Gone Tomorrow

‘It matters to me.’

‘Wise up, Reacher. That was the whole point of sending you the package. They want to make you mad and suck you in. They can’t find you. So they want you to come find them.’

‘Which I will.’

‘Your future plans are your business. But you need to take care. You need to understand. Because this has been their tactic for two hundred years. That’s why their abuse was always within earshot of the front lines. They wanted to bring out the rescue parties. Or provoke revenge attacks. They wanted a never-ending supply of prisoners. Ask the British. Or the Russians.’

‘I’ll take plenty of care.’

‘I’m sure you’ll try. But you’re not going anywhere until we’ve finished with you, about the train.’

‘Your guy saw what I saw.’

‘It’s in your interests to help us.’

‘Not so far. All I have is promises.’

‘All charges will be dropped when we have the memory stick in our possession.’

‘Not good enough.’

‘You want it in writing?’

‘No, I want the charges dropped now. I need some freedom of action here. I can’t be looking out for cops the whole time.’

‘Freedom of action for what?’

‘You know what.’

‘OK, I’ll do what I can.’

‘Not good enough.’

‘I can’t give you guarantees. All I can do is try.’

‘What are the chances you can succeed?’

‘None at all. But Sansom can.’

‘Are you authorized to speak for him?’

‘I’ll have to call him.’

‘Tell him no more bullshit, OK? We’re past that stage now.’

‘OK.’

‘And talk to him about Theresa Lee and Jacob Mark, too. And Docherty. I want a clean slate for all of them.’

‘OK.’

‘And Jacob Mark is going to need counselling. Especially if he sees a copy of that DVD.’

‘He won’t.’

‘But I want him looked after. The ex-husband, as well. Molina.’

‘OK.’

‘Two more things,’ I said.

‘You drive a hard bargain, for a guy with nothing to offer.’

‘Homeland Security traced the Hoths coming in from Tajikistan with their crew. Three months ago. Some kind of a computer algorithm. I want to know how many people were in the party.’

‘To estimate the size of the opposing force?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And?’

‘I want to meet with Sansom again.’

‘Why?’

‘I want him to tell me what is on that memory stick.’

‘Not going to happen.’

‘Then he doesn’t get it back. I’ll keep it and take a look for myself.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You’ve actually got the stick?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I know where it is.’

SIXTY-FIVE

SPRINGFIELD ASKED, ‘WHERE IS IT?’

I said, ‘I can’t volunteer information.’

‘You’re full of shit.’

I shook my head. ‘Not this time.’

‘You sure? You can take us there?’

‘I can get you within fifteen feet. The rest is up to you.’

‘Why? Is it buried? In a bank vault? In a house?’

‘None of the above.’

‘So where is it?’

‘Call Sansom,’ I said. ‘Set up a meeting.’

Springfield finished what was left of his water and a waiter came by with the check. Springfield paid with his platinum card, the same way he had for both of us at the Four Seasons. Which I had taken to be a good sign. It had indicated a positive dynamic. So I chose to push my luck a little farther.

‘Want to get me a room?’ I asked.

‘Why?’

Because it’s going to take time for Sansom to get me off the most-wanted list. And I’m tired. I was up all night. I want to take a nap.’

Ten minutes later we were on a high floor, in a room with a queen-size bed. A nice space, but tactically unsatisfactory. Like all high-floor hotel rooms it had a window that was no good to me and therefore only one way out. I could see that Springfield was thinking the same thing. He was thinking I was a lunatic to put myself in there.

I asked him, ‘Can I trust you?’

He said, ‘Yes.’

‘Prove it.’

‘How?’

‘Give me your gun.’

‘I’m not armed.’

‘Answers like that don’t help with the trust thing.’

‘Why do you want it?’

‘You know why. So if you bring the wrong people to my door I can defend myself.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Reassure me.’

He stood still for a long moment. I knew he would rather stick a needle in his eye than give up his weapon. But he ran some calculations in his head and reached around under his suit coat to the small of his back and came out with a nine-millimetre Steyr GB pistol. The Steyr GB had been the sidearm of choice for 1980s-era U.S. Special Forces. He reversed it and handed it to me butt first. It was a fine old piece, well worn but well maintained. It had eighteen rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

He didn’t reply. Just walked out of the room. I double-locked the door after him, and put the chain on, and propped a chair tinder the handle. I emptied my pockets on the night stand. I put my clothes under the mattress to press. I took a long hot shower.

Then I lay down and went to sleep, with Springfield’s gun under the pillow.

I was woken up four hours later by a knock at the door. I don’t like to look through spy holes in hotel doors. Too vulnerable. All an assailant in the corridor has to do is wait until the lens darkens and then fire a gun straight through it. Even a silenced.22 would be completely lethal. There is nothing very substantial between the cornea and the brain stem. But there was a full-length mirror on the wall inside the door. For last-minute clothing checks, I guessed, before going out. I took a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around my waist and collected the gun from under the pillow. I moved the chair and opened the door against the chain. Stood back on the hinge side and checked the view in the mirror.

Springfield, and Sansom.

It was a narrow crack and the image was reversed by the mirror and the corridor lighting was dim, but I recognized them easily enough. They were alone, as far as I could tell. And they were going to stay alone, unless they had brought more than nineteen people with them. No safety catch on the Steyr. Just a hefty double-action pull for the first shot, and then eighteen more. I took the slack out of the trigger and the chain off the door.

They were alone.

They came in, Sansom first, and then Springfield. Sansom looked the same as the morning I first saw him. Ta

‘Two minutes,’ I said. ‘Talk among yourselves.’

I dressed in the bathroom and came back out and Sansom asked, ‘Do you really know where that memory stick is?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I really do.’

‘Why do you want to know what’s on ii?’

‘Because I want to know how embarrassing it is.’

‘You don’t want me in the Senate?’

‘I don’t care how you spend your time. I’m curious, that’s all.’

He asked, ‘Why won’t you tell me where it is right now?’

‘Because I have something else to do first. And I need you to keep the cops out of my hair while I’m doing it. So I need a way of keeping your mind on the job.’

‘You could be co

‘I could be, but I’m not.’ He said nothing back.

I asked, ‘Why do you want to be in the Senate anyway?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You were a good soldier and now you’re richer than God. Why not go live on the beach?’