Ли Чайлд - No Middle Name

Another two hours later the young cop came back for the third time. He said, ‘The public defender is here. She’s going through the case on the phone with the state guys. They’re still in Bangor. They’re talking right now. She’ll be with you soon.’

Reacher said, ‘What’s she like?’

‘She’s OK. One time my car got stole and she helped me out with the insurance company. She was in my sister’s class in high school.’

‘How old is your sister?’

‘Three years older than me.’

‘And how old are you?’

‘Twenty-four.’

‘Did you get your money back for your car?’

‘Some of it.’

Then the guy went and sat on the stool behind the booking table. To give the impression of proper prisoner care, Reacher supposed, while his lawyer was in the house. Reacher stayed where he was, on the bed. Just waiting.

Thirty minutes later the lawyer came in. She said hello to the cop at the desk, in a friendly way, like a person would, to an old high school classmate’s kid brother. Then she said something else, lawyer-like and quietly, about client confidentiality, and the guy got up and left the room. He closed the steel door behind him. The cell block went quiet. The lawyer looked in the bars at Reacher. Like a person at the zoo. Maybe at the gorilla house. She was medium height and medium weight, and she was wearing a black skirt suit. She had short brown hair with lighter streaks, and brown eyes, and a round face, with a downturned mouth. Like an upside-down smile. As if she had suffered many disappointments in her life. She was carrying a leather briefcase too fat to zip. There was a yellow legal pad poking out the top. It was covered with handwritten notes.

She left the briefcase on the floor and went back and dragged the stool out from behind the booking table. She positioned it outside Reacher’s cage and climbed up on it, and got comfortable, with her knees pressed tight together, and the heels of her shoes hooked over the rail. Like a regular client meeting, one person either side of a desk or a table, except there was no desk or table. Just a wall of thick steel bars, closely spaced.

She said, ‘My name is Cathy Clark.’

Reacher said nothing.

She said, ‘I’m sorry I took so long to get here. I had a closing scheduled.’

Reacher said, ‘You do real estate too?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘How many criminal cases have you done?’

‘One or two.’

‘There’s a large percentage difference between one and two. How many exactly?’

‘One.’

‘Did you win?’

‘No.’

Reacher said nothing.

She said, ‘You get who you get. That’s how it works. There’s a list. I was at the top today. Like the cab line at the airport.’

‘Why aren’t we doing this in a conference room?’

She didn’t answer. Reacher got the impression she liked the bars. He got the impression she liked the separation. As if it made her safer.

He said, ‘Do you think I’m guilty?’

‘Doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what I can do.’

‘Which is?’

‘Let’s talk,’ she said. ‘You need to explain why you were there.’

‘I have to be somewhere. They need to explain why I would have given up my co-conspirator. I delivered him right to them.’

‘They think you were clumsy. You intended merely to grab the bag, and you knocked him over by mistake. They think he intended to keep on running.’

‘Why were county detectives involved in a state operation?’

‘Budgets,’ she said. ‘Also sharing the credit, to keep everyone sweet.’

‘I didn’t grab the bag.’

‘They have four witnesses who say you bent down to it.’

Reacher said nothing.

She said, ‘Why were you there?’

‘There were thirty people in that plaza. Why were any of them there?’

‘The evidence shows the boy ran straight towards you. Not towards them.’

‘Didn’t happen that way. I stepped into his path.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You think I’m guilty.’

‘Doesn’t matter what I think,’ she said again.

‘What do they claim was in the bag?’

‘They’re not saying yet.’

‘Is that legal? Shouldn’t I know what I’m accused of?’

‘I think it’s legal for the time being.’

‘You think? I need more than that.’

‘If you want a different lawyer, go right ahead and pay for one.’

Reacher said, ‘Is the kid in the sweatshirt talking yet?’

‘He claims it was a simple robbery. He claims he thought the girl was using the bag as a purse. He claims he was hoping to get cash and credit cards. Maybe a cell phone. The state agents see that as a rehearsed cover story, just in case.’

‘Why do they think I didn’t run too? Why would I stick around afterwards?’

‘Same thing,’ she said. ‘A rehearsed cover story. As soon as it all went wrong. You saw them grab your pal, so you both switched to plan B, instantly. He was a mugger, you were helping law enforcement. He would get a trivial sentence, you would get a pat on the head. They anticipate a certain level of sophistication from both of you. Apparently this is a big deal.’

Reacher nodded. ‘How big of a deal, do you think?’

‘It’s a major investigation. It’s been running a long time.’

‘Expensive, do you think?’

‘I imagine so.’

‘At a time when budgets seem to be an issue.’

‘Budgets are always an issue.’

‘As are egos and reputations and performance reviews. Think about Delaney and Cook. Put yourself in their shoes. A long-running and expensive investigation falls apart due to random chance. They’re back to square one. Maybe worse than that. Maybe there’s no way back in. Lots of red faces all around. So what happens next?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Human nature,’ Reacher said. ‘First they shouted and cussed and punched the wall. Then their survival instinct kicked in. They looked for ways to cover their ass. They looked for ways to claim the operation was in fact a success all along. Agent Delaney said exactly that. They dreamed up the idea the kid was a part of the scam. Then they listened in when Aaron was talking to me. They heard me say I don’t live anywhere. I’m a vagrant, in Aaron’s own words. Which gave them an even better idea. They could make it a twofer. They could claim they bagged two guys and ripped the heart out of the whole damn thing. They could get pats on the back and letters of commendation after all.’

‘You’re saying their case is invented.’

‘I know it is.’

‘That’s a stretch.’

‘They double-checked with me. They made sure. They confirmed I don’t carry a cell phone. They confirmed no one keeps track of where I am. They confirmed I’m the perfect patsy.’

‘You agreed with the idea the kid was more than a mugger.’

‘As a hypothetical,’ Reacher said. ‘And not very enthusiastically. Part of a professional discussion. They flattered me into it. They said I know how this stuff works. I was humouring them. They were making shit up, to cover their ass. I was being polite, I guess.’

‘You said it was possible.’

‘Why would I say that, if I was involved?’

‘They think it was a double bluff.’

‘I’m not that smart,’ Reacher said.

‘They think you are. You were in an elite MP unit.’

‘Wouldn’t that put me on their side?’

The lawyer said nothing. Just squirmed on her stool a little. Uneasiness, Reacher figured. Lack of sympathy. Distrust. Even revulsion, maybe. A desire to get away. Human nature. He knew how this stuff worked.

He said, ‘Check the timing on the tape. They heard me say I have no address, and the mental cogs started turning, and pretty soon after that they had hijacked the interview and were in the room with me. Then they left again later, just for a minute. For a private chat. They were confirming with each other whether they had enough. Whether they could make it work. They decided to go for it. They came back in and arrested me.’