The Man With N0 Mercy

by Dan Ames

  The screen flashed again, this time it was the Asian woman.

  “Michelle Chang. A private investigator in Milwaukee. She was working surveillance on a corporate espionage case and never returned to the office. Her car was found in the area her colleagues suspected she would have used to conduct the surveillance. Maybe she saw something, got out, and got into trouble. Same result, though. She’s gone. And nothing obvious revealing how or why.”

  Rodriguez turned away from the screen and faced Pauling. “Harper was first, and when we looked at her cases, we ran everything through the databases to see if there was any other activity. Initially, there wasn’t. But there was a hit. One name that popped up.”

  “Jack Reacher,” Pauling guessed.

  Rodriguez nodded. “He’s the common denominator.”

  “Exactly,” Ferguson chimed in. “And since Harper was a female Feebie who’d worked with Reacher, we wondered if there was anyone else. That’s how we came to you. Not only did we come to get you in out of the cold and get you out of possible harm’s way, we also wondered if you had any idea what was going on.”

  “I don’t.”

  Pauling highly doubted they were looking out for her best interest by bringing her, but she let that one go.

  “We figured that,” Rodriguez stated. “But, since we don’t have Harper in front of us, you’re our best lead. Maybe you can tell us more about Reacher, and why he might be kidnapping his old girlfriends. And probably murdering them.”

  “Whoa,” Pauling said. “It’s not Reacher, I can tell you that. He’s a giant boy scout, a do-gooder. He saves people. He doesn’t harm them if they’re innocent. If they’re bad people, well, that’s a different story.”

  “Maybe he somehow twisted it in his mind that these women were now bad. Evil. And he’s setting things right,” Starr offered, finally joining the conversation.

  “No, that’s not it,” Pauling said. “Did Reacher work on specific cases with each of these women?”

  Ferguson nodded. “Yes. He and Harper worked on the Julia Lamarr case. Vaughan and Reacher broke open a corrupt town and criminal enterprise in Despair, Colorado, and he and Chang shut down an online murder ring in Nebraska. A place called Mother’s Rest, if you can believe it.”

  “The man does take care of business,” Rodriguez admitted.

  “When you ran your searches, did anything come up specific to those cases?”

  Ferguson shook her head.

  “No. Julia Lamarr is in prison. The man in Despair, name of Thurman is dead. And the vermin in Nebraska, are either dead or locked up.”

  Pauling thought about it.

  “You’re missing something,” she said.

  “Of course we are,” Rodriguez snapped at her. “That’s why you’re here.”

  “No, I mean you’re missing the most important element.”

  Rodriguez looked at her.

  “The timing. You have to know the timing.”

  “We can’t determine the timing until we find the bodies.”

  “Tell me where you’re looking,” she said.

  “And more importantly,” she added, “you’ve got to find Jack Reacher.”

  22

  “Easier said than done,” Rodriguez pointed out. “His last ATM charge was in northern Minnesota, near Duluth. And that was over a week ago. From what we’ve learned about the man, over the course of a week he could be halfway across the country.”

  Pauling shook her head. “The man does get around, that’s for sure. Maybe he was checking out Bob Dylan’s birthplace. Although, he’s more of a blues guy.”

  “Dylan’s from Duluth?” Starr asked.

  Pauling nodded. “Yes. Although he was known as Robert Zimmerman back then.”

  Rodriguez sighed, somewhat displeased with the distraction.

  “Well, he took out three hundred bucks and that’s the last time anyone’s seen or heard from him. No cell phone to trace. No credit cards. Nothing.”

  “Yep, that’s Reacher,” Pauling said. “He probably used the cash to buy some new clothes, dumped his old ones, and moved on.”

  “Why does he do that?” Ferguson asked.

  “No attachments. Not even luggage. He buys his clothes new, wears them, then buys new stuff and tosses the old ones. That way, all he’s got is his ATM card and a toothbrush.”

  “Well, that’s going to make finding him pretty much a needle in a haystack. So where does that leave us?” Ferguson said.

  “Nowhere, just like Reacher,” Rodriguez answered.

  Silence followed, and gradually, the three active FBI agents looked at the one ex-FBI agent.

  “Look guys, you know what to do,” Pauling said. “You have to look at what connects these women, besides Reacher. You’re focused on that, because that’s all you’ve found. But trust me, that’s not the answer. Reacher’s not involved in their disappearance. There’s something else that links them, and once you find that out, you’ll find them.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Ferguson asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’m just supremely confident that Reacher is not the problem. And if he’s not the bad guy you’re looking for, someone else is your perp. That’s where you need to start looking.”

  “It’s almost impossible,” Rodriguez said. “Chang is a private investigator. She’s probably worked on hundreds of cases, and we don’t have access to that information. We know what Harper’s involved in. Vaughan, we have some information, because we’re linked to the Hope Police Department’s database, but she is a widow. Her husband was involved in the military. We’ve accessed his information, too, but so far, there’s nothing that connects them, other than Jack Reacher.”

  Pauling thought about it.

  “Well, there’s one thing you may be overlooking.”

  “What’s that?” Rodriguez asked.

  “Maybe there isn’t anything that connects them, other than Reacher.”

  “But you just said you were confident that’s not the case,” Ferguson said, exasperated.

  “Right. So the only other option is that whoever is doing this wants you to think that Reacher is the key. What’s actually tying them together is the impression that Reacher is the link. But what if it’s an artificial linkage?”

  “Why would they want to do that?” Ferguson asked.

  “To distract you from the real reason they’re targeting these women.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is your job to find out,” Pauling said.

  Rodriguez nodded to Starr, who snapped the laptop shut.

  “Look, one of the reasons we brought you here is because we thought you could help us,” Rodriguez said. “The other reason, obviously, is that you fit the description of the women who’ve gone missing. You’re involved in law enforcement, and you have a history with Jack Reacher. If you want, we can put you up here in a safe room.”

  A smile appeared on Pauling’s face.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve made my own arrangements.”

  23

  Tallon stood on the sidewalk outside Pauling’s building. He double-checked the address. It was correct.

  It had been a bit of a whirlwind since he’d received the text from Pauling that she needed him in NYC. But the woman knew how to travel because a first-class airline ticket had arrived on his phone and he’d wasted no time loading an overnight bag with gear and getting to the airport.

  The trip had been quick, as had the Uber from the airport. It was colder than he had anticipated, though. He would have to pick up some cooler weather gear if the opportunity arose.

  Now, he glanced around the busy street. This was New York City, all right. People were hustling to and from, the streets were lined with fast walkers, the occasional guy standing at the curb smoking a cigarette, the blare of taxi cabs. Noisy. Industrious. Hectic.

  So different from his home on the outskirts of Death Valley.

  At the end of the street he could make out a small park where some p
igeons were loitering around the entrance. Tallon had read that hawks were making a huge comeback in New York, feasting on the pigeons. From the look of it, they hadn’t discovered this part of the city yet.

  Tallon made his way inside Pauling’s building and was soon at her door. He rang the bell and she opened it.

  Every time he saw her, she looked better than the last.

  The green eyes. The husky voice. It was a face he never tired of seeing. He idly wondered if she felt the same way about him. Even a little.

  “Hey stranger,” he said, stepping inside. She closed the door behind him and they embraced, a warm kiss followed.

  “Let me stow your gear,” Pauling said. “Why don’t you grab a beer or some wine? There are glasses on the counter.”

  Her voice just plain did it to him. It was that smoky, sultry timber he couldn’t get enough of.

  She disappeared down the hallway and Tallon took her up on the offer, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her when she returned.

  “Quick tour?” she asked.

  “Sounds good.”

  Pauling took him through the space and he recognized her through and through. It was classic Pauling. Feminine, but not overly so. Upscale, stylish.

  They wound up back in her living room and each took a seat opposite one another.

  “So fill me in,” Tallon said.

  He listened as she described being manhandled by the FBI, the missing women, and their links to Reacher.

  “Jesus, that’s awful,” he said. “You don’t think Reacher’s involved, do you?”

  “Not in a million years.”

  Tallon drank from his beer. “How long did they question you?”

  “Not long. They took a little time bluffing me out, trying to see if they could shake something out of me until they realized there was nothing I was hiding. Once that little charade was out of the way, we got down to business fast. And what I learned is that they’ve pretty much got nothing.”

  “So what do your instincts tell you?”

  Pauling shook her head. “There’s just not enough to go on at the moment. Usually, when you’ve been on a case long enough, there’s evidence, a pattern, something to go on, and at that point you can start to get a feel for things. But so far, there’s just nothing.”

  “Square one,” Tallon said.

  “Square one.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  She looked him in the eye.

  “First, we’re going to go into the bedroom. After that, we’re going to find out just what the hell we’re up against.”

  24

  You are obsessed with death.

  Night after night you stare at the ceiling and think about it. Where to draw the line? That’s the question.

  When will enough be enough?

  You realize there is only one way to find out.

  The jury is out, in a manner of speaking. Three lives are in your hands. What to do with them? Your indecision is something to consider.

  The ends justify the means.

  No doubt about that.

  It would be so easy, no trouble at all, really. But what would she think? You know who. Would she approve?

  Probably not.

  Not any of it.

  Well, maybe the last one, but that one is obvious.

  These others are a bit more problematic.

  In a way, the first one would probably be very satisfying because of what had happened, and her role in it. But the other ones were more like chess pieces that didn’t necessarily have to be taken off the board.

  That is what causes you to hesitate.

  The hesitation has complicated your situation somewhat, but it is by no means debilitating. You simply have to plan and move. Plan and move.

  Now, you point the vehicle and its contents forward.

  Toward the whole point of this charade.

  Where you know for a fact, you will kill.

  And enjoy the absolute living hell out of it.

  25

  Pauling was the first to awaken. She slipped out of bed, went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. When it was ready, she quietly padded into her home office and fired up her computer.

  At this point, she didn’t really want to step away from her business again, but there were several factors to consider.

  One, the FBI was totally right.

  All of the women who’d been abducted or worse, were involved in law enforcement and had a history with Jack Reacher.

  Pauling fit those same characteristics to a T.

  So, was she next? Was someone on the way right now, planning to do her harm? In her experience, most victims of violent crime had always assumed it would happen to someone else. And it usually did. But that attitude was not shared by Pauling. She knew how prevalent crime actually was and when someone fit a specific criteria, in a specific area where crime was occurring, the odds rose astronomically. And right now, she fit the criteria and it made her very aware of the danger she might be in.

  That knowledge did not inhibit her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  She had never been one to wait around and react. It was all about taking initiative and she’d be damned if she would sit back and possibly be the next woman to appear on the large screen television in the FBI office where she’d been interrogated.

  Ferguson and Rodriguez and Starr would be looking at her official FBI photo, saying, well, we warned her.

  The second thing was that she was curious. What was happening, exactly? Who was behind this? And while she was absolutely positive Reacher wasn’t the culprit, he was involved, indirectly. It wasn’t like Pauling felt she had to clear his name, but she owed him to at least look into it. She hadn’t liked the way Rodriguez had repeatedly questioned her about her conviction regarding Reacher’s innocence.

  A man she knew and respected was having his name dragged through the mud and it pissed her off.

  Plus, Pauling was no fool. She knew Reacher was a good-looking guy, who traveled constantly and met a lot of women. How many more were there? How many more would be victims until the FBI found out who was behind it?

  Pauling felt she owed it to all of them to help. To get involved.

  Besides, she had Tallon to watch her back. There wasn’t anyone else, not even a team of feds or cops, she’d rather have backing her up than Tallon. She’d seen him in action. He was a one-man army.

  In the meantime, she had to start somewhere. Which was why she was up early, doing research.

  She plugged the names of all of the missing women into her various criminal databases, some that were public, others that she had managed to keep a back door open for access.

  The programs worked their magic and soon, Pauling had more data than she knew what to do with. Harper’s profile would be the thinnest as much of her FBI work was behind the Bureau’s impressive firewalls. Despite that, Pauling was able to find her high school and college records, birthdate, birth certificates, and some financial information.

  Officer Ellen Vaughan was the woman with the second-most information. Her police records were easily found, as the Hope, Colorado’s Police Department’s IT resources weren’t as extensive as the FBI’s. Pauling was able to get in and read nearly all of the information there, including the Reacher case. That had been a crazy one.

  Michele Chang was easy to find as most of her data was civilian in nature. The only thing that wasn’t, her private investigator’s license registered to the state of Wisconsin, Pauling found as well. Pauling studied Chang’s background. A native of Milwaukee, she attended Marquette University and studied criminal justice. A three-year apprenticeship with a local private investigative firm and then her own company was registered after that.

  Pauling also found some of the information related to her case with Jack Reacher. The crimes that had occurred in Mother’s Rest were shocking. Snuff films ordered via the Dark Web.

  Violent crime. It happened more often than
most people thought.

  Using the copy and paste feature, Pauling gathered all of the data and assembled it into one document and saved it to her desktop. From there, she emailed herself an electronic copy and saved another one to the cloud. Now, she could access it whenever she needed it.

  “Morning,” a voice said from the doorway.

  Pauling glanced up and saw Tallon. Even tousle-haired and sleepy, he looked great.

  “Grab yourself a cup of coffee,” she said. “We’ll have breakfast on the road.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Milwaukee,” she said.

  26

  The only thing left to do was wait.

  Julia Lamarr sat in the great room of the doctor’s house and did just that. Outside, a stiff wind was blowing down from the mountains and Lamarr could hear the air whistling around the window frames. Occasionally, rain pelted the roof of the big house and the air vents blew warm or cool air, depending on the thermostat’s reading.

  Other than that, silence.

  The doctor was upstairs in bed, dead.

  Even though a part of her brain was under someone else’s control, the reptilian ancient part that still recognized the joy of killing, was satisfied. She’d talked him through how to kill himself, just like she’d done with the others.

  As she remembered them, it wasn’t easy. It was as if a fog seemed to descend over the memories, like she was driving down a road and if she tried to turn the wheel some invisible power corrected the steering for her, forcing her back on the path.

  But the thoughts refused to go away.

  Murdering Dr. Barnes had brought them back. And they held a certain power for her.

  She remembered the one who’d come to see her in prison shortly after the debacle. When all of her appeals had been tossed out. A visitor, they said.

  Someone to talk to. A very soothing voice that kept coming back and talking to her. Deep down, she felt a twinge. Like maybe she’d made a mistake, but the past was the past. That’s what her visitor had kept saying to her, as other various words had been drilled into her.