I left the operations office and got back in the car. I said to Kate, "There are two GOCO corporate jets that use this airport." I filled her in as I drove toward the airport exit and told her that we'd have to call the FAA office in Washington to find out what continuing flight plans had been filed for those two jets.

Kate asked me, "Why do we want to know that?"

"I don't know yet. This guy Madox interests me, and you never know what's important until you piece it together with something else. In detective work, there's no such thing as TMI-too much information."

"Should I be taking notes?"

"No, I'll give you one of my taped lectures that I gave at John Jay."

"Thank you."

At the airport exit, I asked Kate, "Did you get directions?"

"Sort of. The desk sergeant said take Route 3 west, to 56 north, then ask around."

"Real men don't ask directions." I asked, "Which way is Route 3?"

"Well, if you're asking, turn left."

Within a few minutes, we were on Route 3, designated a scenic highway, heading west into the wilderness. I said to Kate, "Keep an eye out for bears. Hey, do you think a 9mm Glock will stop a bear?"

"I don't think so, but I hope to God you get to find out."

"That's not very loving."

She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. "Every minute that goes by without word about Harry makes me think he's not alive."

I didn't reply.

She stayed silent awhile, then said, "It could have been you."

It could have been, but if it were me out in the woods around the Custer Hill Club, things may have turned out differently. Then again, maybe not.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

We continued west on Route 3, a road that seemed to have no reason to exist, except to look at trees while you went from nowhere to nowhere.

Kate had picked up a few brochures from the airport and was perusing them. She does this wherever we go so she can enhance her experience; then, she regurgitates this stuff back to me, like a tour guide.

She informed me that Saranac Lake, the town and the airport and this road, was actually within the boundaries of Adirondack State Park.

She also informed me that this area was known as the North Country, a name she found romantic.

I commented, "You could freeze to death here in April."

She went on, "Large parts of the park have been designated as forever wild."

"That's pretty depressing."

"The area designated as parkland is as big as the state of New Hampshire."

"What's New Hampshire?"

"Much of it is uninhabited."

"That's fairly obvious."

And so forth. Actually, I could see now how someone could be lost in here for days or weeks, or the rest of their lives, but I also realized that someone could survive if they had some experience in the woods.

Route 3 was actually a decent two-lane road that occasionally passed through a small town, but there were stretches of wilderness that aroused my agoraphobia and zoophobia. I could see why this guy Bain Madox would have a lodge up here if he were up to no good.

Kate said, "This is so beautiful."

"It is." It sucked.

There were yellow signs with black silhouettes of jumping deer, which I guess were to warn the deer to jump out of the way of cars on the road.

Around a turn was a big sign that had a black painting of a bear and the word CAUTION. I said, "Did you see that? Did you see that bear sign?"

"Yes. That means there are bears in the area."

"Holy shit. Are the doors locked?"

"John, stop being an idiot. Bears won't bother you if you don't bother them."

"Famous last words. How do you know what bothers a bear?"

"Stop with the fucking bears."

We continued on. There wasn't much traffic going our way, and only a few vehicles passed us going back toward Saranac Lake.

Kate said, "Tell me why we're going to the Custer Hill Club."

"Standard police procedure. You go to the place where you last heard from the missing subject."

"This is a little more complex than a missing-person case."

"Actually, it isn't. The problem with the FBI and the CIA is that they make things more complicated than they need to be."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes, it is."