No Plan B (Jack Reacher, #27)(48)

Hannah was happy to take her drink but she was surprised when Reacher climbed into the passenger seat and set a paper map down on the center console between them.

She said, “Why did you waste your money on that? My phone will give us directions. Anywhere we want to go. Right to the front door.”

“This isn’t for directions.” Reacher opened the atlas to the page that showed the truck stop. It was near the western border of the state—the river—and roughly halfway between the Gulf to the south and Tennessee to the north. Jackson was to the east, roughly a third of the way to Alabama. Winson was to the southwest, nestling in a deep oxbow on the edge of the riverbank. “That Minerva guy said that ten people had been sent to watch for me. He said they’re deployed in pairs, so that means there are five ambush sites. We know two of them. Where we are now, and the Greyhound station in Jackson. We need to figure out where the other three could be.”

“OK. Well, clearly they anticipated we’d be coming in on I-20. But they couldn’t have been sure we’d hit the truck stop. Not unless they knew about your strange wardrobe arrangement. Without that we would have kept going, then turned south here. Onto US 61.” Hannah pointed at a line on the map. “Somewhere farther along there would be the next logical place to try and catch us.”

“No. They would try at the intersection. They can’t know you’re taking me the whole way to Winson. They’ll assume that if I’m on the road I either stole a car or I’m hitching rides. If I stole a car, that’s where I’d turn. If someone had picked me up farther west and was continuing to Jackson or Meridian, or even Tuscaloosa or Birmingham, that’s where they would let me out. So it’s where I’d hang around, looking for my next pickup.”

“Makes sense.” Hannah took a pen from her purse and circled the spot where US 61 crossed I-20. “That’s potential ambush site number three. Now, if we’d taken the more central route from Colorado through Kansas and Missouri, we’d have wound up coming down I-55 into Jackson. Then we’d have come west again. And there’s only one route into Winson, wherever you’re coming from. They’ll put their backstop somewhere on that road.”

Reacher picked up the map, studied it closely for a moment, then set it back down and pointed to a spot near the town boundary. “There. Look at the contours. It only rises a hundred feet but it’s the steepest hill for about a hundred miles. Enough to slow down any trucks, and the rest of the traffic along with them. Slow-moving vehicles are easier to see into. And they’re easier to stop.”

Hannah circled the place Reacher had indicated. “Number four, done. Where’s five going to be?”

“Jackson.”

“You think? Would they put another team there? They already have the Greyhound station covered.”

“Right. But what if I came in by train? Or got a ride there? How would I get the rest of the way to Winson? There’s bound to be a shuttle, or a local bus service. Probably owned by Minerva. Just like they probably own the hotels near the prison.”

“They can do that?”

“Of course. Why only profit off the prisoners when you can make money from their visitors, too?”

“You’re so cynical.” Hannah stopped with the pen poised above the map. “But I guess you’re right. So where in Jackson would this bus be?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to Jackson. It’s too far out of my way. I’ll just take care of the intersection and the hilltop for now.”

“Take care of? Don’t you mean avoid?”

Reacher shook his head. “Basic tactics. If you have the opportunity to degrade the enemy’s capability, you take it.”

“Oh. We’re going to degrade their capability? Awesome. I’m up for that. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Find a hotel. For tonight.”

“OK. In Winson? For when we’re done with the degrading?”

Reacher shook his head. “No. There’s something I want you to think about. I want you to consider going somewhere else. On your own. For a couple of days.”

“The hell I will. I’m going wherever you go. You can’t make me drive you all this way then dump me. Talk about a dick move.”

“I didn’t make you. I’m not dumping you. But we have new information now. We should be smart. Act accordingly.”

“What new information?”

“We’ve lost the element of surprise. Minerva knows I’m coming. They know my name. They have my description. They now have a current photograph. Their people are competent. They’re out in force, looking for me. Sticking with me now will expose you to a higher level of risk. Much higher.”

“OK. The risk is higher now. I get that. But you know what? I can take any level of risk I damn well want. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I’m not deciding. I’m advising. Your goal is to get the people who killed—murdered—Sam. You can’t do that if they murder you first. So why don’t I go ahead, like an advance party. Get the lay of the land. Sweep out any low-level operatives I find skulking around. Then when the risk is lower, I’ll call. You’ll join me. And we’ll get to the heart of the thing together.”

Hannah was silent for a moment. “You say the risk is higher. But here’s what I don’t understand. If we’re right, the Minerva guys killed Angela because she uncovered something fishy in their accounts. They killed Sam because Angela told him what she found. So why are they coming after you? What’s the connection? What aren’t you telling me?”