End Game

  “I better get going. It’s late. I’m…I’m sorry I pulled my gun on you.”

  “If it were me, I would’ve done the same and maybe more.”

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  He took her hand and said, “Whatever happens, I give you my word that I will get Dolph. He’s going to pay for what he did. You have to trust me on that.”

  She stroked his cheek. “I do, Will. I do.”

  He shut the door behind her, fell back on the bed, and closed his eyes.

  Part of him wished he were back in London about to walk into a house with seventeen terrorists and a nuke.

  It had to be easier than this.

  Chapter

  49

  “WHO SENT HER the note?”

  It was the next morning and Reel stared at Robie across the width of the table in the hotel restaurant. Robie had told Reel about the prior night’s encounter with Malloy.

  “I don’t know. She said someone slipped it under the door to the station.”

  “Do you think it was Agent Sanders?”

  “No. He would never divulge that, because it could torpedo his investigation. And it mentioned that we were there and Valerie should talk to us about it. Again, Sanders wouldn’t do that because it could tank what he’s trying to do.”

  “But lots of people were there, Robie. It could be one of Dolph’s guys. They could have done it on his orders.”

  “That’s more likely. But why would they want her to know?”

  “To turn her against us?”

  “Why would that matter to a guy like Dolph?”

  “I don’t know.” She peered at him over her coffee cup. “When did Malloy tell you about this?”

  “Late last night. She came to my room.”

  “Oh, she did? Did you have sex before she told you? Or after?”

  There was a long moment of silence as they stared at each other.

  When Robie spoke, his tone was stiff. “You think she’d want to have sex with me after finding out I hadn’t told her that her sister had been murdered?”

  Reel looked away. “I guess that would be pretty screwed up. But then so is everything we’re in the middle of here. Screwed up.”

  “Some of it is our own doing.”

  “No argument there.” Reel put down her cup. “We need to do something.”

  “What?”

  “If I knew that I’d be doing it,” she snapped.

  “If we can get to Drango things might clear up.”

  “Might. We need more than that.”

  “I think she lied to us. She must know something.”

  “So it could be Lambert and/or Randall and prisoners for some reason,” noted Reel.

  “But prisoners for what purpose?”

  “We answer that, we answer everything.”

  “Drango could give us that answer,” Robie pointed out.

  “But she’s on the run. We put the info on her out there and got zip. So how do we get any answers from her?” Reel retorted.

  In answer Robie made a call. Into the phone he said, “Yes, we spoke yesterday about Beverly Drango? Right. Have you heard from her? Will she be showing up for work tonight?” Robie stiffened and glanced at Reel. “So she will be coming to work tonight. That’s great. I’m so relieved. I’d love to surprise her. Could you give me the address and time?”

  He clicked off and stared at her. “How does that make sense? Drango clearly was on the run. But she’s pulling her gig tonight?”

  “Where?”

  “Same place. Lancaster Hotel in Denver.”

  “I guess that’s where we’ll be tonight, then.”

  “Guess so.”

  * * *

  Robie and Reel walked into the lobby of the Lancaster at six o’clock that night. The event Drango would be working was posted on a marquee board next to the check-in desk. It said it would start at six thirty. It was a retirement party for someone named Jorge Schindler in the lower-level ballroom.

  “She’s probably already here doing setup,” noted Reel.

  “Probably.”

  “How do you want to do this?”

  “With as little fuss as possible. I don’t want to drag her out of here, but I will if I have to.”

  “The stairs to the lower level are over there,” said Reel.

  They walked down them and hit the main corridor on the lower level. People were rushing around, obviously finishing up last-minute tasks to get the event ready for the guests.

  Robie poked his head inside the ballroom and noted the casino set-up. Craps table, blackjack, a roulette wheel, and a row of slot machines.

  Robie turned to Reel. “Drango works the craps table.”

  “You see anyone there?”

  “No one who looks like her.”

  Reel checked her watch. “I see other people dressed up like they’re working in a casino.”

  “Let’s ask.”

  They approached one man who was fiddling with one of the slot machines. He was in his fifties and paunchy with a pinched face.

  Robie said, “We’re looking for Beverly Drango. We’re old friends from out of town. Your office said she was working here tonight.”

  The man looked irritably at them. “I’m the owner. She should be working tonight. She called and said she was on her way. That was two hours ago. But I haven’t seen her yet. She was supposed to be here for setup an hour ago. I’ve called her cell phone five times. Nothing.”

  “Can you give me her cell phone number?”

  The man did so. “If you find her tell her she’s persona non grata with me.”

  He left them to continue prepping for the night’s event.

  Robie took out his phone and made the call. He gave the Agency person the cell phone number. “We need a fix on her location ASAP. I’ll hold.”

  Two minutes went by and then the voice came back on. Robie listened and said, “Thanks.” He clicked off.

  “He’s sending me her coordinates.”

  A beep on his phone came and he looked at the screen.

  “Shit, she’s right nearby. Come on.”

  Following the map on his phone, Robie and Reel left the hotel and turned left. Robie spotted the alleyway about fifty feet down from the hotel entrance.

  “It says she’s right down there.”

  “This isn’t looking good, Robie.”

  She pulled her gun. Robie did the same.

  They walked to the alley and turned down it. “This is the right side of the hotel,” noted Robie.

  They approached the truck parked there. Its back roll-up door was still open. A door to the building was standing open.

  Inside the truck was a slot machine. “This must be where they were unloading their stuff for the event,” said Reel.

  “There are two other cars here, neither of them Drango’s.”

  “Maybe she came in another car,” suggested Reel.

  “It’s possible.” He looked at his phone. “The signal from her phone shows it’s farther down the alley.”

  They walked past the truck and the two parked cars after peering into them to make sure they were empty. They continued on until they were very near the end of the alley.

  “Robie!” said Reel.

  He had already spotted what she had.

  The Dumpster against the wall. There was a phone lying in front of it.

  Robie raced forward and picked it up. “I’m guessing this is hers. But where is Drango?” He glanced at the Dumpster.

  Reel had joined him by then and took a peek inside the Dumpster. She moved aside some trash and took a closer look.

  “Well, Beverly Drango won’t be working any more casino gigs.”

  And that was when the bullet hit the Dumpster an inch from her face.

  Chapter

  50

  ROBIE PUSHED REEL down right before another round struck directly where she had been standing.

  They slid along the asphalt, then Robie gained traction with his feet and pulled
Reel behind the Dumpster.

  “Shot came two clicks to the left,” said Robie, as Reel righted herself and peered around the corner of the metal container.

  “Thanks for the assist.” She paused. “I can’t seem to get out of my own way lately.”

  Robie realized how hard this was for her to admit, but now was not the time to discuss the point with his partner.

  “You think they’re still out there?” she said.

  “If they are, we can take care of that.”

  He pulled his phone, punched in 911, and reported shots fired and a body in a Dumpster at their location.

  Only a minute passed before they heard the sirens.

  That was followed by feet rushing away.

  “More than one,” noted Reel.

  “Go, go,” urged Robie.

  They leapt up and ran down the alley after the sounds of the retreating shooters.

  They emerged from the alley and looked around.

  “There,” said Reel.

  A van was accelerating down the street away from them.

  “Shit,” exclaimed Robie as the van turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

  “Move it,” said Reel as the sirens grew closer.

  They turned in the other direction and were soon back at their SUV.

  “License plate on the van?” said Robie.

  “It didn’t have one. At least on the rear.”

  Robie started the vehicle and they pulled out onto the street as a police car flashed past to stop next to another cruiser that was parked at the opening of the alley. He turned in the opposite direction and sped up. They were soon on their way out of Denver and back to Grand.

  “So there goes Beverly Drango,” said Robie. “You sure it was her?”

  Reel hiked her eyebrows and Robie said, “Okay. So there goes our last lead.”

  “Well, somebody keeps killing them,” replied Reel.

  “And they tried to kill us too. And now I’m thinking this whole thing was a setup.”

  “They knew we were coming to see Drango tonight. They killed her and waited around to kill us. When we went looking for her and slipped down the alley, it was perfect for them.”

  “Only they missed,” said Robie.

  “But they wouldn’t have the second time, so I’d be dead but for you,” replied Reel slowly, her gaze rigid as she looked out the windshield. “I froze again.”

  “It happens.”

  “No, it doesn’t. At least not to me. But it keeps happening. To me. And one time you’re not going to be there, Robie. Or you will be and I’ll be the reason you get killed. I can’t let that happen.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  “There’s no other way to see it!” she barked.

  He slowed the truck and then pulled off the road. He turned to her. “What happened in Iraq?”

  “I’m not lying on a couch and you’re not my shrink.”

  “But like you just said, I have a vested interest in you not freezing again, right? Because then maybe I’m dead too.”

  Reel clearly had no logical response to his words and her subdued expression evidenced this.

  She leaned back in her seat. “Keep driving. This might take a while.”

  Robie pulled back onto the road.

  Reel was silent for a few moments as though collecting her thoughts. “Until that night things had been going okay, but then it all went to hell in a minute.” She described the events of that night in a detached fashion, but the hollow tone of her words and haunted look evidenced that Jessica Reel was barely keeping it together.

  “I was the only survivor. The rest of the team was either blown up, burned up, or lying around without their heads. And I just kept shooting. I used my main gun with incendiary rounds to take out the trucks and the fifty-cals, then my backup gun with the Raufoss round. Found the soft spot on the ASV and that was…that. The SEALs came back for me and…”

  As her voice trailed off, Reel looked out the window, where a steady drizzle had commenced.

  “I’m sorry, Jess. But you’ve got to realize that you did everything by the book. Combat is totally indiscriminate. It kills those who are incompetent and those who are unlucky. And everyone in between. You’ve got survivor’s guilt. You know that.”

  “I know a lot of things, Robie. I know that when we were being chased by Dolph’s assholes, my mind flashed back to Iraq and suddenly I couldn’t do my job.” She shot him a glance. “And you almost died because I didn’t do my job.”

  Robie slowed the truck. “Maybe we’re getting too old for this, Jess. I’m seeing people in my crosshairs who aren’t even there. I’m freezing up and can’t do my job.”

  “You had family issues,” she reminded him.

  “I don’t think it matters what causes it,” he replied. “So long as you address it. You helped me face my past in Mississippi. I can help you address your issues. If you’ll let me.”

  She glanced at him, and her eyes were so full of pain and hurt and some things Robe couldn’t readily identify that he could hardly believe the person next to him was the indomitable Jessica Reel. The person who had killed more people, survived more hellish situations, overcome more obstacles than anyone alive.

  Except possibly for me.

  “I don’t think you can help me, Robie. But thanks for the offer.”

  “Is that what you meant by ‘It’s complicated’?”

  She looked away. “I wrote that because it is…complicated.”

  He attempted a smile. “More complicated than a messed-up kid from Mississippi with daddy issues who was seeing nonexistent people?”

  She slowly nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

  His grin faded. “Can you at least tell me why? I’m a good listener. I’ll listen as long as you want me to.”

  “It won’t take long, Robie, to tell you.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He seemed to sense the monumental moment that was fast approaching, so Robie pulled off the road again. The only sounds were those of the engine and the wipers flicking off the rain.

  He turned to her.

  Reel turned to him.