by Lee Child
Munro answered and I said, “Thank you for sticking around.”
He said, “But what am I sticking around for? Right now I’m just hiding out in my room. I’m not very popular here, you know.”
“You didn’t join the army to be popular.”
“What do you need?”
“I need to know Reed Riley’s movements today.”
“Why?”
“I want to ask him a question.”
“That could be difficult. As far as I know he’s going to be pretty much tied up all day. You might be able to grab him over lunch. If he gets time for lunch, that is. And if he does, it will be very early.”
“No, I need him to come to me. In town.”
“You don’t understand. The mood has changed here. Bravo Company is out from under the cloud. Riley’s father is flying in for a visit.”
“The senator? Today?”
“ETA close to one o’clock this afternoon. Billed as an off-the-record celebration of what the guys are doing in Kosovo.”
“How long will it last?”
“You know what politicians are like. The old guy is supposed to watch some training crap in the afternoon, but dollars to doughnuts he’ll get a real hard-on and want to hang around all night drinking with the boys.”
“OK,” I said. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, since you’ve got nothing to do except sit around all day, you could tell me a couple of things.”
“What things?”
The phone started beeping at me and I said, “Why don’t you call me back on the government’s dime?” I read out the number from the dial and hung up. I walked to my table to pay the breakfast check and by the time I got back to the phone it was ringing.
“What things?” Munro said again.
“Impressions, mainly. About Kelham. As in, is there a good reason for Alpha Company and Bravo Company to be based there?”
“As opposed to where else?”
“Anywhere else east of the Mississippi River.”
“Kelham is pretty isolated,” Munro said. “Helps with the secrecy thing.”
“That’s what they told me, too. But I don’t buy it. There are secrets on every base. They could keep the lid on this thing anywhere. Kosovo is not even interesting. Who would even listen? But they chose Kelham a year ago. Why did they do that? Have you seen anything about Kelham that would make it the only choice?”
“No,” Munro said. “Not really. It’s adequate, no question. But not essential. I assume it was about sending four hundred extra wallets to a dying town.”
“Exactly,” I said. “It was political.”
“What isn’t?”
“One more thing,” I said. “You’re clear about how Janice Chapman ended up in that alley, right?”
“I hope so,” he said. “Based on what I saw last night, Chief Deveraux operates an exclusion zone in terms of Main Street itself. She makes sure all the action happens between the bars and the railroad track. Therefore both Main Street and the alley would have been deserted. Therefore the perp must have stopped on Main Street and carried the corpse in from that direction.”
“How long would it have taken?”
“Doesn’t matter. No one was there to see. Could have been a minute, could have been twenty.”
“But why there? Why not somewhere else, ten miles away?”
“The body was supposed to be found, I guess.”
“Plenty of lonelier places it would still have been found. So why there?”
“I don’t know,” Munro said. “Maybe the perp was constrained in some way. Maybe he had company, somewhere close by. Like the diner, or one of the bars. Maybe he had to duck out and take care of it real fast. Maybe he couldn’t be gone for long without somebody noticing. So maybe he had to trade safety for speed. Which would dictate a nearby location.”
“Can you give me another day?” I said. “Can you be here tomorrow?”
“No,” he said. “I’m going to get my butt kicked bad for being one day late. I can’t risk two.”
“Pussy,” I said.
He laughed. “Sorry, man, but if you don’t get it done today you’re on your own.”
Chapter
76
Senator Carlton Riley’s impending visit kept the town very quiet. It was as if Kelham’s gates were locked again. I doubted that the leave order had been formally rescinded, but Rangers are good soldiers, and I was sure the base commander had dropped heavy hints about hundred-percent participation in the hoopla. I left the diner and found Main Street back to its previous torpor. My borrowed Buick was the only car parked on the block behind. It looked lonely and abandoned. I unlocked it and drove it around to the hotel and retrieved my toothbrush and settled my account at the desk. Then I got back behind the wheel and went exploring.
I started opposite the vacant lot between the diner and the Sheriff’s Department. I headed south from there for two hundred yards, to where Main Street started to bend, driving fast but not stupid fast. I made the left into Deveraux’s childhood street, and hustled along to her old house, fourth on the right. Total elapsed time, forty-five seconds.
I turned in over the dried mud puddle and drove down the overgrown driveway, past the tumbledown house, through the back yard, past the wild hedge, to the deer trestle. I swung left and backed up and popped the trunk and got out.
Total elapsed time, a minute and fifteen seconds.
There were trees to my left and trees to my right and trees ahead of me. A lonely spot, even in the bright daylight. I mimed supporting a body’s weight, cutting the wrist straps, cutting the ankle ties, carrying the body to the car, lowering it into the trunk. I fiddled around four more times, taking off imaginary pads and straps and belts and scarves from two wrists and two ankles. I stepped back to the trestle and picked up an imaginary bucket of blood and heaved it over to the car and wedged it in the trunk alongside the body.
I closed the trunk lid and got back in the driver’s seat.
Total elapsed time, three minutes and ten seconds.
I backed up and turned and drove the length of the driveway again and headed back to Main Street. I drove the same two hundred yards I had driven before and stopped on the curb between the hardware store and the pharmacy. Right at the mouth of the alley.
Total elapsed time, four minutes and twenty-five seconds.
Plus one minute to put the blood in the alley.
Plus another minute to put Janice May Chapman in the alley.
Plus fifteen seconds to get back where I started.
Total elapsed time, six minutes and forty seconds.
Touch and go.
Maybe long enough to stick in someone’s mind, in a social situation, or maybe not.
I rewound the clock in my head to four minutes and twenty-five seconds and drove on north and then east, to the railroad crossing. I came to a stop right on top of it. New total, four minutes and fifty-five seconds. Plus a minute to carry Rosemary McClatchy to the ditch, and thirty seconds to get back to the car, and twenty seconds to get back where I started.
Total elapsed time, six minutes and forty-five seconds.
Fractionally longer, but in the same ballpark.
I didn’t drive up to where Shawna Lindsay had been dumped, on the pile of gravel. No point. That destination was in a whole different category. That was a twenty-minute excursion, right there. It was the sole exception to the hurry-up rule. Therefore it had been undertaken under different circumstances. No company. No social situation. Plenty of time to thread cautiously along dark dirt roads between ditches, turning right, turning left, doing the deed, and then coming back again, just as slow, just as cautious.
But what was interesting about Shawna Lindsay’s resting place was the car that carried her there. What kind of car could get through that neighborhood twice, without attracting notice or comment? What kind of car was entitled to be there at that time of night?
I sat
in the Buick for a spell and then I parked it outside the diner and went in and bought a new roll of quarters for the phone. I tried Neagley first and found her at her desk.
I said, “You’re late to work today.”
She said, “But not by much. I’ve been here half an hour.”
“I’m sorry about the bus.”
“It was OK,” she said. Public transportation was tough for Neagley. Too much chance of inadvertent human contact.
I asked, “Did you get a message from Stan Lowrey?”
“Yes, and I already traced the name for you.”
“In half an hour?”
“It was easy, I’m afraid. Paul Evers died a year ago.”
“How?”
“Nothing dramatic. It was an accident. A helicopter crashed at Lejeune. It was in the newspaper, actually. A Sea Hawk lost a rotor blade. Two pilots and three passengers died, one of which was Evers.”
I said, “OK, plan B. The other name I want is Alice Bouton.” I spelled it out. I said, “She’s been a civilian for the last five years. She was discharged from the Corps without honor. So you better call Stan back. He’s better than you at this kind of stuff.”
“The only thing Lowrey has that I don’t is a friend at a bank.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why you need to call him. Corporations know about civilians better than we do.”
“Why are we doing this?”
“I’m checking a story.”
“No, you’re clutching at straws. That’s what you’re doing.”
“You think?”
“Elizabeth Deveraux is as guilty as sin, Reacher.”
“You’ve seen the file?”
“Only the carbons.”
I said, “But with a thing like this, you have to flip a coin.”
“As in?”
“As in, maybe she did it, maybe she didn’t. We don’t know yet.”
“We know, Reacher.”
“Not for sure.”
Neagley said, “It’s a good thing you don’t own a car.”
I hung up with her and before I was a step away the phone rang on the wall, with the first good news of the day.
Chapter
77
It was Munro on the phone, and he wanted to tell me he had had a cup of coffee. Or more specifically he wanted to tell me he had talked to the steward who had brought him the cup of coffee. The conversation had been on the subject of the day’s upcoming festivities, and Munro said the stewards expected to be very busy until after dinner, but no later than that, because the mess bar would be deserted all evening, because the last time the senator visited he had hosted everybody in town, at Brannan’s bar, because politically it seemed more authentic, and no doubt the old guy would do the same thing again.
“OK,” I said. “That’s good. Riley will come to me after all. And his father. What time will dinner finish?”
“Scheduled to be over by eight o’clock, according to the steward.”
“OK,” I said again. “I’m sure father and son will leave the base together. I want you on them from the moment they drive through the gate. But unobtrusively. Can you do that?”
“Could you?”
“Probably.”
“Then what makes you doubt I could?”
“Innate skepticism, I suppose,” I said. “But whatever, keep your ear to the ground until eight tonight, and use this phone number as a contact if you need me. I’ll be in and out of this diner all day long.”
“OK,” Munro said. “I’ll see you later. But whether or not you’ll see me is a different question altogether.”
I hung up with Munro, and I asked the waitress to answer the phone for me if it rang again. I asked her to write down the callers’ names on her order pad. Then it was all about waiting. For information, and for face to face encounters, and for decisive conclusions. I stepped out to the Main Street sidewalk and stood in the sun. Across the street the guy from the shirt store was doing the same thing. Taking a break, and tasting the air. On my left two old guys were on a bench outside the pharmacy, four hands piled on two canes between two sets of knees. Apart from the four of us the town was deserted. No hustle, no bustle, no traffic.
All quiet.
Until the goon squad from Kelham showed up.
There were four of them in total. They were Kelham’s own local version of Senate Liaison, I guessed, preparing the ground the same way a Secret Service advance team prepares the ground ahead of a presidential visit. They came out of the mouth of the alley beyond the two old guys on the bench. I guessed they had just called on the Brannan brothers and alerted them to what was going to happen that night. Maybe they had made invoicing arrangements. In which case I wished the Brannan brothers the very best of luck. I imagined billing a Senate office was a long and frustrating experience.
The four guys were all officers. Two lieutenants, a captain, and a light colonel in the lead. He was fiftyish and fat. He was the kind of soft staff officer who looks ludicrous in battledress uniform. Like a civilian at a fancy dress party. He stopped on the sidewalk and put his knuckles on his hips. He looked all around. He saw me. I was in battledress uniform too. On the face of it, I was one of his. He spoke over his shoulder to a lieutenant behind him. Too far to hear his voice, but I could read his lips. He said, Tell that man to get his ass over here double-quick. I guessed he would want to know why I wasn’t back on the base, getting myself ready for hundred-percent participation in the hoopla.
The lieutenant’s eyesight was not as good as mine. He approached most of the way full of one kind of body language, which changed fast when he got close enough to read my rank insignia. He stopped a respectful four feet away and saluted and said, “Sir, the colonel would like a word with you.”
Normally I treat lieutenants well. I was one myself, not so very long ago. But right then I wasn’t in the mood for nonsense. So I just nodded and said, “OK, kid, tell him to step right up.”
The kid said, “Sir, I think he would prefer it if you went to him.”
“You must be confusing me with someone who gives a shit what he prefers.”
The kid went a little pale and blinked twice and about-turned and headed back. He must have spent the walk time translating my response into acceptable terms, because there was no instant explosion. Instead the colonel paused a beat and then set off waddling in my direction. He stopped three feet away, and I saluted him very smartly, just to keep him confused.
He returned the salute and asked, “Do I know you, major?”
I said, “That depends on how much trouble you’ve been in, colonel. Have you ever been arrested?”
He said, “You’re the other MP. You’re Major Munro’s opposite number.”
“Or he’s mine,” I said. “Either way, I’m sure we both hope you have a great day.”
“Why are you still here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I was told all issues had been resolved.”
“The issues will be resolved when I say they are. That’s the nature of police work.”
“When did you last get orders?”
“Some days ago,” I said. “They came from Colonel John James Frazer at the Pentagon, I believe.”
“He died.”
“I’m sure his successor will have new orders for me in due course.”
“It could take weeks to install a successor.”
“Then I guess I’m stuck here.”
Silence.
Then the fat guy said, “Well, stay out of sight tonight. Understand? The senator must not see a CID presence here. There are to be no reminders of recent suspicions. None at all. Is that clear?”
I said, “Request noted.”
“It’s more than a request.”
“Next up from a request is an order. But you’re not in my chain of command.”
The guy rehearsed a reply, but in the end he didn’t come out with anything. He just turned on his heel and waddled back to his pals. And at that point I
heard the phone ring inside the diner, very faintly through the door, and I beat the waitress to it by a step.
Chapter
78
It was Frances Neagley on the line, from her desk in D.C. She said, “Bouton is a very uncommon name, apparently.”
I said, “Did Stan Lowrey tell you to say that?”
“No, Stan wants to know if she’s related to Jim Bouton, the baseball pitcher. Which she probably is, at least distantly, given how rare the name is. I, however, am basing my conclusion on an hour’s solid work, which turned up no Boutons at all, much less any Alice Boutons. Having said that, right now I can’t get any further than three years back with the Marines, which would miss her anyway, and if she was dishonorably discharged she probably didn’t get the kind of job or income that would show up in too many other places.”
“She probably lives in a trailer park,” I said. “Nowhere near Pendleton, either. Southern California is too expensive. She must have moved.”
“I have a call in to the FBI. And to a pal in USMC personnel command, for the ancient history. And Stan is hassling his banker friend, for the civilian stuff. Although she might not have had a bank account. Not if she lived in a trailer park. But whatever, I just wanted to let you know we’re on it, that’s all. We’ll have more later.”
“How much later?”
“Tonight, I hope.”
“Before eight o’clock would be good.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I hung up the phone and decided to stay in the diner, for lunch.
And inevitably Deveraux came in less than ten minutes later, in search of her own lunch, and, possibly, in search of me. She stepped inside and paused in front of the window, with the light behind her. Her hair lit up like a halo. Her shirt was very slightly translucent. I could see the curve of her waist. Or sense it, at least. Because I was familiar with it. I could see the swell of her breast.