by Diane Capri
The other three files on FBI Agents Smithers, Brice, and Poulton were equally unremarkable except for one bullet point, which was also highlighted.
Terrence “Reed” Poulton’s brother, Anthony “Rusty” Poulton, was one of the lead agents in the failed bathtub murders case. Tony Poulton’s file notes reflected his final conclusion back then. The serial killer responsible for the murders, he said, was Jack (none) Reacher. He vowed to find the evidence to bring Reacher to justice, even if the search lasted the rest of his life.
Which, sadly, it did. Tony Poulton had died before completing his vow.
Gaspar wondered whether Poulton’s brother had assumed the duty. He’d never laid eyes on Terry Poulton, but he figured in a contest between them, a betting man would put his money on Reacher.
He fortified himself with another cup of sweetened coffee and drank half of it, thinking about Farid Petrosian’s motives for a bit before he called the Boss again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Monday, January 31
12:25 a.m.
Upstate New York
Kim rummaged in the small desk until she found a sheet of stationery and a pen. She handed them to Jodie. “I need to get a sense of the hallway from here to the kitchen, the exit, and the garage. Sketch our escape route for me. Add anything else you think is relevant.”
Jodie took the pen and paper. She used her book as a lap desk and drew quickly. When she finished, she handed the sketch to Kim.
“How many people are here in the house with you?” Kim asked while studying the layout Jodie had drawn.
“Only two. The man who let you in tonight is Herman. He lives here with his wife, Irene. I don’t know the last names. They won’t say, and I’ve looked everywhere for ID and haven’t found any.”
Kim thought that odd, but the entire situation was strange. Captors without surnames were the least of her worries. “So who are these people?”
“I have the impression they’re live-in help. From a few things they’ve mentioned, they might live in the carriage house in the summer. But in the winter, Irene does cooking and typical household chores and Herman takes care of everything else inside and out.”
“Who owns this place?”
Jodie shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve only seen Herman and Irene.”
“What kind of vehicles do they have and where are they?”
Jodie pointed to her drawing. “There’s a big garage behind the house that was converted from a horse barn. I’ve seen Herman go in there for the small tractor he uses to clear the snow. He has a battered old pickup with a back seat in the cab. Diesel, I think. I’ve heard the engine and smelled the exhaust a few times.”
Kim nodded. “Are those the only vehicles?”
“I don’t know for sure. There may be more. There are quite a few buildings on the property. This place is huge, you know.”
“How huge?”
“About fifteen acres, give or take. It looks like more because there’s hundreds of acres of protected state land around it.” Jodie paused. “That’s why I said escape on foot was impossible. There are no neighbors that I’ve seen. Only the one road, which is out front. We’re miles from a store or anything like that. Plus, the temperatures have been sub-zero at night and damn cold in the daytime.”
Kim nodded, taking it all in. “Is there an alarm system on the house or an electrified fence around the property? Anything like that?”
“I’ve seen a few of those stickers on the windows saying the house is monitored. I imagine it must be. Or they might have bought the signs at the hardware store. Who knows?” Jodie replied.
“It would help to have weapons. Have you seen any firearms around the place?”
“No handguns, if that’s what you mean. I carry a .22 in my purse, but the driver made me leave it in the car before he’d let me out. I don’t know what he did with it. Took it with him, probably.” Jodie shrugged. “This is a working farm, so it’s likely there are shotguns or rifles somewhere. Maybe explosives out in the barns.”
Kim walked to the big windows and leaned close to the cold glass. She cupped her hands around her eyes to reduce glare from the interior lights and tried to see outside. It was too dark to identify anything.
“How about dogs? It’s too cold for dogs outside, probably none out there. Any dogs in the house?”
Jodie cocked her head as if she needed to think about it, which told Kim all she needed to know. As long as Jodie had been captive here, she’d have seen or heard any inside dogs.
“Where exactly is the garage with the truck?” Kim handed the sketch to her. “Show me on your drawing.”
“The driveway you came on from the road runs along the left side of the house and around to the back. The garage is at the end of the driveway.” Jodie gestured around the opposite side of the house and marked her sketch as she talked. “If we go out the back door through the kitchen, Herman has probably plowed a trail through the snow. So we’d maybe have to go about a hundred feet or so.”
“Is the garage locked? How can we get in?”
“I don’t know. I tried to get inside before and couldn’t pull or push the doors open.” She handed the paper back and shook her head. “I’m not sure they were locked, though. Maybe just super tight. Layers of old paint or swollen wood or something.”
“Why do you think they weren’t locked?”
“Things are pretty relaxed. Probably because this place is so remote. At least in the winter, it’s not likely to be bothered by vandals. And if someone besides Herman does approach, which has only happened once, by the way. Tonight, when you arrived.” Jodie paused to let the significance of her statement hang in the air. “There’s plenty of time before they get all the way in here from the road to do something.”
Kim still had her coat and boots on, but Jodie was dressed in pajamas, robe, and slippers. “Where are your clothes? Can you get dressed quickly? Find a coat and boots without waking Herman and Irene?”
Jodie shook her head. “My room is upstairs, and every one of those old stair treads squeak. I can grab Irene’s stuff by the back door. Safer to do it that way.”
“Okay. No stairs. Let’s assume they do have guns.” Kim paused and looked around the room, remembering the hallway and the doors leading off from it near the front. “Where would they store guns on this floor?”
“I’ve tried scouting out every room in this house. I haven’t seen a gun cabinet or gun safe or any cleaning supplies or ammo. I’m an Army brat. My dad was a general. Trust me when I say that I know what to look for.” Jodie shook her head. “We can search again, but it might take a while. There’s a lot of rooms. The best we’re going to do quickly are knives in the kitchen or garden implements in the garage.”
“Okay.” Guns were always Kim’s first choice. But Jodie’s searches came up empty, which meant either guns didn’t exist or would take too long to locate.
“When do you want to do this?” Jodie asked.
“We should go now. It’s full dark. Herman and Irene are probably sleeping. After daylight, we’d need to subdue them both first. Doable, but an unnecessary complication.” She looked at the sketch one more time. She crumpled it and tossed it into the fire. “We don’t know what plans they may have for us tomorrow. It’s better to go now, while we can.”
Jodie nodded tentatively.
The sketch burned to ashes and swirled into the smoldering logs.
“Don’t worry. You’ve done this before, and you’re still alive, right?” Kim joked, but Jodie didn’t crack a smile. “Look, if we do get stopped, Herman and Irene aren’t going to kill us. They’re babysitters, not assassins. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jodie whispered. But she didn’t sound like she meant it.
“What about keys for the truck? Where are they?”
“Herman came in through the back door carrying groceries from the market a couple of days ago. I was having breakfast. Irene met him at the door and took the bags. He shrugged off his coat and hung
it on a peg.” Jodie closed her eyes a moment. “I think he left the keys to the truck on a small shelf there when he went back out to shovel the walks. We can get them on the way out.”
Kim nodded. She looked at her watch and noted the time. She closed her eyes, mentally rehearsing the process of getting out of the house, making their way to the garage, getting inside, starting the truck, and driving away. She opened her eyes and looked at her watch again. Start to finish, less than five minutes if they were lucky.
“When we reach the road, which way do we turn? Left or right?”
Jodie said, “You turned right into the driveway from the road, didn’t you? That’s how we came in. If I’m correct about where we are, and I think I am, we turn right out of the driveway to go the opposite direction. And then we hope I see a recognizable landmark soon.”
“Sounds about as good as we’re going to be able to do with what we have at hand,” Kim replied.
“My phone is upstairs. But you have one, right? Maybe we can pick up a cell signal within the first five or ten miles.”
“Speaking of phones, are you sure there’s no way to communicate from here?” Kim watched Jodie’s expression, which didn’t vary much. “What would they do in case of a fire, for example? This old house is a tinder box. It would go up fast. There must be some way to call in emergency services.”
“I don’t know what they would do.” Jodie shook her head slowly. “Maybe they have a landline in their bedroom. Or maybe they have a satellite phone or something like that? Otherwise, I’ve been looking for a way to call for help. None of the rooms I’ve checked have phone jacks. I’ve never seen either of them talking to friends or anything.”
The fireplace logs had all but died, and Kim noticed the draft. Old houses were always cold. This one didn’t seem to have central heat, either.
Jodie was still thinking, but she shook her head. “There is a mailbox at the end of the driveway. Herman drives out there every day to pick up the mail and the newspaper, which also comes by mail a few days after it’s published. We have broadcast television. They capture the signal with an antenna. As far as I know, that’s all there is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Monday, January 31
12:35 a.m.
New York, New York
Gaspar felt simultaneously exhausted and wired. He reviewed the file materials on Farid Petrosian and his brothers again quickly. All three were despicable human beings, although, in his own mind, Farid was a better source than Samir or Tariq. Gaspar was a pragmatist and understood the politics of necessity. He had often dealt with scumbags because he had little choice. With the Petrosian brothers, none of the options were good. The best that could be said was that Samir and Tariq were twice as bad as Farid because there were two of them.
In the end, Gaspar followed orders, as he often did when all choices were bad. He dialed the Boss, who must’ve been waiting by the phone.
Cooper said, “Deerfield’s flight plan is taking him into Stewart and then by helo to West Point where he’ll get a limo to the house in Garrison.”
“How did he get permission to land at West Point?”
“Same way I did, probably.”
Gaspar raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “You’re going to intercept Deerfield at West Point?”
“No, but you are. There is a helipad on the roof of your hotel. The pilot will pick you up at 0200 hours. You’ll intercept Deerfield at West Point and persuade him not to continue with this folly.”
“What do you suggest I tell him that will make a difference?”
Cooper was silent for a few moments. “Tell him if he persists along this course, he’ll be so screwed before the day is over that he’ll never recover.”
Gaspar was doubtful. “You think that’ll be persuasive? The guy’s trying to take you out. He must have a counter plan for that approach, don’t you think?”
“Just tell him what I said. Suggest he return to New York City while he still can.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“All the things you don’t want to know.”
Gaspar waited a couple of beats and then changed the subject. “Farid Petrosian seems like a weasel, doesn’t he?”
“What else would he be?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Join the crowd.”
“Who are the two operatives Deerfield is looking for?”
“Deerfield says two Petrosian debt collectors, a man and a woman, were executed by Samir and Tariq and dumped there. They were loyal to the old man and to his kids, from all accounts. Samir and Tariq said they were skimming. Which they denied.” He paused. “We confirmed that Herman and Irene Amon disappeared around the same time the foundation was poured for the addition to Farid’s house.”
“You think the bodies are under the house like Farid claims?”
“Would you bury two bodies under your five-million-dollar house?”
“Unlikely I’ll ever own a five-million-dollar house.” Gaspar frowned.
Farid could be jerking Deerfield around here. WITSEC was in place for Farid and his family. Farid’s immunity order was signed, according to the online court files.
He asked, “Deerfield has a lot riding on this. He’s held up his end of the deal. Suppose Farid doesn’t deliver? What will Deerfield do?”
“All I can tell you is Deerfield doesn’t expect that to happen,” Cooper said. “He’s got no Plan B.”
Gaspar accepted the answer. But most poker players would bet on Deerfield’s strategic plans, not Farid Petrosian’s. “Where’s Otto?”
“Still working on that.”
He barely held his temper. “Are you making any progress?”
“Not yet.”
“You still have eyes on the Garrison house?”
“Of course. Inside and out. Your helo arrives promptly at 0200. If I find anything more you need to know, I’ll send it. Don’t be late.” He disconnected the call.
Almost as if he’d waited politely for Cooper to hang up, Finlay rang next. Had Otto no longer been at risk, Gaspar would have ignored the call.
“Have you found her?”
“You’ll be the first one I call,” Finlay replied. “Farid Petrosian is a liar.”
“There’s a news flash,” Gaspar said dryly. “Next you’ll be telling me both of his brothers are thieves.”
“Roger that.” Finlay chuckled. “The point is we’ve established a visual feed off the satellites around the Garrison house. Still a lot of activity out there. More than there should be.”
Gaspar thought about the possible reasons. “NYPD is still processing the crime scene. Anywhere cops go, television cameras follow. Nothing unusual in that.”
“We’re seeing activity in the back and sides of the house. At least two separate actors. Not cops and not reporters.”
“You can read photo ID from space now?” His sarcasm might have been wearing on Finlay’s nerves. He hoped so. He was tired of the cryptic hints. It was long past time for straight talk.
“We’re seeing two singles. Hunkered down, away from the house. Big guys. Too big for the cops and reporters on scene and no new arrivals on the front side for several hours,” Finlay explained.
“Good to know. Weapons?”
“Both armed, but limited battle rattle.”
He understood. They were dressed for stealth, not the full gear they’d be wearing if they didn’t care about making noise. Which didn’t mean they lacked powerful weapons.
“How’d they get there?”
“Good question. The only answer I have at the moment is separately, early, and quietly,” Finlay said. “No incoming motorized vehicles from the riverside or from the neighboring houses in the past couple of hours. We’re checking the earlier feeds.”
“Thanks for the intel,” he replied. The separate arrival was odd. The rest made sense, given the conditions on the ground.
The stealthy approach, arriving early, suggested a military option
had been deployed. Go in early and wait. Stand by to stand by, as they said when he was in the Army. Cooper could be responsible for it. Which might be why he was being sent to West Point. Hell, Deerfield might be pulling those strings, too.
Given Reacher’s recent phone messages to Otto, Gaspar couldn’t rule him out, either.
Finlay didn’t say anything for a while.
Gaspar glanced at the clock. His helo would be here soon, and he still had prep to do. “Was there something else?”
“A guy like Deerfield has a lot of enemies,” Finlay said.
“Roger that,” he mocked Finlay’s earlier response. “Well deserved from what I hear.”
“Watch your back out there,” Finlay said, which rubbed him the wrong way, like an insult to his tactical skills. Did Finlay think he didn’t know how treacherous the situation was?
“Yeah. I’ll do that,” he growled. “You find Otto.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Monday, January 31
12:55 a.m.
Garrison, New York
Poulton was five minutes out. He’d arrive on time to relieve Brice at 0100 hours as scheduled. He needed sleep. Smithers was due to take over at nine in the morning. They were covering eight-hour shifts now while NYPD was on the scene until the Petrosian matter wrapped up. Arrests should happen before the day ended.
After the body in the bathtub was discovered in the Garrison house and the scene was handed over to NYPD, the surveillance schedule continued with twelve-hour shifts on Friday, as before. Smithers took the day shift, and Reed was there at night. The schedule that provided a perfect alibi and simultaneously enabled him to do what he needed to do for the killers on his bucket list.
Brice was added to the surveillance schedule when Deerfield moved them to eight-hour shifts on Saturday after Webb’s body turned up. Deerfield was the man in charge, so he ordered the duty roster along with everything else. When he reshuffled the Saturday and Sunday shifts, no one questioned him. Poulton figured Deerfield either wanted a snitch hanging around all the time, or he wanted Brice out of the way.