Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

‘What kind of unsavoury things? Did she tell you?’

‘Not chapter and verse. But Toni did confide some things. She wanted to root out crime and corruption. I think she saw me as a kind of father figure. She looked to me for advice from time to time. I warned her to be careful. More than once.’

‘This seems like a nice town. Is crime and corruption a big problem here?’

‘No. But she was based out of Nashville. She did most of her work there.’

‘How did you find her if she’s not local?’

‘I came across her name online. She was recommended by someone on an ancestry forum.’

‘Are you going to replace her? Or had she finished her work?’

‘I guess I will have to replace her. I haven’t had the stomach for it yet. Toni had completed the broad outline but there’s plenty left to do. The biggest problem is confirming all the dates. That’s why she wanted access to the town’s records. And why she contacted you, Mr Rutherford.’

‘I can see why you would want access,’ Rutherford said. ‘But not why Toni reached out to me. Why did she think I could get my hands on the papers you need? I was the IT manager. Not the archivist.’

‘As far as I understand, it worked like this,’ Klostermann said. ‘Toni was in touch with the archivist. There was a project running to digitize all the records. The archivist told Toni there’d been a kind of false start. The computer memory thing they tried to use was too small so halfway through the process they raised some extra money and got a bigger one. They copied everything, then you as the IT manager took the old one into storage until it was needed for something else. So it’s possible the records I want are still on it.’

Rutherford thought for a moment. ‘I know the equipment you’re talking about. I did take it. I thought it might be useful for … something else.’

‘Do you know where it is now?’

‘Not exactly. But I’m trying to find it. I need it for … something.’

‘If you do find it, would you let me see if my father’s records are there?’

‘I’m not sure if I could,’ Rutherford said. ‘It’s town property. I’m not sure if–’

‘We’re talking about seventy-year-old documents,’ Klostermann said. ‘Maybe older. Whose confidence could possibly get betrayed? And it’s all theoretically public domain stuff anyway. It was in the physical archive before the fire. So come on. What do you say?’

Rutherford didn’t reply.

‘I can make it worth your while if compensation is an issue?’ Klostermann said. ‘Very much worth your while if I can get the first look. Patience is not a virtue of mine. And I’m not getting any younger.’

Rutherford squirmed on the edge of the cushion. ‘It’s not about–’

‘Time is the issue,’ Reacher said. ‘Rusty has a lot to do to prepare for the next chapter in his life and as I’m sure you know, an IT manager’s time is expensive.’

‘How expensive?’ Klostermann said.

‘Ten thousand dollars should cover it. Cash.’

Klostermann struggled to his feet and held out his hand. ‘You’re a life coach, you say, Mr Reacher? I’m beginning to think I might need one of those myself. How long to find the records?’

‘That’s hard to predict. We’re working on it. I’ll let you know.’

Reacher walked back to the car in silence. His gut was telling him that he’d met Klostermann before. In barracks rooms. Bars. Jail cells. Offices. Back streets. All kinds of places. All over the world. Or that he’d met guys just like Klostermann, anyway. Guys with something to hide but who imagine they’re smart enough to think on their feet. To cover their trails. Reacher didn’t think every word Klostermann had spoken was a lie. His father’s immigration, for example. His businesses. There were too many things that would be easy to check on, and only a fool would be dishonest about details that could be disproved in a matter of seconds. It was the family history aspect that didn’t pass the smell test. Writing it for his son. Tying it up in a pretty bow. No. It was more likely that there was some kind of skeleton in the family closet. Something illegal. Something embarrassing. Something Klostermann wanted to bury. Or spin. Something worth ten thousand dollars just to see a record of. But a sack of cash was one thing. Was it also worth Toni Garza’s life? Was it worth Rutherford’s?

There were two people at the kitchen counter in Mitch’s apartment alongside Reacher, and they were both mad at him.

‘I can’t believe you offered to sell the server.’ Both of Rutherford’s hands were clenched into fists. ‘You had no right. It’s not yours. We don’t know where it is. And ten measly grand? Cerberus will be worth a hundred times that much. A thousand times.’

‘I can’t believe you would even think of going.’ Sands threw the slip of paper on to the countertop. ‘It’s a trap. It’s obvious. How can it not be?’

Reacher took a mouthful of coffee. ‘OK. First of all, Rusty. Don’t worry. I have no intention of selling your computer thing. And Sarah, yes. It’s almost certainly a trap. But sometimes the only way to know if the stove is hot is to touch it.’

Sands glared at him.

‘Someone smart told me that once,’ he said.

‘You’re obviously not smart if you’re even considering walking into a trap.’

‘I never said I was smart. Stubborn, maybe. Obstinate even, on occasion.’

‘Why offer to sell if you had no intention?’ Rutherford said. ‘Are you going to rip Klostermann off? We can’t do that. I have to live here. My reputation’s tattered enough already.’

‘We’re not ripping anyone off,’ Reacher said. ‘It was a test. To get a sense of how important these records are to him. Or sensitive. Or embarrassing. I named a big number and he didn’t turn a hair. That tells us something. And here’s another reason. Say Klostermann isn’t what he seems to be. Say he’s somehow behind Garza’s murder and the attempt to kidnap you. Do you want him thinking you’re not willing to play ball? This way his incentive is to keep us alive.’

‘If you care so much about being free and healthy why would you knowingly walk into an ambush?’ Sands said. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ Reacher said. ‘And I’m not going to walk into anything. The best way to defeat an ambush is to be there first. Which I will be. But logistics aren’t the most important thing. You’re focusing in the wrong place. Look at the note.’

Sands picked up the scrap of paper. She re-read it slowly, and checked the other side. ‘What? I don’t see anything.’

‘The first two words. What do they mean?’

‘Romeo, Juliet. R J. Reacher, Jack. Your name.’

‘Exactly. Someone made it personal. I’m not some faceless guy who got in the way any more. They’re coming after me specifically. They need to understand that’s the wrong thing to do.’

Reacher parked Marty’s car half a mile south of the factory and covered the rest of the ground on foot. He moved slowly. He stopped frequently, but never at the same interval. He never continued until he was certain no one was following. And no one was watching. The clock in his head said 10:45. Seventy-five minutes before he was due at the rendezvous. More time would have been better but experience told him seventy-five minutes would be enough. Nine times out of ten.

The moment the abandoned building came into view Reacher knew that no kind of ghost story could have kept him away when he was growing up. Or his brother Joe. There were too many iron girders to climb. Too many nooks and alcoves to hide in. Too many frontal assaults and insane last stands and against-the-odds escapes to stage. And too much prime real estate to fight over with the other kids.