The Sentinel (Jack Reacher)

by Lee Child

  ‘I see you’re wearing a wedding ring, Dave,’ Reacher said. ‘Do you have any kids? Or is it just you and your wife?’

  ‘One kid. On the way,’ Thomassino said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Boy or girl?’

  ‘A girl. Why?’

  ‘Because I can picture the scene,’ Reacher said. ‘Her first day of kindergarten. Your wife goes to bring her home and she says, “Mommy, how come I don’t have a daddy? All the other children do.” And your wife says, “You do have a daddy, sweetheart. Only he’s in federal prison. Because he was too stupid to help himself when he had the chance.”’

  ‘All right.’ Thomassino closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I collected them. On my second visit. They were there the first time too but I pretended I hadn’t seen them. They were a pain in the ass to move so I was hoping one of the regular garbage crews would take them.’

  ‘What did you do with them?’ Sands said.

  ‘Put them in the truck. Then later that day I emptied the truck at the sorting plant.’

  ‘Let’s try that again.’

  ‘What? It’s the truth.’

  ‘I believe you put them in the truck. But they never made it to the sorting plant. What happened to them?’

  ‘I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re implying,’ Thomassino said. ‘I didn’t sell them. I didn’t pitch them on the way. Everything that was in the truck, I unloaded at the plant.’

  ‘But they weren’t at the plant,’ Sands said. ‘We checked. So what happened to them?’

  ‘I have no idea. Search my house if you don’t believe me. Talk to my wife. My friends. Check my bank account. I’ll take a lie detector test. But I didn’t steal them. I didn’t sell them. And I don’t know where they are.’

  Reacher looked at Sands. She replied with the slightest shrug of her shoulders. It wasn’t the answer they wanted. It didn’t help them. But Reacher was inclined to believe it. He had questioned a lot of suspects over the years. He had a good sense of when someone was lying and Thomassino seemed sincere in what he said.

  ‘OK, then.’ Sands took a piece of paper and a pen from her purse. ‘I’m going to give you a number, and if you—’

  ‘I have a question,’ Rutherford said. ‘Sarah, at the recycling place, did anything strike you as strange?’

  ‘No. It was just a heap of junk.’

  ‘Exactly. And the old weird guy? When you asked him about itemization, he said what would be the point? Computer mouse, beige, not working. Over and over.’

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘What are the odds of every single electronic device discarded by people in the town being broken? Surely some things would still work, even if they were old and slow. Like the servers. There was nothing wrong with them. It’s like everything with life left in it had been syphoned off, somehow.’

  Thomassino looked at the floor. His first tell.

  ‘Dave?’ Reacher said. ‘Anything to add?’

  Thomassino didn’t answer.

  ‘I wonder if your daughter will get married, Dave. I bet she will. Most people do, in the end. The question is, who will walk her down the aisle? Who will be there when she has a kid of her own?’

  Thomassino leaned forward and held his head in his hands. ‘It started in my second week on the job. My boss asked me to lunch. Said there were a couple of things he needed to bring me up to speed with. So I went to meet him. At a diner. Fat Freddie’s.’

  ‘I know the place,’ Rutherford said. ‘It’s supposed to have the best milkshakes in town.’

  ‘I got there first,’ Thomassino continued. ‘So I sat down and waited. I got a text from the boss. He said he was running late so I should go ahead and order. I did, and after my food came I got another text. He said he couldn’t make it after all. I finished eating and asked for my check and the waitress told me my meal was on the house. I asked why, and she said I should hang on a minute. Someone would come and explain. Then a big fat guy appeared and sat opposite me. I think he’s the owner. I thanked him, and he said it was no problem. He said I could always eat there for free. I just had to do one thing in return. Always stop in on my way to the sorting plant. And make sure my truck wasn’t locked.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Sands said.

  ‘Tried to talk my way out of it. Said my routes varied, it wouldn’t always be practical, sometimes I ran late, that kind of thing.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘He handed me a photograph. Of my wife. Taken through a windshield. She was crossing the street outside her work. The car was real close to her. Only a couple of feet away. She’d turned towards it. I’ll never forget the look on her face. Pure terror. Like she was certain she was getting run down.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘He didn’t have to. The message was clear.’

  ‘So you always stop there on the way to the plant,’ Reacher said. ‘Can you just show up? Or do you have to call ahead? Give notice?’

  ‘Just show up. And stay at least thirty minutes. And always leave the truck in one particular spot.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Around the back, to the side of the staff parking lot, there’s a brick outhouse. Where the dumpsters are. And where they keep the used cooking oil. There’s a patch of ground marked off in yellow. I have to leave the truck there.’

  ‘How many doors does the outhouse have?’

  ‘One. Right by where I have to park.’

  ‘Any windows?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Is the door locked?’

  Thomassino thought for a moment. ‘I guess. It has a padlock. A big one.’

  ‘So while you’re inside eating your free food someone rifles through your truck, takes everything that looks valuable, and locks it in this outhouse?’

  Thomassino shrugged.

  ‘What?’ Reacher said. ‘Is there more to the story?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m in a crappy situation here. Am I really going to put my wife’s life in danger over some worn-out electronics? Stuff that people have already thrown in the trash? Which is part of a racket that even my boss is in on? No. I’m not. So I see no evil and I hear no evil. I go in. I eat. I go back out. I empty the truck at the plant. If someone helped themselves to some stuff when I wasn’t looking, I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Plausible deniability,’ Rutherford said. ‘I get it.’

  ‘Semi-plausible,’ Sands said.

  ‘Plausible or not, you went to the diner the day you picked up the servers?’ Reacher said.

  Thomassino nodded.

  ‘And the servers were gone when you got to the plant?’

  ‘I guess,’ Thomassino said. ‘I mean, it’s not like we keep records. But I remember the cabinet thing. It was a pain in the ass getting it into the truck. I don’t remember getting it back out.’

  ‘All right,’ Reacher said. ‘One more question. The guy at the diner. The owner. Who had the picture of your wife. What’s his name?’

  ‘I heard someone call him Bud,’ Thomassino said. ‘But I think his real name is Budnick. Bill Budnick. There was a story about Fat Freddie’s in the paper one time and he was mentioned. About a year ago. Right after he bought the place.’

  ‘Good,’ Reacher said. ‘Now did this guy Budnick ever talk to you about what to do if anyone came around asking questions about him?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that came up. I only spoke to him that one time.’

  ‘So if we happen to visit Fat Freddie’s to, say, check out their reputation for milkshakes, Budnick wouldn’t be expecting us?’

  ‘Would I tip him off, do you mean? Look, that asshole threatened my wife. I wouldn’t piss in his mouth if his teeth were on fire. I’d love for you to pay him a visit. I’d love for you to bust him and throw his ass in jail. Just please, keep my name out of it.’

  ‘How could we bring your name into it?’ Reacher said. ‘We’ve never met.’

  Sands hit the door button, c
limbed out, and beckoned Thomassino to follow her. He got halfway out of his seat then sank back down.

  ‘There’s one other thing,’ he said. ‘Something I want you to know. The food I eat at Fat Freddie’s. I always pay for it. Apart from that first time when they caught me by surprise. I do what I do for my wife. To keep her safe. Not to get something for nothing. As far as I’m concerned, maybe they rob my truck. Maybe they don’t. But I am not one of them.’

  TWENTY

  So, it wasn’t laziness. It was greed. Only not on Thomassino’s part. He was just a pawn. He could have made a stand, Reacher supposed. In which case the servers would already be back in their hands. But he couldn’t blame the guy for looking the other way while his work truck got looted. Not with his wife’s life on the line. And not over a bunch of junk that people had already thrown away. Reacher would have been happier if they were driving away with the servers stacked safely in the back of the minivan. But having another breadcrumb to follow was better than nothing.

  The GPS predicted a twenty-two-minute drive to Fat Freddie’s, but that turned into forty-six minutes because Reacher asked Sands to make a detour via the truck stop. He wanted to get his hands on two more things. A bolt cutter. The biggest they had. And a padlock. The strongest he could find. Sands took the opportunity to top off the gas while Reacher was inside and she was waiting when he returned with the engine running and the next leg of the route highlighted on the screen. She drove faster than before. Buoyed up with the prospect of retrieving the servers, Reacher figured. She pushed the minivan hard, swaying and drifting through the curves until a robotic voice from the dashboard announced that their destination was on their left. They were still north of town. A few houses were dotted around amongst the fields and the trees but the concentrated development was still at least a mile away. There was a pre-war flatbed parked on either side of the driveway, like a rusty automotive equivalent of the statues Reacher had seen at the entrance to grand estates. The diner itself was set back from the road. It was a wide rectangular building made to look like it was constructed from logs. It had a green metal roof and a full-width porch and a neon sign mounted in the centre of the front wall. It spelled out Fat Freddie’s in flashing red letters and below the script an animated cartoon cowboy repeatedly lifted a colossal cheeseburger from his plate to his mouth.

  The parking lot was out front. It was packed. The dinner rush was still in full swing. Sands threaded her way around the cars and trucks that had been left at the ends of rows and half up on the kerbs and looped around to the back of the building. There was another line of spaces marked Staff Only, again all taken. Beyond them was the outhouse, just where Thomassino had said it would be. It was low and square, built of pale brick, with a flat roof and a fenced-off area attached at the front to contain the garbage cans. Sands pulled up at the side, next to its door. Reacher climbed out. He was holding the bolt cutter low down, tight against his leg. He checked that no one was watching. Raised the tool. Closed its jaws over the top of the padlock. And squeezed. Hard. The metal loop severed. He swung the body of the lock aside, pulled it clear, and stowed its remains in his pocket. Sands jumped down and joined him. Rutherford scurried around from the far side of the van.

  ‘Ready?’ Reacher said.

  Sands and Rutherford looked at each other and nodded.

  Reacher pulled the door. Its hinges squealed. Daylight flooded in almost to the far wall. Inside, the floor was covered with heaps of equipment. A similar mix to the junk at the recycling plant. Only here it was neatly sorted into categories. Computers in one area. Monitors next to them. Then keyboards. And mice. And printers. And TVs. And DVD players. Presumably everything was serviceable, although Reacher didn’t know how to tell for sure. Everything was certainly ordered and organized. And there was only one thing that wasn’t electronic. A cabinet. It was six feet tall, standing on its own at the back of the space, half hidden in the shadows. Its solid right side was facing them, and the remains of its glass door was hanging open.

  ‘There it is!’ Rutherford pushed past Reacher and rushed forward, pulling out his phone as he went. He switched on its flashlight. Dodged around to the front of the cabinet. Looked inside. Then slumped sideways, ending up with his right shoulder propped against the wall.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Sands said.

  Rutherford couldn’t speak. He just gestured vaguely with his left hand.

  Sands crossed the room, looked into the cabinet, and turned back to Reacher. He knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. ‘It’s empty. They’re gone.’

  Reacher had a vision of the servers receding even further into the distance. And the new guy from Moscow heading in the opposite direction. On a plane. Growing ever closer.

  ‘Any chance they’re in one of these piles?’ Reacher said.

  Rutherford struggled back upright and shook his head. ‘No. There’s only one lot of computers, and they’re all desktops. The servers aren’t here. We’re too late.’

  ‘That’s the wrong way to look at it,’ Reacher said. ‘We’re not too late. We’re a step closer. We know for sure they were here. Which means we’re on the right track.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Sands said. She took Rutherford’s arm and led him to the door. ‘Come on. We’re not giving up.’

  ‘What can we do?’ Rutherford said. ‘It’s a dead end.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Sands said. ‘The servers were here. Someone knows what happened to them.’

  ‘I guess,’ Rutherford said. ‘But who?’

  ‘We already know who,’ Sands said. ‘Bill Budnick. The man who threatened Thomassino. Who owns this place. We’ll talk to him. Make him tell us who he sold them to.’

  ‘Think he’s still here?’ Rutherford said. ‘What if he doesn’t work evenings?’

  ‘We’ll go inside,’ Sands said. ‘It should be easy to see if he’s around. And if he’s not, someone will know how to contact him.’

  ‘No need to go looking for him,’ Reacher said. ‘Give it five minutes. Maybe less. He’ll come to us.’

  Reacher leaned into the van and slid the bolt cutter under his seat then turned and shoved the outhouse door closed.

  ‘Right,’ Sands said. ‘The half-hour thing.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Rutherford said.

  ‘Thomassino said he could show up here any time the place is open.’ Reacher slid the new lock into place and clicked it shut. ‘No need to call ahead. He just had to stay for half an hour.’

  ‘Meaning that whoever searches his truck is always here,’ Sands said. ‘He needs time to look through all the stuff. Figure out what’s valuable. Move it to the outhouse. And get clear before Thomassino comes back out. Thirty minutes is already tight. Anything else, like relying on another person to notice Thomassino had showed up, taking their call, driving here from wherever he’s based – that would add too much overhead.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Rutherford said. ‘But it doesn’t follow that Budnick does that himself.’

  ‘True.’ Reacher leaned against the wall. ‘But professional criminals generally want two things. As much reward as possible. And as little risk as possible. If Budnick doesn’t deal with the trucks himself he has to bring in someone else to do it. At least one person. Maybe two, to cover all the week’s shifts. These people would need to be paid. Which dilutes the profit. They might drop a dime on him. And they would have to keep sneaking away from the kitchen or the dishwasher or whatever their cover job is, which would be suspicious. Which would increase the risk.’ He pointed to a fire door at the back of the main building. ‘A dime gets a dollar that the next guy who comes out of there is Budnick. Meantime, Rusty, you better get back in the van. Keep your head down. You’re local. You’ve been in the paper. He might recognize you.’

  The fire door opened after three minutes and a man stepped out. He was dressed in a pale grey suit with a white shirt and a flowery tie. His hair was neatly parted. And he was enormous. Six two and at least four hundred poun
ds. The perils of being surrounded by free food all day, every day, Reacher thought. The guy stood still for a moment, head tipped slightly to one side. Assessing the situation.

  The guy came to a conclusion and started towards the outhouse. He was light on his feet. He moved fast. Reacher updated his appraisal. The guy was not a slob, after all. Maybe a former wrestler. Or a lineman. Not that his background was going to make any difference. Not unless he had a heart attack before giving Reacher what he wanted.

  ‘I’m sorry, folks,’ the guy said. ‘You can’t park there. I’m going to have to ask you to move.’

  ‘That’s not right, is it, Mr Budnick?’ Reacher said. ‘We can park here. Clearly. Because we have. And you don’t have to ask us to move. You want to.’

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Budnick said. ‘And how do you know my name?’

  ‘I know a lot about you,’ Reacher said. ‘I know you own this restaurant. And I know that owning a restaurant isn’t enough for you, because you do a little business on the side. So I’m here to make you an offer. Something very simple. We both get what we want. We go our separate ways. Sound good?’

  ‘Firstly, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I run my diner. That’s it. Period, full stop. I have nothing else going on the side. And second, even if I did, what have you got that I could possibly want?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m not selling. I’m buying. Or more accurately, bartering, as no money is going to change hands. You’re going to give me something. And I’m going to do something for you in return.’

  ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

  Reacher said nothing.

  ‘All right,’ Budnick said. ‘I’ll bite. What do you want?’

  ‘A piece of information.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Some electronic equipment was brought here. Now it’s gone. The problem is, it belongs to us. And we want it back. So you’re going to tell me who you sold it to.’

  Budnick didn’t reply.

  ‘And in return I won’t break your legs,’ Reacher said.