Page 48 of Chain Reaction

“How else do you think we track her phone?”

“How deep inside are you?”

“All the way, baby. I’m Axel Brill.”

“Then you could do this a better way. No more hit and run. You could get ahead of them. Forget her phone. Find her diary. With dates, and times, and locations of all her meetings and other commitments. We could get assets pre-positioned. Instead of showing up late all the time.”

Brill paused a beat.

“OK,” he said. “Then like any smart developer, we should start with a defined question. For our specific purposes, in which geographic region are the best crews located?”

“D.C. and northern Virginia, no question. Better than some of the world’s armies.”

“So we’ll search for a morning meeting that falls inside that operational radius, and we’ll predict via pattern recognition where she’ll spend the night before, and that’s where we’ll get her, because alone in a room is better than an office full of a hundred soldiers. I’ll get my partner on it right away. I’m not mad at you, bro.”

Chapter 20

Reacher eyeballed the motels on El Camino Real and picked one out for later. He had the cab driver drop him at the mall on California Avenue, exactly where they had started out. The driver had no comment. The round trip made sense. A guy takes his girlfriend to the airport, and then he comes back again. Happens every day. The fare was substantial. With the tip it took all of the three guys’ cash, plus a decent contribution from the Chief of Staff.

Reacher walked a different route back to the long street lined both sides with rehabbed bungalows. He came in from the far end and approached Lazarus Lorenzo’s office from the opposite direction. He saw it up ahead, on the right this time, not the left. The dark blue midcentury masterpiece, with its stone path and its shingle at the curb. Still no obvious activity. But the lights were on inside. The afternoon was fading away. The sun was low in the west.

He stood still for a moment, four lots short of his target. He looked around. It was an inconvenient location for surveillance. No coffee shops, no delis, no diners. Not even a bus bench. No obvious place to hang out. No plausible reason to spend time in any of the neighboring buildings. He had no need for therapy, or architectural services, or financial advice. A real estate office would have been a waste of time. He didn’t look like a guy ready to spend eight million dollars on a tiny shack, his expensive new shirt notwithstanding.

He backed up to where a fine old oak tree grew between an acupuncture salon and a Scandinavian hygge consultant. The acupuncturist promised relief from pain and addiction. The hygge consultant promised contentment and coziness the Danish way. He moved around the tree and kept its broad trunk between him and Lazarus Lorenzo. He leaned his shoulder against it and watched and waited.

Nothing happened for twenty long minutes.

Then a phone rang in his pocket. This time he guessed wrong. He pulled out his own burner. He thought it might be Turner, about to board her plane. Maybe already in her seat. Maybe a second goodbye, or a final instruction. But no. That phone was blank. He pulled out the tall guy’s, from Denver. It was ringing loud and showing a number with a 970 area code. Colorado.

He answered the call and heard a voice he knew. It said, “This is the motel in Summertown. Reporting as you required. A male in his forties just checked in. He wouldn’t say why he was here. I’m pretty sure he’s not an engineer. Or in software. He doesn’t have the look. I put him in room eight.”

“Hey, kid,” Reacher said. “Remember me? We talked yesterday morning, about corporate security.”

“Why are you on this number?”

“Those other guys are off the board. They saw the error of their ways. You’ll never see them again. They won’t bother you anymore.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“How else would I have their phone?”

“What happened?”

“They couldn’t stand the heat.”

“OK,” the kid said. “Well, thanks, I guess. This is great news.”

“You’re welcome. There’s one little favor you could do for me in return, if you like.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Run down to room eight and tell the new guy there’s a ten-thirty-one message for him. Bring him back to the lobby and put him on the line.”

“A ten what?”