A Wanted Man

‘King and McQueen? Those sound totally made up.’

‘Exactly. If they really were made up, they’d have chosen better. And it was OK if I knew. I wasn’t supposed to survive.’

‘What’s your point?’ Sorenson asked again.

‘The one calling himself Alan King said he had a brother who had been in the army, name of Peter King. That might be a good place to start.’

‘With what?’

‘Tracing them.’

‘Who are you?’ Sorenson asked again.

‘Tell me about your boss.’

‘Why would I?’

‘He’s ambitious, right? He wants a pat on the head. He thinks an arrest before the sun comes up is going to look good. And he might be right. It might look good. But flexibility would be a much better tactic here.’

‘Are you negotiating with me?’

‘I’m just saying there’s very little point in rushing back to Nebraska when Karen Delfuenso was last seen heading in the opposite direction. Your boss will understand that eventually. Delayed gratification is a good thing. It’s what built the middle class.’

‘You’re resisting arrest, technically. If I shot you now, it would be righteous.’

‘So go ahead. What do you think I want, to live for ever?’

She didn’t reply.

He said, ‘I’ll tell you my name.’

She said, ‘I already know your name. You signed the motel register. Your name is Skowron.’

He said, ‘You see, that’s a convincing alias. You bought right into it. Moose Skowron, hit.309 for the Yankees in 1960, and.375 in the post-season.’

‘Your name is not Skowron?’

‘Hardly. I couldn’t hit Major League pitching. But you should pay attention to 1960. The World Series in particular. The Yankees were coming off their tenth pennant in twelve years, they outscored the Pirates 55 to 27, they outhit them.338 to.256, they hit ten home runs against four, they got two complete-game shutouts from Whitey Ford, and still they lost.’

‘What has baseball to do with anything?’

‘It’s an illustration. It’s a metaphor. It always is. I’m saying it’s always possible to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. That’s what you would be doing if you took me back to Nebraska.’

Sorenson was quiet for a second, and then she lowered her gun.

Reacher saw the gun go down, slowly but surely, and he thought: It’s in the bag. Nearly. Two minutes and twenty seconds of talking. A delay and a frustration for sure, but a lot faster than shouting or yelling or fighting. A lot faster, and also a lot safer. Bad as McQueen’s.22 Long Rifles would have been, Sorenson’s nine-millimetre Parabellums would be worse. Much worse. He said, ‘My name is Reacher. First name Jack. No middle name. I used to be a cop in the army.’

Sorenson asked, ‘And what are you now?’

‘Unemployed.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Nowhere.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means what it says. I move from place to place.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’

‘And you really were hitching rides?’

‘I really was.’

‘Why are you going to Virginia?’

‘Personal reasons.’

‘Not a good enough answer.’

‘It’s all I can give you.’

‘I need more. I’m way out on a limb here.’

‘I’m going to Virginia to find a woman.’

‘Any woman?’

‘One in particular.’

‘Who?’

‘I talked to her on the phone. She sounded nice. I thought I should go check her out.’

‘You talked to her on the phone? You haven’t actually met her?’

‘Not yet.’

‘You’re travelling halfway across the country to spend time with a woman you never met?’

‘Why not? I have to be somewhere. And I don’t have anywhere else I need to be. So Virginia will be as good as anyplace else.’

‘Do you think this woman will want to spend time with you?’

‘Probably not. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

‘She must be a hell of a woman.’

‘She has a nice voice. That’s all I know so far.’

Another thirty-five seconds. Total elapsed time, two minutes fifty-five. Getting there. Faster than fighting. And safer. He said, ‘Anything else you need to know?’

‘How did you break your nose?’

‘Someone hit me with the blunt end of a shotgun.’

‘In Nebraska?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Who can say? Some folks are just naturally aggressive.’

‘If you’re not who you say you are, I could lose my job. I could go to jail.’

‘I know that. But I am who I say I am. And you are who you are. You think Karen Delfuenso is the most important thing here. Not like your boss.’

Sorenson paused.

She nodded.

She said, ‘So where do we start?’

Bingo. Three minutes and twenty-one seconds. But then Sorenson’s cell phone rang, and it was all over before it had even begun.

THIRTY-SIX

INITIALLY FROM SORENSON’S point of view the ring tone was a nuisance and an interruption. It broke a spell. The big guy was well on the way to giving it all up. Who he was, what he was doing, why he was there. Every interrogation was different. Sometimes it paid to play along. Pretend to believe, pretend to cooperate, pretend to be convinced. Then his guard would drop and the truth would come. Another few minutes might have done it.

She took out her phone. It buzzed warmly against her palm. She knew it wouldn’t be Stony. Stony was typing and revising and spell-checking. It would be the night duty agent, in Omaha. With high-priority information. Maybe there was something back from her facial-injury inquiries. Maybe the big guy was wanted in a dozen states. Skowron, or Reacher, or whatever the hell his name really was. In which case the call wouldn’t be a nuisance or an interruption at all. It would be a short cut instead.

She answered.

It was the night duty agent. He said, ‘The Iowa troopers are reporting another 911. Some farmer called in a