Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

‘That should do it,’ Reacher said.

‘I’ll keep looking. There are hundreds of files, though. Don’t feel like you have to stay. I’m weird. I like this kind of thing.’

Reacher stuck it out for another ten minutes then made his excuses and went back to room eighteen. He took a long shower. Then he put his shirt and pants under his mattress and got into bed. He listened to a few of his favourite songs in his head. Counted to three. And didn’t drop right off to sleep. Something was bothering him. It was the damn flowers, he realized. The edelweiss. Something about his memory of them still wasn’t right.

Reacher did finally get to sleep. He woke up again at half past two in the morning. Or more accurately, something woke him up. Like a switch being thrown. From sound asleep to completely conscious in an instant. An instinctive response. Something had triggered a warning. A sound. He heard it again. Something metallic. It was coming from the door. To the courtyard. Not the next room. Someone was picking the lock. Trying to get in. Reacher took one of the captured Berettas from under his pillow and moved it beneath the duvet. Then he lay completely still.

The door opened a quarter of the way. A slim figure darted inside. The door eased back into place. Only one person had come through. Small. Wearing black. With a tactical backpack.

‘Reacher?’ It was a woman’s voice, and she was whispering. ‘Reacher, are you in here? Please say you are or I’m going to be mighty embarrassed.’

‘Fisher?’ Reacher said.

‘Thank God. Your crappy old phone is hard to track. Wallwork couldn’t say for sure if you were here or next door.’

‘I’m here.’ Reacher sat up and switched on the bedside light. ‘I’m supposed to be. It’s my room. The question is, what are you doing here?’

‘There’s a problem. I have new orders. The guy from Moscow is in the country already. He’s ramping things up. Going after the server even harder than before.’

‘That’s not much of a surprise.’

‘No. But maybe this is. Going after the server means going after Rutherford. And since none of the Russians know where Rutherford is, the new guy wants to flush him out. By going after his mother.’

Reacher said nothing.

‘You see the issue here,’ Fisher said. ‘We can’t do anything to protect her. If we did the Russians would know there’s a leak. And aside from what that would mean for me personally – as in a slow and agonizing death, which I’d rather avoid – they would pull their agent out of Oak Ridge. We would never find out if they got a copy of The Sentinel. It would be a disaster all around.’

‘You have to do something,’ Reacher said.

‘That’s why I’m here. I’m assuming you know where Rutherford is?’

‘Let’s say I do.’

‘Good. Then I need you to do two things. First, get Rutherford to make another copy of the server. Second, bring him to the diner opposite his building. I need him there at six a.m., with the server in a car parked outside. Any questions?’

‘You’re resurrecting the original ambush idea?’

‘I’m adapting it. I know what the objective is now. And where it will be. But I have to truncate the timescale. I need it done and dusted, including Rutherford’s apparent suicide, before noon. That’s still the Moscow guy’s ETA in town.’

‘It won’t work.’

‘It has to. Time will be tight. And it’s not without risk. Mainly for me. I have to go against orders. Try to pass it off as initiative, combined with the desire to redeem myself in the eyes of my superiors. The fact that I will get the server this time ought to be enough to save my bacon. It better be. All Rutherford has to do is play along. He’ll be fine. And it’s better than the alternative.’

‘No. It’s not possible. Rutherford’s down with a migraine. He couldn’t copy a shopping list, let alone a server. And he can’t move.’

‘That’s not funny, Reacher. Tell me you’re joking.’

‘It’s no joke.’

‘Then we’re screwed. The whole operation’s shot to hell. There’s no way to save it.’

‘Don’t panic. The fat lady’s not singing yet. Let’s say I have another way to get the copying done.’

‘How?’

‘Doesn’t matter. There’s no security risk. That’s all you need to know.’

‘How will I get my hands on it? And make that look convincing?’

‘I’ll give it to you. In place of Rutherford.’

‘Reacher. You already stopped a kidnapping by me and five other people. I couldn’t grab you now with the three I have left. It wouldn’t be believable.’

‘You’re right. You couldn’t take it from me. But you could buy it.’

‘How would you come to be selling it?’

‘Here’s the story. It all began with the journalist. Convince your people I was working with her. She told me about the server. Not what was on it, specifically. Just that it was valuable. I came to town to get it from Rutherford because I’m greedy. I saved him from getting kidnapped. Buddied up to him until he let slip where it was. I stole it, thinking I could sell it to the newspaper. Only they hit me with a load of bull about being public-spirited and giving it to them for free. So I put it on the market. Via the dark web. Which you were monitoring because you’re so thorough. We set up a meet at the diner, because I insisted on a public place. At, say, 0800. Four hours before the new guy shows his face. You’re the hero, and he’s on the next plane back to Moscow.’

‘I don’t see it. Aside from foiling the last kidnap attempt you left two of my men unconscious in a dumpster and attacked the rest of us with improvised chemical weapons. No one’s going to believe you’re a journalist’s assistant.’

‘So sprinkle in some of the truth. Say I’m a former soldier, now working as an occasional bodyguard. Say the journalist hired me to look after her in Nashville. Where she was investigating those mob guys. The ones Klostermann warned her to stay away from.’

‘That could work. I guess. I might need to embellish it a little more. But it’s the best we’ve got so let’s try to make it happen. You get to work on the copying. Wallwork will call you at 0600 with a go / no go.’

‘Sounds good. See you at the diner. I hope.’

‘I hope so too. Oh, and Reacher? One other thing. Before 0600 – charge your damn phone.’

Fisher let herself out, then Reacher switched off the light and lay back down. He was annoyed with himself. He had just broken the soldier’s most basic rule. Never volunteer. He should have known better. But on the other hand, what choice did he have? It was either go himself, or leave Rutherford’s mother in the firing line. He didn’t know anything about her. Maybe she could handle herself. Maybe she was a former Marine, ready to teach this Moscow guy what happened to anyone who messed with her son. It was possible. But he didn’t know. So the safest thing was to take care of business himself.

Reacher turned the light back on, slid out of bed, and let himself into room nineteen to search for the bag with the phone charger in it. He tried to be quiet but Sands woke up anyway. He talked her through the developments and she agreed to take care of copying the server. She made a start right away. Reacher figured that since he and Sands were both awake he might as well make his way to the diner as soon as the server was ready. Then he changed his mind. Getting there ahead of time would be pointless. He had to go through with the exchange, come what may. Even if the Russians had replaced the entire wait staff with paratroopers and locked all the customers in the basement, he still had to make sure they got the server. Otherwise their attention would turn back to Rutherford’s mother. The path he’d already ruled out. And there was another reason for playing it dumb. Fisher knew who he was. But the rest of her cell didn’t. They needed to see a not-very-bright part-time bodyguard chasing an easy payday. Any hint that he was something different and the whole house of cards could collapse. So he went back to bed. Plugged in the phone. Took three deep breaths. And fell back to sleep.