Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

‘The FBI knew the Russians had a spy at Oak Ridge,’ Reacher said. ‘If the Russians had destroyed the records and left it at that, the FBI would have kept on digging. Maybe found some other clue. If the Russians’ plan had worked the FBI would have thought they’d caught the spy. And stopped digging. There’s no need to search for something you already have.’

Speranski was pacing around his living room when his secure phone rang again.

‘The bait has been swallowed,’ the voice at the end of the line said. ‘The message has been sent. But not to the Bureau itself. To a former agent who is now a cyber security expert. The Americans must believe it’s genuine.’

‘So, Natasha?’

‘She’s outlived her usefulness. The Center says you may do with her as you please.’

Reacher left Sands and Rutherford looking through other random records on the server and went next door to call Wallwork. He told him Fisher’s cover was blown. And about the two possible leads to Oak Ridge. One likely fake. One likely real. Wallwork wasn’t too worried about the difference.

‘We’ll find them both,’ he said. ‘Even if one’s only a decoy. And we’ll nail them both. Then pull Fisher out. Make sure she’s safe.’

‘No, Wallwork,’ Reacher said. ‘You’ve got to pull her out right now.’

‘We can’t do that. If Fisher disappears right after seeing the records on the server, the Russians will be suspicious. They’ll pull their agent out of Oak Ridge. We’ll never know if The Sentinel is compromised. What we have to do is coordinate her exfiltration exactly with the arrests.’

‘You’re wrong. You’re still looking at the mission from your original position – that Fisher’s identity was unknown to the Russians. But they do know about her. They’re using her as a conduit for misinformation. So they’re not going to let her live until their patsy is arrested. Right now Fisher believes what she sent is genuine. She was focused on finding it for months, so when it was dangled in front of her she bit. It was a reflex. But when the heat of the moment has passed? And all the coincidences line up in her head? They won’t run that risk. They’ll kill her as soon as they’re confident you’ve received her information. In other words, now. So you’ve got to act. Immediately.’

Wallwork didn’t reply right away. Reacher could hear him fiddling with a pen. He pictured the guy. The pieces falling into place in his head. Him not liking the picture that was produced.

‘OK,’ Wallwork said after another minute. ‘You’re probably right. We have a small window. But we’re lucky, in a way. How things worked out, with her giving you the phone.’

‘How’s that lucky?’ Reacher said.

‘I think you’re right that they’ll kill her as soon as they know her information has been sent. But how will they know it’s been sent? By monitoring her phone.’

‘Fisher wouldn’t use a Russian-issue phone.’

‘Of course not. She procured a clean one, specially for the purpose. They’ll have cloned it. That’s what I would do, in their shoes. It’s easy, and it will tell them the moment a message is sent. Or a call is made. But we don’t have that problem. You didn’t send me the picture, and you called me from your own phone.’

‘But a message was sent from her phone. Just now.’

‘Why? Who to?’

‘We needed a filename to trace the original document. To compare. The picture was too small to read on the phone. We needed to see it on the computer.’

There was another pause. Reacher heard Wallwork fiddling with his pen again. Then there was the sound of breaking glass.

‘Well, congratulations, Reacher,’ Wallwork said. ‘You just killed Margaret Fisher.’

Sands drove Reacher to the Russians’ motel. Wallwork had warned him not to go. He promised to send in the cavalry himself. But then he mentioned procedures. Levels of classification. Clearance protocols. Reacher knew what words like those added up to. Delays. So he figured it was an outside chance, but if Fisher was still there, and still alive, maybe he could do something more direct. Something that didn’t involve warrants. Or sign-offs. Or permissions of any kind.

All the cars had gone from the end section of the building. When they swung by they could see the drapes in room eighteen were open. No one was visible. So Sands stopped the Chevy right by the office door and went inside with Reacher. They went straight to the counter. A guy was sitting behind it, maybe thirty years old, with a plain baseball cap and a grey shirt with red piping and the name Chuck embroidered in an oval on his chest.

Sands pulled out her worn black wallet. ‘Federal agents,’ she said. ‘We’re looking for the people who are renting room eighteen. Are they here?’

‘They were,’ Chuck said. ‘The same group had fifteen, sixteen and seventeen as well. The four rooms all the way at the end. Anyway, they’re gone now. They checked out a few minutes ago.’

‘Did they say where they were going?’

‘No, ma’am. And one of them didn’t seem well. One of the women. I think she was sick. Or drunk.’

Fisher , Reacher thought. Drugged so that she would be easier to manipulate.

‘OK,’ Sands said. ‘Never mind. We’ll need to see inside the rooms.’

‘No problem.’ Chuck took four keys from a pegboard on the wall and set them on the counter. ‘Just bring these back when you’re done.’

They started in eighteen, as that had been Fisher’s room. Then they moved on to the others. The rooms were pristine. Reacher had checked into places that weren’t as clean. Even the bullet holes he’d made in the bedroom door frame had been spackled over. There was no trash. Nothing of any kind had been left behind. Not by accident. Not hidden by Fisher. Reacher looked under the mattresses and between the folded towels and inside the toilet rolls and in the cupboards and drawers and wardrobes. He tried everywhere he’d ever heard of anything being found in all his years in the military police. He even ran hot water in the basins in the bathrooms in case Fisher had left a message on any of the mirrors. He didn’t find as much as a hair.

‘Nada,’ Sands said as they finished up in fifteen. ‘What now?’

‘Call Wallwork back,’ Reacher said. ‘See if he has anything to add.’

They ducked into the office to drop the room keys on the way to the car, and Chuck beckoned them closer.

‘I was thinking, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where those people went. But I know what they went to do. Would that help you at all?’

‘It might,’ Sands said. ‘What?’

‘They went golfing.’

Sands crossed her arms. ‘Golfing? Are you sure?’

‘Pretty sure. I heard two of them talking. They were speaking Russian. I know a little because my grandparents were from St Petersburg. Anyway, one of the people used the word бункерный. It means bunker . Where do you get bunkers? Golf courses. There are a few around here. The second guy said something about it having been there for ever, so it must be an old one.’

‘Golf?’ Reacher said, when they were back in the car. ‘What an idiot.’

‘He was wrong about the golf,’ Sands said. ‘That’s for sure. But I think he just told us where the Russians took Fisher.’

‘He did? Where?’

‘When you were on the phone with Wallwork, Rusty and I pulled up some of the old records. We found a few for the lot next to the Spy House. The Klich brothers bought it about the same time they bought the land for the house. They filed a bunch of construction permits. Some more than once. And there were file notes about neighbours complaining about noise. From excavators and cement trucks. Rusty thought that was weird, because the Spy House is pretty much on its own. He said there was nothing built next to it. Not above ground, anyway. So I’m thinking, what kind of thing do you need excavators and lots of cement to make?’