Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

One was older, in his fifties, with a full beard and a sunburned face. He wore faded dungarees, dusty boots, and a leather vest over a flannel shirt.

The other man was in his twenties, lean and wiry, about five nine. He was dressed like his companion. His beard was bushy and dark. His eyes were small and resembled gray, moistened pebbles.

They each had holstered weapons. Robie told them to drop their gun belts and kick them away. They did so without saying a word. Lying next to the truck was a rifle with a scope.

Robie pointed to the Yukon’s punctured windshield. “I think you owe us some new glass.”

Reel looked the younger man up and down and said, “You dropped your rifle on the ground. No way to respect your equipment. And what, you were just going to drive off without it?” She went over and nudged it with her foot. “Nice optics. Too bad they got damaged.” She stomped twice on the device with her boot and the scope broke in half.

“What the hell are you doing?” screamed the younger man.

Reel looked up at him. “It’s pretty simple. I’m making sure you can’t ever shoot me through that scope.”

Robie said, “Who are you and why are you firing at us?”

The younger man looked toward his elder. The older man said, “Just saying hello. It’s a local custom.”

Reel pointed to his truck’s flattened tires. “Well, we returned the greeting. But since you fired on two federal agents, the only hellos you’re going to be saying for the next twenty years are to people from the federal correctional force, your lawyers, and fellow inmates who want to get to know you better.”

The young man’s features fell. “You talking prison?” He shot his colleague a look of stark betrayal.

The older man said, “Now let’s just hold on here. We didn’t mean no harm. Boy could’ve hurt you if he wanted to. He’s a damn fine shot. I don’t think we need to involve the law on this. Just a misunderstanding.”

“Who are you and why did you fire on us?” asked Robie again. “We can talk about misunderstandings and the law later. And you bullshit me again with this is your way of saying hello, your ass is gone.”

The older man considered this. “My name’s Zeke Donovan. Russell here is my nephew. We got us a place about two miles from here. Do some guide work. Miscellaneous stuff. Whatever we need to do to get by.”

“Why did you fire on us?”

“Well, somebody asked us to put the fear’a God in you.”

“And who would this somebody be?”

Donovan stroked his beard. “I can’t say without breaking a confidence.”

“Is that confidence worth twenty years in a federal pen?” asked Reel.

“Probably not,” admitted Donovan.

“Well then?”

“His name’s Roger Walton.”

Robie stared at the pair through the width of the cell bars.

Valerie Malloy stood next to him.

“Zeke, do you know how stupid that was?” she said to the older man.

He looked up at her. “Well, hell, I do now .”

Russell sat next to him looking at the concrete floor.

“How do you know it was Walton that told you to warn them off?” Malloy asked.

Zeke pointed at Robie. “Like I done told him, he left a note at my place.”

“Yeah, I get that, but—”

Robie interjected, “How do you know it was Walton then? If you didn’t see him?”

Zeke spread his hands. “Well, who else would’a told me to do it if not Mr. Walton?”

Robie looked at Malloy. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them she said, “Well, Zeke, since these people work with Walton it’s highly doubtful he would’ve wanted you to scare them off. And when did you get the note?”

“Well, I seen it early this afternoon, but I’d been gone for a few days so it could’ve been there a while. Or it could’ve been delivered today.”

“Well, since we just got here this morning I doubt somebody would have sent you a note that said scare off people who weren’t even here yet,” said Robie.

Zeke’s face brightened. “Hey, I bet you’re right about that. Yeah, that’s a good point, son.”

“Did it mention the two people by name?” asked Malloy.

“No, just said a couple of strangers looking for Walton. Well, I guess according to you maybe it wasn’t Walton what sent the note after all.”

“And why would you do something like that just because Walton told you to?”

“’Cause he also included five hundred dollars cash along with the note.”

“And did he say why he wanted you to do it?”

“Said it was a joke, sort of.”

“So you didn’t know that Walton had gone missing then?” asked Malloy.

“No. I mean, like I said, I just got back and saw the note. You say he’s missing? Where’d he get off to?”

“If we knew that he wouldn’t be missing!”

Reel walked in and joined them in the holding cell area. “Did you know Walton?” she asked Zeke.

Zeke shrugged. “I knew him. Couldn’t say I really knew him, you know. He kept things close to the vest.”

“Did you ever act as a fishing guide for him?” asked Robie.

Zeke shook his head. “Nah, he didn’t need that. He grew up here. Knew the area real well. But we’d see each other from time to time. He fished some of the same streams we do. Had some beers together at the Walleye. Stuff like that.”

“Did you know him back when he lived here?”

“No. He was quite a bit older’n me. Heck of an athlete.”

“Did you know his parents?” asked Reel.

Zeke shook his head. “I was just a little kid when they killed themselves.”

“We heard his mom was dying. You think that was the reason?”

Zeke thought about this, glanced over at Russell, whose gaze was still planted on the floor, and shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know. Like I said, I was just a little kid when they did it.” His face brightened. “Hey, maybe Walton really killed ’em and somebody knew it and they took him to make him pay for what he done.”

Reel said in an exasperated tone, “Okay, I think we’re done here.” She turned to Malloy. “Robie and I were going to check out the house when these idiots opened fire. We’ll go there now.”

Malloy looked surprised by her comment. “But I thought you were here to find Walton?”

“I’ll take any lead I can get,” replied Reel. “Because right now we don’t have a single one.”

Robie said, “Sheriff, what’s your take on this Doctor King guy and his apostles?”

Before she could answer, Russell said, “My brother’s an apostle.”

They turned to look at him. Reel said, “And what does he think about it?”

Russell shrugged. “I don’t know. He don’t come home anymore.”

Robie eyed Malloy. “And your opinion?”

“They don’t break any laws and they don’t cause trouble, so that’s a good thing.”

“I heard that no one knows where the money comes from to fuel their operation. Feeding and clothing the apostles. I saw them come into town in an Army surplus truck. They’ve got guns. They live in a compound, you said. That all costs money.”

“I think they get donations from folks,” said Zeke.

“How much can that amount to?” scoffed Reel.

“Just saying.”

“They grow pot,” said Russell. “And they sell it to folks.”

“And you know this how?” asked Reel.

“Seen ’em doing it.”

Reel said to Malloy, “Let’s keep this pair on ice for a while.” She drew close to the bars. “You two ever take a shot at us again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Are we clear on that?”

Zeke eyed her with trepidation. “Are you the one what shot out the tires?”