“And if it doesn’t go to hell?” asked Reel.
Lambert shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to these folks. They have homes all over the world. The silo condo—that’s what they are, by the way, each floor is comprised of condos—is just insurance for them. They probably never want to use it because that means the civilized world is no more. And they’re apt to lose a lot more of their wealth, if that’s the case. You know, stock markets tank, gated communities and high-dollar properties are overrun by the masses. But at least if they come to the silo they’ll get to live. Then when things quiet down, they can come out and pick up the pieces.’
“Sounds very egalitarian,” noted Reel sarcastically.
“Hey, I grew up poor,” said Lambert. “And while I make good money now, I’m not at the financial level of the people who have bought space in my silos. But there was a need in the market and I filled that need. Business one-oh-one.”
“So those who can pay get to stay nice and cozy in the lap of luxury while the rest of us fight it out on the outside?” said Malloy.
Lambert eyed her. “Look, Valerie, you and I have had this discussion before. I don’t make the rules. I don’t want doomsday to happen. But if it does, I’ve provided a service for folks who can afford it. It’s like catastrophic insurance.”
“Not exactly,” said Malloy, “but I won’t push the point.”
He raised his wineglass to her and smiled. “Appreciate it kindly, ma’am.”
“So there are silos around here?” asked Reel.
“There are five former Atlas E missile sites in Colorado alone,” replied Lambert. “They’re in the northern plains, Larimer and Weld Counties. There are others scattered across the country. The ones here were decommissioned in the sixties and the missiles removed. Before they can be put up for sale they have to be investigated and cleared from an environmental perspective, of course. Some are being developed as luxury residences, some for commercial purposes, and some are still owned by the government. They can be used for storage or just sit there rusting away.”
Claire joined them as Lambert finished speaking.
“I hope Roark isn’t boring you to death about his doomsday business,” she said brightly.
“It’s actually quite fascinating,” said Robie.
“Rich people escaping into their hidey-holes,” retorted Claire.
“Now, Claire,” began Lambert.
“Did he tell you about the billionaires building their own rockets and spaceships?” said Claire, her smile broadening. “They say it’s to colonize Mars or charge people for a ride in space, but I have an alternative theory.”
“Which is?” said Reel.
“Escaping into space, of course. No luxury bunker will do for them. They require an entirely new planet on which to ride out the chaos down here.”
“Sounds like they’re playing God,” said Reel.
“There’s no doubt about it,” said Claire. “They are playing God. And they’re quite comfortable doing so.”
Robie turned to Lambert. “Where is the silo you’ve completed in Colorado?”
“About an hour’s drive north of here. Would you like to see it?”
“I’m not sure we’re going to have time,” said Robie. “We’re a little busy right now.”
Lambert shrugged. “Suit yourself. I only offered because Claire told me about Roger Walton.”
“I’m not getting the connection,” said Reel.
“Well, I know the man has disappeared. But before he did he asked me to give him a tour of the silo. And I did.”
Reel looked at Robie and then turned back to Lambert. “Did he say why he wanted a tour?”
“He said he’d been here when the Atlas was operational and had always wanted to go inside. Back then, of course, he couldn’t.”
“When exactly was this?” asked Robie.
Lambert told them.
Robie and Reel exchanged another look. It had been shortly before Blue Man had disappeared, and after he had visited Holly at rehab.
Reel said, “On second thought, we’d love to take a tour.”
“Great. I’m not going back to Denver for a few days, so how about tomorrow?”
“Sounds good,” said Reel.
“Count me in,” said Malloy.
They all looked at her before Lambert glanced at Robie and Reel.
“Maybe you two would be interested in purchasing a condo. I’ve got two units left in the other silo I’m currently building out. The one I’ll be showing you tomorrow is sold out.”
An unsmiling Reel said, “I think we’ll be part of the barbarians on the outside trying to get in.”
“Well, good luck with that,” said Lambert.
“It’s never about luck,” said Reel.
CHAPTER
37
“There has to be a connection,” said Reel.
They were standing in the lobby of the hotel.
She continued. “Blue Man wouldn’t just go on a tour of the silo after he’d heard what Holly had to say unless it was connected.”
Robie slowly nodded. “I agree. Presumably Lambert has been working on this silo for years, and Blue Man has been coming back here all that time. So he could have gone to the silo lots of times. But he picked that time period to do it.”
“What do you think he was looking for there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he knew more than we do. We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open tomorrow.”
“You have time for a drink?”
They turned to see Malloy walking into the lobby. She came to stand next to Robie. “Well?” she said, looking only at him.
Reel said, “I’m hitting the sack.” She glanced at Robie. “Busy day tomorrow. We have to be at our best.”
Malloy continued to stare at Robie. “How about you?”
When Robie didn’t answer right away, Reel turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. Robie watched her go for a few seconds and then looked at Malloy.
“Okay,” he said.
She said, “I don’t mean to pry, but are you two more than professional colleagues?”
“Strictly business.”
They walked across the street to the bar and sat at a table on one side of the room. The place was fairly full, though Robie didn’t see one King’s Apostle or a single skinhead.
“Not much else to do around here at night,” explained Malloy. “That sort of place. Not like Manhattan,” she added miserably.
“I guess not.”
They ordered beers, and when their drinks came, Robie said, “So what’s up?”
“I know you can’t tell me who Mr. Walton really is.”
“That would be an affirmative.”
“And you can’t tell me what you really do?”
Robie said, “I’m here to find him. Pretty simple.”
“Right. But from what I’ve seen of you and your partner, finding people isn’t all you do.”
“Okay.”
“Is that an affirmation?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be. But if you tell anyone else, I’ll deny it.”
Malloy drank her beer but kept her gaze on him.
Robie ran his gaze around the room and then, for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom, his eyes darted over Malloy, from her toes to her head.
Malloy didn’t appear to notice this.
Robie blinked, sat back, and cradled his beer.
She said, “You must have some special skills if you escaped from Dolph.”
“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve. And Dolph got sloppy.”
“I really want to nail that guy. It would go a long way toward making this area safer.”
“So long as the bad guys outnumber the good guys you’re fighting a losing battle. That’s why people like Dolph come to places like this and set up shop. They can do their crap in the middle of nowhere without a SWAT team bringing the hammer down.”
Malloy sighed and sat back. “I guess.”
“You ever think of going back to New York?”
“Every day of my life.”
“So will you?”
“Probably. But I need to make sure that Holly is safe first. I have to believe she’s going to call me at some point. I mean, she always does.”
Robie drank his beer down in three quick bursts.
“You in a hurry?” she said, watching him do this.
“Just thirsty.”
His gaze once more involuntarily took her in. And this time Malloy did notice.
She slowly crossed her legs and sat forward. The sundress had a slit and the movement allowed him a glimpse of her thighs. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Ever been?”