Jack and Kill (2 page)

Instead, everything got incredibly complicated very quickly.

Nothing about his file was normal now. Reacher’s missing data traveled far beyond odd into unthinkable realms. Even when Americans were reported abducted by aliens, some secret government file somewhere existed to debunk the claim. But
nothing
for Reacher? Kim felt her head shaking, almost of its own volition. There was only one way such a thing could have happened in the real world whether Kim believed it or not; resistance was futile.

In addition, every normal resource had been declared off-limits from the outset. They were denied access to FBI resources, including personnel, computers, equipment, and databases. They had been specifically ordered not to attempt any normal channels because doing so would alert the wrong watchers. The boss delivered some line of bull to justify the straitjacket but his reasons didn't matter. Orders were orders. Rules were rules. The job was what it was.

Until someone tried to blow Gaspar into subatomic particles. After that, they ignored the boss’s rules and began creating their own.

Which was when they tried digging through back channels. Otto and Gaspar unearthed every file that might have held something, anything, connected to Reacher. Each time they came up empty—and pissed off somebody high up the food chain—they believed they were making progress. A confrontational warning delivered by Houston DEA Susan Duffy cemented their conclusions.

Whatever items remained so highly classified in Reacher’s background were merely intriguing. Otto and Gaspar were comfortable with the concept of security clearances and lacking the requisite “need to know.” That wasn’t the problem. The total absence of those records was what worried Kim the most. Only a few highly-placed public servants had the ability to make so many routine reports disappear. And no matter how cavalierly he denied it, the gaping hole where the records should be worried Gaspar, too.

They now knew two things irrefutably and resisting the obvious was not only futile but foolhardy. First, someone inside government at the very highest levels had removed every piece of documentary evidence that should have or could have existed on Reacher for the past fifteen years. Second, Otto and Gaspar were being used to further someone’s hidden agenda.

No amount of revisiting or rearranging known facts invalidated these conclusions. Whatever she’d missed in her earlier analysis remained buried.

She returned her attention to the situation inside the grey sedan. A few moments later, Gaspar signed off his phone conversation.

Kim asked, “Everything okay at home?”

He shook his head and punched a speed-dial number on his personal cell. Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he ran splayed fingers through his hair and expelled a long, audible breath. “Let’s not go into now, okay? We need to focus on what’s ahead.”

Kim heard the robotic signals on the other end of Gaspar’s phone line. Four rings later, a man’s voice answered.

Gaspar grabbed the phone and held it close to his ear, allowing Kim to hear only one side of the conversation again. “Alexandre? . . . Yeah, still on the road. . . . Look, I need you to do me a favor. . . . Check on Maria this afternoon. Maybe get Denise to stay with her a few hours and help sort things out for me. . . . Yeah, she’ll tell you about it. . . . Right. Turned himself in. . . . Yeah, it’s not great. . . . Thanks, man. I owe you. . . . Call me when you know more, okay? Thanks.”

Gaspar ended the call and squeezed his eyes shut a few moments. For the first time since she’d met him, Gaspar looked old and tired and in pain. He raked his hair again, swiped his face with his open palm, and readjusted himself on the seat. He sucked in a deep breath followed by a long, audible exhale. Another. A third. When his breathing settled, he said nothing while he navigated the Crown Vic through the too-early winter gloom.

After a while, Kim asked, “Do you need to head back to Miami?”

He cleared his throat. Voice barely audible, he said, “Let’s do what we came for while my friends get Maria settled. Then we’ll see where things are.”

“Why not go now? I mean, what’s your confidence level we’ll find anything when we get there anyway?”

Gaspar sighed, stretched, tried to get more comfortable in the seat and with his family situation, whatever it was. Kim’s gut said his efforts there were futile, too.

Wearily, he lifted the edge of his mouth in a near grin before he replied, “Just following the first rule of detecting, Suzy Wong.”

She liked his weak humor. Maybe that meant everything was going to be okay back at home. She hoped. “Get a better sidekick?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to know why we’re headed to New Hope.”

“I don’t.” Trouble was, she already knew.

Early on, they figured the easiest solution to Reacher’s missing records was his undocumented death. Reacher was a dangerous man who seemed to attract trouble of the fatal kind wherever he surfaced. The most likely scenario was that someone, somewhere had been bigger, faster, and more lethal than he was.

That fantasy lasted almost eight days before Kim was forced to accept that Reacher was the farthest thing from dead.

In fact, she was almost certain she'd seen him twice in the past ten days.

A giant shadow in the distance. Watching. But definitely there was a guy, and certainly matching Reacher's description.

Gaspar hadn’t seen him, but he believed Kim anyway. They’d agreed. Reacher was there. He was alive and watching. For sure. At this point, he probably knew more about Otto and Gaspar than they knew about him.

Their plan had been to find people he knew before he’d vanished and move relentlessly forward to uncover the rest of his story. Maybe spotting Reacher watching them spurred this detour to New Hope; Gaspar probably figured to level the playing field by excavating more recent data. They had a chance to find Reacher now and they might never have that chance again or at least, not for a good long while.

Which explained Gaspar’s quip about the first rule of detecting: Follow the money. Money is an essential life force like air and water. Reacher’s money had become relevant. Somehow, Gaspar had traced Reacher’s money to New Hope. Kim knew several ways Gaspar might have exploited a weak link in the banking security system and she could imagine several more troubling sources of this intel. At some point, maybe she’d ask him. But she didn’t need to do it yet.

Now they were uncomfortably close to Reacher's last known whereabouts. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that, but it churned her stomach like a thrashing snake. Not that her anxiety mattered. There was only one viable option. When there’s only one choice, it’s the right choice. Kim lived by that philosophy and followed where it led.

But they needed a plan. Just in case.

If they actually found Reacher today, Gaspar would need to do his job and as the lead agent on the assignment, so she wanted his head back on track. Knowing what little they’d already learned about Reacher, their very lives depended on being as alert as possible.

“Is there an airport in this town?” Kim asked. She noticed Gaspar’s self-satisfied smirk, which meant maybe he’d begun to compartmentalize his personal issues if he was able to tease her. She hoped.

He said, “No.”

“Train station?”

“Nada.”

“Bus stop?”

“Nope.”

“Car rental?”

“Doubtful.”

“Taxi stand?”

“Unlikely.”

“So you figure he’s registered at a local hotel?”

“No hotels, either.”

“He hitched a ride out of town then,” she said.

“A reasonable conclusion.” Gaspar waited a couple of beats before he replied matter-of-factly, “Or maybe a woman invited him to stay a while.”

“So your plan is what? Knock on doors looking for women of a certain age, collect Reacher and invite him out for a beer?”

She was glad to see Gaspar grin, even if he was only seeking to lighten his mood more than anything. Light hearted was better than glum.

He said, “Not
every
woman of a certain age.”

“What’s your criteria?” she asked, as if his plan might be worthwhile when she was fairly sure he was making things up as the conversation progressed.

“Only the good-looking ones.”

“Models?”

“Who are single.”

“Nuns?”

“And smart.”

“Coeds?”

“And strong.”

“Athletes?”

He waited a couple of beats for her to catch on. When she said nothing, he flashed her the look again. “And also cops.”

The suggestion snatched her breath away. She felt her heart slam hard in her chest and her nostrils gulped air. She steadied her voice as well as possible. “Because?”

“Because he’s a
smart
psycho. With good taste in women.”

Gaspar reasoning was sound, but she resisted. “Two women. That’s hardly a reliable pattern. And you're just guessing about Duffy.”

He replied, “I know why I’m here. I'm a charity case.” He slapped his right thigh with his open palm. “They screwed up. Now they owe me and they're stuck with me and I can’t do the job. Don't waste your time trying to make me feel better. I’m grateful for the work, but I’m expendable. I know it, they know it and you know it, too.”

The possibility slamming Kim's brain felt like a caroming racquetball. She’d given no thought to why she’d been chosen. She’d been too pleased with her luck. She’d developed a detailed career plan that included achieving FBI Director status one day. She needed opportunities to prove herself and this was one such chance. Nothing more she needed to know.

When she failed to reply, Gaspar said, “Take off your rose-colored glasses, Sunshine. You think the boss picked you because you shoot straighter than the rest of us? Not to be a jerk, but get a grip.”

Kim didn’t argue because his facts were solid and his conclusion flawless. She had no
particular
qualifications except that she was more expendable than he was because she had no spouse and no children. Albeit for different reasons, like Gaspar, her life belonged to the FBI and that was precisely the way she liked it. She’d tried and failed at love; she had no desire to travel that road again. She was alone by choice and she intended to remain so.

Could the boss have thought she’d be Reacher bait? The idea seemed preposterous initially, but had quickly assumed potential, almost inevitability. Questions popped into her head. How could she entice Reacher to approach her? What could she offer him? What was she expected to extract in return? Why wasn’t she outraged that the boss simply assumed she would sacrifice herself when the moment came?

The answer to the last question was simple. She’d sacrificed herself for the FBI before and she would do it again. The boss knew that, she knew that, and apparently Gaspar had worked it out, too.

Kim was surprised to find herself so angry. “That's your plan? We find Reacher and lure him into some compromising position and then, what? Fall on our swords?”

Gaspar shrugged. Maybe he considered anew his problem in Miami. Or maybe he was giving Kim a chance to work out a better plan now that she’d faced facts. If she dared.

2.

They drove westward in silence along the two-lane blacktop over hilly terrain another four miles before Kim saw the first group of modest homes lining the road on both sides. They were widely spaced and well kept, but only a few windows were illuminated from their interiors despite the dreary weather. Pole buildings, Barns, and other indications of rural civilization seemed randomly placed according to no particular zoning plan for a mile or so until the Crown Vic passed a road sign proclaiming New Hope, Virginia’s city limits. It also claimed to have been named an All-American city a decade ago, which seemed more than a bit ambitious for the collection of dwellings they’d seen so far.

The county road became Valley View, widened to four lanes, and the speed limit dropped to twenty-five miles an hour as they approached the town. Kim felt Gaspar tap his brake to disengage the cruise control. The big vehicle’s progress gradually slowed along the tarmac.

Nothing obstructed her line of sight. Valley View ended ahead at a T-intersection with a landscaped ribbon of boulevard a bit farther west. A hundred feet before the intersection with Grand Parkway, Valley View sprouted a center left turn lane and a right turn lane and Kim observed traffic signals at each turning point. The signals for turning traffic from Valley View onto Grand Parkway cycled from red to green and back, but vehicles attempting to turn north were barely moving. Traffic turning southbound and eastbound was flowing slightly better, but without regard to the cycling signals, meaning cops she couldn’t see from her vantage point were most likely directing traffic.

“Can you see what's going on up there?” Kim asked, glad for the excuse to resume normal conversation.

Gaspar stretched his neck and shoulders as he slowed closer to the bottleneck. “Looks like an old crash in the right northbound lane on the boulevard, doesn't it?”

“Hard to tell from here, but I’d say an hour ago, or more.” Through gaps in the traffic, Kim saw a white Ford F-150 truck with a cap on the bed stopped on Grand Parkway about thirty feet north of the intersection.

The Crown Vic progressed haltingly along Valley View with no discernible rhythm to its forward movement.  After a bit, Gaspar said, “There’s a blue Toyota Prius’s font end wedged under the truck's back bumper. That Prius is crunched up like it hit a brick wall at twenty-five miles an hour, but the truck looks undamaged.”

“I’m counting maybe seven sets of flashing lights. No sirens, so yeah, they’ve probably been there a while. Blue, red, and white, but no yellow,” Kim said.

Gaspar groused, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “One day they’re going to standardize emergency vehicle lighting in this country.”

“Maybe. But right now, I’d say an ambulance is standing by, injuries were already dealt with, and locals are directing traffic and documenting the scene. But they’ve got no tow trucks to move the damaged vehicles out of the way, so they’ve got a snarl.” Kim’s mind appreciated the exercise of figuring out a simple, solvable puzzle for a change. Even though the solution was far from ideal. A tie up at an intersection like this could take hours to resolve and she wasn’t excited about spending the night in New Hope, Virginia.