Дэвид Балдаччи - No Man's Land

He finally concluded that he knew where Myers had come from. He figured he needed to find out more about the man.

Puller sat in the lobby and waited until the man came back down rolling a small suitcase and carrying a leather briefcase over his shoulder. He headed to the front desk. Puller got up and went out to his car. He watched a minute later as the man came out and said something to the doorman. The doorman waved at a waiting cab. It pulled up and the man got in.

Puller followed the cab to the Amtrak train station. The man got out of the cab and Puller quickly parked. He followed the man inside the small station and took a seat two down from him.

The man opened his briefcase and took out a laptop computer. He slid the device Myers had given him out of his pocket. Puller could see that it was a flash drive. The man inserted it into the USB port in the laptop and clicked some keys.

Puller rose and went around behind the man, standing about fifteen feet away. He took out his camera and shifted slightly to the right so that he could see the man’s screen. He adjusted the lens, zooming in as much as he could, and started taking photos as the man flicked through several screens.

The man then pulled out his phone and keyed in a number. Puller returned to his seat to see if he could overhear the conversation.

He couldn’t make out the words, not because he couldn’t hear them but because they were in another language that he recognized but couldn’t speak.

French.

He glanced over when he heard the train coming in. A voice on the PA said it was destined for Washington, D.C.

He looked over. He had no authority to arrest the man, or even detain him. And if he did try to stop him he would give away that he had been following him. And Myers.

He kept himself from leaping up and tackling the man and instead watched him board the train. As it pulled from the station, Puller headed to his car. There, he checked out the pictures he’d taken of the man’s laptop screen.

They were technical drawings and formulas that were too advanced for him to make much sense of. Still, it looked like Myers was passing secrets to this gent. And it was also clear to Puller that Josh Quentin had been passing those same secrets to Myers. That explained the room at the Grunt.

It was ironic that Puller had used a story of possible espionage at Atalanta Group to enlist Anne Shepard’s help, only to find out that the espionage was apparently all too real.

Now the questions were many.

What were these secrets?

Where and what was Paul the bouncer?

And what the hell, if anything, did my mother’s disappearance have to do with any of this?

FOUR FACES STARED back at John Puller.

Four women.

They were young. They were professional.

And they were all dead.

He had looked at these photos before, without much success.

He leaned back in his chair in his motel room and did another search on the name Atalanta. According to mythology, Atalanta had been left on a mountaintop by her father to die. Only Atalanta was cared for by a she-bear and survived. She became an exemplary fighter and huntress and a committed virgin, spurning advances from all men and even challenging them to footraces, with death to the loser. But a clever fellow enlisted the aid of Aphrodite and beat Atalanta in a race. They married and had a son. Then Atalanta and her husband were turned into lions by a goddess who felt they had disrespected her.

Puller rubbed his eyes and wondered where any of this crap was getting him. He had never once in his life used mythology to track down a criminal, and he really didn’t want to start now.

He settled on his other possible lead. Crushing injuries. The women had all suffered crushing injuries.

He closed his eyes and thought back to the crime scene at the Grunt.

The medical examiner had used that word several times.

Crushing.

Paul the bouncer looked to be in his fifties. He had completely destroyed a group of big, strong men. Manhandled them in fact. Puller had been jumped by one, and though he had beaten the guy with his superior fighting skills, he hadn’t crushed any part of the man. And it had been a tough fight.

And Paul had clearly wanted to get out of there before the police arrived. So who, or what, was this guy? Was he the super freak that he and Knox had speculated might have come out of Building Q? Thirty years ago he would have been in his twenties. But if so, why would he be a bouncer at the Grunt? Had he remained in the area after all these years? Why? It made no sense.

Puller’s phone rang. He looked at the screen.

It was Knox.

Puller hesitated. But if he didn’t answer, he supposed she would just call back until he did.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” she said immediately.

“Why?”

“Because all hell broke loose last night in Hampton.” She paused. “What do you know about that?”

“I heard the sirens.”

“Don’t lie to me, Puller! I’m staring at a police report that has you listed as being on the scene and shooting and killing someone.”

“Well, that was quick work on your part.”

“So what do you know?” she persisted.

Puller hesitated and looked at his watch. “You have time for some breakfast?”

She didn’t respond at first. “Just like that? After kicking my ass to the curb?”

“We all have to eat.”

“Where and when?”

He told her.

He grabbed a shower, changed his clothes, and drove to the hole-in-the-wall diner he’d spotted previously. He didn’t want to do this, because he didn’t fully trust her. But another part of him realized he needed Knox’s resources if he was to have any chance of solving this case.

Knox was already seated at a booth in the back with a cup of coffee in front of her. She wore jeans, a black blazer, three-inch boots, and an expression that could have melted titanium.

He sat down across from her, ordered a coffee, and fingered the plastic menu she slid across to him.

“You look good,” he said.

She took a sip of coffee, gave him a blank stare, and said, “Don’t try to play nice. You are already on my last nerve.”

“Didn’t know that.”

“Like hell.”

He sat forward. “You eating?”

“I’m close to pulling out my gun and shooting you.”

He looked down at the menu. “Let me order first. I’d rather die on a full belly. I’m going to have the All-American. Lots of carbs and protein. From your expression I’m going to need it.”

She watched him order and then shook her head when the waitress turned to her for her order.

The waitress left and Knox sat forward. “Well? You called the meeting.”

Ten minutes passed and Puller talked the whole time, telling Knox in information-filled paragraphs almost everything he had learned since he had last seen her, including following Helen Myers to Building Q where she had met up with Josh Quentin. And the French gent who’d taken a morning train to Washington, D.C. And about Paul the bouncer and his extraordinary fighting abilities. He pulled out his camera and showed her the pictures he’d taken. When he got to the more technical frames Knox focused even more intently.

“Puller, this one has to do with cell mutation.” She forwarded the frame. “And this one looks like it’s some sort of organ regeneration concept.”

“Well, I’m glad you can make some sense of it.”

“If they were passing secrets I thought it would be dealing with the exoskeletons and liquid armor the woman told you she was working on there. This stuff isn’t military-grade material.”

The next moment his breakfast showed up.