by Diane Capri
The driver curved right into a circular driveway and pulled up in front of a private building larger than a boutique hotel. The place might have been somewhat smaller than Meadowbrook Hall, a public museum nearby where Kim had attended a few weddings over the years.
Kim recalled that Meadowbrook Hall had been a private home built by the auto heiress Matilda Dodge Wilson in the late 1920s. A private home with 88,000 square feet and 110 guest rooms wasn’t considered obscene at the time, apparently. Car companies were thick on the ground in this area back then and their owners amassed the kind of wealth Kim could only imagine. They had to have something to spend it on, she supposed.
Still, she wondered who built this estate. and who owned it now. Probably one of those early auto magnates.
Not that it mattered who built the place. But learning who owned the house now and how he was connected to Finlay could be relevant.
She shrugged. Gaspar’s useful all-purpose gesture. She’d find out, all in good time.
Russell opened the door and Kim climbed out of the limo.
“Welcome to the slums, Agent Otto,” he teased with a grin. She’d always liked Russell.
“Lead the way,” she replied, wondering again why Finlay had summoned her here.
She’d have asked Russell, but from experience she knew he wouldn’t tell her. His discretion was admirable. Not all Secret Service agents were so reticent. She figured his loyalty meant he respected and approved of Finlay. Which told her something about both men, but nothing about why she was here.
The driver pulled away and Kim walked beside Russell to the front entrance. He pushed the heavy door inward and they stepped across the threshold and back in time at least a hundred years.
The cavernous entrance hall was significantly larger than Kim’s entire apartment and much more ornate. Everything was meticulously preserved, restored to its original glory. She stared at the elaborately carved wood and stone elements, and the soaring plaster ceiling, feeling like a very tiny smudge of humanity by comparison.
“How much do you think it costs every day to run this place, Russell?” she asked, craning her neck to look at the huge antique Tiffany lamps hanging from the elaborate ceiling.
“Way more than I make, that’s for sure. Ten grand a day? More?” Russell replied as they walked along toward the elevator under the stairs, which was concealed by a wood panel identical to those that lined the rest of the hallway.
The place was like a museum. Everywhere she turned, she noticed the meticulous craftsmanship. She identified paintings by Gainsborough and Rivera, but she wasn’t familiar with the other artists whose work adorned the walls.
Russell pushed a corner of the wood panel and it slid aside. She entered the elevator and he joined her inside the car. Russell pulled an old-fashioned accordion gate across the entrance and manually closed the ornate brass interior door. He pushed the lever on the wall to raise the elevator slowly to the third floor.
He adjusted the lever and the elevator car bounced to a stop. He pushed the door open, then the gate.
“Watch your step,” he said, pointing to the two-inch difference between the elevator car and the floor. He waved her out into another well-preserved hallway furnished with the glamour of the early twentieth century.
“This way,” Russell said as he pointed to the left with his palm.
They walked further into the depths of the house, footsteps echoing on the polished wood floors, about halfway down the corridor where they reached solid double doors on the right.
Russell knocked and then turned the brass knob and pushed the heavy door inward.
This suite of rooms seemed lighter and more welcoming. Finlay was seated behind a desk in front of a window. He looked up from a note he was writing and said, “Good to see you, Agent Otto. Thank you for coming. Coffee and pastries on the table over there. Help yourself. I’m almost done here.”
Russell backed out and closed the heavy door behind him. Kim guessed he wouldn’t stray from his post until this meeting was over, when he’d escort her back to the city.
Feeling uneasy, she filled her coffee cup, returned to a chair near Finlay’s desk, and waited until he explained himself.
It was an odd dynamic. He’d never summoned her before. Nor had she fully appreciated how much he actually knew about the Boss’s methods. In the past, she’d been the one who’d come looking for him, hat figuratively in hand, and always for a specific purpose.
The shift in their relationship was subtle and disconcerting, in some subliminal way she couldn’t put her finger on.
He looked as confident and classy as ever. He’d removed his suit jacket to reveal a crisp white dress shirt. The cuffs were fastened with gleaming gold square cuff links. The collar sported a smartly knotted yellow bow tie that matched the socks showing between sharply pressed trousers and highly polished bespoke cap-toed shoes.
He looked like a wealthy Wall Street hedge fund manager, which was fitting for a man who wielded such power. If he had actually held any control over her life whatsoever, he’d have been as intimidating as hell. As it was, she felt only mild disquiet. Again, she wondered, what did he want?
A few moments later, he laid the expensive fountain pen on the desk, folded the creamy white stationery in half, stuffed it into a preaddressed envelope, and sealed it firmly with a hot wax circle and placed it on a small silver plate. He pressed a button.
Russell entered almost instantly to collect the envelope and then left again.
When they were alone once more, Finlay folded his hands across his flat stomach and said, “You look well rested, Otto. No Reacher hunting lately?”
Kim shrugged. Whether she’d been actively investigating Reacher or not when he’d summoned her was none of his business. And he probably already knew the answers anyway.
Her Reacher assignment was not even sanctioned black ops, but was deep under the radar. Which meant that only three people in the world should have had knowledge of the job. Finlay was not one of the three.
Yet, somehow, he knew more about the situation than she was comfortable with, and he knew she knew it. Finlay had been keeping an eye on her since the Boss first tasked her with completing Reacher’s background check, ostensibly because he was being considered for a classified assignment. She’d trusted the Boss back then. Now, not so much.
But even if there was a classified assignment waiting for Reacher, she had no idea what it was because her clearance wasn’t high enough. Finlay’s clearance was well above hers. If he didn’t know the nature of the assignment, he could easily have found out.
Whatever he knew, he didn’t share with her. Why should she share with him?
He smiled. “Relax. I brought you out here because I’m doing you a favor.”
“How’s that?” she sipped the coffee as if nothing he might possibly say could change her life, even though they both knew otherwise.
He inclined his head toward a closed door to his left. “A witness is waiting to tell you everything she knows about Reacher.”
She felt her stomach do a couple of flips and reached into her pocket for another of the antacids she kept there. Finlay made her beyond nervous. No way she could hide the fact.
She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because I asked her to.” He smiled again, which set off her internal alarms in an even bigger way.
Her internal threat level moved all the way to red and held the needle there.
She’d come out here with no backup. Not even Gaspar knew where she was. Any tracking devices the Boss might have accessed were back in her apartment. Finlay could make her disappear in an instant with nothing more than the snap of his fingers. No one would ever know.
But why would he do that? He’d helped her before. Gaspar didn’t like it, but more than once, she’d relied on Finlay instead of the Boss.
Still, Gaspar was wary of Finlay and she trusted his instincts almost as well as her own. She didn’t have a clue what this was all ab
out, but whatever Finlay was doing here would be more for his benefit than hers. She was sure of that.
“If your witness is willing to talk about Reacher, why hasn’t Cooper mentioned her before?”
Finlay shrugged. “Your boss is a strange man. His reasons are his own. I can’t speak for him.”
“And you wouldn’t tell me even if you knew,” Kim replied. He didn’t argue. Did the Boss know about Finlay’s witness? What would he say to her in the moment?
Kim felt ambivalent and conflicted. This whole setup felt like a trap. Yet Finlay hadn’t tried to hurt her in the past. Quite the opposite. He’d helped her out more than once.
“Do you want to talk to Holly Johnson or not?” He asked. “I’ve got other things to do.”
What’s the worst that could happen? There were too many pitfalls to consider thoroughly. She was already here. Hard to see a way that simply talking to the woman could cause any kind of problem. Kim took a deep breath to calm herself. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“I promise she won’t shoot you. Not unless you do something to provoke her, anyway.” Finlay laughed.
It was the kind of laugh that made some women swoon, she was sure. But the laugh simply made Kim more nervous.
He stood and walked toward the doorway on his left. He turned the knob and inclined his head. “Come with me.”
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday, April 12
12:05 p.m.
Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Finlay had made the introductions and left them alone. Kim assumed the place was under constant surveillance. He didn’t need to join them. He’d be recording everything, anyway.
She was perched on a loveseat across from FBI Special Agent Holly Johnson, who sat poised and relaxed on an identical loveseat opposite. A low coffee table rested between them.
Johnson was probably in her early forties, Kim guessed. Dark hair. Very light makeup. Professionally attired. Slender, fit, and well groomed. A plain gold wedding band adorned her left ring finger.
Given her age, Kim figured Johnson had been in the FBI for a long time. Which meant she had moved up the ladder from where Kim was positioned. Might as well get that out of the way first.
“I work as a field agent out of the Detroit Office,” Kim said, giving her a chance to reciprocate.
Johnson nodded. “I know.”
“How about you?”
Johnson shook her head. “That’s classified, I’m afraid. And I don’t have a lot of time to talk today. Let’s get to your questions on Jack Reacher.”
Figures. None of these witnesses ever wanted to divulge their secrets. “What did Finlay tell you already? No need to cover old ground.”
“He says you’re completing a background check on Reacher, who is being considered for a classified assignment above your clearance level,” Johnson replied easily. “Of course, we all know that’s a load of crap.”
Kim concealed her surprise and cocked her head. “Why’s that?”
“Because your orders come straight from Charles Cooper. He’s pretty far up the FBI food chain, but that guy’s so crooked they’ll need to bury him with a corkscrew,” Johnson grinned.
“So what do you think is going on?” Kim asked, genuinely interested.
Johnson shook her head. “Damned if I know. It’s not my assignment, so I don’t have to know. What I’m concerned about is Cooper’s intention here. Reacher doesn’t deserve to be targeted for any of Cooper’s black ops nonsense. If I can stop it here and now, so much the better.”
“He’s my boss. Yours, too, for that matter. Neither one of us needs to get crossways with him,” Kim said.
“Okay. Fair enough. You’re in a tough spot,” Johnson nodded. She softened her tone. “I’m not worried about Cooper. But you’re right that you should be. He can ruin your career in a hot New York minute. End your life, too, if he feels like it. Don’t you forget that.”
“Seems like he could do the same to you,” Kim replied evenly.
Johnson said nothing for a couple of moments. She glanced at her watch and then seemed to choose her words carefully. “As I mentioned, my time is limited. We can get into my situation another day. For now, let me tell you about Reacher and then you can ask me specific questions, okay?”
Kim had no choice, so she simply nodded.
Johnson said, “I haven’t seen Reacher in more than fifteen years. Back then, he was fresh out of the army and he was a helluva soldier. Young. Fit. Capable. Smart. One of our finest, to be sure.”
“Were you in Margrave, Georgia, with him and Finlay, then?” Kim asked, because Margrave was the first place Reacher surfaced after his military discharge fifteen years ago.
Margrave was where Joe Reacher had died, too. It was where the girl who might be Reacher’s daughter lived now. And it was where Reacher had met Finlay.
Whatever the glue that held Reacher and Finlay together now, it started fifteen years ago in Margrave. Maybe Holly Johnson could shed some light on that, too.
“No. Totally different situation.” Johnson shook her head, dashing Kim’s hopes. “Reacher and I were kidnapped together. By some crazy paramilitary group. They took us out west and planned to kill us both. But for Reacher, they probably would have succeeded.”
“What did Reacher do?”
Johnson’s gaze was as steely as her tone. “Exactly what he was trained to do. He kept us alive. And before you ask, yes, a lot of what he did back then would have been enough to get him arrested. A military tribunal would have convicted him and sent him to prison. Hell, a civil jury probably would have, too.”
Despite her words, Johnson didn’t sound the least bit concerned about Reacher’s lawbreaking. Which was a pattern Kim had come across before. “But?”
“For my money, everything he did and everything I did, was justified. We were at war with those nuts. It was kill or be killed. We were fighting for our lives. We had an undercover FBI agent embedded with them and they killed him. In the most horrific way. I’ll never forget what they did.” Johnson shivered involuntarily. She took a deep breath. “Anyway, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for Reacher. I’m never going to forget that. And Cooper would be wise to keep his distance from me if he has anything detrimental to Reacher in mind. When you talk to him, you can tell him I said so.”
Kim nodded, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. “Why would Cooper care what you think?”
“Listen to me.” Johnson leaned forward and clasped her hands between her knees. “Cooper can’t be trusted. Whatever he wants you to do, whatever he’s been saying, you can be sure you’re not getting the whole story. Be wary of him, Otto. You’re a solid agent. I checked you out. Don’t let him lead you into the kind of trouble you don’t need or want and can’t get out of. Stay alert. For your own sake as well as Reacher’s.”
Kim nodded slowly. “So this group. The ones that kidnapped you. Why did they choose you?”
“That’s a long story. It was a nutty plan. The guy who thought it up was as crazy as they come.” She paused. “But he was a heartless stone-cold killer, too. Very dangerous combination. Several times, I didn’t think we’d make it out. I thought we’d die trying. Because of Reacher, we survived.”
“Was? You said the guy was crazy. So he’s dead now?”
Johnson stared and said nothing, which was all the answer Kim needed. She’d been hunting Reacher for a while and she’d run into too many similar situations. She knew what had happened without being told.
The guy was dead.
Reacher had killed him.
And Johnson was okay with that.
Hell, she sounded like she’d probably give Reacher a medal for it, even if neither the military nor civilian justice system would agree.
“Was everyone in the paramilitary group crazy? Or just the leader?” Kim asked.
“You mean were they likely to blow themselves up so they could get virgins in the after-life or drink poisoned Kool-Aid or som
ething?” Johnson’s grim smile slashed to one side of her face. “Nothing that blatant. The leader didn’t want his own people dead. Some of them were prisoners themselves. Some just wanted to be left alone. Others were disenchanted with our government, looking for a better way.”
Kim nodded. “There’s a lot of that going around these days, too.”
“Yeah, and it’s scary. Even though I understand how they feel. The government’s been letting us down for a long time,” Johnson agreed. “There was one guy Reacher talked to back there. James Ray. He was a soldier once. Married. Two sons. They all lived out there on the compound. He seemed decent enough, even though his reasoning was sideways, like he’d been brainwashed or something.”
“What happened to him?”
Johnson leaned back slightly and seemed to relax a bit. “You know, I never followed up on that. Once we got clear of that place, Reacher and I went our separate ways. The people from the group were processed appropriately, I guess. Some of them were probably tried and convicted. I don’t know what happened to the others. Never asked. Didn’t care.”
“And you didn’t know Reacher at all before this happened?” Kim cocked her head, processing what she’d learned. “Just some kind of crazy coincidence that the two of you were kidnapped together?”
“It’s crazy the way things happen sometimes. They wanted me. Reacher was just unlucky. Wrong place at the wrong time.” Johnson offered a genuine smile. “I was picking up my weekly dry cleaning on my lunch hour. It was heavy. Nine suits on hangers weigh a lot, you know. And I’d had a sports injury, so I was struggling with the hangers one-handed. He was passing by and offered to help. Next thing we know, we’re both grabbed off the sidewalk and tossed into the back of a van at gunpoint.”
“Sounds like some serious bad luck and trouble, doesn’t it?” Kim arched her eyebrows.
Johnson shook her head. “Having him along was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, but I felt sorry for him.”
“Yeah, I can see that. A guy trying to do a good deed gets kidnapped and almost killed. You’d feel guilty about it. Anybody would,” Kim replied. “You’ve never had any contact with Reacher since then?”