavalry Regiment of the First Air Cavalry Division. The Seventh Cav was General Custer’s old unit. That’s part of the reason for the name of this club. I might tell you the other part later, but if I do, then I’ll have to kill you.” He laughed. “Just joking. Hey,
smile
. Just joking.”
    Harry forced a smile.
Asshole.
    “The last row is the Combat Infantry Badge, my Expert Rifleman Badge, my Jungle Training School diploma, and, finally, my Army discharge. I left the service after eight years with the rank of lieutenant colonel. We made rank fast in those days. Lots of dead officers opened up the promotion list. Did you serve?”
    “No.” Harry decided to play along. “I was too young, then they ended the draft.”
    “Right. They should bring it back.”
    “Absolutely,” Harry said. “They should draft women, too. They want equal rights, they should have equal responsibilities.”
    “You’re absolutely