Page 87 of Chain Reaction

“We need a translator. You must have people in the cybercrime department who could give us the idiots’ guide.”

“I do, but we can’t use any of them. It wouldn’t stay a secret. The Chief of Staff would find out about five minutes later.”

“I could go enroll at Stanford. Four years from now I might have it all figured out.”

“They probably have a test. You might not get in. You think a mouse is a small rodent with fur.”

“Would Bisley’s wife know?” Elwood said. “Presumably he talked to her in plain English.”

“He shouldn’t have talked to her at all,” Turner said. “Not about his work.”

“But people do.”

“Do they?”

“Mostly.”

“Do you?”

“No comment.”

“I’m not sure we should bother Bisley’s wife. She’s not doing well.”

“No stone unturned, ma’am.”

She didn’t answer.

“You should find out where they met,” Reacher said. “Maybe it was in school. She could have been a classmate. Two computer hotshots together. In which case they talk for sure. Especially now with the baby. She needs a distraction.”

“I’ll check in our system,” Turner said. “She’s in there, because of his security clearance. If they met in school, we’ll go talk to her. Otherwise we’ll leave her alone.”

They arrived back at the car. They got in and sat for a moment with the motor running and the doors open, to let the stale air out. Turner said, “What kind of negotiation did you have in mind with those guys?”

“I was going to suggest they change their employer. This won’t end well for them. EEF is an ignoble cause to die for. I thought a fair warning was in order.”

“Don’t feel sorry for them,” Elwood said. “A return to civilian life is supposed to be exactly that. Who becomes a mercenary instead? It’s a self-selecting gene pool. Their motives aren’t pretty, most of them are bad people, and all of them did bad things. They’re the soldiers you spent your life busting.”

“I didn’t feel sorry for them. I wanted to save time, is all. The quickest fights are the ones you don’t have. Plus we’re short on ordnance. We have two nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistols and three spare magazines.”

“We can get what we need.”

“While keeping the secret?”

Elwood didn’t answer.

“Where now?” Turner asked.

“Let’s mess with their heads,” Reacher said. “Let’s go somewhere and turn your phones on again. This time they won’t come. We’ll get them used to second-guessing themselves.”

“Where?”

“Right outside their building would be fun. But probably too close for comfort.”

“What about outside Lazarus Lorenzo’s building? Like we’re sending them a message. Like we’re saying, we know what you did.”

“Works for me,” Reacher said.

Elwood remembered the way. He threaded around the blocks and came out on the long straight road with the immaculate bungalows. He drove the length of it at twenty-five miles an hour exactly, past the acupuncture office, and then he pulled over and coasted to a stop level with Lazarus Lorenzo’s sidewalk shingle. The building looked as dead as ever. No cars parked, no lights on, no activity at all. Maybe deader than ever. Not even the tiny glow of a desk lamp deep inside a room.