End Game (Will Robie 5)

He pointed around the space. “It’s about two thousand square feet. I know that sounds fairly large for an underground apartment, but keep in mind that the owners are used to living in mansions ten times that size, with full-time staffs, but there was no way we could duplicate that here. But we do try to make it as luxurious as possible, as you saw with the common areas. Now, we have nine-foot ceilings throughout, granite counters, Wolf and Sub-Zero appliances. This particular place is owned by an investment banker. His wife had her designer fly in to do the customized interior.” He pointed to a window showing a scene with trees and a statue.

“That’s Central Park,” said Malloy.

Lambert nodded. “These are LED video screens. It’s important when living underground that you have lots of light to stimulate people. You can customize them to whatever you want. There’re also sounds associated with them, and the scenes are on a rotation so they change every few minutes. This couple is from Manhattan and wanted to replicate that experience. We’ve got another couple from Minnesota that prefers winter images. One guy from Hawaii likes waves and beaches. We have one guy who was born in England before moving to the U.S. as a teenager. He has an entire video wall in his bedroom with scenes from London. It’s all in what you want the experience to be.” He suddenly laughed. “In 1961 JFK called on all Americans to work together to build fallout shelters because of the Cold War. But somehow I don’t think he had this in mind.”

“No, I don’t think he did,” said Robie.

“But you look at Congress. They had that big underground shelter at the Greenbrier Resort in West Virginia. The press found out and they discontinued its use, but don’t tell me they don’t have other places to go in case the world goes to hell.”

“Well, places like that are to ensure continuity of government,” Reel pointed out.

“Well, places like this are to ensure that highly successful people survive and then come out and work to rebuild the world,” said Lambert. “It’s all in our marketing brochures. It’s like we’re doing a public service, really. These people are leaders. Frankly, I believe they’re far better leaders than the do-nothings in Washington. How do you know a politician is lying? He has a pulse.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” said Robie.

Lambert quickly eyed him. “Hey, I know you’re with the Feds, and I got great respect for people putting their lives on the line for their country. I was in the Army for a while. Some of the best lessons I ever learned. My problem is with the empty suits spouting bullshit and not helping anybody. Maybe if they did their job we wouldn’t have to build stuff like this.” He grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, I tend to get on my soapbox sometimes.” He looked around at the space. “As elaborate as this is, there are other folks doing much bigger things.”

“Such as?” asked Reel curiously.

“I hear they’re developing a subterranean community near Dallas. Single-family homes, equestrian center, beaches, golf course, polo fields, zip lines. Three hundred million bucks or more it’s costing, all underground, and all protected against an apocalypse. And there’s a huge development of former military bunkers in South Dakota. That will house about five thousand people. And it’s not just in the U.S. They’re doing this at an old military bunker in Germany that’ll have triple the number of residences that I have, and then there’s the Oppidum in the Czech Republic. They’re calling it the ‘Billionaire’s Bunker.’ It has an aboveground estate and nearly eighty thousand square feet underground. Makes what I’m doing here seem like small potatoes.”

“I hope no one ever considers something like this small potatoes,” commented Robie.

“Anybody in residence now?” asked Reel. “Or do they just come when the nukes get dropped?”

“Most of the owners have come out and spent time here just to get a feel for what it’s like. But they won’t really know what it’s like until there is a catastrophe. I mean, we don’t put them to work or put them in the chill-out room now. That’s only in the event of an emergency. There’s a couple coming in tomorrow. They bought the last unit. He just turned thirty-eight, but he inherited a bazillion dollars from his old man. His wife was a model. Still could be. She’s a knockout. They pretty much bought the unit sight unseen. Now they’re coming to live here for a couple days to get a feel for it.”

“Where’s your apartment?” asked Robie.

“The bottom one,” said Lambert.

“So they have to go through everybody else to get to you?” said Reel, staring at him with a knowing expression.

He grinned. “Nice observation. Hell, there’s got to be some extra perk for the guy who built the damn place.”

“And that’s not in the marketing materials,” said Reel.

“Must have left that one out,” he said.

“Must have.”

“So that’s our little fallout shelter,” said Lambert, making a mock bow.

“Well, let’s hope you never have to use it for real,” said Robie.

Chapter

41

AS THEY WERE leaving the silo, a stretch limo pulled up and the driver, a man in his sixties with curly gray hair and dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform, quickly climbed out and opened the rear door.

Out stepped a tall, handsome, well-built man in his late thirties. He was dressed in corduroy pants and an ammo vest over a white shirt. What looked to be work boots right out of the box were on his feet. A compact nine-millimeter pistol rode in a hip holster.

He reached his hand back into the limo and helped out the woman. She was around thirty, with long dark hair that swirled around her shoulders. She was nearly as tall as the man and had the sort of long-limbed and narrow-hipped body that fashion designers craved for the catwalk. She had on faded jeans with a series of slashes at the knees and thighs. Her blouse bared both her tanned shoulders, and when she reached up to tousle her hair, the blouse pulled up to show rock-hard abs.

Lambert scurried forward to greet them as the woman checked her face in a mirror she pulled from the large Prada bag slung over her shoulder.

“How are you doing, Mr. and Mrs. Randall? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” He looked anxiously back at Robie, Reel, and Malloy.

“Change of plan. Suzy wants to go to our place in the Hamptons earlier than I thought. So let’s hit this thing, Roark. I want to see what four mill bought me. And it better be damn good. Some of my friends are going the island route. I don’t want to be left thinking I made the wrong decision. That’s when the lawyers get involved.”

“Absolutely, sure thing, I know you’ll be pleased,” said Lambert hastily. He called over his shoulder to the hulking guard standing next to the Hummer. “H

ank, can you run these other folks back into town? You can take my truck. I’ll be here for a while taking care of our clients here.”

He tossed the truck keys to Hank.

Randall eyed Robie and then Reel and then said to Lambert, “Are they staff?”

“How do you know we’re not owners?” said Reel.

Randall snorted. “Look, lady, I know what it costs to have a unit in this place. And I’ve been around big money all my life. I can smell the people who have it and I can definitely tell the people who don’t have it. And you’re definitely in the latter category. No offense, we can’t all be rich, right? I mean, what fun would that be?”

“Well, you’re right, actually, we’re not owners. We’re federal agents.”

Randall eyed her and then looked at the uniformed Malloy and said to Lambert, “Why are Feds here checking out things? We don’t have a legal problem, do we, Roark? That would definitely not make me happy.”

His wife interjected, “Jesus, Scotty, can we just get this going? This wind is drying my hair out. I did not sign up for this shit. I mean, I didn’t even know you could land a plane here. This is the part of the country you fly over, not come to.”

“Just a minute, hon. I need to get to the bottom of this. Well, Roark, do we have a problem with the damn government?” he said, eyeing Reel suspiciously.