Дэвид Балдаччи - End Game

“And I am a strong leader,” he said again.

He flicked a finger at Robie and Reel as though he were disposing of an irksome bug. Guards came forward and hustled the pair out.

“Why are we still alive?” Reel asked.

She and Robie had been thrown into a small wooden shack and the door padlocked behind them. It was already growing very warm, and Robie could feel the sweat on his face and under his armpits. They could hear the rustle of booted feet just outside, so they were keeping their voices low.

“Maybe the little son of a bitch only murders one person a day,” said Robie grimly. He used his shirt to rub off blood and other matter from his face.

Reel did the same. “God, I feel like shit about Holly. And Luke. They beheaded him. They’re no better than ISIS.”

“I’d like to know how they got to them,” said Robie. “They were supposed to be on a commercial bus headed to Denver. I didn’t hear of any bus hijackings, did you?”

She shook her head. “Maybe they got to them after that.”

“How would these pricks even know they were heading to Denver?” asked Robie. “We were the only ones who knew about that.”

“Obviously not.”

“You think they’re behind the prisoners in the van? If so, maybe they got to Blue Man, too?”

Reel said, “If that prick killed Blue Man I will personally slit his throat.”

Robie looked around the tight parameters of their cell. “We could easily break through the wood, but that doesn’t get us anywhere with guards right outside.”

“It’s daylight now. We’ll have to wait until nightfall.”

“If we’re still alive,” he pointed out.

At half past seven the door was unlocked and a face appeared.

“Let’s go,” the guard said.

“Where?” asked Robie.

“Dinner.”

Reel and Robie exchanged glances.

“Move it!” snapped the man, who looked like he wanted to just start shooting.

They were taken to a small outbuilding by a half-dozen guards and their shackles removed.

The lead guard said, “There’s a shower in there. And there are clean clothes hanging on pegs inside.”

“I’m fine with what I have on,” said Reel.

“Well, he’s not. So shower and change. You both stink. And you’re covered in shit. And I’ve been ordered to shoot you right here if you don’t comply.”

Inside was a facility like a gym locker room. There was only one large communal shower with multiple shower heads.

“You can go first,” Robie said. “I’ll wait around the corner.”

She rolled her eyes. “Robie, you’ve seen all of me there is to see.”

They showered with Reel on one side of the shower and Robie on the other. He kept his gaze averted from her and thus didn’t see Reel steal a glance at him. However, she was only checking out one part of his body.

“How’s the arm, honestly?” she said, while soaping up.

Robie said, “Good as new. Your oblique?”

“You can see for yourself.”

He flinched and then glanced quickly at her, to find Reel staring back at him. She pointed to the injured side. “All healed up. Even had plastic surgery to take care of the scarring.”

His gaze dipped to the oblique and then slightly above and below before snapping back to her face.

“You look better than ever, Robie. Like you’ve been carved out of granite.” She paused. “You seem uncomfortable.”

“Mixed signals tend to do that to me.”

She turned her back on him and continued cleaning up.

This time Robie let his gaze wander from the small, hard muscles in her back to the longer, ropier muscles in her delts and triceps. Then his gaze wandered lower, stopping at her feet before moving back up again.

“You look in great fighting shape, too, Jess.”

“What every girl wants to hear.”

“Is this change in attitude because you know we’re going to die here?” he asked.

“Maybe a little. But only a little.”

Robie was about to say something else, but finally just shook his head and rinsed off.

They dressed and were led to another building fronted by a pair of intricately carved double wooden doors. Inside was an elegant dining room.

The table looked antique. A square of Oriental rug was underneath. Cloth napkins were laid next to silverware and porcelain plates.

A chandelier with what looked to be real crystal pieces hung above the table.

A pair of sconces on one wall flickered with propane gas flames.

Reel touched the scratchy tunic she had been given to wear. It came down to the tops of her knees. Sandals were on her feet.

Robie was in medical scrubs a dull plum color. They had given him nothing for his feet. From the shadows of the room they could sense people watching.

Robie had given Reel her cred pack after getting it back from Dolph earlier. He’d slipped his inside the pocket of the scrub pants.

Another door inside the space opened, and a man wearing a white shirt and pants with black-and-white checks hurried in carrying two covered dishes. He set one down in front of one chair at the table, and the other in front of another chair. Then he disappeared back through the doorway.

Robie looked at Reel and shrugged. “Maybe we’re eating alone,” he said.

“No, you’re not.”

They turned to look in the direction from where the voice had come.

A high-backed leather chair swiveled around and there sat Dolph at a desk reading over some papers. He folded them over and placed them in a desk drawer. Then he stood, leaned behind a small bookcase, and retrieved a rifle that had been set there against the wall. He held it up as he walked over to them.

“Yours, I believe,” he said, indicating Reel.

Reel eyed the sniper rifle. “Yes. Can I have it back? Loaded?”

“Please, sit down and eat before it gets cold,” said Dolph.

They sat and uncovered their dishes to see baked chicken, rice, and vegetables together with a small salad and bread.

Dolph took the seat at the head of the table.

As Robie took up his fork he said to Dolph, “You’re not eating?”

Dolph waved this comment off as he continued to examine the rifle. He finally placed the weapon on the table. “My men tell me that you’re both excellent shots.”

Reel took a bite of salad and chewed it methodically, making him wait for her answer. “We’re the best you’ll ever see.”

Dolph made no reaction to this bit of bravado.

“What’s your real name?” Robie asked him.

“I already told you that,” he said impatiently. He looked at them curiously. “How old do you think I am?”

Robie said, “Midthirties.”

“I’m fifty-six.”

Reel’s eyes widened a bit. “So you’ve discovered the fountain of youth in eastern Colorado?”

“No, I discovered something far better. I discovered absolute power. It’s wonderful for the complexion.”

He sat forward and assumed a thoughtful expression. “I have so few people to share my philosophies with. My men, they’re good and they work hard and they obey me. That last part is critical. But they don’t think at the same level that I do. Now, you two are from Washington, DC. As barren as that place is, people do talk politics, competing philosophies.”

“Your philosophies seem pretty clear,” said Reel. “You’re wearing them.”

“No, no, disabuse yourself of that notion. I chose Nazi, but I could have chosen something else.”

“I’m not following,” said Reel.

“Hitler was only one of many. And, indeed, in terms of longevity, while he had perhaps the greatest impact on the world, he was not successful in maintaining what he had created. In fact, he was one of the worst.”