‘I thought I might trade her some facts for a promise to stay out the way.’
‘Are you law enforcement?’
‘No, I’m here on vacation. It was this or Tahiti.’
‘She’s not old enough for facts.’
‘I think she is.’
‘Are you authorized?’
‘Am I breathing?’
‘She’s an early riser. She would have been in and out by now. Long ago. I guess she’s not coming today.’
SIXTY
REACHER PAID THE check with Baldacci’s cash, and they got back in the Ford, and Turner said, ‘Either she ate at home today, or she skipped breakfast altogether. She’s a teenage girl. Don’t expect consistency.’
‘She said she ate practically every meal here.’
‘Which is not the same as every meal, period.’
‘The guy said most days.’
‘Which is not the same as every day.’
‘But why would she skip today? She’s curious, and she thinks I’m a source.’
‘Why would she expect you to be here?’
‘Law enforcement has to eat too.’
‘Then the coffee shop would be just as logical, near the lawyer’s office. She knows there are two locations.’
‘We should go take a look.’
‘Too difficult. We wouldn’t see anything from the street, and we can’t go in on foot. Plus she’s an early riser. She’ll have been and gone.’
‘We should cruise her house again.’
‘That wouldn’t tell us anything. The door is shut. We don’t have X-ray vision.’
‘Shrago is out there somewhere.’
Turner said, ‘Let’s go back to the off-ramp.’
Reacher said, ‘In a white car in daylight?’
‘Just for ten minutes. To put our minds at rest.’
In bright daylight the old binoculars were superb. The magnified image was crisp and hyper-vivid. Reacher could see every detail – of the street, of the white compact, of the purple Dodge, of the blue front door. But nothing was happening. Everything looked quiet. Just another sunny day, and just another endless stake-out, boring and uneventful, like most stake-outs are. There was no sign of Shrago. Some of the parked cars had heavy tints or blinding reflections, but they weren’t plain enough to be rentals. And those plain enough to be rentals were empty.
‘He’s not there,’ Turner said.
‘I wish we knew for sure she was,’ Reacher said back.
Then his phone rang. Captain Edmonds, in Virginia. She said, ‘I found another file on Shrago, from five years ago. The decision to keep him out of the Middle East was controversial. We were fighting two wars, we were hurting for numbers, hundreds of people were getting re-upped involuntarily, the National Guard was gone for years at a time, and the idea of paying a loose cannon who couldn’t go to Iraq or Afghanistan was seen as absurd. First choice was involuntary separation, but he was making his case on compassionate grounds, so he had to be heard, and eventually the argument went all the way up the HRC chain of command, to an Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff for personnel, who ruled in Shrago’s favour.’
‘And?’ Reacher said.
‘That same Assistant Deputy was also in charge of temporary commands. He was the guy who moved Morgan to Fort Bragg a year later.’
‘Interesting.’
‘I thought so. Which is why I called. Shrago owed him, and Morgan was his chess piece.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Crew Scully.’
‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘New England blue blood.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He got promoted. Now he’s a Deputy Chief of Staff in his own right.’
‘Responsible for what?’
‘Personnel,’ Edmonds said. ‘HRC oversight. Technically he’s my boss.’
