by Lee Child
‘Unprovoked, yes. Random, no. They thought I was working with some insurance guy. They tried to warn me off.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘You’re the detective.’
‘Fine. Don’t help me. But you should certainly help yourself. Listen. I’ve just been to the hospital. You banged those guys up pretty good. They won’t be able to work for quite a while. Won’t be able to do much of anything. They’re not happy about that. They’re looking for some kind of payback. Talking about pressing charges.’
‘Let them. Nothing would stick.’
Wallwork shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But it would lead to a trial. There’d be no way around that. The courts are pretty backed up around here. Could be a while before you appear. We’d have to keep you locked up in the interim. And there’s the jury to think about. They’d all be locals. Do you think they’d like the idea of a hooligan blowing into town and beating on their own? And here’s another thing. The guys have already had their photos taken. By a professional. Multiple shots. They have all kinds of swellings. Bruises. Cuts. They look bad.’
‘They didn’t look great to start with.’
‘I’m not disputing that. But get a few mothers on the jury? Get them imagining you doing that kind of damage to their sons? You’d be taking a gamble.’
Reacher said nothing.
‘Of course, there is another path we could take. These are not the smartest of individuals. I could probably change their minds. Get them to drop all this talk of criminal charges. But if I did that for you, I’d need something in return.’
‘Such as?’
‘The previous incident. The one involving Rusty Rutherford. Detective Goodyear was left with the sense that you weren’t being entirely forthcoming. Level with me, and I’ll see you get to walk out of here.’
‘Level with you how? Some guys tried to kidnap Rutherford. I stopped them. There’s nothing more to tell.’
‘You followed Rutherford along the sidewalk for a spell, correct?’
Reacher nodded.
‘Did you see him drop anything? In a trash can, maybe, or down a drain?’
‘No.’
‘After you intervened, before the officers arrived, did he try to hide anything?’
‘No.’
‘It could have been very small. A key, or a flash drive.’
‘He didn’t hide anything.’
‘Did you see him mail anything?’
‘No.’
‘At the diner you two must have talked. Did he say anything about having a storage unit? Or a safety deposit box?’
‘No.’
‘Did he mention having been anywhere recently?’
‘No. But he did say he’s leaving in a couple of days for a fishing cabin he has in Nova Scotia. But when he pulled out his pocketbook to pay for dinner I saw he had a Mexican passport in there. A plane ticket. And a bunch of pesos.’
Wallwork closed his notebook and set it down. ‘Are you messing with me, Mr Reacher?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be? You’re messing with me, detective. Or should I say agent?’
Wallwork didn’t respond.
‘It’s a little bit about the suit,’ Reacher said. ‘A little bit about your questions. But mainly about your shoes.’
Wallwork instinctively looked down at his feet.
‘I bet they set you back three times what Detective Goodyear’s cost,’ Reacher said. ‘And I bet a thousand bucks he wouldn’t swap. Not even if they were his size and brand new. Look at them. There’s no cushioning in the sole. No room around the toes. No thickness to the leather. No cop in the world would wear them.’
Wallwork let out a long, slow breath. ‘I knew this was a mistake. I read your service record. I wanted to be straight with you from the start but my boss wouldn’t go for it. She insisted on the subterfuge. I know it’s a stretch to ask you to trust me now, but look at it this way. I could just leave. Deny everything. Say this interview never happened. But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to tell you the truth.’
Wallwork took out his wallet, removed a laminated card, and set it on the table next to his notebook. There was a blue and white eagle in the centre. It was clutching a bunch of thirteen arrows in one talon. An olive branch with thirteen leaves and berries in the other. There was a shield with mountains on the left and water on the right. The words US Department of Homeland Security were in a ring around the outside. And beneath that, Jefferson Wallwork, Special Agent, Infrastructure Security Agency.
‘This is who I really am,’ he said.
‘So what do you really want to know?’ Reacher said.
‘The ransomware attack on the town. You heard about it?’
Reacher nodded.
‘There are two ways ransomware can get into a computer network. Over the internet. Or from something that’s physically connected. A thumb drive. A disc drive. Something like that.’
‘Rutherford didn’t do it.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
‘You’ve read my service record. I was an investigator. And an investigator develops a sense for people. I’ve talked to Rutherford. Spent time with him. He didn’t do it.’
‘Maybe you’re right. I kind of hope you are. But without proof it remains a possibility. I have to rule it in. Or rule it out.’
‘Then talk to Rutherford. Ask him to his face. Catch him in a lie, or let him clear his name.’
‘I wish I could.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘What if he is involved? We bring him in, he gets word to his buddies, they cut off negotiations with the insurance company. Lock the town’s data for ever. And crawl back into their dung heap. We’d have no chance of catching them. Or if his buddies are watching and they see us bring him in, same result.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘The other possibility is online transmission. We’re hunting that down, too. Fingers crossed something breaks. Meantime, I have to ask you not to mention this to Rutherford. Or anyone else. It could have extremely serious consequences if you did.’
‘Rutherford lost his job. Everyone in the town hates him. He was almost kidnapped. I’m not going to dump anything else on him.’
‘Good. Thank you. Now before I go, I have a message from Detective Goodyear. The thing about the quid pro quo for getting those men to drop the assault charges? That was his idea. I kind of piggybacked on it. And there is something he needs you to do.’
‘What?’
‘Leave town. This morning. Right now, in fact. He has a car waiting outside to take you to the highway. And he wants your word you won’t come back.’
‘What if I don’t want to leave town?’
‘Come on, Reacher. Work with me here. Yesterday you asked him for a ride.’
‘That was yesterday. The town has grown on me since then.’
‘He’s making you a fair offer, Reacher. You’ve been in town less than twenty-four hours and already you’ve been in two major brawls.’
Reacher took a moment to weigh Goodyear’s offer. There was Rutherford’s well-being to think about. And in an ideal world he would root out whoever was behind sending those thugs after him at the diner. It wasn’t fair for the foot soldiers to pay the price on their own. But on the other hand the town had no bus station. No sign of much truck traffic, either, which was the best bet when it came to hitching a ride. People were becoming increasingly leery about letting strangers into their cars, these days. Especially strangers who looked like him.
‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘I will leave. This morning. But I have two conditions.’
‘There’s no money in this for you. Let’s be clear about that.’
‘I’m not talking about money. This is about something else. Those idiots attacked me because they thought I worked for an insurance agent. That must be the guy who gave me a ride yesterday. He’ll be staying in a hotel somewhere in town. Some New York dude. Young. In his twenties. He can’t be hard to find. I need
you to make sure that with me gone they don’t transfer their attention to him. That means warning them to leave him alone. In language they can understand. You know what I mean?’
Wallwork smiled. ‘I think I do.’
‘And you need to warn him to watch his back in case whoever sent the chuckle brothers sends someone else. Someone better.’
Wallwork nodded. ‘I can do that.’
‘And then there’s Rutherford. If you need to investigate him, so be it. But you also need to keep him safe. He’s certainly not equipped to do it himself.’
The car Goodyear had arranged was waiting in the courthouse lot when Reacher stepped out through the metal door at the top of the steps. It was long and sleek and German, metallic black, and it was shining in the morning sun like it had just been detailed. Technically it was a regular sedan with four doors and a trunk, but to Reacher’s eye it looked too low at the back. It seemed to be squatting on the asphalt rather than sitting on its wheels, like it had been squashed before leaving the factory.
The driver saw Reacher emerge. He hit a button to open the trunk, climbed out, and walked stiffly to the rear of the car. He’d be in his mid to late fifties, Reacher thought, with silver hair buzzed short and the tanned, leathery skin of a guy who spent plenty of time outdoors. He wasn’t tall – maybe five ten at most – and he was wearing pale chinos and a white shirt. The shirt was tight across his shoulders, and also around his gut. It was like he’d once been in shape but was struggling to stay that way and wasn’t ready to admit he might not make it. He looked at Reacher and sneered, making plain his displeasure at the prospect of someone so unkempt being allowed to travel in his pristine vehicle.
‘I’m Marty. You’re Jack Reacher?’
Reacher nodded. ‘You can close the trunk, Marty. No luggage. Just the clothes on my back.’
This revelation didn’t make Marty appear any more enthusiastic. He shook his head, prodded a button on the edge of the trunk lid which caused it to slowly close, and stalked around to the passenger side. He opened the rear door and stood back as Reacher folded himself into the cramped space. Then he went to his side of the car and climbed in behind the wheel. He fastened his seat belt, fired up the engine, and pulled out of the lot. He turned past the front of the building, jinked left and right along a couple of streets lined with single family homes that grew larger and further apart as they went until they settled into a straight wide road with fields full of low dark green plants on either side. The position of the sun told Reacher they were heading due south.
‘Where are we going, Marty?’ Reacher shuffled across towards the centre of the back seat.
‘To the highway.’ Marty glanced at Reacher’s reflection in the mirror before his eyes darted back to the road. ‘That’s where you want to go, right?’
‘I came in on the highway.’ Reacher moved further across. ‘It’s north of town.’
‘We’re going to a different highway.’
‘Which other highway? And why?’
‘Listen. Detective Goodyear is a friend. He asked me to give someone a ride to the highway. He didn’t specify which one. This way suits me better. It’s convenient for some business I have this afternoon. What difference does it make to you, north or south? Beggars can’t be choosers. Would you rather get out and walk? In this heat?’
‘Actually, yes,’ Reacher said. ‘I like to walk. The heat doesn’t bother me. Let me out right here.’
Marty kept on driving.
‘Goodyear wanted to be sure I left town?’ Reacher said. ‘He made that clear?’
‘Right.’
‘What did he say I’d done to become so undesirable?’
‘Getting into fights. General troublemaking. Associating with undesirables. That kind of thing.’
‘And any trouble I might make in the future, he wants me to make elsewhere?’
‘Right.’
‘He didn’t figure I might make some trouble right here in your car?’
‘He figured you might try. But I was with the police department for twenty years. He knows that if you are dumb enough to try anything, I can handle it.’ Marty moved his right thigh to reveal a small pistol and a pair of worn handcuffs tucked against the raised edge of his seat.
The gun was a pointless prop, Reacher thought. There was no way he could use it. He’d need a second guy to have any chance. Someone else in the back seat. To hold the gun on Reacher and keep him penned in behind the empty passenger seat. It was impossible for Marty to do it. Not while he was driving. He couldn’t watch the road and aim behind him at the same time. He’d have to twist around. Avoid the head restraints. Fire more or less at random. In which case Reacher would just take the gun from him.
‘Think about it,’ Marty said. ‘The cops are running you out of town for a reason. You think if you were found in a ditch, full of bullets from a gun registered to a punk who died when Reagan was president, anyone would give two shits?’
‘I certainly wouldn’t be happy about it.’
‘Who cares about your happiness?’
Reacher shuffled a little further to the left. ‘Seems like we got off on the wrong foot, Marty. Let’s start again. Call a truce. How about this? I won’t cause any trouble in your car. And you come clean about where you’re taking me. And don’t say the highway because I know that’s not true.’
‘OK. Not the highway. You’re right.’
‘Then where?’
‘You’ll find out when we get there.’
‘You don’t know me very well, Marty, so I won’t hold it against you, but I’m not the kind of guy who likes vague answers. Precision is important to me. So I’m going to give you another chance. Where are you taking me?’
Marty moved his thigh again and tapped the gun with his right hand. ‘What makes you think you’re in a position to be giving out chances?’
‘During those twenty years you say you spent in the police department, did you ever notice the way squad cars had a plexiglass panel dividing the front and the back?’
‘Sure I noticed. And I didn’t like it. Those panels are bulletproof. They stopped me from shooting smartasses when I was driving them places.’
‘An understandable attitude in certain situations.’ Reacher shuffled the rest of the way across. ‘But it’s one you might want to reconsider right now.’
Reacher unfastened Marty’s seat belt and grabbed the loose section with his left hand, whipping it back and pinning the tongue against the door with his left knee. He stretched around and laid his left palm over Marty’s forehead and pulled back, clamping his head in place. Then he snaked his right arm around the seat and pressed his fist against Marty’s throat. The car swerved. Marty struggled with the wheel for a moment. Then he grabbed his gun and flailed around, pointing it backward and trying to bring it to bear on Reacher, who was pressing himself tight against the back of the driver’s seat.
Reacher increased the pressure on Marty’s throat until he could feel his windpipe begin to collapse. ‘Drop the gun.’
Marty continued to flail around for a moment before reality sank in and he let go of the gun. It bounced off the passenger seat and rattled down into the footwell.
Reacher relaxed the pressure a little. ‘Good. Now stop the car.’
Marty accelerated.
‘Not smart, Marty. If you don’t stop the car a number of things will happen. First, I’ll compress your neck. There are all kinds of veins and arteries in a person’s neck. They’ll be squashed flat. That’ll cut off the oxygen supply to your brain. Soon you’ll black out. If the car’s still moving, we’ll crash. Which would be fine from my point of view. The back of this seat will protect me. You, on the other hand, would have a problem. A major one. I don’t know how strong your grasp of physics is, but one principle in particular would come into play. Inertia. You know what that is?’
Reacher felt a slight shake of Marty’s head.
‘Inertia is the tendency for an object to maintain its current state. If
something is stationary it stays stationary, unless something else moves it. If something is moving it keeps moving, unless something stops it. The same thing applies to the human body. It’s why cars have seat belts. Without them, if you crash, the car stops but the occupants keep moving. They burst through the windshield. Impale themselves on sharp objects. All kinds of painful things can happen. Maybe fatal things. And you’re not wearing a seat belt, are you, Marty? Not any more.’
The car slowed, but it was still moving.
‘And you have an extra problem. Inertia is working against you in another way. You feel how tight I’m holding your head? It won’t keep moving if the car hits something. It will stop. But your body won’t. There’s nothing to arrest its forward motion. The only thing restraining it at all is your neck. Not just veins and arteries in a person’s neck. There are nerves, too.’
Marty took his foot off the gas, rolled the car to the side of the road, and finally stopped. Reacher felt Marty’s body slacken.
‘I was told to take you to a gas station,’ Marty said. ‘An abandoned one.’
‘And?’ Reacher said.
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t told and I didn’t ask. As I’ve just demonstrated, I don’t have a death wish.’
‘Where is the gas station?’
‘Ahead, about half a mile. It’s on the right. Next to a derelict car showroom. They used to sell Studebakers. When you see the sign, you know you’re close.’
‘How much is Goodyear paying you?’
Marty tried to shake his head.
‘If it’s not money, what does he have on you? I hope it’s something big.’
‘This isn’t John’s doing,’ Marty said. ‘He’s a straight shooter. He told me he wanted you out of town because you’re a troublemaker, and I take that as the gospel truth. He did ask me to drive you to the highway. I did agree as a favour to a friend. The gas station thing is a separate deal. He knows nothing about it.’
‘Goodyear’s a straight shooter? So straight you could riddle me with bullets from an illegal gun, throw me in a ditch, and he’d turn a blind eye?’
Marty tried to shake his head again.