End Game
Page 33
“First time for the lady. I’ve driven Randall around before. And Mrs. Randall had her ‘designer’ come out and oversee the work. So I took the designer lady out too. She was nice. Nothing like her boss.”
“What do you think about the whole luxury bunker thing?”
“Hell, it’s their money. If they want to do it, more power to ’em. My take, though, is that if things are so bad they got to run off to some nuke-proof bunker, they’re going to be living there the rest of their lives because what happened up top has got to be way past fixing, right?”
“One would think.”
Page had raised his hand for another beer when Reel thought of it.
“What do you mean you’ve driven Randall around before? I thought that was the first time they’ve been to the bunker.”
“It was, at least as far as I know.”
“So where else did you take him?”
“Oh, that. Well, he would jet in to another private strip about an hour from here. I’d pick him up and take him to a cabin. Sometimes he’d have some buddies with him.”
“Where exactly is the cabin?”
“I got it on the GPS in my limo. Bluff Point Road. It’s pretty far as the crow flies.”
“What did they fly in to do?”
“Don’t know. Not my place to ask. Then a couple days later I’d take ’em back to the jet.”
“A couple of days? What could they do in a couple of days?”
“Beats me.”
“How many times did you do this?”
“Maybe a half dozen. Maybe more.”
“Did they bring anything with them?”
“Some duffels. Maybe they were fishing.”
“He didn’t strike me as the fishing type.”
“Don’t know what to tell you.”
“These buddies? What were they like?”
He grinned at her. “Hey, now, why the third degree?”
“I’m here trying to find someone. And Randall is an asshole. Wouldn’t it be great if I could pin something on him?”
Page’s eyes lighted up. “Damn, wouldn’t it?”
“So the other guys?”
Page thought about this for a moment. “They weren’t like him. I mean he’s a big, strong guy but he’s soft too. I mean you can just tell. Punch him in the nose and he’ll go crying to his momma. These guys, well, they were serious dudes, if you get my drift. They didn’t talk much. But I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of them either. I’m not even sure they were American.” He glanced at her again. “Why, you really think Randall is up to something?”
“If he is, I’ll be sure to send him your best right after I bust him.”
Page lifted his glass. “Amen to that.”
Reel walked out.
Chapter
53
CHICKEN.
As a teenager Robie had played the game on the narrow back roads of coastal Mississippi.
As a man he had played the same game on five continents.
He was about to do it again. But in a slightly different way.
As a teenager he had used a car when playing the game.
As a man he had used mostly guns as his weapon of choice when doing so.
Tonight, he would use both.
As another shot rang out and missed his vehicle completely, Robie looked down at his speedometer. He was clocking seventy. He punched the gas and clicked that quickly up to ninety. Then he was at triple digits.
He checked his rearview.
The car had mirrored his acceleration.
Robie pushed the gas down even more.
One-ten came and went.
The truck had a monster V-8 power plant, but it was not designed to go that fast on slicked roads.
Robie knew this. And he also knew he was going to push it even more.
He clicked up to one-fifteen. There wasn’t much room for the speedometer arrow to go farther.
The car behind him did the same. And they were no longer shooting at him. No doubt they were too busy white-knuckling their seats while going this fast in a storm.
Robie made sure his seat belt was secure. He checked the mirror one more time.
Then he crushed the brakes.
Smoke blew out from the rear tires as he laid rubber down the road.
He kept his hands firmly on the wheel. When the truck started to shake and edge to the right, he guided it back to the center with slight maneuvers of the wheel.
He didn’t brace himself.
He relaxed.
He looked in the mirror.
The car had gone out of control as it sharply decelerated. It had turned to the left, but its forward momentum was carrying it right toward the truck.
Three…two…one.
Robie smoothly steered the truck to the left, and the out-of-control car flew past him on the right. He could see the panicked faces of the three men inside as it sailed by. And then it rolled twice before coming to rest back on its wheels.
Robie slowed, then stopped and slammed the truck into park. He ripped off the seat belt and came out of the truck charging forward with his pistol aimed directly at the driver. Robie’s laser sight was on the man’s chest.
The second man was in the passenger seat, and the third in the rear. They all looked knocked out amid a sea of deployed air bags.
As he approached, Robie recognized one of them in the illumination of his truck lights.
He’d seen him at Dolph’s compound.
He hoped one of them was still alive. He needed information.
Robie pulled open the driver’s door, pushed aside the air bag, and checked the man’s pulse.
Dead.
He pulled open the rear door and did the same to the man slumped over there.
He had a pulse.
Robie slapped him in the face. The man groaned. Robie slapped him even harder.
The man’s eyes slowly opened.
Robie gripped the man’s chin and pointed it upward so he was looking directly at Robie.
“Where is Dolph?” he asked.
The man’s head listed to one side. Robie pulled him back up straight.
“Dolph!”
The man shook his head.
In the front passenger seat the man there stirred and caught sight of Robie in the rearview. His hand slowly went down to his gun.
“Dolph!” said Robie again.
“I…I don’t…”
Robie shook the other man. “Where is Dolph?”
“Bu-bunk…”
“In the bunker? In Lambert’s bunker?”
“G-God, I’m h-hurting s-so bad.”
“Answer my question and I’ll end your pain right here and now.”
The man didn’t answer and Robie shook him again.
The man in the front seat edged his pistol over the vinyl and fired.
The round hit the other man in the forehead.
Without missing a beat Robie pointed his gun to the side and peeled off a shot, hitting the shooter in the hand. He screamed and dropped his gun.
Robie let go of the dead man and pointed his gun at his colleague, who was whimpering in the front seat while holding his wounded hand. Robie placed the muzzle of his pistol against the man’s left temple.
“You got three seconds to tell me where Dolph is.”
“Fuck you!”
“Two seconds.”
“I don’t know.”
“One second.”
The man screamed, “The silo! He’s in the damn silo.”
“Lambert’s?”
The man’s hand flew to his fallen gun.
Robie fired before he could even pick it up.
He looked around the car’s interior. Three fewer hate-filled assholes in the world. Nothing wrong with that.
But Dolph in the bunker? What was that about? Did that mean that Roark Lambert was somehow working with Dolph? That didn’t make sense, at least with what Robie knew about Lambert. But the fact was, he didn’t know that much
about the man.
He walked back to his truck and pulled out his phone.
She answered on the third ring.
It was Malloy.
“I thought you were still here,” she said groggily.
In clipped sentences he said what he needed to say.
He could envision her sitting up naked in bed and struggling to come to grips with what he had just said: shots, a chase, three men dead.
He had not told her what the man had said about the silo. Right now he didn’t trust anybody in this damn place.
“Are…are you serious?” she stammered.
“Serious as shit. You want to get out here, or you want to call in Bender?”
“I’m getting dressed. And I’m calling him. You stay right there.”
“No, I’ve got places to go.”
He clicked off before she had a chance to respond.
He set out flares so no one coming along here would slam into the car, which was still partially on the road.
He climbed back into his truck and drove off in the direction of the silo.
Chapter
54
REEL HAD HOT-WIRED the old limo’s engine and was now twenty minutes outside of town. Tommy Page would surely be pissed when he got outside only to find his ride gone, but she figured he was probably too drunk to drive anyway.
His portable GPS was on a carrier suction-cupped to the dashboard. She had punched “previous destinations” and the address for the cabin on Bluff Point Road had popped up. She’d clicked on it, and the device was telling her she had about another twenty minutes of driving to get to it.
The rain had picked up again as she drove along. The sky was so overcast that not a single star was visible. The land was flat for as far as her headlights would show. If there had been sand outside instead of dirt, Reel could have believed she was in the Middle East.
Right now she didn’t know which was more dangerous, Iraq or eastern Colorado.
Next, her thoughts, despite her best efforts, turned to Robie.
She was sure that he had gone off to see Malloy tonight. And Reel also was certain that she had driven him to do that. In fact, her words had practically demanded that he do so.
And why had she said to him what she had?
Part of her didn’t know.
Part of her thought she did, but the confidence level was ebbing.
She blinked, and with a swipe of the windshield wipers her mind also skipped to another train of thought. She was entering Robie’s apartment while he was gone and placing the note on his bed. She had gotten a week’s leave from the Middle East deployment. And she had flown directly back to the United States mainly to do what she had, after confirming that Robie was out of the country on assignment.
Essentially, fearless Jessica Reel didn’t have the courage to face the man over it.
But it had been six months since Mississippi, and she had returned none of his calls, none of his texts or e-mails. She had purposely avoided him at every turn, until he had simply given up.
She had volunteered for the most dangerous duty she could think of, and it had very nearly ended up killing her.
And for what reason?
What was the end game here?
You were always supposed to have one. You never started a mission without a concrete goal firmly in mind.
But Will Robie and I are not like a mission. We’re not even close to it. We’re something “else” that maybe neither one of us is prepared for.
Which was why she had written the note that she had.
It’s complicated.
No shit.
So she had taken sniping in Iraq over trying to find common ground with the only man she had ever felt anything for.
Sniping was easy. Sniping was something she knew how to do, excelled at. She feared nothing when she was behind the scope and trigger.
But this other stuff?
I’m clueless. And it scares the hell out of me.
With another whisk of the wipers, her mind returned to where she was going tonight. The minutes ticked by and she finally saw the bent signpost for Bluff Point Road.
She turned down the road, after cutting her lights.
According to Page, the Randalls had flown out to their Hampton digs. But that didn’t mean that the other guys with him on these “other” trips weren’t still in residence.
She passed four dark and what appeared to be empty structures.
The cabin was up ahead. She came to a rolling stop and looked over the place. It was dark, but that meant nothing. It was late and those inside might be asleep.
She got out, made sure she had a round chambered, and checked her ankle holster for her backup.
A Ka-Bar knife rode in a sheath on her right hip.
Serious dudes was how Page had described Randall’s companions. She wondered what serious dudes were doing around here with the rich, spoiled brat. She didn’t think fishing was foremost on their to-do list. So what then?
They had found no connection between Randall and the prisoners in a van. But she didn’t know they weren’t connected, either. And she had to believe that if they found out the truth behind the prisoners, they would find out what had happened to Blue Man.
She moved forward, keeping low and staying in one place only long enough to check for any signs of activity from within the cabin.
Ignoring the front door, she went around to the back. There were no vehicles parked at the place, but that could also mean nothing.
She reached the back door, and after listening for a bit she took out