“I don’t know for certain, but I would suppose it was because somebody else beat him to it.”
Robie and Reel exchanged a quick glance.
“Any idea who?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Roark might know.”
“We’ll be sure to ask him,” said Robie.
Reel said, “Claire, can you tell us how to get to this other silo?”
“I think so but it might be better if I write it down.” She took a sheet of notepaper from the top of the desk, picked up a pen lying beside it, and took a few minutes to slowly write out the directions.
She handed it to Reel. “This is as about as much as I can remember. You should see a sign for the road to turn at. It’s in the middle of nowhere, which I guess was the point when they picked the site.”
“So unlike Lambert, whoever might own this hasn’t started trying to turn it into a luxury bunker?” Reel said.
“Not that I’m aware. And I would be. Hell, the whole town would. When Roark was building his out, he had an army of guys, including a bunch of locals. They came to Grand to eat and drink and some stayed here at the hotel, others at a bunch of mobile trailers Roark set up out on-site and powered with diesel generators. You can’t hide all those workers. It takes a lot of manpower to overhaul a missile site and turn it into a place people will plunk down millions for.”
Reel looked down at the directions and said, “So whoever bought the silo might have purchased it for another reason.”
“Or maybe they’re trying to get financing,” said Claire. “I know Roark took out loans to do his work. It took a while for the banks to see the potential.”
“That’s possible,” said Reel, who was looking at Robie.
“I need to get going,” said Claire, rising from the chair. “With all this going on, I’m going to make Derrick and Patti dinner. At least then I can keep an eye on them.”
After she left Robie pulled out his pistol. Reel looked at him strangely.
“Thinking of shooting someone?” she asked.
With his other hand Robie pulled out a slip of paper. It was the one with the drawing of the stick figure holding the ball that Blue Man had left behind.
Robie said quietly, “I think Blue Man was being quite literal.”
“What do you mean?” asked Reel.
“There were actually two clues here,” replied Robie. “And they both were trying to tell us the same thing.”
He rolled the paper up and partially slid it inside his gun muzzle. “A man in a silo.” He pulled the paper back out. “And I’m thinking that’s not a basketball he’s holding. It’s supposed to be the world. He’s holding up the world.”
Reel gaped. “Like Atlas. The Atlas silo.”
“Right,” said Robie.
CHAPTER
60
They waited until it was dark to head to the second silo site. Reel’s phone buzzed. Reel answered.
It was the Agency. She put the call on speaker.
A man’s voice said, “We found out some things about Scott Randall that might be helpful. His father made a fortune in the oil exploration business and then he and his wife died in a house fire. Scott was the only child and inherited everything. All told it came to nearly a hundred million net after estate and other taxes.”
“Convenient house fire,” said Reel. “From what we’ve seen of the guy the police might want to look into that a little more.”
“But the son was not his father’s equal in business. Not even close. He lost a lot of the money in several stupid deals where he was apparently in way over his head. Then he tried to build his fortune back up by going to Vegas and trying to become a professional gambler.”
“I wouldn’t think the odds of doing that were too high,” noted Robie.
“They’re not. He lost what little he had. He came out of that pretty much penniless and without many prospects.”
“But the guy has a jet and a place in the Hamptons and a multimillion-dollar luxury doomsday bunker,” said Robie. “And that’s just what we know of. So he’s not penniless anymore.”
“Plus a wife that I seriously doubt would have married him if he wasn’t rolling in dough,” added Reel.
“We took a look at some of his recent financials and they do show that he has come into a lot of wealth lately. But it’s tied to shell companies and offshore accounts, and it’s hard to see what the source of the money is.”
“You think he’s laundering money for a criminal enterprise or foreign interest through some of these companies?” suggested Reel.
“It’s possible. One other thing, he renounced his U.S. citizenship and is now a citizen of Ireland. Thus his time in this country is restricted and access to his financial data by us is limited. He pays his taxes in Ireland unless any is due in this country.”
“We know he owns properties here,” said Robie.
“There’s nothing against the law about that,” said the man. “But fuller details of his wealth and what taxes he pays would have to be gotten from Ireland.”
“We don’t have time to do that,” said Robie. “But one more thing. There’s an old Atlas missile site in southeastern Colorado. We know of one that was sold and developed by a guy named Roark Lambert into luxury condos. But we need to know who bought the other one. Can you dig that up?”
“Purchasers of Atlas missile sites should be easy enough to track down. I’ll get right on it and call you back.”
“Thanks.”
“And good luck. We all want Blue Man back.”
“Roger that,” said Reel, who then clicked off and looked at Robie.
“So Rich Boy blew Daddy’s money but then got the dollars back somehow.”
“Do you think he’s the one who bought the second missile site?”
“Well, we have the map from the cabin he was staying at. And the boots I found, with all the grime and chemical smells on them? I bet a missile site that hasn’t been renovated would have all kinds of yuck down there.”
“And Blue Man’s drawing and leaving it in the muzzle of his gun,” added Robie.
“All points to a silo. We just thought it was Lambert’s but maybe it’s this one. It would make a lot more sense and also it would explain away the problem of having so many people in on it, including Lambert and the guards at his silo.”
“So if he’s not building something, what could Randall be doing there?”
“Holding prisoners, maybe.”
“For what reason?” said Robie. “We were thinking human trafficking, but Agent Sanders said he had heard nothing about that.”
“That’s why we’re heading there now. To find out.”
“So this might be the ‘bunker’ the skinhead said Dolph could be hiding in. If Randall does own this place, he might be involved with Dolph somehow.”
They had driven another twenty minutes when the phone rang again.
It was the same man from the Agency. He told them that he had completed a quick down-and-dirty on the sale of the Atlas site by the federal government.
“It was purchased several years ago by a company based in Jamaica. There’s very little information about it. No listing of Scott Randall anywhere, but he could be using that as a subterfuge to hide his involvement. It’s a pretty common tactic.”
Reel said, “Do we have an approximate date on when Randall’s financial fortunes started to turn? Like when he bought the jet and all that? That would be very helpful if we could pinpoint when his money issues started to turn around.”
“FYI, he doesn’t own the jet. It’s leased, although it still costs a pretty penny. That lease was signed two years ago. The house in the Hamptons was purchased eighteen months ago. The luxury condo you mentioned was bought by him about a year ago.”