by Lee Child
‘It would hurt Reagan’s memory.’
‘Who cares? Most Americans don’t even remember him. Most Americans think Reagan is an airport in Washington.’
‘I think you’re underestimating.’
‘And I think you’re overestimating. You’re too close to the process.’
‘I think that photograph would hurt.’
‘But who would it hurt? What does the government think?’
‘You know that the Defense Department is trying like crazy to get it back.’
‘Is it? Then why did they give the job to their B team?’
‘You think those guys were their B team?’
‘I sincerely hope so. If that was their A team, we should all move to Canada.’
Sansom didn’t answer.
I said, ‘The picture might do you some local damage in North Carolina. But apparently that’s all. We’re not seeing any kind of maximum effort from the DoD. Because there’s no real national downside.’
‘That’s not an accurate read.’
‘OK, it’s bad for us. It’s evidence of a strategic error. It’s awkward, it’s embarrassing, and it’s going to put egg on our face. But that’s all. It’s not the end of the world. We’re not going to fall apart.’
‘So al-Qaeda’s expectations are too high? You’re saying they’re wrong too? They don’t understand the American people the way you do?’
‘No, I’m saying this whole thing is a little lopsided. It’s slightly asymmetric. Al-Qaeda fielded an A team and we fielded a B team. Therefore their desire to grab that photograph is just a little bit stronger than our desire to hold on to it.’ Sansom said nothing.
‘And we have to ask, why wasn’t Susan Mark just told to copy it? If their aim was to embarrass us, then copying it would have been a better idea. Because when it came to light, and sceptics claimed it had been faked, which they would, then the original would still be on file, and we couldn’t have denied it with a straight face.’
‘OK.’
‘But Susan Mark wasn’t told to copy it. She was told to steal it, effectively. To take it away from us. With no trace left behind. Which added considerable risk and visibility.’
‘Which means what?’
‘Which means they want to have it, and equally they want us not to have it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You need to cast your mind back. You need to figure out exactly what that camera saw. Because al-Qaeda doesn’t want to publicize that photograph. They stole it because they want to suppress it.’
‘Why would they?’
‘Because however bad it is for you, there’s something in it that’s even worse for Osama bin Laden.’
SIXTY-NINE
Sansom and Springfield went quiet, like I knew they would. They were casting their minds back a quarter of a century, to a dim tent above the Korengal Valley floor. They were stiffening and straightening, subconsciously repeating their formal poses. One on the left, one on the right, with their host between them. The camera lens, trained on them, aimed, zoomed, adjusted, focused. The strobe, charging, then popping, bathing the scene with light.
What exactly did the camera see?
Sansom said, ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Maybe it was us,’ Springfield said. ‘Simple as that. Maybe meeting with Americans looks like bad karma now.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s good PR. It makes bin Laden look powerful and triumphant, and it makes us look like patsies. It has to be something else.’
‘It was a zoo in there. Chaos and mayhem.’
‘It has to be something fatally inappropriate. Little boys, little girls, animals.’
Sansom said, ‘I don’t know what they would regard as inappropriate. They have a thousand rules over there. Could be something he was eating, even.’
‘Or smoking.’
‘Or drinking.’
‘There was no alcohol there,’ Springfield said. ‘I remember that.’
‘Women?’ I asked.
‘No women, either.’
‘Has to be something. Were there other visitors there?’
‘Only tribal.’
‘No foreigners?’
‘Only us.’
‘It has to be something that makes him look compromised, or weak, or deviant. Was he healthy?’
‘He seemed to be.’
‘So what else?’
‘Deviant from their laws or deviant like we mean it?’
‘Al-Qaeda HQ,’ I said. ‘Where the men are men and the goats are scared.’
‘I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. We were tired. We had just walked a hundred miles through the front lines.’
Sansom had gone quiet. Like I knew he would. Eventually he said, ‘This is a real bitch.’
I said, ‘I know it is.’
‘I’m going to have to make a big decision.’
‘I know you are.’
‘If that picture hurts him more than it hurts me, I’m going to have to release it.’
‘No, if it hurts him at all, even a little bit, you’re going to have to release it. And then you’re going to have to suck it up and face the consequences.’
‘Where is it?’
I didn’t answer.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I have to watch your back. But I know what you know. And you figured it out. Which means I can figure it out. But slower. Because it ain’t rocket science. Which means the Hoths can figure it out too. Are they going to be slower? Maybe not. Maybe they’re picking it up right now.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Maybe they are.’
‘And if they’re going to suppress it, maybe I should just go ahead and let them.’
‘If they’re going to suppress it, that means it’s a valuable weapon that could be used against them.’
Sansom said nothing.
I said, ‘Remember Officer Candidate School? Something about all enemies, foreign and domestic?’
‘We take the same oath in Congress.’
‘So should you let the Hoths suppress the picture?’
He was quiet for a very long time.
Then he spoke.
‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go get the Hoths before they get the picture.’
* * *
I didn’t go. Not right then. Not immediately. I had things to think about, and plans to make. And deficiencies to overcome. I wasn’t equipped. I was wearing rubber gardening clogs and blue pants. I was unarmed. None of those things was good. I wanted to go in the dead of night, properly dressed in black. With proper shoes. And weapons. The more the merrier.
The outfit would be easy.
The weapons, not so much. New York City is not the best place on the planet to get hold of a private arsenal at the drop of a hat. There were probably places in the outer boroughs selling overpriced junk under the counter, but there were places in the outer boroughs selling used cars, too, and fastidious drivers were well advised to stay away from them.
Problem.
I looked at Sansom and said, ‘You can’t actively help me, right?’
He said, ‘No.’
I looked at Springfield and said, ‘I’m heading out to a clothing store now. I figure on getting black pants and a black T-shirt and black shoes. With a black windbreaker, maybe triple XL, kind of baggy. What do you think?’
Springfield said, ‘We don’t care. We’ll be gone when you get back.’
* * *
I went to the store on Broadway where I bought the khaki shirt prior to the Sansoms’ fundraiser lunch. It was doing a little business and had plenty of items in stock. I found everything I needed there apart from socks and shoes. Black jeans, plain black I-shirt, and a black cotton zip-up windbreaker made for a guy with a much bigger gut than mine. I tried it on and as expected it fit OK in the arms and the shoulders and ballooned way out in front like a maternity smock.
Perfect, if Springfield had taken the hint.
I dressed in the changing cubicle and trashed my old stuff and paid
the clerk fifty-nine dollars. Then I took her recommendation and moved on three blocks to a shoe store. I bought a pair of sturdy black lace-ups and a pair of black socks. Close to a hundred bucks. I heard my mother’s voice in my head, from long ago: At a price like that, you better make them last. Don’t scuff them up. I stepped out of the store and stamped down on the sidewalk a couple of times to settle the fit. I stopped in at a drugstore and bought a pair of generic white boxers. I figured that since everything else was new I should complete the ensemble.
Then I started back to the hotel.
Three paces later the phone in my pocket started to vibrate.
SEVENTY
I backed up against a building on the corner of 55th Street and pulled the phone out of my pocket. Restricted Call. I opened the phone and raised it to my ear.
Lila Hoth said, ‘Reacher?’
I said, ‘Yes?’
‘I’m still standing out in the road. I’m still waiting for the truck to hit me.’
‘It’s coming.’
‘But when will it arrive?’
‘You can sweat a spell. I’ll be with you inside a couple of days.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I know where you are.’
‘Good. That will simplify things.’
‘And I know where the memory stick is, too.’
‘Again, good. We’ll keep you alive long enough for you to tell us. And then maybe a few more hours, just for the fun of it.’
‘You’re a babe in the woods, Lila. You should have stayed home and tended your goats. You’re going to die and that photograph is going all around the world.’
‘We have a fresh blank DVD,’ she said. ‘The camera is charged up and ready for your starring role.
‘You talk too much, Lila.’
She didn’t answer.
I closed the phone and headed back through the gathering evening darkness to the hotel. I went up in the elevator and unlocked my room and sat down on the bed to wait. I waited for a long time. Close to four hours. I thought I was waiting for Springfield. But in the end it was Theresa Lee who showed up.
* * *
She knocked on the door eight minutes before midnight. I did the thing with the chain and the mirror again and let her in. She was dressed in a version of the first outfit I had ever seen her in. Pants, and a silk short-sleeved shirt. Untucked. Dark grey, not mid-grey. Less silvery. More serious.
She was carrying a black gymnasium bag. Ballistic nylon. The way it hung from her hand I guessed it held heavy items. The way the heavy items moved and clinked I guessed they were made of metal. She put the bag on the floor near the bathroom and asked, ‘Are you OK?’
‘Are you?’
She nodded. ‘It’s like nothing ever happened. We’re all back on the job.’
‘What’s in the bag?’
‘I have no idea. A man I never saw before delivered it to the precinct.’
‘Springfield?’
‘No, the name he gave was Browning. He gave me the bag and said in the interests of crime prevention I should make sure you never got your hands on it.’
‘But you brought it anyway?’
‘I’m guarding it personally. Safer than leaving it around.’
‘OK.’
‘You would have to overpower me. And assaulting police officers is against the law.’
‘True.’
She sat down on the bed. A yard from me. Maybe less.
She said, ‘We raided those three old buildings on 58th Street.’
‘Springfield told you about them?’
‘He said his name was Browning. Our counterterrorism people went in two hours ago. The Hoths aren’t there.’
‘I know.’
‘They were, but they aren’t any more.’
‘I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘They turned in Leonid and his buddy. Therefore they’ve moved somewhere Leonid and his buddy don’t know. Layers upon layers.’
‘Why did they turn in Leonid and his buddy?’
‘To encourage the other thirteen. And to feed the machine. We’ll rough them up a little, the Arab media will call it torture, they’ll get ten new recruits. Net gain of eight. And Leonid and his pal are no big loss, anyway. They were hopeless.’
‘Will the other thirteen be better?’
‘Law of averages says yes.’
‘Thirteen is an insane number.’
‘Fifteen, including the Hoths themselves.’
‘You shouldn’t do it.’
‘Especially unarmed.’
She glanced at the bag. Then she looked back at me. ‘Can you find them?’
‘What are they doing for money?
‘We can’t trace them that way. They stopped using credit cards and ATMs six days ago.’
‘Which makes sense.’
‘Which makes them hard to find.’
I asked, ‘Is Jacob Mark safely back in Jersey?’
‘You think he shouldn’t be involved?’
‘But I should?’
‘You are,’ I said. ‘You brought me the bag.’
‘I’m guarding it.’
‘What else are your counterterrorism people doing?’
‘Searching,’ she said. ‘With the FBI and the Department of Defense. There are six hundred people on the street right now.’
‘Where are they looking?’
‘Anywhere bought or rented inside the last three months. The city is cooperating. Plus they’re inspecting hotel registers and business apartment leases and warehouse operations, across all five boroughs.’
‘OK.’
‘Word on the street is it’s all about a Pentagon file on a USB memory stick.’
‘Close enough.’
‘Do you know where it is?’
‘Close enough.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Nowhere between Ninth Avenue and Park and 30th Street and 45th.’
‘I suppose I deserve that.’
‘You’ll figure it out.’
‘Do you really know? Docherty figures you don’t. He figures you’re trying to bluff your way out of trouble.’
‘Docherty is clearly a very cynical man.’
‘Cynical or right?’
‘I know where it is.’
‘So go get it. Leave the Hoths for someone else.’
I didn’t answer that. Instead I said, ‘Do you spend time in the gym?’
‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘I’m wondering how hard it would be to overpower you.’
‘Not very,’ she said. I didn’t answer.
She asked, ‘When are you planning on setting out?’
‘Two hours,’ I said. ‘Then another two hours to find them, and attack at four in the morning. My favourite time. Something we learned from the Soviets. They had doctors working on it. People hit a low at four in the morning. It’s a universal truth.’
‘You’re making that up.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You won’t find them in two hours.’
‘I think I will.’
‘The missing file is about Sansom, right?’
‘Partially.’
‘Does he know you’ve got it?’
‘I haven’t got it. But I know where it is.’
‘Does he know that?’
I nodded.
Lee said, ‘So you made a bargain with him. Get me and Docherty and Jacob Mark out of trouble, and you’ll lead him to it.’
‘The bargain was designed to get myself out of trouble, first and foremost.’
‘Didn’t work for you. You’re still on the hook with the feds.’
‘It worked for me as far as the NYPD is concerned.’
‘And it worked for the rest of us all around. For which I thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She asked, ‘How are the Hoths planning to get out of the country?’
‘I don’t think they are. I think that option disappeared a
few days ago. I think they expected things to go more smoothly than they have. Now it’s about finishing the job, do or die.’
‘Like a suicide mission?’
‘That’s what they’re good at.’
‘Which makes it worse for you.’
‘If they like suicide, I’m happy to help.’
Lee moved on the bed and the tail of her shirt got trapped underneath her and the silk pulled tight over the shape of the gun on her hip. A Glock 17, I figured, in a pancake holster.
I asked her, ‘Who knows you’re here?’
‘Docherty,’ she said.
‘When is he expecting you back?’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said.
I said nothing.
She said, ‘What do you want to do right now?
‘Honest answer?
‘Please.’
‘I want to unbutton your shirt.’
‘You say that to a lot of police officers?’
‘I used to. Police officers were all the people I knew.’
‘Danger makes you horny?’
‘Women make me horny.’
‘All women?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not all women.’
She was quiet for a long moment and then she said, ‘Not a good idea.’
I said, ‘OK.’
‘You’re taking no for an answer?’
‘Aren’t I supposed to?’
She was quiet for another long moment and then she said, ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘About what?’
‘About it not being a good idea.’
‘Excellent.’
‘But I worked Vice for a year. Entrapment stings. We needed proof that the guy had a reasonable expectation of what he thought he was going to get. So we made him take his shirt off first. As proof of intent.’
‘I could do that,’ I said.
‘I think you should.’
‘You going to arrest me?’
‘No.’
I peeled my new T-shirt off. Tossed it across the room. It landed on the table. Lee spent a moment staring at my scar, the same way Susan Mark had on the train. The awful raised tracery of stitches from the shrapnel from the truck bomb at the Beirut barracks. I let her look for a minute and then I said, ‘Your turn. With the shirt.’