Lee Child - Night School

Silent flies came close, and hovered, and darted away.

The fat man said, “Sit down.”

The messenger looked at the tall man’s cushion.

She said, “May I stand?”

“As you wish. I am very proud of your performance. It was flawless. As of course it should have been, given the excellence of your training.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I felt well prepared.”

“Was your German adequate?”

“I spoke very little. Only to a taxi driver.”

“Would it have been adequate if you had to speak more?”

“I believe so. Because of the excellence of my training.”

“Would you like to go back to Hamburg?”

She thought of photographs and fingerprints and computer records.

She said, “I will go where you in your wisdom choose to send me.”

“The delivery is planned, as you know, but we must have a presence to authorize its collection.”

“It would be an honor.”

The fat man said, “Are languages your greatest strength?”

She said, “That’s not for me to say.”

“Those who trained you say your memory is excellent and you know your numbers.”

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t want to talk about numbers.

Not then.

The fat man said, “Were those who trained you not telling the truth?”

“They were very kind. But too generous. I know hardly any numbers at all.”

“Why do you say this?”

She didn’t answer.

“Tell me.”

“Before Hamburg you want me to go to Zurich. Where they also speak German. To a bank. To transfer money to Wiley. With numbers. Account numbers and passcodes. This is how I will be able to authorize the collection.”

“Do you intend to refuse?”

“I would need to know the price.”

“Of course you would. It’s one of four important elements. Our account number, our passcode, the amount, and the recipient’s account number. A lot to memorize, I know, but it’s really a very simple and straightforward transaction.”

“You don’t like it when people know the price.”

The fat man said nothing.

The messenger said, “I will be sacrificed.”

“Not if we get what we want. This time it’s different. If this deal succeeds, you will always be part of it. We all will. We will become myths and legends. Stories will pass from generation to generation. The price will be revered as a bargain. It will be celebrated. Little girls will pretend to be you. They’ll play games about moving the money. Girls will know they can do this, too.”

The messenger said nothing.

The fat man said, “But if this deal fails, then yes, you will be killed, whether you go to Zurich or not. You are already part of it. You are already a witness. All witnesses will be killed. The humiliation would be too great for us to bear otherwise. A hundred million dollars for nothing? Clearly we would need to erase it from memory. Or we’d be finished as leaders. Our bones would be picked clean.”

The messenger said, “A hundred million dollars? Is that the price?”

“Go learn the numbers,” the fat man said. “Be ready to leave tonight. Pray for success.”

–

In Hamburg, Wiley rode down in the elevator and stepped out of his lobby. He walked away from the traffic circle, past another building, and between two more, to the rear of the complex, where new paving gave way to old granite, and cobblestones, and preserved dockside cranes. There were new footbridges over the dark water, made of teak and steel, looping gracefully over the voids. Wiley took one, and joined another. It was wider, and it led further, all the way to the main road, and the bus stop. Wiley sat in the shelter and waited. First the wrong bus came, and then the right bus came. It would stop two blocks from the car rental franchise. Wiley got on. He was calm. No longer falling. Now it was a sequence of simple mechanical tasks. Deliver, collect, fly. By which time nine hundred square miles would be waiting for him. Visible from outer space.

He smiled to himself, alone in the crowd on the bus.

Little Horace Wiley.

Hot damn.

–

A mile from the bus route Muller met Dremmler in a pastry shop. It had four small tables, all of them occupied by pairs of men just like themselves, friends but not really, bound together only by a proposition, be it buying or selling or hedging or insuring, or investing or leasing or renting or flipping.

Or making a stand against crumbling national identity.

Dremmler said, “Once again, thank you for your help in the matter of Reacher’s whereabouts. A plan is now in place.”

Muller said, “My pleasure.”

“He can’t stay in his hotel all day. He’s bound to come out. I expect a positive report any moment.”

“Good,” said Muller.

“Did you succeed with the other thing?”

Muller took out the sketch of Wiley and flattened it on the table.

Dremmler said, “Was it hard to get?”

“It required a tiny paper trail. But it won’t lead anywhere.”

“I have never seen this man before. He is not a movement member.”

“But Klopp saw him more than once.”

“Then he goes to the bar to buy or sell. Or both. I’ll show this picture to the folks I know. We might get a name and address.”

“We know his name. It’s Wiley. And he doesn’t have an address. I already checked, remember?”

“I’m sure he purchased a new identity. Or several. That’s usually the first thing these fellows do. But don’t worry. I know exactly who to ask.”

–

Neagley told Landry to call his New Orleans field office and script some questions for Wiley’s mother, on the subject of any and all old boyfriends named Arnold, and any and all old boyfriends who were ranchers and then subsequently drafted, and any and all old boyfriends who ever talked about Davy Crockett. Then Vanderbilt called her over to a chattering telex, where she tore out an armful of paper. Her request, via Sinclair and the Joint Chiefs, for cold-case property crimes in Germany. Near military installations or areas of activity. During the span of Wiley’s active in-country deployment.

There were plenty of crimes.

Reacher said, “When do we get Wiley’s movement orders?”

“Soon,” Neagley said. “They’re working on it.”

The crimes were many and various. All unsolved. There were silent midnight burglaries, and armed invasions and robberies, and stick-ups, and hijacks, all aimed at cash-rich local businesses, like bars and betting parlors and strip clubs. Geographically the locations matched the military map. Because that was where the money was. Hence the cash-rich businesses. Perpetrators in such crimes would come from miles around. From far and wide, like seagulls to a landfill. Very few of them would be soldiers. But some of them would be.

Neagley said, “Look at the dollar values.”

“They’re bullshit,” Reacher said. “For the insurance. We should cut them in half.”

“Even so. One or two of these would give Wiley all the seed money he needed. Three or four of these would put him in a whole different category. We would need to make new assumptions. He could have multiple locations and major resources.”

“When did he steal the thing he’s selling?”

“Somewhere between the day he located it and the end of his final ninety-six-hour pass. Somewhere in that ten-month period.”

“Why hasn’t it been reported missing?”

“That depends on what it is. Depends on the audit cycle, I suppose. Maybe they’re counting something right now. Maybe the news will break tonight.”

“How thorough are the audits?”

“On average not very,” Neagley said. “Mostly it’s a head count. If there are three containers listed on the inventory, they count one, two, three, and they make a check mark.”