Page 17 of Chain Reaction

“This all was before they went to get the guy. They stopped the video ahead of time. They said it’s safer that way. I heard them talking. They said they couldn’t trust the delete button, because of the cloud, and all that weird shit. Then they said the golden rule for that particular job was they had to assume everything is everywhere forever. They kind of laughed about it, like it was funny somehow.”

“What are their names?”

“I’m a dead man if I tell you.”

“As opposed to what, right now? You’re a co-conspirator in the murder of a serving military officer. Because that’s what he was. The guy in the Toyota was a soldier. That’s a federal case. You’re in a world of trouble. The whole United States Army is coming for you. Best to help yourself while you can. What are their names?”

“They made it real clear. To tell you is more than my life is worth. They mean that literally. They’ll take more lives than just mine. They know where I live. They know I have a family. They said they’ll hurt them first, then kill them.”

“OK, no names. Just describe them for me. I know one is tall and the other is built like a brick outhouse. But what are they exactly? Friends, cousins, father and son, brothers, business associates, or just two random partners in crime?”

“Yeah, brothers,” the guy said, and then he clammed up, visibly panicked, as if suddenly aware he had just committed a fatal transgression.

Reacher said, “I’m going to meet them face to face about ninety minutes from now. They’ll assume you told me their names. That’s the nature of command. I will do everything I can to foster that illusion. Not telling me their names is not mitigating your risk. Whereas telling me buys you protection. The whole United States Army.”

“I’m not going to tell you, man,” the guy said.

“OK,” Reacher said. “Don’t tell me. Go use the restroom. Make yourself comfortable. Your choice what you do next. You can come back here and order breakfast, or you can use the fire exit and disappear. Feel free. But if you go for it, remember I have your phones, and your wallet, and your truck is locked and I have the key. So you’ll be walking. The sun will be up in an hour. It’s the middle of August. It’s going to be another hot day. The air is bone dry. It sucks the moisture right out of you. You avoided drinking all night because you hate pissing in a bottle. So you’re already dehydrated. A pudding like you won’t last more than an hour. Breakfast is the better option, believe me. But it’s your choice.”

The guy paused a beat, and then he scraped his chair out and headed for the restroom.

—

Reacher got coffee and ordered breakfast. Then he emptied his pockets on the table. All apart from the five grand. He didn’t want to raise expectations of an eccentrically large tip. Which maybe happened, from time to time. Technical people made good money. Some of them made insane money. Some of them were eccentric. Maybe they got pretty loose, at celebratory breakfasts, after hard nights fixing something on a server farm. Like veterinarians called out in the dark to a sick animal. Reacher was sure they celebrated too.

He spread out the creased sheets of paper from the glove box. He opened the wallet. He checked the phones. He picked up his own phone. He dialed Turner. It was two hours later on the East Coast. She was probably already in her office, in the Pentagon, in the D-ring.

She answered.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“I’m keeping it extremely clean,” he said. “Just like you wanted. Much as it pains me. I just let the getaway driver walk away.”

“You found him already?”

“He found me. They put the frighteners on the motel owners. They have to call it in if someone shows up who isn’t a nerd. The getaway driver got here within ninety-four minutes. He sat in his truck and watched the motel all night. It was the same truck he drove two weeks ago. We just had a long conversation. He’s a nobody. Not more than a gofer. He owes them money and he’s working it off.”

“Owes who money?”

“He wouldn’t say exactly. There are two of them. He let slip they’re brothers. Apart from that, nothing. He was pretty scared. They seem to be very good at putting the frighteners on people.”

“How are you going to find them?”

“I don’t need to. They’re headed this way right now. At least I hope they are. The motel owner just called it in that I had moved up to defcon two, by asking actual questions. I think they would want to come take care of a problem like that themselves.”

“You traveled by air. You’re not armed.”

“I am now. A cute little thing. Eight rounds. From the driver.”

“Eight rounds is not much.”

“Two brothers, it’s four rounds each.”

He heard her smile through the phone.

He said, “But first they need to tell me who called them two weeks ago and told them to get their asses up to Summertown to await Bisley’s arrival.”

“They sound like hard men.”