End Game

by David Baldacci

  “We can have the Agency try to track her down,” suggested Robie. He got on his phone and relayed the woman’s personal information, description, and what vehicle she might be driving.

  “Long shot,” said Reel, peering around until her gaze was riveted on something on the bureau.

  She picked up the pack of cards. “Drango said the night she was expecting to meet Lamarre she was doing some casino work at a birthday party in Denver.”

  “That’s right. Some rich a-hole, she said.”

  “Roark Lambert lives in Denver. And I guess he qualifies as rich. And he’s as capable of being an a-hole as the next person. Maybe she worked the party at his house.” She paused. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s worth checking out,” replied Robie. “But how do we do that?”

  “She must work for some company that does stuff like that. We’ll need to get the name somehow. Maybe Malloy or Bender would know. Small town where everybody knows everybody else’s business.”

  “So maybe we can find out whether Lambert had a birthday party in Denver recently.”

  “Well, we can certainly find out when his birthday is.”

  Robie pulled out his phone and did a search. He read through some screens. “Okay, this is him and they have his bio.” He read down the screen. “And his birthday was…five months ago.”

  “Shit, there goes that theory.”

  Robie was looking at a pile of papers on the bureau next to where the pack of cards had been.

  He started going through them.

  After about a minute he held one up. “Colorado Casino Fun and Games. Located in Denver. Looks like a notice they sent out to her. It has the company’s phone number.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  Robie called the number and a person answered on the second ring. “I was trying to locate one of your employees, Beverly Drango,” he said.

  The woman on the line said, “Beverly’s not an employee. She’s an independent contractor.”

  “Oh, sorry. I just arrived here in Colorado and was looking her up. I know she worked a party in Denver about a week ago.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “I’m a friend of hers. We grew up together before I left the area. We were supposed to get together when I came back for a visit. But she didn’t show up. Have you heard from her?”

  “No. But she’s supposed to work a job for us tomorrow night.”

  “Well, I’m at her house right now and it looks like she’s gone. I was worried about her and then found your number with some of her papers.”

  “Do you think something happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. I do know that she phoned me recently and said something weird had happened at the party she was working in Denver.”

  “Weird how?” the woman said sharply.

  “That’s just the thing. She wouldn’t tell me, but she said it had left a bad impression on her mind. Do you have any idea what she might be talking about?”

  “No, she never reported anything like that to us.”

  “Do you know where the party was held? She said it was a birthday party.”

  The woman said, “It was at a hotel. I can’t provide the details of who it was for. That’s a client confidence. If you think something has happened to Beverly you should call the police. And I should find a replacement for her for tomorrow night.”

  “The police will at least want to know which hotel,” Robie persisted. “It might be connected to whatever’s happened to her.”

  “I told you that—”

  “The name of the person might be confidential, but surely the venue can’t be. Not if it’s a public place like a hotel. I’m not asking for someone’s private address.”

  He heard the woman sigh. “Okay, it was the Lancaster. It’s a new luxury hotel downtown.”

  “The Lancaster Hotel. Thank you very much.”

  “I hope Beverly is okay.”

  “Me too.” Robie clicked off and looked at Reel.

  She said, “I guess we’re going to Denver.”

  Chapter

  46

  THE LANCASTER WAS a ten-story hotel with a granite hide and a long green awning out front, guarded by a liveried doorman in a top hat. Robie and Reel parked in the underground garage and took an elevator to the main lobby.

  It was large, and meticulously designed and decorated. The men and women traversing the lobby looked far more affluent than the average citizen.

  “I wonder what rooms cost here?” asked Reel.

  “More than we can afford on a government per diem, that’s for damn sure,” replied Robie.

  They approached the front desk, where Robie showed his credentials.

  The young woman looked like she’d been jolted by electricity. “How can I help you?” she said nervously.

  “We understand there was a birthday party here about a week ago, complete with a casino theme?”

  “I don’t have personal knowledge of that.”

  Robie pointed at her computer. “Well, maybe that thing does.”

  “Should I get a manager?”

  “Not if you can hit the right keys on the computer. It’s a national security interest case,” he added.

  The woman gulped. “Do you mean terrorists?”

  “I can’t get into that, but it’s really important that we know about this party.”

  She clicked some keys and said, “Okay, that’s right. Eight days ago there was a casino-themed birthday party in the main ballroom.”

  “Can you tell us who threw the party?” asked Reel.

  The woman clicked some more keys. “It appears that a Roark Lambert paid for it.”

  “But his birthday was five months ago,” said Robie.

  “I don’t know about that. But he clearly paid for the party.”

  “Do you know the name of the person who the party was for?” asked Reel.

  “That’s not on this information sheet.”

  “Is there another way to look it up?” persisted Reel.

  “I’m not sure what a birthday party has to do with national security,” the woman said suspiciously.

  “Do you at least have someone here who worked the party that we can talk to?”

  The woman scanned the screen. “I think Jerry, one of the waiters, is in today. He was working the party.” She picked up a phone, dialed a number, and spoke into it.

  After a few moments she put down the phone and said, “He’ll be here in a minute or so.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Robie.

  They moved off to a corner of the lobby.

  Reel said, “Something is bugging me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something someone said to us.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to think of.”

  As a young man dressed in a hotel uniform came out from a back hall and looked around curiously, Reel said, “Got it.”

  “What?”

  She hurried over to the young man. “Are you Jerry?” she asked, as Robie joined her.

  He nodded. “This is about some party I worked here?”

  Reel said, “Was it a birthday party for someone named Randall?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Scott Randall. Some really rich guy. Got a supermodel wife. It was a really wild party.”

  “Did you see any of the casino folks that were hired to work the party?”

  “Yeah. I met a couple of them. A guy named Barry and a woman. I don’t really remember her name.”

  “Beverly Drango?” suggested Reel.

  He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. She had a name clip with Beverly on it. She worked the craps table.”

  “Did you see her interact much with Randall? Or the guy who threw the party, Roark Lambert?”

  “Not really. It was pretty crazy. Lots of people and I was hustling drinks all night. It was free booze courtesy of the host. And there were a lot of really good-looking women. I th
ink they might have been like, you know, escorts or something that were hired to attend. Some of the guys were getting really looped and copping feels all over the place. But the ladies didn’t seem to mind, which is why I think they were paid to be here. And some of the guys left with some of those women and went upstairs. For dessert, I guess,” he added with a grin.

  “Anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?” asked Robie.

  “Not really. Just lots of money, lots of booze, and people having a good time. I remember thinking that there’d be a lot of guys who’d want to be Scott Randall. He’s not that much older than me. Money, gorgeous wife. I heard somebody say he played college football. He’s a big, strong guy. Good-looking. And somebody said he’s got his own jet.”

  “Makes you feel any better, he inherited it all from his dad.”

  “Damn, some people have all the luck.”

  “Yeah, well if I were you, I’d aim higher than Scott Randall,” said Reel before walking away.

  Barry looked at Robie. “What’d she mean by that? I don’t see any private jets or supermodels in my future.”

  “Are you an asshole?” asked Robie.

  “What? No, I mean, no, I’m not. I may not be rich but I’m a nice guy. Ask anybody.”

  “Then that’s what she means by aiming higher.”

  Robie caught up to Reel at the elevator banks. “How’d you figure Randall in this?” he asked.

  “I remembered what Lambert said to us. He told us that Randall had recently turned thirty-eight.”

  “That’s right. But why would Lambert foot the bill for the birthday party?”

  “Because Randall had just dropped four million on an apartment in the bunker. I guess the profit margin allowed Lambert to throw the guy a party.”

  “Never would have occurred to me. Guess that’s why I’m not a businessman.”

  “Guess so.”

  They rode the elevator down to their truck and drove out of the garage.

  Robie said, “So Drango worked a party thrown for Scott Randall and paid for by Roark Lambert. Which rich a-hole was she referring to?”

  “Maybe both.”

  “But how does that help us?”

  “It could be a coincidence that Drango worked that party. But if Lambert or Randall was involved with the people in the van, Drango might have overheard something at the party.”

  “But she said that Lamarre had already told her about the van.”

  “Right. So if she did hear something suspicious at the party she would have been able to tie it to the van because she knew about it.”

  “That makes sense.” He smiled. “You have the makings of a good detective.”

  She didn’t return the smile. “And my detective skills are telling me something is off with you and Malloy. And I’d like to know what it is.”

  Robie’s grin faded and he focused on his driving.

  Chapter

  47

  “YOU THINK BLUE Man found out about these prisoners in the van and then was taken?”

  Robie and Reel were in his hotel room staring at the laptop screen where DCI Rachel Cassidy was staring back at them. She looked tired, her eyes heavy and reddened and her posture reduced to a slouch. Behind her Robie thought he could see a glass with some amber liquid in it.

  If this job didn’t drive you to drink, no job could, he thought.

  “We think it’s possible, Director,” said Reel. “He was clearly investigating what had happened. And everyone else who was in that line of disclosure from Clément Lamarre has either disappeared or is dead, in the case of Holly Malloy.”

  “But she was killed by this Dolph person, for unrelated reasons,” pointed out Cassidy.

  “We’re not sure they’re unrelated. Dolph said he killed Luke Miller because he was disloyal and was trying to escape the neo-Nazi way of life. Holly was connected to Luke and knew that Dolph had killed him. So she had to die. But he could have been jacking us around. Which means he could also be connected to the prisoners in the van.”

  “You said you got some sat feedback from the Agency?” said Cassidy.

  Robie said, “They hacked into Roark Lambert’s satellite. But they could only follow the van’s path in the direction of the bunker before the sat turned away. We can’t prove that the van went there.”

  “Where else might it have been going?”

  “There’s really nothing else out there,” remarked Reel. “Just open land. We searched the immediate area and didn’t find anything helpful.”

  Cassidy sighed and sank farther back in her chair. “I don’t have to tell either of you that that is not good. We need Blue Man back. We can’t discount the possibility—in spite of whatever connection you think there is to the van—that his disappearance is tied to enemies of this country. He has a lot of institutional knowledge and there are ways to get even someone as tough as Blue Man to break.”

  “We’re aware of that, Director,” said Reel. “We’re doing all we can, and we have some fresh leads and we will follow them up as fast as we can.”

  “In the interests of full disclosure, there have been noises from the FBI,” said Cassidy, the bags under her eyes seeming to swell as she spoke. “They know things are not going well. My counterpart has suggested that perhaps assistance is in order. I do not want to go down that road yet. I’m counting on you two to get this done. Faster than your current pace! Or it will be out of my hands.”

  The screen went blank.

  Robie looked at Reel. “Well, that wasn’t particularly helpful.”

  “She looks like she’s about to crack under the strain.”

  “Cassidy is tough, but she’s new to the role and she doesn’t want a cock-up in her first few months in the job. Losing Blue Man would be catastrophic. Her detractors will be armchairing that all day long. Why he didn’t have security when he came out here, stuff like that.”

  “Scott Randall,” mused Reel. “If he’s involved somehow, I would be more than willing to cut his nuts off. After I strangle his wife,” she added.

  “Lambert threw him the birthday party probably as a thank-you for purchasing a doomsday condo. Beverly Drango worked the party, and then she comes home from it to find Lamarre has disappeared. Coincidence or not?”

  “Wait a minute, Robie. That’s what she told us. She’s the only one we have who can vouch for when he disappeared. What if he’d already been taken and she just fed us a lot of shit about the timing?”

  “Okay, now I know it’s how she earns extra money. But how likely is it she would be working a craps table at a birthday party for Scott Randall paid for by Lambert? Coincidence?”

  “Maybe she helped them somehow and her being there wasn’t a coincidence. And I can think of one reason why she might want to be in the same room with either or both men if she had helped them somehow.”

  “To get paid off for whatever it was that she did,” said Robie.

  Reel nodded. “You wouldn’t want any money trail to follow. But if she surreptitiously got paid off in cash while working at a birthday party? Who would be the wiser?”

  “But what would she have done for them?”