Page 44 of Chain Reaction

No answer.

Reacher looked at the one on the left. The one with the sandy beard.

“I’m guessing it’s you,” he said. “You spoke first. You said clear. You didn’t wait for permission. In fact you were giving permission. You were telling your crew to go along to get along. To stay alive and see what the next minute brings. Which was good advice, by the way. It was tactically sound. Your pal next to you was smart enough to take the hint. The big girl’s blouse behind me wasn’t. I’m sure you were as disappointed about that as I was. Given your exacting professional standards and your active mentoring role.”

No response.

“But with great power comes great responsibility,” Reacher said. “You’re the one who gets to answer our questions. Naturally. You’re the authoritative voice of your crew. You know things the others don’t. My boss is going to ask the questions. Don’t lie to her, don’t pretend you don’t know something, don’t hold anything back. Your status has brought you great jeopardy. Remember what I said about knees and elbows. Ask yourself if I meant it.”

Turner handed him his gun. She said, “Watch them a minute while I go get my bag.” Reacher backed off to where he could see all three of them at once. Turner let herself out, and then in again, with the key she had flicked away, with her bag on her shoulder. She stopped at the kitchen counter. She dug through the welcome basket and pulled out her phone. She held it up. She showed it to the three guys. She said, “What was that thing about a mirror on a stick?”

No response.

To Reacher she said, “I’m going to leave it switched on for now. So that nothing changes, as far as the mothership is concerned.”

“Good call,” he said, louder than he needed to, because he wanted the crew leader to hear. “They’ll think the search is still ongoing. They’ll wait as long as it takes. Which gives us plenty of time.”

Turner put her phone in her bag. By then the XXL on the floor was coming back to life. Although not much life, and very slowly. He had hauled himself up to a semi-sitting position. His head was propped against the upturned armchair. His legs were straight out. He looked dazed and confused. Concussed, almost certainly. Either from the blow to the face, or from when he fell to the floor, or both.

“First question,” Turner said. “What’s in your pockets?”

“Normal stuff,” the crew leader said.

“Show me,” Turner said. “All three of you.”

They dug through their pockets and tossed stuff into a loose pile on the floor. Keys, gum, coins, wallets. And phones. Five in total. Plus one on the kitchen counter made six. They had two each.

“Now check again,” Turner said. “Last chance before we search you. If we find anything more, we’ll flip a coin. Heads is elbow, tails is knee.”

Nothing more came out. Reacher double checked. The guy with the black hair had nothing. The crew leader had nothing. The dazed guy’s XXL Carhartt was different from the XLs’. Same cut, same color, but a different lining and a different collar. Plus way more pockets, some of them outside, some of them inside, some of them zipped.

Nothing in any of them.

Reacher picked up the crew leader’s burner and checked the call log. The last three calls were to or from the Lazarus Lorenzo number. The first was incoming, the second was outgoing, and the third was incoming again. Presumably the initial go get them assignment, followed by the they’re not here callback, followed by the phone’s still there so find it. Reacher showed the screen to Turner, who nodded.

“Second question,” she said. “It’s about your contact at Lazarus Lorenzo. The guy who called you today. The guy you called back to say we weren’t here. What’s his name?”

No answer.

“Playing with fire,” Turner said.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the crew leader said. “No one uses names. Someone calls you, you know who it is by the number.”

“How many times have you worked for him?”

“Not too many. I get the feeling we’re not number one on his list. Mostly I guess he works with someone else. We fill in when they’re not available.”

“How many years has he used you?”

“Three or four.”

“His office is ten minutes from here. You must have seen him around town.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never met him face to face. We never talked in person.”

“What’s his name?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”