Page 71 of Chain Reaction

“Half an hour left to live, Hugo,” Reacher said.

Turner asked again, “Who is your client?”

Hugo took a breath.

“Technically I don’t have one,” he said.

“So this all is your own private initiative?”

“I was fired.”

“When?”

“Last night,” Hugo said. “After the failure in Virginia.”

“When you sent a man to kill me in my own home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And you saw that as a failure.”

Hugo didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Turner asked, “Who was the client that fired you?”

“They replaced me with staff of their own.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“But you should know about it. Those people are dangerous. Like private armies. All the big boys have them. Everyone should be aware.”

“Now you’re concerned for our welfare?”

“They’ll come after me, if I tell you who the client was.”

“So really you’re concerned for yourself. I’m sensing a pattern here, Hugo.”

“This is next level now. That’s all I’m saying.”

Turner didn’t reply.

Reacher said, “They’ll come after you anyway. They won’t trust all that attorney-client bullshit. They know lawyers sing like birds, the very first time anyone puts the pressure on. They’ll make sure that can’t happen. They’ll take care of the problem ahead of time. Better safe than sorry.”

No answer.

Elwood said, “Son, your best bet is to tell us what we want to know, and then make a run for it. You can get a head start. Move to the East Coast. Or overseas. Change your name. Get plastic surgery. Give yourself a chance.”

“You’re not going to let me walk away.”

“Suppose we did. Our unit gets a lot of latitude about how we conduct our business. Suppose we struck a deal. You name names, and we leave you to take your chances with the private army.”

No answer. Elwood’s phone told him to take the exit. He did, and then his phone turned him west, on a thick blue line that ran ahead through the last of built-up civilization, and then onward to the forests and the ravines. Reacher counted down in his head. Elwood’s proposed deal was a psychological classic. Everyone took it. Everyone always had, and everyone always would. Stay alive and see what the next minute brings. Human nature. Just a matter of time.

“OK, pull over,” Hugo said. “I’ll take the deal.”

One minute and forty-seven seconds.

Elwood eased in toward the curb and coasted to a gentle stop, as smooth as the robot taxi back in Menlo Park. They were on a suburban two-lane, with parkland either side. Trees and lawns. A civic amenity. Dark and quiet and isolated.