Lee Child - Never Go Back

‘We are, of course.’

‘So it’s your guy in the white car?’

‘Yes, he’s ours.’

‘Parachuted in from where?’

‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

The kid laughed, and looked happy as a clam. The inside scoop, and a woman CO, and jokes. She said, ‘So the guy due to show up is a military guy? Like an AWOL soldier saying goodbye to his family before disappearing for ever? But why would his family have a lawyer? Or is it his lawyer? Is he a spy, or something? Like a very senior officer, all old and distinguished, but tragically disillusioned? Is he selling secrets?’

Reacher said, ‘Have you seen anyone today?’

‘The same people as yesterday.’

‘No men on their own?’

‘The man with the cropped ears is on his own today. In the rental. Maybe his partner is out sick.’

‘Where did you see him?’

‘He came down Vineland in his car. I was in the coffee shop for breakfast. Near the lawyer’s office. Although we’ll need to rethink that involvement. This thing is a triangle, isn’t it? And we don’t know which one the lawyer is working for. Could be the neighbour, could be the soldier. Could be both of them, I suppose, although I don’t see how. Or why, actually.’

Reacher asked, ‘What time did you eat breakfast?’

‘It was early. Just after the agents left.’

‘They left?’

‘Just for twenty minutes. That seems to be the pattern. You should coordinate better. Everyone moves at the same time, which leaves a gap.’

‘That’s bad.’

‘It’s OK with me. It means I can get out without them knowing. Then when I come back they’re all surprised, because they thought I was still in there.’

‘Is that what you did this morning?’

‘It’s what I’m going to do every morning.’

‘Did the man with the ears see you leave?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Did he see you anyplace else?’

‘I don’t think so. I was trying to blend in. Because of your people, not him. I didn’t see him. But I saw his car again later. It was parked where there was a fender bender.’

Reacher said, ‘You need to stay away from that guy.’

‘I know. You told me that yesterday. But I can’t stay in the house all day.’

Turner paused a beat, and asked, ‘How long have you lived in that house?’

‘Always, I think. I don’t remember any other houses. I’m pretty sure I was born in that house. That’s what people say, isn’t it? Even when they weren’t, exactly. Which I wasn’t, either. I was born in the hospital. But I went home to that house. Which is what the phrase means these days, I suppose, now that the whole parturition business has been institutionalized.’

Turner said, ‘Have you ever lived in a car?’

‘That’s a weird question.’

‘You can tell us. We know people who would love to get that high on the food chain.’

‘Who?’

‘Lots of people. What I mean is, we don’t judge.’

‘Am I in trouble?’

Reacher said, ‘No, you’re not in trouble. We’re just checking a couple of things. What’s your mom’s name?’

‘Is she in trouble?’

‘No one’s in trouble. Not on your street, anyway. This is about the other guy.’

‘Does he know my mom? Oh my God, is it us you’re watching? You’re waiting for him to come see my mom?’

‘One step at a time,’ Reacher said. ‘What’s your mom’s name? And, yes, I know about the Colt Python.’

‘My mom’s name is Candice Dayton.’

‘In that case I would like to meet her.’

‘Why? Is she a suspect?’

‘No, this would be personal.’

‘How could it be?’

‘I’m the guy they’re looking for. They think I know your mother.’

‘You?’

‘Yes, me.’

‘You don’t know my mother.’

‘They think face to face I might recognize her, or she might recognize me.’

‘She wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t.’

‘It’s hard to say for sure, without actually trying it.’

‘Trust me.’

‘I would like to.’

‘Mister, I can tell you quite categorically you don’t know my mom and she doesn’t know you.’

‘Because you never saw me before? We’re talking a number of years here, maybe back before you were born.’

‘How well are you supposed to have known her?’

‘Well enough that we might recognize each other.’

‘Then you didn’t know her.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why do you think I always eat in here?’

‘Because you like it?’

‘Because I get it for free. Because my mom works here. She’s right over there. She’s the blonde. You walked past her two times already and you didn’t bat an eye. And neither did she. You two never knew each other.’

SIXTY-TWO

REACHER SLID ALONG the bench and craned around and took a look. The blonde waitress was busy, moving left, moving right, blowing an errant strand of hair out of an eye, wiping a palm on a hip, smiling, taking an order.

He didn’t know her.

He said, ‘Has she ever been to Korea?’

The kid said, ‘That’s another weird question.’

‘How is it weird?’

‘It is if you know her.’

‘How so?’

‘Her whole stressed-out martyr shtick is based around how she’s never been out of Los Angeles County but one time in her life, when a boyfriend took her to Vegas but couldn’t pay for the hotel. She doesn’t even have a passport.’

‘Are you certain about that?’

‘That’s why she dyes her hair. This is Southern California. She has no papers.’

‘She doesn’t need papers.’

‘She’s an undocumented citizen. It takes a long time to explain.’

‘Is she doing OK?’

‘This isn’t the life she planned.’

‘Are you doing OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ the kid said. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

Reacher said nothing, and Arthur came out of the blind spot behind his shoulder, and bent down and whispered in the kid’s ear, quietly, but his hard consonants made it clear what he was saying, which was: This lady and gentleman need to have a conference with another gentleman . Whereupon the kid jumped up, all aglow, perfectly happy to be displaced by a yet-more-senior agent even closer to the heart of the drama. Arthur moved back out of sight, and the kid hustled after him, and smooth as silk her vacated spot on the bench was immediately filled by a small solid figure sliding into place, neatly, elbows already on the table, and triumph in his face.

Warrant Officer Pete Espin.

Reacher looked at Turner, and Turner shook her head, which meant Espin had men in the coach, at least two, probably armed, and probably close by. Espin got comfortable on the bench, and then he cupped his hands, like he was reassembling a shuffled deck, and he said, ‘You’re not her daddy.’

Reacher said, ‘Apparently.’

‘I checked, just for the fun of it. The State Department said Ms Dayton never had a passport. The DoD said she never entered Korea on any other kind of document. So I checked some more, and it turns out the lawyer is selling stuff on the internet. Any kind of document, saying anything you want it to say. At one of two price levels, either paper only, or plausible. In this type of case plausible means real women, real children, and a real Xerox of a real birth certificate. And this guy is not the only one. This is a thriving business. There’s a lot of inventory. You want a kid born on a certain date, you can take your pick.’

‘Who bought the affidavit?’

‘He gave his name as Romeo, but his money was good. Out of the Cayman Islands.’

‘When did Romeo buy it?’

‘The same morning Major Turner was arrested. It’s an instant service. You tell them the names and the places and the dates and they doctor the boilerplate. You can even upload text, if you want. The documents are done in a computer and they come by e-mail, and they look like photocopies. Candice Dayton was chosen because of her kid’s birthdate. The lawyer knew her as a waitress, from eating in here. She got a hundred bucks for signing her name. But the birthdate was dumb. Did you notice that? It was exactly halfway through your time at Red Cloud. As in, exactly. Which sounds like a guy looking at a calendar, not natural biology.’