“Beverly Drango?” suggested Reel.
He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. She had a name clip with Beverly on it. She worked the craps table.”
“Did you see her interact much with Randall? Or the guy who threw the party, Roark Lambert?”
“Not really. It was pretty crazy. Lots of people and I was hustling drinks all night. It was free booze courtesy of the host. And there were a lot of really good-looking women. I think they might have been like, you know, escorts or something that were hired to attend. Some of the guys were getting really looped and copping feels all over the place. But the ladies didn’t seem to mind, which is why I think they were paid to be here. And some of the guys left with some of those women and went upstairs. For dessert, I guess,” he added with a grin.
“Anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?” asked Robie.
“Not really. Just lots of money, lots of booze, and people having a good time. I remember thinking that there’d be a lot of guys who’d want to be Scott Randall. He’s not that much older than me. Money, gorgeous wife. I heard somebody say he played college football. He’s a big, strong guy. Good-looking. And somebody said he’s got his own jet.”
“Makes you feel any better, he inherited it all from his dad.”
“Damn, some people have all the luck.”
“Yeah, well if I were you, I’d aim higher than Scott Randall,” said Reel before walking away.
Barry looked at Robie. “What’d she mean by that? I don’t see any private jets or supermodels in my future.”
“Are you an asshole?” asked Robie.
“What? No, I mean, no, I’m not. I may not be rich but I’m a nice guy. Ask anybody.”
“Then that’s what she means by aiming higher.”
Robie caught up to Reel at the elevator banks. “How’d you figure Randall in this?” he asked.
“I remembered what Lambert said to us. He told us that Randall had recently turned thirty-eight.”
“That’s right. But why would Lambert foot the bill for the birthday party?”
“Because Randall had just dropped four million on an apartment in the bunker. I guess the profit margin allowed Lambert to throw the guy a party.”
“Never would have occurred to me. Guess that’s why I’m not a businessman.”
“Guess so.”
They rode the elevator down to their truck and drove out of the garage.
Robie said, “So Drango worked a party thrown for Scott Randall and paid for by Roark Lambert. Which rich a-hole was she referring to?”
“Maybe both.”
“But how does that help us?”
“It could be a coincidence that Drango worked that party. But if Lambert or Randall was involved with the people in the van, Drango might have overheard something at the party.”
“But she said that Lamarre had already told her about the van.”
“Right. So if she did hear something suspicious at the party she would have been able to tie it to the van because she knew about it.”
“That makes sense.” He smiled. “You have the makings of a good detective.”
She didn’t return the smile. “And my detective skills are telling me something is off with you and Malloy. And I’d like to know what it is.”
Robie’s grin faded and he focused on his driving.
CHAPTER
47
“You think Blue Man found out about these prisoners in the van and then was taken?”
Robie and Reel were in his hotel room staring at the laptop screen where DCI Rachel Cassidy was staring back at them. She looked tired, her eyes heavy and reddened and her posture reduced to a slouch. Behind her Robie thought he could see a glass with some amber liquid in it.
If this job didn’t drive you to drink, no job could, he thought.
“We think it’s possible, Director,” said Reel. “He was clearly investigating what had happened. And everyone else who was in that line of disclosure from Clément Lamarre has either disappeared or is dead, in the case of Holly Malloy.”
“But she was killed by this Dolph person, for unrelated reasons,” pointed out Cassidy.
“We’re not sure they’re unrelated. Dolph said he killed Luke Miller because he was disloyal and was trying to escape the neo-Nazi way of life. Holly was connected to Luke and knew that Dolph had killed him. So she had to die. But he could have been jacking us around. Which means he could also be connected to the prisoners in the van.”
“You said you got some sat feedback from the Agency?” said Cassidy.
Robie said, “They hacked into Roark Lambert’s satellite. But they could only follow the van’s path in the direction of the bunker before the sat turned away. We can’t prove that the van went there.”
“Where else might it have been going?”
“There’s really nothing else out there,” remarked Reel. “Just open land. We searched the immediate area and didn’t find anything helpful.”
Cassidy sighed and sank farther back in her chair. “I don’t have to tell either of you that that is not good. We need Blue Man back. We can’t discount the possibility — in spite of whatever connection you think there is to the van — that his disappearance is tied to enemies of this country. He has a lot of institutional knowledge and there are ways to get even someone as tough as Blue Man to break.”
“We’re aware of that, Director,” said Reel. “We’re doing all we can, and we have some fresh leads and we will follow them up as fast as we can.”
“In the interests of full disclosure, there have been noises from the FBI,” said Cassidy, the bags under her eyes seeming to swell as she spoke. “They know things are not going well. My counterpart has suggested that perhaps assistance is in order. I do not want to go down that road yet. I’m counting on you two to get this done. Faster than your current pace! Or it will be out of my hands.”
The screen went blank.
Robie looked at Reel. “Well, that wasn’t particularly helpful.”
“She looks like she’s about to crack under the strain.”
“Cassidy is tough, but she’s new to the role and she doesn’t want a cock-up in her first few months in the job. Losing Blue Man would be catastrophic. Her detractors will be armchairing that all day long. Why he didn’t have security when he came out here, stuff like that.”
“Scott Randall,” mused Reel. “If he’s involved somehow, I would be more than willing to cut his nuts off. After I strangle his wife,” she added.
“Lambert threw him the birthday party probably as a thank-you for purchasing a doomsday condo. Beverly Drango worked the party, and then she comes home from it to find Lamarre has disappeared. Coincidence or not?”
“Wait a minute, Robie. That’s what she told us. She’s the only one we have who can vouch for when he disappeared. What if he’d already been taken and she just fed us a lot of shit about the timing?”
“Okay, now I know it’s how she earns extra money. But how likely is it she would be working a craps table at a birthday party for Scott Randall paid for by Lambert? Coincidence?”
“Maybe she helped them somehow and her being there wasn’t a coincidence. And I can think of one reason why she might want to be in the same room with either or both men if she had helped them somehow.”
“To get paid off for whatever it was that she did,” said Robie.
Reel nodded. “You wouldn’t want any money trail to follow. But if she surreptitiously got paid off in cash while working at a birthday party? Who would be the wiser?”
“But what would she have done for them?”
“Lamarre told her about the van with the prisoners in the back.”
“And you think she told Randall or Lambert? But why would she know they might be connected to that?”