Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

“She’s very responsible with her weapons,” said Claire defensively. “Now, that’s one side of the equation. The other side is being out in the middle of nowhere attracts some folks who want to live off the radar. And not be, well, constrained by societal norms.”

“What exactly are we talking about?” asked Robie.

“We’ve got some skinheads and white supremacists, though some would say I’m repeating myself. But they more or less keep to themselves.”

“Okay,” said Robie. “What else?”

“Well, we’ve got others who practice their own type of religion. If you want to call it that.”

“What do you call it?”

“You remember the Branch Davidians in Waco? Well, that’s what I would call it. They’ve got their own compound and everything.”

“So why wouldn’t your son and the sheriff tell us about them?”

“Practical reasons. There’re two of them and a whole lot more of the others. Nobody wants a riot. Nobody wants those awful people to take over the town. So it’s an uneasy peace, I’d guess you’d say.”

“You still have the state police if things go sideways,” said Reel.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think the state police want to mess with it, either. Colorado is a big state and there aren’t that many cops to go around, really, especially in a place like Grand.”

“Sounds like a bomb waiting to go off,” said Reel.

“You could say that about a lot of places,” Claire retorted.

“Did Walton know about all of them being here?”

“Oh sure. You come here often enough, they’re pretty hard to miss.”

“Did he ever have any run-ins with them?” asked Reel. “Because he’s not the sort of person who would turn a blind eye if they did something criminal.”

Claire stared down at the floor. “Anything’s possible. So you might have to just go ask them yourself.”

On the drive back to town Robie glanced over at Reel. “Why all the questions back there about Blue Man’s relationship with her?”

Reel kept her eyes on the road. “Why not? We were there to gather information. So I was gathering information. I’m not an experienced investigator, so I just sort of went with the scattergun approach.”

Robie did not seem convinced by this but looked away.

She said, “He kept the house all this time. But never goes there. Why do you think that is?”

“Blue Man is a complicated guy. I doubt we’re going to figure that out, nor do we have to in order to do our job.” Robie paused. “So there’s an abundance of skinheads, white supremacists, and religious wackos here. Nice if Malloy had told us.”

“And any one of them might have taken Blue Man,” noted Reel.

“So why not just have the Feds come in here and bring the hammer down on those assholes?”

“I think it’s called civil liberties and being presumed innocent.”

“Disciples of Hitler and people wearing hoods are presumed innocent?” snapped Robie.

“Under the law they are, until they break it.” She glanced at him. “Remember, badge not scope.”

“Scope is simpler.”

“Yes, it is.”

They pulled in front of the hotel and Reel slid the Yukon into park.

“I heard about Iraq,” said Robie.

“Did you?” said Reel, not looking at him. Her hands gripped the steering wheel.

“You did everything you could.”

She turned her head slightly. “You weren’t there, so how the fuck do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been there before.”

“Yeah, right.”

She slammed the truck door behind her as she headed into the hotel.

Robie caught up to her halfway across the lobby.

“This is not helping the investigation,” he said.

She whirled on him. “ You brought it up, not me. And if you think you need to perform some sort of psychological voodoo on me, you don’t. And you’re not!”

Robie could have said something — anything, really — but he chose simply to turn and walk away from her.

In his room he sat on the bed, laid out his pistol, and field-stripped it blind. He wasn’t focusing his mind on the familiar elements of the weapon. That required only tactile senses. His mind was overloaded on Reel.

When it should have been fully engaged on finding Blue Man.

They were screwing up this investigation by their very presence here together. And they’d just started the damn mission!

He slammed in his mag and then slapped himself in the face.

“Get it right, get it clear, Robie. Or Blue Man won’t be coming back. Your personal shit is just that, shit. Your scope sight is black. You can’t see a damn thing because you keep jumping around. Get your crap together. Now!”

He went to the window and looked out onto the main street of Grand.

Bad elements . They needed to see if any of those elements and Blue Man had run into each other somehow. Robie as yet did not have a good feel for the lay of the land here. He needed to better understand all the parts and how they interconnected. Claire Bender had given them some info on that, the cops some more, and Patti Bender and her group still more. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

There was no sign of a struggle at Blue Man’s cabin. Nothing really missing except for him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been taken against his will. One man with a gun would have been enough, with the element of surprise on his side.

As he continued to look out the window, a surplus Army truck with a canopied bed came barreling into town. It pulled up to a stop in front of the bar across the street.

Eight men clambered out of the back. They were all armed.

And they all walked into the bar with their weapons.

Guns and liquor, what could go wrong? thought Robie.

But then it might also hold some opportunities.

He slid his gun into his holster along with a couple of other items and headed out to do some digging. And he was going to start with these guys.

Because on one side of the truck was painted a symbol he’d never seen before. It was a K and an A set at forty-five-degree angles from one another.

Robie paused on the street to eyeball the truck. The driver was still sitting in the front cab. It looked like he was reading a book.

Maybe Mein Kampf , thought Robie. Brushing up on his hatred and intolerance.

Robie passed by the truck and let his peripheral vision do a screen shot of the driver. He was young, maybe early twenties. He was lean with a shaved head, on which Robie could see tats of the same K and A set at angles. All the other men had shaved heads as well. And they probably had similar tats.

He looked to his left and saw Valerie Malloy leaning against a column holding up the porch in front of the police station. He nodded to her. She inclined her head back at him. Derrick Bender was nowhere to be seen.

With one last glance at her, Robie walked into the Walleye Bar.

The space was large and half full. Low tables with chairs were in the center of the room; high tables with seating for two or four ringed this main area. The bar was set against the far wall and had seating, too. It was about twenty feet long and made of mahogany. Two bartenders were manning it. Behind them were multiple rows of liquor bottles stacked on shelves.

The young men from the truck had pushed two tables together and were ordering from a tawny-haired, slim waitress around forty who seemed to know them, and she looked like she would rather be any other place on earth than in the same room with them.

Robie walked over to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a beer.

He could see the group without turning around due to the large mirror behind the bar.