The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(72)

‘The protection guy will go down too, I’m sure. But all he did was make Budnick let him use the outhouse. It was Budnick who chose to threaten Thomassino’s family. He took that step by himself. And that’s a line he should not have crossed.’





TWENTY-ONE





The GPS directed them back to the same side of town as the waste company depot. It took another twenty-four minutes. And brought them to another compound at the end of another long straight road with another line of fenced-in lots on either side. Only Norm’s Self Storage wasn’t like the other units. It didn’t have a regular fence. The whole exterior was designed to look like an old-time fort. It had wooden palisades. Watch towers. A line of cannons. A pole flying Old Glory. Another with the Volunteer State flag. And a third with some weird garish banner covered with images of muskets and sabres and shields. Maybe something of Norm’s own design, Reacher thought. Maybe Norm was a history buff. Or maybe he thought the whole military vibe would give his place a sense of safety and security. Some kind of subliminal reassurance for his clients. Could be a valuable thing in his line of work.

Sands stopped in front of the gate. There was a rustic wooden post next to the driveway, but no sign of an intercom or a keypad or a card reader. The only thing attached to it was a reproduction Pony Express mailbox. Sands glanced at the others then rolled down her window and prodded it. The front swung open. Inside was a digital screen. It was blank. Sands touched it and a grid of letters and numbers appeared. She took a deep breath and entered the code Budnick had given them.

Nothing happened.

‘Am I cursed?’ she said. ‘Or do all entry systems just hate me?’

She tried the code again.

Nothing happened.

‘Maybe they changed the system?’ Rutherford said.

‘Or Budnick bullshitted us,’ Reacher said.

‘Maybe he just misspoke,’ Sands said. ‘Let’s check, before we go jumping to conclusions.’ She reached for her purse, rummaged around inside for a moment, and pulled out Budnick’s phone. ‘He said the digits were the last seven of his cell number. Let’s get that from the horse’s mouth.’

Sands touched the screen four times and the phone came to life.

‘Wait a minute,’ Rutherford said. ‘How did you do that? Do you have some kind of FBI master code? I thought that was a myth.’

‘Of course the Bureau has a code. They can get into any phone, any time. Remotely, too. Via satellites. You didn’t know?’

‘Really?’

‘Of course not. I was looking over Budnick’s shoulder when he tried to call his protection guy. I saw what he keyed in. Now let’s take a look. Here’s his number. Damn. It matches what he told us.’

‘I bet they changed the system,’ Rutherford said.

‘I bet Budnick was bullshitting,’ Reacher said.

‘Hold on,’ Sands said. ‘The phone number is only part of it. Maybe he got the unit number wrong. He was under a lot of stress.’

‘How can we check that?’ Rutherford said. ‘We’ll have to go back and ask him.’

‘There’s one other thing we could try,’ Reacher said. He pointed to a 24-hour helpline number posted above the screen. ‘Pass me Budnick’s phone.’

Sands entered the digits, hit call, then speaker, then handed the phone to Reacher.

A man answered after seven rings. He said his name was Steve. He sounded sleepy.

‘Steve, this is Bill Budnick,’ Reacher said. ‘Listen, this is a little embarrassing, but I’m at the gate of the storage place and I can’t get it to open. I haven’t been by for a while and I’m thinking maybe I’m misremembering my unit number. Could you confirm it for me?’

‘Sorry, Mr Budnick. Can’t do that. It’s against the rules.’

‘Oh, come on. Help me out here. I’m not much of a numbers guy. And I’m too busy down at Fat Freddie’s to come by very often, which is why it’s slipped my mind. I’m the owner there.’

‘I know. Your picture was in the paper.’

‘When I bought the place. Right. Anyway, I tell you what. How about this? You confirm my unit number, just this once, and I’ll make a note. I’ll write it down, right now, so this will never happen again. And then, any time you want, you can come down to the diner and have anything on the menu, on the house. What do you say?’

‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t.’

‘OK. Dinner for two. Bring your significant other. Or come twice on your own. You won’t regret it.’

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘We have the best milkshakes in town, Steve. The best everything, if you ask me. I might be biased, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.’

‘I don’t know. Can you at least tell me which block you’re in?’

Budnick had said A6. Hope for the best. ‘Sure. Block A.’

‘OK. Wait one.’

Reacher heard the sound of papers rustling, then Steve came back on the line. ‘Anything I want on the menu, right? And I can come twice?’

‘You got it.’

‘You’re in A4, Mr Budnick. Just don’t let anyone know I told you.’

Sands turned back to her window. She hit the A and the 4 on the screen, then the last seven digits of Budnick’s phone number.