The Essential Jack Reacher 12-Book Bundle

by Lee Child

  Reacher said, “Have you seen anyone today?”

  “The same people as yesterday.”

  “No men on their own?”

  “The man with the cropped ears is on his own today. In the rental. Maybe his partner is out sick.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “He came down Vineland in his car. I was in the coffee shop for breakfast. Near the lawyer’s office. Although we’ll need to rethink that involvement. This thing is a triangle, isn’t it? And we don’t know which one the lawyer is working for. Could be the neighbor, could be the soldier. Could be both of them, I suppose, although I don’t see how. Or why, actually.”

  Reacher asked, “What time did you eat breakfast?”

  “It was early. Just after the agents left.”

  “They left?”

  “Just for twenty minutes. That seems to be the pattern. You should coordinate better. Everyone moves at the same time, which leaves a gap.”

  “That’s bad.”

  “It’s OK with me. It means I can get out without them knowing. Then when I come back they’re all surprised, because they thought I was still in there.”

  “Is that what you did this morning?”

  “It’s what I’m going to do every morning.”

  “Did the man with the ears see you leave?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did he see you anyplace else?”

  “I don’t think so. I was trying to blend in. Because of your people, not him. I didn’t see him. But I saw his car again later. It was parked where there was a fender bender.”

  Reacher said, “You need to stay away from that guy.”

  “I know. You told me that yesterday. But I can’t stay in the house all day.”

  Turner paused a beat, and asked, “How long have you lived in that house?”

  “Always, I think. I don’t remember any other houses. I’m pretty sure I was born in that house. That’s what people say, isn’t it? Even when they weren’t, exactly. Which I wasn’t, either. I was born in the hospital. But I went home to that house. Which is what the phrase means these days, I suppose, now that the whole parturition business has been institutionalized.”

  Turner said, “Have you ever lived in a car?”

  “That’s a weird question.”

  “You can tell us. We know people who would love to get that high on the food chain.”

  “Who?”

  “Lots of people. What I mean is, we don’t judge.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  Reacher said, “No, you’re not in trouble. We’re just checking a couple of things. What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Is she in trouble?”

  “No one’s in trouble. Not on your street, anyway. This is about the other guy.”

  “Does he know my mom? Oh my God, is it us you’re watching? You’re waiting for him to come see my mom?”

  “One step at a time,” Reacher said. “What’s your mom’s name? And yes, I know about the Colt Python.”

  “My mom’s name is Candice Dayton.”

  “In that case I would like to meet her.”

  “Why? Is she a suspect?”

  “No, this would be personal.”

  “How could it be?”

  “I’m the guy they’re looking for. They think I know your mother.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me.”

  “You don’t know my mother.”

  “They think face to face I might recognize her, or she might recognize me.”

  “She wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t.”

  “It’s hard to say for sure, without actually trying it.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I would like to.”

  “Mister, I can tell you quite categorically you don’t know my mom and she doesn’t know you.”

  “Because you never saw me before? We’re talking a number of years here, maybe back before you were born.”

  “How well are you supposed to have known her?”

  “Well enough that we might recognize each other.”

  “Then you didn’t know her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you think I always eat in here?”

  “Because you like it?”

  “Because I get it for free. Because my mom works here. She’s right over there. She’s the blonde. You walked past her two times already and you didn’t bat an eye. And neither did she. You two never knew each other.”

  Chapter 62

  Reacher slid along the bench and craned around and took a look. The blonde waitress was busy, moving left, moving right, blowing an errant strand of hair out of an eye, wiping a palm on a hip, smiling, taking an order.

  He didn’t know her.

  He said, “Has she ever been to Korea?”

  The kid said, “That’s another weird question.”

  “How is it weird?”

  “It is if you know her.”

  “How so?”

  “Her whole stressed-out martyr shtick is based around how she’s never been out of Los Angeles County but one time in her life, when a boyfriend took her to Vegas but couldn’t pay for the hotel. She doesn’t even have a passport.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  “That’s why she dyes her hair. This is southern California. She has no papers.”

  “She doesn’t need papers.”

  “She’s an undocumented citizen. It takes a long time to explain.”

  “Is she doing OK?”

  “This isn’t the life she planned.”

  “Are you doing OK?”

  “I’m fine,” the kid said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Reacher said nothing, and Arthur came out of the blind spot behind his shoulder, and bent down and whispered in the kid’s ear, quietly, but his hard consonants made it clear what he was saying, which was: This lady and gentleman need to have a conference with another gentleman. Whereupon the kid jumped up, all aglow, perfectly happy to be displaced by a yet-more-senior agent even closer to the heart of the drama. Arthur moved back out of sight, and the kid hustled after him, and smooth as silk her vacated spot on the bench was immediately filled by a small solid figure sliding into place, neatly, elbows already on the table, and triumph in his face.

  Warrant Officer Pete Espin.

  Reacher looked at Turner, and Turner shook her head, which meant Espin had men in the coach, at least two, probably armed, and probably close by. Espin got comfortable on the bench, and then he cupped his hands, like he was reassembling a shuffled deck, and he said, “You’re not her daddy.”

  Reacher said, “Apparently.”

  “I checked, just for the fun of it. The State Department said Ms. Dayton never had a passport. The DoD said she never entered Korea on any other kind of document. So I checked some more, and it turns out the lawyer is selling stuff on the internet. Any kind of document, saying anything you want it to say. At one of two price levels, either paper only, or plausible. In this type of case plausible means real women, real children, and a real Xerox of a real birth certificate. And this guy is not the only one. This is a thriving business. There’s a lot of inventory. You want a kid born on a certain date, you can take your pick.”

  “Who bought the affidavit?”

  “He gave his name as Romeo, but his money was good. Out of the Cayman Islands.”

  “When did Romeo buy it?”

  “The same morning Major Turner was arrested. It’s an instant service. You tell them the names and the places and the dates and they doctor the boilerplate. You can even upload text, if you want. The documents are done in a computer and they come by e-mail, and they look like photocopies. Candice Dayton was chosen because of her kid’s birthdate. The lawyer knew her as a waitress, from eating in here. She got a hundred bucks for signing her name. But the birthdate was dumb. Did you notice that? It was exactly halfway through your time at Red Cloud. As in, exactly. Which sounds like a guy looking at a calendar, not natural biology.�
��

  “Good point,” Reacher said.

  “So you’re off the hook.”

  “But why was I ever on the hook? That’s the big question. You got an answer for me? Why did Romeo buy that affidavit?”

  Espin said nothing.

  “And who is Romeo really?” Reacher asked.

  No answer.

  Turner said, “What happens next?”

  Espin said, “You’re under arrest.”

  “Is Reacher, too?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “You need to call Major Sullivan at JAG.”

  “She called me first. The Big Dog thing is dead in the water, but between stepping into that cell at Dyer and this moment now, Reacher has committed about a hundred crimes we know about, and maybe more beyond that, from unlawful incarceration of a person in furtherance of a separate felony, to credit card fraud.”

  Reacher said, “Did you get a message from us through Sergeant Leach?”

  “Apparently you want me to get over myself.”

  “I asked what you would have done differently.”

  “I would have placed my trust in the system.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Especially if I was innocent.”

  “Was I innocent?”

  Espin said, “Initially.”

  Reacher said, “You didn’t answer my question. Why did Romeo buy that affidavit?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And could it have been Romeo who let the Dog out again?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Why would he do that? And the other thing? The two phony affidavits. What was their purpose? What was their only possible purpose?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re a smart guy.”

  “Romeo wanted you to run.”

  “Why did Romeo want me to run?”

  “Because you were in Major Turner’s business.”

  “And what does that say about Major Turner’s business? If she’s guilty, Romeo should want me as a witness. He should want me on the stand, confirming all the grisly details for the jury.”

  Espin paused a beat. Then he said, “I have orders to bring you back, majors. Both of you. The rest of it is above my pay grade.”

  “You know it’s a frame,” Reacher said. “You just told me Romeo has money in the Cayman Islands. He created Major Turner’s account himself. This is not brain surgery. You’ve seen better scams than this. This is the idiots’ guide. Therefore it’s certain to fall apart. Most likely real soon. Because Turner and I are not morons. We’re going to burn their house down. Which gives you a choice. Either you’re the drone who brings us home in handcuffs mere days before our greatest triumph, or you engage your brain and you start figuring out where you want to be when the dust settles.”

  “Which would be where?”

  “Not here.”

  Espin shook his head. “You know how it is. I have to come home with something.”

  “We can give you something.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “An arrest of your own, a medalworthy determination to leave no stone unturned, and the icing on a very large cake. And the icing is always the sweetest and most visible part of a very large cake.”

  “I’m going to need more than the sales brochure.”

  “Someone beat Colonel Moorcroft half to death, and I think you’ve all concluded it wasn’t me. So who was it? You’ll be bringing in a long-time member of a very big deal, and you’ll be tying a bow on it for the political class, by tilting the spotlight.”

  “Where would I find this long-time member?”

  “You would look for someone who was off-post for an unexplained period of time.”

  “And?”

  “You would figure someone tailed Moorcroft out of the breakfast room and either forced him or enticed him into a car. You would figure there was no other way to work it. And you would figure it wasn’t an NCO. Because the breakfast room was in the Officers’ Club. So you would go looking for an officer.”

  “Got a name?”

  “Morgan. He set Moorcroft up for the beating. He delivered him. Check his laundry basket. I doubt he participated, but I bet he stood close enough to get a real good look.”

  “Was he off-post at the time?”

  “He claims to have been in the Pentagon. His absence was well documented. It was a source of great concern. And the Pentagon keeps records. A lot of work, but a buck gets ten you’ll prove he wasn’t there.”

  “Is this solid?”

  “Morgan is a part of a small and diverse group, containing as far as we know at one end four NCOs from a logistics company at Fort Bragg, and at the other end two Deputy Chiefs of Staff.”

  “That’s hard time if you’re wrong.”

  “I know it.”

  “Two of them?”

  “One of them is in Homeland Security, and one of them isn’t.”

  “That’s very hard time if you’re wrong.”

  “But am I?”

  Espin didn’t answer.

  Reacher said, “It’s always fifty-fifty, Pete. Like tossing a coin. Either I’m wrong, or I’m right, either you bring us back, or you don’t, either Deputy Chiefs are what they say they are, or they’re not. Always fifty-fifty. One thing or the other is always true.”

  “And you’re an unbiased judge?”

  “No, I’m not unbiased. I’m going to rip their faces off while they sleep. But just because I’m mad about it doesn’t mean they didn’t do it.”

  “Got names?”

  “One so far. Crew Scully.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  “New England blue blood, apparently.”

  “I bet he’s a West Pointer.”

  “I’m a West Pointer, and I don’t have a stupid name.”

  “I bet he’s rich.”

  “Plenty of rich people in prison.”

  “Who’s the other one?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Crew Scully’s best bud from prep school, probably. Those guys stick together.”

  Reacher said, “Maybe.”

  Espin said, “I get Morgan, and Major Turner gets those guys?”

  “You’ll be the human interest story.”

  “What is it they’re supposed to be doing?”

  So Turner ran through it all, starting with cash money obtained on the secondary markets, and ratty old pick-up trucks with weird license plates, with the cash in the trucks, and then the cash in army containers, and the contents of the army containers in the trucks, which then drive off into the mountains, while the cash is secretly loaded, ready to be secretly unloaded again by the four guys in North Carolina. All enabled by an Afghan native with a documented history of arms sales, and all coordinated by, and presumably enriching, the two Deputy Chiefs, who may or may not also be operating a rogue strategic initiative.

  Espin said, “I thought you were being serious.”

  Chapter 63

  Espin said, “What you describe just ain’t happening. The United States military learned its lessons, major. Long ago. We count the paperclips now. Everything has a barcode. Everything is in a bombproof computer. We have companies of MPs at every significant site. We have more checks than a dog has fleas. We’re not losing stuff anymore. Believe me. That old-style chaos is way out of date now. If there’s a sock with a hole in it, that sucker comes home. If a single bullet got lost, there would be a shitstorm so bad we’d see the sky turn brown from here. It just ain’t happening, ma’am.”

  Turner said nothing.

  Reacher said, “But something is happening. You know that.”

  “I’m listening. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Talk to Detective Podolski at Metro. Morgan was off-post at the critical time.”

  “Morgan is still what you’re giving me?”

  “He’s worth having. All I got was two fake lawsuits.”

  “Seems like Morgan’s value just went down, as part
of a credible conspiracy.”

  “Something is happening,” Reacher said again. “Fake bank accounts, fake legal documents, beatings, four guys chasing us all over. It’s all going to look plenty credible when it’s done. It always does. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. And the smart guys get their hindsight in first.”

  “Hell of a gamble,” Espin said.

  “It’s always fifty-fifty, Pete. Like tossing a coin. Either Morgan is high value or he’s low, and either something is happening or it isn’t, and either you’re a boring drone or you’re the guy who was way ahead of the curve, getting ready to put another ribbon on his chest.”

  Espin said nothing.

  Reacher said, “It’s time to flip that coin, Pete. Heads or tails.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “We’re going back to D.C. You don’t need to bring us home. We’re going anyway.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “That’s where Morgan is.”

  “That’s where they all are.”

  Espin said, “Suppose you agree we fly together?”

  Reacher said, “Works for us. But only you. No one else.”

  “Why?”

  “I want you to leave your guys here another day. The last of the four from Fort Bragg is hanging around. He thinks the girl still works as bait. So I want her protected. She might not be mine, but she’s a sweet kid. Maybe because she’s not mine.”

  “I guess my guys could spare a day.”

  “I want close personal protection, but unobtrusive. Don’t scare her. Treat it like an exercise. Because it’s likely nothing more than theoretical, anyway. It’s us he wants. And he’ll know what plane we’re on, because Romeo will tell him. So he’ll be right behind us. He might even be on the same flight.”

  Espin said nothing.

  Reacher said, “Make your mind up, soldier.”

  Espin said, “I don’t need to make my mind up. What you’re proposing gives me six hours to make my mind up.”

  “But you need to make a decision.”

  “Delta at LAX ninety minutes from now,” Espin said. He backed down the guys Reacher couldn’t see, with standard infantry hand signals, and then he slid out to the aisle, and he stood up, and he walked away.