Never Go Back

‘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?’