Ли Чайлд - The Midnight Line

‘I don’t know these people. It’s an opaque network.’

‘Won’t Billy name names?’

‘So far he’s playing the good soldier. I only got what I got by tricking it out of him sideways. I would need to start a whole new investigation. I don’t have time. We can do it quicker this way. We don’t need much. We’re only closing a file. All she has to say is Billy is a lying asshole and he was selling regular Mexican powder all along.’

Up at the house Sanderson and her sister and Bramall were still on the porch. They were talking a lot. Some kind of a big discussion.

Reacher said, ‘OK, if I ever get the opportunity, I’ll be sure to tell her what you need.’

Noble said, ‘Where are you now?’

‘It’s a very large area.’

‘Are you at her place?’

‘It’s hard to pin down an exact spot.’

‘You’re talking on a cell phone.’

‘On an omnidirectional antenna somewhere inside a giant circle the size of New Jersey.’

Noble said, ‘Certain laws apply when a citizen talks to a federal agent.’

Reacher said, ‘Sorry, I was waiting for the dramatic music.’

‘Do you know Rose Sanderson’s current location?’

‘Certain other laws apply when this citizen talks to a federal agent. Mostly the ones about saving breath by skipping bullshit. I know how these things go. And I know you know. Usually worse than expected. Therefore you always have a plan B, so the main office sees a notch on your bedpost anyway. Anyone will do. You want Rose Sanderson on the record buying Mexican powder. Just in case. She’s your plan B.’

‘She breaks the law every day.’

‘You should forget her right now. Seriously. She would be a very serious blunder on your part. She was wounded in the face in Afghanistan. You met her twin sister. Think about it. Their photographs will be printed side by side in every newspaper in the world. The movie star and the monster. Before and after serving her country. Now you’re busting her for pain medication? The backlash would be ferocious. The DEA would be ridiculed. I’m saving you from a PR disaster.’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘In the state of Wyoming.’

‘Are you refusing to answer my question?’

‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll answer all your questions. Including the ones you haven’t thought of yet. Let’s set up a call about three days from now. On two conditions. You butt out till then, and you forget you ever heard Rose Sanderson’s name.’

‘Why three days?’

‘That kind of question would fall under the butting-out part of the deal.’

‘I’m not going to negotiate with you.’

‘Then suggest an alternative approach. Oh yeah, there isn’t one. So let’s try to get along. I was an MP, remember. The same as you, except different clothes. I’m not out to screw you. I’m trying to do you a favour. This is one of those lucky things that happen from time to time. I take the tiny slice I want, which is Rose Sanderson, and you get all the rest. It’s a big deal, I promise you. It will win you a medal and make you a hero. Even Mr Bramall thinks it will be hailed as a major triumph and the capstone of an outstanding regional success story. It’s something for nothing, Noble. The opposite of collateral damage. The Boy Detective would take that offer, I think, in the comic books. He knows it’s how government business gets done.’

‘You’re not the government.’

‘You never really leave,’ Reacher said. ‘Not if you’re the right kind of person.’

Noble said nothing. Checkmate again. He couldn’t argue. Not without saying yeah, all our lives are bullshit.

‘Three days,’ Reacher said. ‘Relax. Maybe take in a show.’

He clicked off the phone. He walked back to the house. Bramall met him halfway. Reacher gave back the phone.

‘Three days,’ he said. ‘Plus he forgets about Rose.’

‘Nice work.’

‘Thank you.’

‘In exchange for what?’

‘We let him pick up the pieces.’

‘What pieces?’

‘I’m sure there will be pieces.’

‘You saying you got an idea now?’

‘More like a mental sketch,’ Reacher said. ‘I need to ask you a question.’

‘What question?’

‘When you were in Rapid City, why were you eyeballing Scorpio’s laundromat? What did you expect to see there?’

‘Customers, initially. According to phone records Rose called there once. Who else would call a laundromat? Only a customer, surely. Maybe she lost something there. Maybe she wanted to know the opening time. I wondered if it meant she lived nearby. Or had, at one time.’

‘But there were no customers.’

‘Only one or two.’

‘Any other traffic?’

‘None at all.’

‘Did you watch the back?’

‘A couple of bikes.’

‘But no loading or unloading.’

‘None at all,’ Bramall said again. ‘It’s not a loading dock. Just a regular door.’

‘OK,’ Reacher said.

Then Mackenzie came by, and said she wanted to go find the cabins they would be sleeping in that night. Apparently Rose had told her there was a nearby clearing with four small houses all in a square. They were aired out and habitable. Apparently Rose kept them like that all the time, because she felt it was a shame to see good things go to ruin.

They found the right path, which was like all the other paths Reacher had seen, including most recently the path where the guy with the boots had aimed the rifle. Apart from that it was easy going. After a hundred yards they came out on a clearing, exactly as promised, with four one-room houses built around a space about the size of a tennis court. Like a tiny village. The houses were made of log, each one different, each one built like a serious structure, each one no bigger than a single-car garage. All four doors were unlocked. Bramall claimed one at random. Mackenzie moved in opposite. Reacher split the difference, facing south.

In a city the place would have been called a studio apartment. A living room with a bed in it, or a bedroom with a sofa in it, plus a token kitchenette, and a tiny bathroom. Overspill accommodation for house parties, he figured. They ate and drank and made merry at the big house, but came out there to sleep. Maybe four couples, who all knew each other.

He put his toothbrush in the bathroom glass and came out to find Mackenzie watching him from the doorway.

She said, ‘My husband has started the search for a doctor. He’s taking vacation days from work. He understands the parameters. The housekeeper is preparing the suite. Mr Bramall is ready to drive us all to Illinois. I’m sure his vehicle will be comfortable.’

‘I agree,’ Reacher said. ‘It’s a fine truck.’

‘I guess what I’m saying is the rest is up to you now.’

‘The rest?’

‘Bridging the gap.’

‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘That seems fair.’

‘If you can.’

‘I’m working on it.’

‘Will it be possible?’

‘It might feel a little hand to mouth at first. A little insecure. Rose will need to hang tough. I hope she can. She told me there’s some of her old self still in there. She was smart enough to ask me to hold her ring. Or self-aware enough. To some extent she knows what she’s doing. She can still think the old way. At some point she’ll have to trust us and we’ll have to trust her.’

‘When will we leave?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he said.

They ate dinner together, out of what they had brought from the grocery store. Rose was high as a kite and happy. She was mobile and animated. Under her hood and her foil she laughed and smiled and turned from person to person, and talked and listened and answered. Mackenzie laughed with her, half the time projecting boundless energy and support, like a tractor beam in a science fiction movie, something solid for her sister to lean on, and the other half of the time projecting hopeless bewilderment at her new situation. She was adrift. There were old-time fairy tales where the beautiful sister came home scarred, and all kinds of hidden anger and resentment was revealed, ahead of a warm and tearful resolution. But this was different. There was no narrative template. They were both the beautiful sister. They started level. There was no anger or resentment. There were no issues. They were the same person. Almost. Reacher saw the air between them ebb and flow, sometimes making them a single organism, like an aspen grove, sometimes making them separate, but never completely. They were a unit. They were a they. Always had been, always would be. But neither one knew how the current version worked. Or even what it looked like, from the outside. How would they describe themselves now? Would it have to be I and she? No longer we? These were not questions they had asked before.