Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

‘I know who Rutherford is. Everyone in town does.’

‘Has he been in today?’

‘No. Haven’t seen him. He never comes in the morning. He’s strictly a dinner guy.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘Not exactly. Somewhere in town, I guess. Not too far away because he always walks. Never seen him get out of a car.’

‘Thanks,’ Reacher said, and started towards the back of the room.

‘Where are you going?’ the waitress said.

‘To the pay phone.’

‘It’s not hooked up. Who do you want to call?’

‘No one. I want to check the directory. See if Rutherford’s address is listed.’

‘There’s no directory, either. That thing’s just a prop. The decorator put it there. Said it added authenticity.’

‘Really?’ Reacher said. ‘OK, then. Guess I’ll try something else.’ He nodded and turned for the door.

‘Why not look it up on your phone?’ the waitress said. ‘Who uses paper directories these days, anyway?’

Reacher paused. He used them. The same way he’d used military radio and the regular phone network and the United States Postal Service. Things he understood. He’d sent and received telexes and faxes back in the day, too. But he’d never involved himself with cell phones. Not to any major extent. He’d never needed to. Not even when all they did was make and receive calls.

‘Could you do that for me?’ Reacher pulled out his bundle of cash. ‘Look Rutherford’s address up on your phone? How much does that sort of thing cost?’

The waitress waved the money away and pulled her phone out of her apron pocket. ‘I have unlimited data. I’m grandfathered in to my ex-husband’s contract, through his work. Don’t knock it. It’s the only good thing to come out of our marriage.’ She prodded at the front of the phone for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘Sorry. No record. Although that’s probably a good thing if you think about it, given how unpopular he is right now.’

Reacher squeezed back into Marty’s car, fired it up, and pulled a tight U-turn. He blasted through the intersection. Narrowly missed an ancient Chevy pickup. Took the next two lefts. Parked in a hatched-off area at the end of the courthouse lot. And hurried around to the main entrance.

Officer Rule was on desk duty when Reacher approached the reception area in the basement. He used the public stairs, which she didn’t object to. And she didn’t seem surprised to see him, which made Reacher happy.

‘What can I help you with, Mr Reacher?’

‘I need some information.’

‘Regarding?’

‘Rusty Rutherford. Have any reports been made about him? Since last night? About him going missing, or being dragged into any other vehicles?’

‘Mr Reacher, behave yourself. I heard you were an MP. Which means you know that even if we had received any reports …’ Officer Rule paused for a moment, ‘I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about them.’

‘Thank you. How about his address, then? Do you know where he lives?’

‘I do. But you know I can’t share that kind of information.’

‘Please. This is important. I’m worried about him.’

‘Why are you worried?’

‘He’s disappeared. I need to find him.’

‘I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about. If Rutherford’s not around he probably just left town. He was probably scared after yesterday. He’s not exactly the physical type, and almost getting into two fights in one day was probably too much. I bet he went to visit relatives somewhere. That would be the smart move for him to make.’

‘I tried to convince him to leave town. He refused. He was adamant about staying.’

‘In that case he’s probably just holed up again. He went home after he got fired and didn’t come out for a week.’

‘That’s why I need his address. To check he’s OK.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be? Is there something you’re not telling me?’

‘The guy I spoke to this morning before getting a ride with Detective Goodyear’s friend. Is he still around?’

‘No. He left right after you did. Why?’

‘Did he leave any instructions about watching out for Rutherford?’

‘Not that I know of. Should he have?’

‘I need that address.’ Reacher paused. ‘What if I’d received an anonymous tip?’

‘Specifically threatening violence? Against Rutherford?’

‘Not specifically. Call it an old investigator’s hunch.’

‘I’d need more than that. And I’d have to go myself. Make it official. Would he want that, given all the unwelcome attention he’s been getting?’

‘At least point me in the right direction. You know I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m the one who saved his ass yesterday.’

‘You seemed to. That’s true. But maybe two groups are after Rutherford and you were just keeping your rivals at bay until reinforcements arrive.’

‘Say I did want to snatch a guy like Rutherford. Do I look like I’d need reinforcements?’

‘Well, no. But you could be following orders.’

‘I used to follow orders. Most of the time. Do I look like someone who does now?’

Officer Rule didn’t reply.

‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘I get it. Don’t give me Rutherford’s address. Just tell me this. If I was an old friend wanting to pay him a surprise visit, what kind of place should I look for? A cottage in the countryside? A converted loft in the centre of town? A single family home near the place where he worked?’

‘You’re not credible. Rusty Rutherford’s hardly the kind of guy who has truckloads of friends showing up unannounced.’

‘Even so. Humour me.’

Officer Rule was silent for a moment. ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why are you going to all this trouble? Why do you care so much about Rusty Rutherford? No one else does. What’s he to you?’

Reacher shrugged. ‘It seems like he was trying his best to do the right thing and got screwed by the people above him. Something similar happened to me once. It doesn’t feel good. And now he’s got a bunch of assholes on his tail for some reason he doesn’t understand and you people are in no hurry to help him. Someone’s got to.’

‘And that someone’s you?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Why is that?’

Reacher shrugged again. ‘I’m the one who’s here.’

‘All right. Listen. I can’t speak in any kind of official capacity, but personally I would peg Rutherford as the kind of guy who lives in an apartment. And if an old friend happened to eat at the diner you went to yesterday and looked directly across the street, he wouldn’t be completely in the wrong part of town.’

Reacher knew that cell phones could display maps. He’d seen it done. The level of detail was fine for basic navigation, he figured. He’d heard you could factor in real-time traffic information and weather updates, which could be useful if you were driving somewhere. Or hiking. He knew you could call up satellite images, too, if you wanted to see roofs or the tops of trees. But give him the choice and Reacher would always prefer a paper map. The kind he’d trained with at West Point. Large enough and granular enough to reveal the underlying terrain. A critical factor for a soldier. The difference between victory and annihilation. Or between setting a trap and walking into one.

A critical factor for a soldier. Sometimes just as important for a civilian.

Reacher could picture it so clearly. The diner. The apartment building. The coffee shop. A tight triangle. Rutherford’s entire area of operations, aside from his brief excursion to the police station. He’d made it so easy for the people who wanted to take him. If Rutherford strayed outside again, Reacher couldn’t imagine any way he wouldn’t be spotted immediately. And there’d be no one to save him this time.