"With a sauterne, of course."

"Goes without saying. Okay-"

"Will you and your wife be joining us for lunch?"

"No, we have to be at a chipmunk race. Thanks for-"

"Well, I must pack for you a picnic lunch. When are you leaving?"

"Twenty minutes. Don't bother-"

"I insist. You will find a picnic hamper in your car." He extended his hand, we shook, and he said, "We may have our differences, but we can remain amis. Yes?"

Well, jeez, I was really feeling bad now about my anti-French attitude, so I said, "Together, we can kick some Iraqi ass. Right?"

Henry wasn't sure about that, but he smiled. "Perhaps."

"Can do. See you later."

As I made my way out of the kitchen, I heard Henry barking orders for a picnic lunch. Hold the snails, Henry.

I got back to the room and said to Kate, who was in front of the vanity fussing with makeup, "We have to move fast. State police H.Q. at eight."

"Breakfast is on the table. What did Major Schaeffer say?"

"I'll tell you on the way. Where's your briefcase?"

"Under the bed."

I reached under the bed, pulled out her briefcase, and began flipping through the stack of Enterprise rental agreements as I stood at the table and uncovered the basket of hot biscuits.

"What are you looking for?"

"Butter."

"John-"

"Ah, here it is."

"What?"

"The Enterprise rental agreement with the plate number of the car we saw at the Custer Hill Club." I put the agreement on the table and buttered a biscuit.

"Who rented the car?"

"This may be interesting ..."

"What?"

"This guy's name. It's Russian. Mikhail Putyov."

She thought about that. "Doesn't sound like a member of the club to me."

"Me, neither. Maybe Madox invites old Cold War enemies to the club to reminisce." Still standing, I dug into the omelet and asked Kate, "Do you want breakfast, or do you want to keep painting?"

No reply.

"We have to get going."

No reply.

"Sweetheart, can I bring you your juice, coffee, and a piece of toast?"

"Yes, please."

I'm not that well trained yet, but I'm learning. I brought her juice, buttered toast, and coffee to the vanity table and asked, "Do you have cell service?"

"No."

"I need to make another call from the kitchen."

"Who are you calling?"

"Someone who can get a make on this Russian guy."

"Call our office."

"I'd rather not."

She informed me, "We're already in trouble, John. You understand that, don't you?"

"Here's the way the world works. Information is power. If you give away your information, you give away your power to negotiate the trouble you're in."

"Here's the way my world works," Kate replied. "Stay out of trouble."

"I think it's too late for that, sweetheart."

CHAPTER THIRTY

Iwent back into the Great Hall, where about a dozen people, including Cindy and Sonny, were now scattered around the two tables having breakfast. Cindy smiled and waved. Sonny was looking for Kate.

I re-entered the kitchen, and the same kid was on the phone again, placing another order. I said to him, "Henry wants to see you. Now."