Lee Child - Never Go Back

Reacher said, ‘I’m sorry, colonel. I was looking for Major Turner.’

The guy named Morgan said, ‘Sit down, Mr Reacher.’

Command presence was a rare and valuable thing, much prized by the military. And the guy named Morgan had plenty of it. Like his hair and his glasses, his voice was steel. No bullshit, no bluster, no bullying. Just a brisk assumption that all reasonable men would do exactly what he told them, because there would be no real practical alternative.

Reacher sat down, in the visitor chair nearer the window. It had springy bent-tube legs, and it gave and bounced a little under his weight. He remembered the feeling. He had sat in it before, for one reason or another.

Morgan said, ‘Please tell me exactly why you’re here.’

And at that point Reacher thought he was about to get a death message. Susan Turner was dead. Afghanistan, possibly. Or a car wreck.

He said, ‘Where is Major Turner?’

Morgan said, ‘Not here.’

‘Where then?’

‘We might get to that. But first I need to understand your interest.’

‘In what?’

‘In Major Turner.’

‘I have no interest in Major Turner.’

‘Yet you asked for her by name at the gate.’

‘It’s a personal matter.’

‘As in?’

Reacher said, ‘I talked to her on the phone. She sounded interesting. I thought I might drop by and ask her out to dinner. The field manual doesn’t prohibit her from saying yes.’

‘Or no, as the case may be.’

‘Indeed.’

Morgan asked, ‘What did you talk about on the phone?’

‘This and that.’

‘What exactly?’

‘It was a private conversation, colonel. And I don’t know who you are.’

‘I’m commander of the 110th Special Unit.’

‘Not Major Turner?’

‘Not any more.’

‘I thought this was a major’s job. Not a light colonel’s.’

‘This is a temporary command. I’m a troubleshooter. I get sent in to clean up the mess.’

‘And there’s a mess here? Is that what you’re saying?’

Morgan ignored the question. He asked, ‘Did you specifically arrange to meet with Major Turner?’

‘Not specifically,’ Reacher said.

‘Did she request your presence here?’

‘Not specifically,’ Reacher said again.

‘Yes or no?’

‘Neither. I think it was just a vague intention on both our parts. If I happened to be in the area. That kind of a thing.’

‘And yet here you are, in the area. Why?’

‘Why not? I have to be somewhere.’

‘Are you saying you came all the way from South Dakota on the basis of a vague intention?’

Reacher said, ‘I liked her voice. You got a problem with that?’

‘You’re unemployed, is that correct?’

‘Currently.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since I left the army.’

‘That’s disgraceful.’

Reacher asked, ‘Where is Major Turner?’

Morgan said, ‘This interview is not about Major Turner.’

‘Then what’s it about?’

‘This interview is about you.’

‘Me?’

‘Completely unrelated to Major Turner. But she pulled your file. Perhaps she was curious about you. There was a flag on your file. It should have triggered when she pulled it. Which would have saved us some time. Unfortunately the flag malfunctioned and didn’t trigger until she returned it. But better late than never. Because here you are.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Did you know a man named Juan Rodriguez?’

‘No. Who is he?’

‘At one time he was of interest to the 110th. Now he’s dead. Do you know a woman named Candice Dayton?’

‘No. Is she dead too?’

‘Ms Dayton is still alive, happily. Or not happily, as it turns out. You sure you don’t remember her?’

‘What’s this all about?’

‘You’re in trouble, Reacher.’

‘For what?’

‘The Secretary of the Army has been given medical evidence showing Mr Rodriguez died as a direct result of a beating he suffered sixteen years ago. Given there’s no statute of limitations in such cases, he was technically a homicide victim.’

‘You saying one of my people did that? Sixteen years ago?’

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’

‘That’s good. So what’s making Ms Dayton unhappy?’

‘That’s not my topic. Someone else will talk to you about that.’

‘They’ll have to be quick. I won’t be sticking around for long. Not if Major Turner isn’t here. I don’t remember any other real attractions in the neighbourhood.’

‘You will be sticking around,’ Morgan said. ‘You and I are due a long and interesting conversation.’

‘About what?’

‘The evidence shows it was you who beat on Mr Rodriguez sixteen years ago.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘You’ll be provided with a lawyer. If it’s bullshit, I’m sure he’ll say so.’

‘I mean, bullshit, you and I are not going to have any kind of a long conversation. Or a lawyer. I’m a civilian, and you’re an asshole wearing pyjamas.’

‘So you’re not offering voluntary cooperation?’

‘You got that right.’

‘In which case, are you familiar with Title 10 of the United States Code?’

Reacher said, ‘Parts of it, obviously.’

‘Then you may know that one particular part of it tells us when a man of your rank leaves the army, he doesn’t become a civilian. Not immediately, and not entirely. He becomes a reservist. He has no duties, but he remains subject to recall.’

‘But for how many years?’ Reacher said.

‘You had a security clearance.’

‘I remember it well.’

‘Do you remember the papers you had to sign to get it?’

‘Vaguely,’ Reacher said. He remembered a bunch of guys in a room, all grown up and serious. Lawyers, and notaries, and seals and stamps and pens.

Morgan said, ‘There was a lot of fine print. Naturally. If you’re going to know the government’s secrets, the government is going to want some control over you. Before, during, and after.’

‘How long after?’

‘Most of that stuff stays secret for sixty years.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Morgan said. ‘The fine print didn’t say you stay a reservist for sixty years.’

‘That’s good.’

‘It said worse than that. It said indefinitely. But as it happens the Supreme Court already screwed us on that. It mandated we respect the standard three bottom-line restrictions common to all cases in Title 10.’

‘Which are?’

‘To be successfully recalled, you have to be in good health, under the age of fifty-five years, and trainable.’

Reacher said nothing.

Morgan asked, ‘How’s your health?’

‘Pretty good.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I’m a long way from fifty-five.’

‘Are you trainable?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Me too. But that’s an empirical determination we make on the job.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Completely,’ Morgan said. ‘Jack Reacher, as of this moment on this day, you are formally recalled to military service.’

Reacher said nothing.

‘You’re back in the army, major,’ Morgan said. ‘And your ass is mine.’

FOUR

THERE WAS NO big ceremony. No processing-in, or reprocessing. Just Morgan’s words, and then the room darkened a little as a guy in the corridor took up station in front of the door and blocked the light coming through the reeded glass panel. Reacher saw him, all sliced up vertically, a tall, broad-shouldered sentry, standing easy, facing away.

Morgan said, ‘I’m required to tell you there’s an appeals procedure. You’ll be given full access to it. You’ll be given a lawyer.’

Reacher said, ‘I’ll be given?’