Lee Child - Make Me

Phoenix, Arizona. Where we’re going .

We’re on the way .

The time for looking over your shoulder starts now .

Half a slice of cake .

He said, “Evan, may I ask you a personal question?”

Dr. Lair did what most guys do, when facing such an inquiry, which was to pause a quizzical beat, and shrug in mock innocence, and say, “Sure.”

“Do you keep a gun in the house?”

“Is that important?”

“Just a matter of interest.”

“As a matter of fact I do.”

“May I see it?”

“That’s a strange request.”

His daughter Emily was half-turned sideways, sitting cross-legged, watching the exchange, back and forth from one face to the other, like tennis.

So was Chang.

Reacher said, “Is the gun in the bedroom?”

Lair said, “As a matter of fact it is.”

“It would be better in the hallway. Dead-of-night home invasions are rare. Plus you’d be too sleepy to be effective. Are you right-handed?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then within six feet of the front door on the right-hand side would be favorite. In a drawer or a cabinet. Or grips-up in a decorative vase. On a table. I imagine that would work.”

“Are you also a security consultant?”

“We aim to offer a wide range of services.”

Emily said, “He’s right, Dad. The bedroom is pointless.”

Chang said, “Technically our advice would be to conceal a separate firearm in each major zone of the house. The bedroom certainly, but also the kitchen area, the living area, the entrance lobby, upstairs if you have one, the basement if you have one, and the garage.”

Emily said, “Where’s best if you only have one?”

Only have one, Reacher heard.

“Go with the math,” Chang said. “Most problems come in the front door.”

“Seriously?” Lair said. “I should move it?”

“Better ask Mom,” Emily said.

And right then McCann’s sister came back, with a fresh jug of tea and cake on a plate, and she said, “Ask me what?”

“Whether my daddy should move his gun to the hallway.”

“Why on earth would he want to do that?”

“On the advice of one logical daughter and two security consultants.”

“How on earth did the subject come up? Is it important?”

We can’t tell her. Not now .

Reacher said, “No, it was just professional interest, that’s all,” and a minute later the matter evaporated like a bubble of soap, quickly forgotten, except by Chang, who flashed a question, eye to eye: What the hell is going on?

Reacher scratched his nose, absently, with the edge of his forefinger, the rest of his hand cupped below, hiding him mouthing Turn your phone off .

McCann’s sister said, “Are you OK?”

Reacher said, “Tell us about the web sites Michael was using.”

McCann learned two things fast, his sister said, when he started looking at his son’s computer. The first was that software could be booby-trapped so that opening an internet history was the same thing as erasing an internet history. Unless you opened it right, which he didn’t, obviously. Because he didn’t know how. But like a lot of downloaded programs it wasn’t perfect. It had a tiny glitch. It left the first screen visible for about half a second. Then it was gone. Blank. No more.

The second thing he learned was how short of a time half a second was. But also how long. A fastball could get there and back again in half a second, easy. And plenty could be retained in the memory. It was a question of trusting, not thinking. Some ancient trick of mind and retina and after-image. Better to look away, and glimpse it on the edge.

Except it meant nothing. Just long lines of characters, as if someone had rolled a ball along the top part of a keyboard. Completely random.

McCann’s sister said, “So Peter being Peter, he learned what he could about what he was up against, which turned out to be the Deep Web. About which there wasn’t much useful to learn. We had some scary conversations. We thought we were in charge. Relatively speaking. But we weren’t. There was a whole secret world we knew nothing about. It was ten times bigger than ours. People were in there, talking. Doing weird stuff we wouldn’t understand. It was like a science-fiction movie.”

Reacher said, “Was there one thing in particular Westwood was supposed to help with, or was it a general inquiry?”

“No, it was very specific. There’s a widespread feeling among Deep Web people that the government must be building a search engine capable of finding their web sites. We felt there was a hint in Westwood’s article that it already exists. Peter wants Westwood to confirm or deny, and if so, help get him a chance to use it.”

“Is that likely?”

“Personally I don’t think there’s a hope in hell, but leave no stone unturned. His son is missing. My nephew.”

“Is it conceivable Peter could have left things out when he was talking to you? Were his stories always completely joined up?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hadn’t heard the words Mother’s Rest, for instance.”

“No, I hadn’t.”

“Did he ever say anything about two hundred deaths?”

Emily said, “Two hundred what?”

Her mother said, “No.”

Reacher said, “He talked to Keever about both those things. And Keever went to Mother’s Rest. So it was important somehow. Yet he didn’t mention it to you.”

“What happens there?”

“We don’t know.”

“Peter’s my big brother and I’m his little sister. He never forgets it. Never lets me forget it, either. Not in a bad way. In the best way. The only reason he would leave things out would be to spare me unpleasantness.”

No one spoke.

Chang got up.

She said, “I need the ladies’ room,” and Emily pointed it out, and she wandered away in the right direction.

Reacher said, “Do you guys have plans for dinner?”

McCann’s sister said, “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“We could go out.”

“Who?”

“All of us.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you like. Right now. My treat. Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Sounds like you’ve been working hard all day.”

Chang reappeared at the edge of the living room. She caught Reacher’s eye and said, “Men’s room is right here, if you need it.”

He said, “OK.”

“I can show you, if you like.”

“I’m sure I’ll find it when the time is right.”

Emily said, “She wants to talk to you in private.”

So Reacher got up and joined Chang in the outer hallway. She said, quietly, “You think Hackett’s friends are coming?”

“We should have been more cautious with the phone. They could have equipment all over the country. If so, we just sold out the sister. We gave Westwood chapter and verse. So we can’t leave them alone. Not here. Not now. Either we get them out or we babysit them all night. Close personal protection. A wide range of services.”

“I’d rather get them out.”

“I already offered them dinner.”

“The guy on the gate is useless.”

“Which way is the bedroom?”

“The other wing. Through the living room again.”

“You try asking them to dinner. Maybe they thought it was weird from me.”

“It’s weird from either one of us. We don’t know them. And they’re in the middle of a high-precision wedding countdown. Two strangers suddenly taking them out for a bucket of chicken would make their heads explode.”

“I said anywhere they want. Doesn’t have to be KFC.”

“Same difference. Doesn’t matter where we go.”