Blue Moon (Jack Reacher #24)(90)

“I would take those odds. Win or lose. I like the simplicity.”

“It’s brutal.”

“Only if you lose.”

“Do you always win?”

“So far.”

“How can you?”

“I can’t,” Reacher said. “I can’t always win. One day I’m going to lose. I know that. But not today. I know that, too.”

“I wish you were a doctor.”

“I don’t even have a postgraduate degree.”

She paused a beat, and said, “You told me you could find him.”

“I will,” Reacher said. “Today. Before the close of business.”



* * *



—

They all met back at Frank Barton’s house, deep in what used to be Albanian territory. There was still smoke in the sky, from the lumber yard fire. Barton and Hogan were back from their gig, and Vantresca was hanging out, and Reacher and Abby were fresh from their visit with the Shevicks. They all crowded in the front parlor. Once again it was full of gear. It couldn’t stay in the van. It would get stolen.

Hogan said, “The key to this thing is first you got to figure out are you second-guessing a smart guy, or a really smart guy, or a genius? Because that’s three different locations, right there.”

“Gregory seems smart enough,” Reacher said. “I’m sure he has a certain degree of rat-like cunning. But I doubt that this was his decision. Not if it was an official contract, worth tens of millions of dollars, with the government of a foreign country. I would guess that’s pretty much a seller’s market. I bet there were all kinds of clauses and conditions and inspections and approvals. Moscow would have wanted the very best. And they ain’t dumb over there. They know a bad idea when they see one. So in terms of location, I suggest we start second-guessing at the genius level.”

Vantresca said, “Security, accommodations, power, internet, isolation, ease of supply.”

“Start at the end,” Reacher said. “Ease of supply. How many blocks from their office is easy?”

“More about what kind of block,” Hogan said. “I would guess the whole of downtown. The business district. Anywhere with commercial zoning. Weird things come and go all the time. No one pays attention. Not like in a residential neighborhood. I would say the edge of downtown is the natural limit. West of Center Street.”

“That’s not isolated,” Barton said. “It’s right in the hustle and the bustle.”

“It’s like hiding in plain sight. Maybe not physically isolated, but very anonymous, all the same. There are all kinds of comings and goings, and no one sees a thing. No one knows anyone else’s name.”

Reacher asked, “What do they need for the internet?”

Vantresca said, “A mechanically robust connection to a cable ISP or a satellite, probably the satellite, because it would be harder to trace.”

“There are plenty of satellite dishes in town.”

“Lots of people use them.”

“What do they need for power?”

“A recent installation, up to code, with excess capacity as a safety margin, and automatic generator back-up in case of an outage on the grid. They can’t afford interruptions. Might screw up their gear.”

“What about accommodations?”

“Bedrooms, bathrooms, a mess hall, maybe a TV room, maybe a rec room. Table tennis, or something.”

“Sounds like federal prison.”

“I think windows,” Abby said. “Not a basement. This could be a long contract. Trulenko is a superstar. Maybe down on his luck right now, but even so, he has standards. He’ll want to live close to normal. He’ll demand it.”

“OK, windows,” Reacher said. “Which brings us to security.”

“Iron bars on the windows,” Barton said.

“Or anonymity,” Hogan said. “There are a million windows. Sometimes the lights are on, sometimes they’re off. No one cares.”

Vantresca said, “They need a single controllable point of entry, probably with an advance screen some way upstream, and a last-chance back-up a little ways downstream. Maybe you have to come in through a basement, and then go up the back stairs. Something like that. Under scrutiny all the way. Like passing through a long tunnel. Metaphorically, if not literally.”

“So where?”

“There are a thousand buildings like that. You’ve seen them.”

“I don’t like them,” Reacher said. “Because they’re all joined together. Because of the Navy SEALs. Hogan laid it all out, back at the beginning. They would look for emergency exits, and delivery bays, and ventilation shafts and water pipes and sewers and so on, but most of all they would look for places where they could gain access by demolishing walls between adjacent structures. You know how that goes down. They wake up some old geezer in the city plans department, and he finds a dusty old blueprint, that shows this guy’s cellar connects to that guy’s cellar, except some other guy bricked it up in 1920, but only single skin, and poor quality mortar. You could breathe on it and it would fall down. Or they could come in sideways, through a first-floor wall. Or window. Or the top floor. Or they could rappel off the roof. Don’t forget, the Moscow government made this decision. It was big business. Maybe the contract would run for years. Therefore they wanted exactly the right location. Which they are more than qualified to judge. They know all our tricks. They know our special forces train all the time in urban environments exactly like this one.”