Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

“Agent Reel?”

She stared at him, her hand remaining at her side. “And you are?”

“Doctor King.”

“What kind of doctor?”

“No kind. Doctor is my given name. My parents’ idea. They never told me the reasons.”

“How do you know I’m an agent?”

King smiled. “Small town. Just the way it works.”

“And what do you do here?”

King took a few moments before answering. “I’m trying to implement change. I’m trying to show people who were born and grew up in a bubble that there are options in life.”

“And you have a compound outside of town?”

“I see you’ve been talking to some of the locals.”

“Roger Walton, you know him?”

“No, but I do know that he went missing.”

“Do you know anything about that?”

“It’s one reason I’m here. I don’t know anything about it.”

“What’s the other reason you’re here?”

“To ask if you needed any help.”

“Unless you’ve got Walton tied up somewhere, the answer to that would be no.”

“I could give you insights on the people here.”

Reel sat down in a chair opposite and stared across at King. “Let’s start with Sheriff Malloy.”

King looked surprised. “Why her? She’s on your side.”

“Nobody’s on my side until they prove they are. She wasn’t all that forthcoming when we met with her. If we’re going to be working the case with her, I need to know if she’s the real deal or not.”

King nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. She came here because of her sister.”

“She mentioned that. Holly. Do you know her?”

“I’ve met her on occasion. I understand she had a drug problem and went into rehab for it. I encouraged her to become one of my apostles, in fact. I thought it would help her.”

“Apostle. So you’re a religious organization?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“The term apostle sort of implies that.”

“Perhaps in your narrow definition, not mine. But you’re certainly entitled to your interpretation.”

“You choose your words carefully,” noted Reel.

“I’ve found that to be a good practice.”

“Are you from this area?”

“I am now.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“If you want my two cents, Malloy is the real deal. She’s been a good, fair sheriff here. People respect her, and that’s not an easy thing to come by out here. So if you’re worried whether she’ll have your back or not, I’d say you could trust her.”

He rose.

“Is that it?” asked Reel. “I have a lot more questions.”

“I’m sure you do, but I have some things to take care of.”

“Why did you come here? To see me, or my partner?”

“I wanted to make your acquaintance. Your partner is in the bar across the street. Some of my apostles are there as well.”

“Your apostles like their liquor?”

“They’re young men. You have to be flexible. But they work hard.”

“Doing what?”

“I wish you luck in finding your friend.”

She watched him walk out of the lobby.

She waited a minute and then followed. She met Robie in the middle of the street. They each brought the other up to speed.

“This King guy reminded me of a lawyer or something,” said Reel. “But he said he knows nothing about Blue Man.”

“Yeah, they all seem to say that. But this place is small enough that it seems everyone knows everything that goes on here.”

“He did say that Malloy is the real deal. That we can trust her.”

“Well, we don’t know if we can trust him ,” retorted Robie.

“True. So no guess as to how King and his court make a living?”

“The bartender didn’t seem to know.”

“King told me that Holly was in rehab for drugs. He said Holly was the reason Malloy came out here in the first place.”

Robie threw up his hands. “So what? And I don’t think we’ve made a jot of progress.”

Reel shrugged. “I still don’t get why they don’t just flood this place with FBI agents.”

“You heard the DCI. That’s not how they want to play this.”

“You know the probability is that Blue Man is dead, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t know that. My money’s on Blue Man surviving.”

“Well, then what’s our next move?” replied Reel curtly.

“We’ve checked out where he was staying. We’ve talked to his ex-flame. So let’s go check out the house where he grew up. I got the address from Claire.”

Reel said, “Why is that relevant?”

“I don’t know that it’s not, so that means it’s relevant.”

He walked toward their Yukon and she reluctantly followed.

Twenty minutes outside of Grand, a pair of bullets cracked the Yukon’s windshield.

“Now that’s more like it,” said Reel, as Robie guided the Yukon to a stop off the road. They took up position behind the SUV and Robie sighted through a pair of binoculars in the direction of the shot.

“Rounds hit dead center of the middle row,” Reel said. “Optics shot, so the shooter didn’t want to kill us, just send us a message. If he could hit the windshield he could hit us.”

Robie nodded but said nothing. He knew all of this, and she knew he knew it.

Reel gazed out at the bleak landscape. She pointed to some higher ground about six hundred yards away. “I’m thinking there.”

Robie nodded again and lowered the optics. “So do we keep going? The next shots might not hit the seats.”

In answer Reel popped the rear cargo door and unlocked the aluminum case that was in there. In less than a minute she had assembled her rifle and attached the scope. She climbed into the cargo area, used the rear seat as her fulcrum, and sighted through her scope.

Twenty seconds went by and she said, “Got ’em. Two guys, one rifle.”

“So a spotter?”

“Looks to be.”

“So maybe professional then.”

“Most people out here probably know how to use a gun. At least most people we’ve seen have them.”

“Right.”

“Dodge Ram truck. Can’t see the plate.” She turned back to look at Robie. “What do you want to do?”

“Send them a message back,” instructed Robie.

Reel smiled at this, climbed out, stood on the rear bumper, placed her rifle on the roof of the Yukon, manipulated her scope, made her sighting, locked them in, settled down, took aim, and fired once. She took another aim and fired again.

Six hundred yards away each bullet slammed into a tire sidewall, exploding it.

The two men were so startled that they threw themselves down on the dirt and then scrambled like mad for cover behind the truck.

“Now let’s go have a chat,” said Robie. “Keep eyes on them.”

He took the driver’s slot while Reel slipped her scope off the rifle’s rail and climbed in on the passenger side. She kept eyes on the pair as Robie wound the Yukon up to eighty. He slipped his pistol from its holster and cradled it between his knees.

“Movement?” he asked.

“They’re still hunkered down wondering what the hell just happened. Now they’re climbing into the truck. Started up and... they just found out they have two flat tires. Idiots. They should have checked that first.”

“So maybe not professionals then.”

“ Probably not.”

The Yukon had rounded a bend, moved up the high ground, and Robie slammed it to a stop twenty feet from the disabled pickup.

He and Reel climbed out, their pistols trained on the front cab where the two men sat, looking stunned. They slowly raised their hands.

Robie motioned with his weapon for the men to get out of the truck.

The doors squeaked open and the men nearly fell out.