Lee Child: Never Go Back

‘Why did Montague let Zadran go home to the mountains?’

‘You would want to say either political reasons or legal reasons.’

‘Both of which are possible. But what if it was something else?’

‘I can’t see what else. The guy was in his middle thirties at the time, and the youngest of five, which was two strikes against in a very hierarchical culture, and he was a screw-up and a failure, which was strike three, so the guy had no status and no value, and clearly no real talent either. So he was nobody’s number-one draft pick. This was not about recruiting an asset, either for the day job or the personal enthusiasm.’

Then Shrago’s phone rang again. Same birdsong, same grinding, same words on the screen. It rang eight times, and then it stopped.

Juliet came back into the room, and sat down on a daybed. From a second daybed six feet away Romeo said, ‘Well?’

Juliet said, ‘I tried twice.’

‘Gut feeling?’

‘He might have been busy. If he gets within a hundred feet of them he’s going to turn his phone off. I think that’s pretty obvious.’

‘How long would he remain in close proximity to them?’

‘Could be hours, theoretically.’

‘So we just wait for his call?’

‘I think we have to.’

‘Suppose it doesn’t come?’

‘Then we’re finished.’

Romeo breathed out, long and slow. He said, ‘Win or lose, it’s been a good ride.’

Turner’s phone rang a minute after Shrago’s stopped for the second time. She put it on speaker and Leach said, ‘It’s a prepaid burner probably bought at a Wal-Mart. If it was bought for cash it’s about as traceable as my sister’s ex-husband.’

Turner said, ‘Any details at all?’

‘Plenty. The only thing we don’t know is who owns it. We can see everything else. That phone has called only two numbers in its life, and it’s been called by only two numbers in its life, both of which are the same two numbers.’

‘Equally divided?’

‘Very lopsided.’

‘In favour of?’

Leach read out a number, and it wasn’t Shrago’s.

‘That’s got to be Romeo,’ Reacher said. ‘Sergeant, we need you to check that number next.’

‘I already took that liberty, major. It’s the same deal. A prepaid burner from Wal-Mart, but this one is even more lonely. The only number it ever called, and the only number that ever called it, is its mate. This is a very compartmentalized communications network. Their tradecraft and their discipline look exemplary to me. You’re dealing with very smart people. Permission to speak freely?’

Turner said, ‘Of course.’

‘You should proceed with extreme caution, majors. And you could start by tightening up a little.’

‘In what way?’

‘The other number the first guy called belongs to a phone currently immobile two blocks north of the White House. My guess is you’re in that fancy hotel, and either a bad guy is watching the building, or you already took the phone away from him, and it’s in your room. In which case you need to bear in mind, if I can see it, they can see it too. Until you switch it off, that is. Which you should think about doing.’

‘You can see it?’

‘Technology is a wonderful thing.’

‘Can you see the other two phones?’

‘Absolutely. I’m looking at them right now.’

‘Where are they?’

‘They’re together at an address in Georgetown.’

‘Now? Is this real time?’

‘As it’s happening. Refreshed every fifteen seconds.’

‘It’s the middle of the night. Most folks are fast asleep.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Scully’s place, or Montague’s?’

‘Neither one. I don’t know what the building is.’

SIXTY-EIGHT

LEACH SAID THERE was a lot of argument about triangulation and wifi and GPS and margins of error, and no one was talking left coat pocket or right pants pocket, but most would agree you could say with reasonable certainty which individual building a cell phone was in. And the bigger the building, the greater the certainty became, and Leach was fixed on a fairly large building. She had been able to isolate the address, and she had found it on the computer, and she said the street view showed it to be a fairly grand townhouse. She relayed the visuals, which included an antique brick facing, and four storeys, and twin sash windows either side of a fancy front door, which was painted shiny black and had a brass lantern above it. There was a letter slot and a street number on the door, and a small brass plaque that seemed to say Dove Cottage .

Turner stayed on the line with Leach, and Reacher called Edmonds from his own phone. He gave her the address in question, and he asked her to search wherever she could, like tax records or title data or zoning applications. She said she would, and they hung up, and Turner hung up with Leach, and Turner said, ‘We don’t have a car.’

Reacher said, ‘We don’t need one. We’ll do what Shrago did. We’ll take a cab, and we’ll approach on foot.’

‘Didn’t work out so well for Shrago.’

‘We’re not Shrago. And they’re defenceless now. Deputy Chiefs live in a bubble. It’s a very long time since they did anything for themselves.’

‘Are you going to cut their heads off with a butter knife?’

‘I didn’t get one yet. Maybe I could ask room service.’

‘Am I still CO?’

‘What’s on your mind?’

‘I want a clean arrest. I want them in the cells at Dyer, and I want a full-dress court martial. I want it textbook, Reacher. I want to be exonerated in public. I want the jury to hear every word, and I want a ruling from the bench.’

Reacher said, ‘A clean arrest needs probable cause.’

‘So should cutting their heads off with a butter knife.’

‘Why did Montague let Zadran go home to the mountains?’

‘Because of his history.’

‘I wish we knew more about him.’

‘We know all we’re going to know.’

Reacher nodded. A meaningless peasant, forty-two years old, the youngest of five, the black sheep of the family, disreputable, tried his hand at a number of things, and failed at them all . He said, ‘The butter knife would be easier.’

Then his phone rang. It was Edmonds. He said, ‘That was quick.’

She said, ‘I figured I might get an hour’s sleep tonight if I was quick.’

‘Don’t count on it. What have you got?’

‘Dove Cottage is a private members’ club. It opened four years ago. Membership roll is confidential.’

‘Four years ago?’

‘We have no evidence.’

‘Four years ago we have Morgan at Bragg, building a team around Shrago.’

‘We can’t prove a connection.’

‘Are Scully and Montague members?’

‘Which part of confidential didn’t you get?’

‘Any rumours?’

‘The membership is said to be all-male. Including politicians, but it’s not a political salon, and military, and media, and business, but no deals seem to get done. Guys go there to enjoy themselves, that’s all. Sometimes they stay all night.’

‘Doing what?’

‘No one knows.’

‘How do you get to be a member?’

‘I don’t, if it’s all-male.’

‘How would I?’

‘Invitation only, I guess. You’d have to know a guy who knows a guy.’

‘And no one knows what they do in there?’

‘There are hundreds of private clubs in D.C. There’s no way of keeping track.’

Reacher said, ‘Thank you, counsellor. For everything. You’ve done a fine job.’

‘That sounds like goodbye.’

‘It might be. Or not. Like flipping a coin.’

The latitude and the season meant they had about ninety minutes before the sun came up. So they took what they needed and rode down to the street, where a man in a hat got them a cab. The cab went way north on 16th, to Scott Circle, where it took Mass Ave to Dupont, where it took P Street across the park and into Georgetown. They went as far as the corner with Wisconsin Avenue, where they got out. The cab drove away, and they walked two blocks, back the way they had come, and they made a left, and they headed for their target, which was another two blocks north, on the right, in what looked like the most expensive neighbourhood since money was invented. To the left were the landscaped grounds of some immense mansion. On the right were townhouses, gleaming in the dark, lustrous, burnished, each one substantial in its own right, each one proudly taking its place in line.