"Coffee?"

"Black."

I got out of the car and went into the coffee shop, a local place, not a Starbucks, where I'd have to visit the ATM machine first.

I ordered two black from the spaced-out young lady behind the counter, and while she was mentally struggling with my request, I noticed a rack of pamphlets and free guides near the door. I plucked a bunch of them out of the rack and shoved them in my pockets.

The space cadet behind the counter was trying to figure out what size lid to use, and I said to her, "I need to make a local call. Can I use your cell phone?"

"Uh ... ?"

The coffee came to a buck-fifty, and I gave her a five and said, "Keep the change for the phone call."

She handed me her cell phone, and I dialed The Point.

Jim answered, "The Point. How can I help you?"

"This is Mr. Corey. Any messages for me or my wife?"

"Good morning, Mr. Corey. Are you enjoying your stay with us?"

"Hey, Jim, I have to tell you, this is the best twelve hundred bucks a night I ever spent, and that includes the showgirls in Vegas."

Jim was momentarily speechless, then said, "I have two messages for you. Both from Mr. Griffith. He'd like you to call him." He gave me Mr. Griffith's number and asked, "Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?"

"Do you think I'd miss Henry's woodcock? Do me a favor and call Sonny, and remind him that he was going to loan me a jacket and tie. Okay?"

"Yes, sir, that would be Mr. DeMott in the Lookout."

"Right. Deliver the clothes to my room. Okay, see you at cocktails. Henry's doing pigs-in-the-blanket."

"I've heard."

I hung up and handed the cell phone back to Ms. Spacey, who I think thought it was a gift. At least I didn't have to worry about her remembering any of this if the Feds came around making inquiries.

I left the coffee shop, and out on the sidewalk, I had two thoughts. One was that I should stop being reckless and egotistical, and think of Kate's career, and go see Griffith and spill everything to him, including "MAD," "NUK," and "ELF," with the hope that the FBI could figure out what Madox was up to before it was too late.

The other was that I shouldn't do any of those things. And the reason for that was that this case was very strange, and I didn't trust anyone anymore. Except, of course, Kate, who was, in no particular order, my wife, my partner, my lawyer, my immediate supervisor, and an FBI agent.

And although I trusted her, with Kate, you never knew who was going to show up.

I was betting on wife and partner.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Igot back in the car and handed Kate her coffee and the stack of local travel guides and pamphlets. "We need a place to stay, and not in Potsdam."

"Maybe we should go to Canada and ask for asylum."

"I'm glad you're maintaining your sense of humor."

"That wasn't a joke."

I sipped my coffee as I drove through downtown Potsdam, and Kate flipped through the printed material. I told her about my call to The Point. "Very soon, Griffith will ask the state and local police to begin a missing-persons search for us, if he hasn't already. But I think we can keep ahead of him."

Kate seemed not to hear me and studied the local literature. "This might be a good place to buy a house. Median house value is $66,400."

"I'm just looking for a place to rent for the night, darling."

"Median household income is only $30,782 a year. How much is your three-quarter tax-free disability?"

"Sweetheart, find a place to stay."

"Okay ..." She flipped through some brochures and said, "Here's a nice-looking B and B-"

"No B and Bs."

"It looks cute. And it looks isolated, if that's what we're after."

"We are."

"It's on twenty-two acres of what used to be the St. Lawrence University riding stables." She read, "'It offers the privacy of a classic country estate.'"

"How much is this classic country estate?"

"Sixty-five dollars a night. But you can get a cottage for seventy-five."

"That's what we were paying at The Point for an hour."

"Still paying."

"Right. Which way?"

She glanced at the brochure and said, "We need to take U.S. Route 11."

I was beginning my second circuit of downtown Potsdam and knew the place well by now. I drove to an intersection with lots of road markers, and soon we were on Route 11, heading out of town.

I said, "I knew guys on the Fugitive Squad who said that fugitives always seem to be having fun evading capture. It's like, a real high, using your wits, being on the road-"

"I am not having fun. Are you?"

"Well ... yeah. It's a game. Games are fun."

She didn't comment on that and said, "This B and B is about ten miles from here, outside of Canton."