The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(71)

‘Maybe you are stupid,’ Reacher said. ‘Maybe you’re not. But here’s the thing. Who told you what, and when? What you get paid for, and what you give away? I don’t care. I only want to hear two things from you. The name of this guy. And where we can find him.’

‘I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me.’

‘And if you don’t tell me, my friend is going to kick a field goal with your testicles. I can’t imagine that would feel good. So you’re going to have to do all kinds of thinking. About your priorities. About current certainties versus future possibilities. And you’re going to have to do it fast, because I’m running out of patience.’

Budnick was silent for a minute, then he struggled to his feet. ‘You mentioned priorities. Well, what are yours? Getting your stuff back? Or getting the guy who’s got it? Because the way I see it, for your stuff to end up here, it must have gotten thrown in the trash at some point. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe someone did it to mess with you. But however it got there, it wasn’t my guy’s fault. So what if I could help you get your stuff back, but without involving him?’

Reacher took a moment to think. A protection racket suggested organized crime. Organized crime suggested prostitution. Drugs. Gambling. Loan sharking. All things he had no time for. All things, in an ideal world, he would tear down. But he wasn’t living in an ideal world. And he wasn’t dealing in the hypothetical. He had more tangible concerns. The identity of the spy who was trying to steal a copy of The Sentinel, for one thing. And Rutherford’s safety, for another.

Priorities, indeed.

‘All right,’ Reacher said. ‘Suppose I forget about your guy. Suppose I only care about getting my stuff back. How could that happen?’

‘I know where he keeps it,’ Budnick said. ‘The good stuff. I’m assuming your stuff is good?’

Reacher nodded.

‘One of his guys let it slip once. Where he was taking it. The guy didn’t realize what he was saying. He was just running his mouth. And it was months ago. He wouldn’t remember, anyway. So you could go there. Make it look like a random robbery. And no one could ever tie it back to me. Everyone could walk away happy. Except for the protection guy. But, hey, screw him.’

Reacher looked at Sands. She nodded.

‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘Where is the place?’

‘It’s called Norm’s Self Storage. He has unit E4. You can Google the address. I can tell you the code for the gate. I know it because I started renting a unit for myself during the renovations. It’s the unit number – mine is A6 – and the last seven digits of my cell.’ He rattled off a string of numbers.

‘Good,’ Reacher said. ‘But you know, before we go racing across town, maybe we should make absolutely certain our stuff isn’t here? The door is padlocked and it was hard to get a good look through the crack. Can you open it for us?’

‘You didn’t check inside?’

‘How could we?’

Budnick shrugged then took a Titans fob out of his pocket. It had a single key attached. He handed it to Reacher. ‘Makes sense, I guess. Here. You open it.’

Reacher stepped into the space between the building and the minivan. He switched keys while his back was turned. Worked the new padlock. And pulled open the door.

‘Why didn’t we think of this before?’ Reacher pretended to hit himself in the forehead with his palm. ‘It was inside all along. Budnick, come here. I need your help moving it.’

Budnick limped forward. ‘Which thing is yours?’

‘It’s all the way at the back,’ Reacher said. ‘See that tall cabinet with the broken door? That’s it.’

‘No way.’ Budnick shook his head. ‘I remember dragging that thing in. It weighs a damn ton. Look, take it if you want. But you’re on your own.’

‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘Your choice.’ He braced one foot against the side of the minivan and slammed into Budnick’s back, hard, right between the shoulder blades.

Budnick staggered through the doorway. His arms flapped like the wings of a giant flightless bird. He stumbled forward. Steered around one pile of equipment. Two. Then he stepped in the heap of computer mice. His feet got tangled in the wires and he pitched forward, landing next to the widescreen TVs.

Reacher tossed the Titans key ring in after him. ‘Don’t worry. Someone will come by and let you out. Unless you were lying about the storage unit. Or it’s a trap. In which case it won’t be the protection guy who’s screwed. It’ll be you.’

Sands gestured to Reacher to hold his position then darted around to the other side of the minivan. She returned a moment later with two bottles of water from the pack he had bought earlier. Set them down just over the threshold. Waited for him to close the door and work the lock. Then she took hold of his arm. ‘You are going to come back and let Budnick out, right?’

‘If we need to have another conversation,’ Reacher said.

‘And if you don’t need to? If we get the servers? You can’t just leave him locked in there.’

‘I won’t leave him. Not for long. I’ll call Officer Rule. Tell her where to find him. Let her put another feather in her cap.’

‘Isn’t that a bit hard on Budnick? It’s not his operation. He’s not profiting from it. Just like Thomassino isn’t, which is why we let him go. Shouldn’t we stick the police on the protection guy instead? He’s the one who made Budnick do it.’