Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

“They’re like a cancer,” added Malloy. “I’d love to cut it out but I’ve got nothing on them, so my hands are tied. Any time they do something wrong, people vanish or clam up or get paid off. You saw what happened after they shot up the town. The state police dropped their investigation. I argued with them until I was blue in the face, but they’re not following up. I think palms are getting greased high up. Or maybe people are just afraid.”

“Who’s the leader over there?” asked Reel. “The equivalent of Doctor King?”

“You’re going to think this is funny, but it’s not,” said Malloy. “He calls himself Dolph.”

“As in Adolph?” commented Reel. “Wow, how creative.”

“Yeah. I guess he doesn’t feel he even needs a last name. He sometimes wears an old Nazi uniform with medals and everything.”

“Have you had interactions with him?” asked Robie.

“A few times. He’s an older guy and slick. Comes off as more of a college professor than a hatemonger. But he runs that group with an iron hand.”

Reel glanced at Robie.

Malloy noted this and said, “What?”

Robie replied, “We know a little bit about the neo-Nazi movement. We spent some quality time with them a while back. And it didn’t end well for them. But we had firepower on our side that we’re apparently going to lack here.”

“How do the Apostles and the neos get along?” asked Reel.

Bender said, “They don’t. Simple answer is they hate each other.”

Malloy nodded in agreement.

Reel said, “Well, that might be useful down the road.”

“Could be,” said Malloy.

“We need to find out about this Clément Lamarre person,” said Reel. “He’s got to be the key to this.”

“How so?” asked Malloy.

Robie answered, “He told Holly about the prisoners. She told Parry, who told Walton. Walton visited her at the rehab, and shortly thereafter he was taken. So was Parry. That’s the connection. We thought maybe this might have something to do with his past, but Walton has been coming out here for years and nothing has ever happened to him. But then he finds out about these prisoners, starts poking around, and boom, he goes missing.”

Reel added, “If Lamarre saw the prisoners, we need to figure out how. Maybe he worked near the place where they’re being held, or was passing by where it was happening.”

Malloy said, “I started digging into the scrapbook you left me. Ran down some leads. But I found nothing. Most of the people associated with Walton are either dead or they’ve moved from the area. Claire Bender is one of the few left.”

“This is all about his present, not his past, I’m convinced of that,” said Reel. “We need to find Lamarre.”

“Which means we go back to the rehab facility,” said Robie.

Malloy said, “The skinheads are going to know it was you two last night. And they’re going to want revenge. I can have Bender ride along with you for protection.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Reel.

“There are a lot more of them than you,” pointed out Malloy.

Reel shrugged. “Well, so far we’ve held our own. And their numbers keep dwindling, don’t they?”

“Clément Lamarre?”

“Yes. Holly said he was a patient here.”

Robie and Reel were sitting across from Brenda Fishbaugh, the facility director.

Fishbaugh clicked on some computer keys. “This information is really confidential,” she noted. “We’re not supposed to reveal who is or was a patient here.”

“And this is a federal investigation,” replied Robie. “You spoke to us about Holly and now she’s on her way to a new life with Luke Miller. All good. That wouldn’t be happening without us.”

Fishbaugh nodded slowly. “All right. So long as it goes no further.” She pulled up the screen she was looking for and swung the computer monitor around so they could see.

“I remember Clément. He was here for an addiction to methadone. Very common in this area. He’s thirty-six.”

“He looks a lot older,” noted Reel.

“Methadone will do that to you,” replied Fishbaugh. “He was a very quiet type. He and Holly were buddies here — that’s the term we use.”

“She told us about that.”

“Why are you interested in Clément?”

“He told Holly something that we need to follow up on.”

“Can you tell me?”

“I’m afraid not,” answered Reel. “What’s his background? Where did he come from?”

Fishbaugh swung the monitor back around and scrolled through more screens. “FYI, he was a voluntary admission here, meaning he checked himself in. It wasn’t because of any court-imposed order. He was born in Quebec and emigrated to America and became a citizen. He came to Colorado five years ago. He had family here.”

“Where did he work?”

Fishbaugh hit another key. “He worked on an oil rig for two years. And then when the bottom dropped out of the industry, he became an assistant manager at a convenience store about forty miles from here. That’s where he was working when he got hooked on meth and came here.”

“What’s the name of the store?” asked Reel.

Fishbaugh told her and Reel made a note of it on her phone.

“Where did he live?” asked Reel.

“When he came to us he gave no address. I believed that he was homeless.”

Robie said, “But you mentioned that he had family in the area?”

Fishbaugh nodded. “His sister and her family live in Boulder.”

“Did she ever visit him here?” asked Robie.

“Yes, twice. I think after he left here she thought he was going to move in with her until he got back on his feet.”

“Do you have her contact info?” asked Reel.

Fishbaugh provided this. “What will you do now?” she asked.

Robie and Reel stood. “Keep digging,” he said.

Outside Robie’s phone buzzed. The woman on the other end told him to access his laptop in two minutes.

Robie and Reel climbed into their truck and Robie popped open his computer, placing it on the dashboard so they both could see.

A few moments later the screen came to life, and DCI Rachel Cassidy appeared there.

“Report,” she tersely instructed them.

Robie and Reel took turns filling her in on what had happened. Cassidy did not look pleased.

“Your job is not to screw around with local issues and start a war with a bunch of psychopaths,” she admonished them. “You’re no closer to finding Blue Man than when you got there.”

“We haven’t been here all that long,” Robie reminded her.

She did not take this comment well, either. “You both know how much is riding on this. Blue Man is indispensable to the operation of this Agency. The world is more full of threats right now than I’ve ever seen it. And every day we get new threats coming in. There is something building that I don’t like. And if enemies of this country have him and are trying to extract information from him, well, I don’t have to tell you how catastrophic that could be.”

Robie said, “We think his disappearance is tied to something local, not some grand plan by the Russians or Iranians to kidnap him. So I’m not sure we have to worry about someone interrogating him for secrets.”

“I don’t have the luxury of assuming that, and neither do you,” the DCI snapped back.

“We’re trying to approach this logically,” pointed out Reel. “And if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck. So what we have is Blue Man found out about some prisoners, started asking questions, and then he disappeared. I’m not an experienced investigator, but it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to see a possible connection there.”