Chapter 16

Knight was silent for the first half mile, then said, "There's something I don't understand. I get that you were in an accident. Gibson was driving. And he got killed. But how did you wind up in his car in the first place?"

Reacher said, "I can't be sure. It's one of the things I don't remember. According to Vidic it came from some random encounter. He says he saw me help Gibson out of a bind with some assholes who were trying to steal his car. Apparently he gave me a ride as a thank-you."

"OK. Back up. First, why did you accept a ride with the guy? Had your car broken down or something?"

"I don't have a car."

"You don't? So how do you get around?"

"I take the bus. Or I hitch rides. Although that's getting harder these days."

"You were an army major and now you have to hitch rides? What happened? If that's not too personal."

"It's fine. And I don't have to hitch rides. I choose to."

"You choose to? Why?"

"Because I don't want to stay in one place and I don't want to own a car."

"Weird, but OK. You do know how to drive though, right?"

"I did the training, back in the day."

"All right. It sounds like maybe you wanted a ride. But why would Gibson offer you one? I get that you did him a favor, but I can't see an agent doing that."

"It seems odd to me, too."

"How long had Gibson been working this case?"

"I don't have a date. Why?"

"Maybe he was undercover too long. He could have been getting sloppy. Or maybe he knew that Vidic had seen what happened with the assholes in the parking lot. Felt like it would look wrong if he didn't do something for you in return for helping him."

"Possible, I guess."

"Or maybe he was going off the rails. Trying to deliberately screw up so he'd get pulled out. He could have just asked, of course, but a lot of people don't like to admit defeat. Especially men."

"We'll never know, unless some other witness comes out of the woodwork. Or my memory comes back." Reacher closed his eyes, but it didn't help. He still felt like he was staring into a darkened room when he tried to remember the wreck.

—

Knight's driving was smooth and efficient. Fast on the straights, easy through the bends, no grumbling from the transmission or squealing from the tires. The morning sun was softening the faded blacktop with the shadows of leaves and branches and the gentle breeze was making them sway and dance. Reacher settled back in his seat. He was enjoying the view and playing a little music in his head. Then he noticed that an arrow had appeared on the phone screen. It was below the two dots, but getting closer. Knight pointed to it and said, "That's us. We'll—"

The turn into the first of the switchbacks near where Gibson had crashed was tighter than Knight had expected. The back of the car twitched. Reacher closed his eyes. Knight lifted off the gas and corrected her line with a neat flick of the steering wheel. Then she said, "I'm so sorry. I should have seen that coming. I didn't cause some kind of flashback, did I?"

Reacher opened his eyes. He felt like the first shaft of light had penetrated the darkness. He said, "Don't apologize. That made me remember something. Just a fragment. When Gibson approached that bend he looked in his mirror. He said something like, How did he catch up so quick? Then he hit the gas. Too hard, I guess."

"Reacher, that's great. Anything else?"

Reacher closed his eyes for another moment. "No. Nothing more yet."

"It will come. This is just the beginning. I have faith. Meantime, who do you think Gibson saw in his mirror? Vidic?"

"Seems likely. Vidic was at the crash scene. We know that. He says he was following Gibson and saw what happened. There's no reason to think he's lying."

"OK. Then why did Gibson try to lose Vidic? What scared him so badly he wound up wrecking his car and killing himself?"

"Some of Vidic's story is true. Maybe all of it is. Perhaps he did see Gibson meet his handler at the motel. Maybe Gibson knew that. He could have been desperate to get to Fletcher first. To lay down some kind of preemptive defense."

"What kind of defense, though? It would be an if-you' re-explaining-you're-losing situation, all day long. Not convincing. Not worth dying for. It had to be more urgent. Maybe he thought Vidic was going to kill him. Shoot him. Or run him off the road. He might have been trying to escape."

"Possible. Gibson's Lincoln was black, and I saw flakes of black paint on the bull bar on Vidic's Jeep."

"Could be something."

"Could be nothing."

"The FBI evidence guys will get samples. Their lab will figure it out."

—

Soon after Fletcher got his operation up and running at the cave he arranged to have a porta potty installed, just out of sight of the entrance. Everyone in the crew used it—reluctantly, in the warm weather—except Kane. He preferred to go behind one of the heaps of rocks. And not all the way behind if Paris was nearby. She knew what he was thinking when he smirked at her, slid a crate into the back of the van, and continued out into the fresh air. She hurried away from the entrance, deeper into the cave. Then she saw Fletcher heading outside, too, with his phone in his hand.

Paris grabbed Vidic by the arm and pulled him close. She said, "Quick. We only have a minute. What do you mean we're taking Fletcher's two million? Are you crazy?"

Vidic glanced toward the entrance. "I have it all figured out. It's perfect. The cash will buy us time. Take the pressure off selling the report if there's any problem getting the gold lined up. The alternative is to take something from the Russians, and I don't want to do that. I don't want those mad vindictive bastards on our asses for the rest of our lives. It's better if they think Fletcher and Kane were the only ones involved."

"Right. But how? We can't move the safe. And Kane's not going to do it for us."

"The stranger's going to. He's big enough. I hope."

"How will you get him here? What's in it for him?"

"He's on some kind of crazy revenge kick. I promised that if he helps me with the safe, I'll give up Fletcher and Kane in return."

"All he wants is Fletcher and Kane? He doesn't want any money?"

"Well, yes. He thinks he's getting half. But that's not going to happen."

"How—"

"Go. Quick. Kane's coming back."

—

Knight went easier on the gas after the scare at the switchback. The arrow on the phone screen slowed so that it only just kept pace with the two dots. Knight made no further attempt to draw attention to it. She glanced across at Reacher a couple of times, then said, "No more recollections?"

Reacher shook his head.

"You can't rush these things, I guess. How about your long-term memory?"

"It's fine."

"Good. So, like, for example, you could tell me your address?"

"Actually, no."

"Oh. That's not so good."

"It's not a problem. I don't have an address."

"You must have an address. Everybody has one."

"Not me."

"How come? Are you in the middle of moving? Lease ran out, haven't found a suitable alternative?"

"I don't rent a place."

"So you sold your old house and haven't moved into the new one yet?"

"I didn't have a house to sell."

"Then what happened? Was it the market crash in '08? Interest ratesgoing up? That crazy inflation we had after COVID? Sorry. I don't mean to be intrusive. But I'm a detective. It comes with the territory."

"No problem."

"So…"

"I did have a house, once. Briefly. But I got rid of it."

"Why?"

"It confirmed something I had suspected for a while. You don't own a house. A house owns you."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Where do you live?"

"Scottsdale, Arizona. Nice little condo. It's on the thirteenth floor, so I got it cheap."

"Have you been there long?"

"Ten years, give or take."

"Ever fancied a change?"

"I've thought about it."

"What stopped you?"

"I see where you're going. Getting it ready for the market. Finding an agent. Viewings. Negotiating. Finding a new place. It's a lot. But at the end of the day a person needs a place to call home."

"Not me. I spent thirteen years going where the army told me. Now I go wherever I want. Whenever I want."

"I get that. I think. But what about your stuff? Where do you keep it?"

"In my pocket."

"I'm serious. Your clothes, for example. Shoes. Your TV. Books."

"I'm wearing my clothes. And my shoes. I don't often watch TV. And when I finish a book, if it was any good, I leave it on a bus or in a motel room so someone else can read it."

"Wait. Rewind. You must have more than one set of clothes."

"Why?"

"How do you wash them? What do you wear while they're in the laundry?"

"I don't wash them. I wear them for a couple of days, then get new ones."

"That's crazy."

"Is it? Because I'd say owning a building and buying a machine and hooking up electricity and water and paying taxes and getting insurance and being tied to one place? That's crazy."

Knight pointed to her phone. "Look." One of the dots had stopped. The other was still going. "Is that its destination, I wonder? Let's see if it moves again."

Reacher pointed to a driveway they were about to pass. "That's where they took me after the accident."

Knight slowed down. The driveway was empty and there were no vehicles parked on the road. She said, "No one there, I guess. Let's continue. Stick with Kane's guys."

—

Reacher kept an eye on Knight's phone and when they were close to the stationary dot he tipped his seat back as far as it would go and hunkered down.

Knight continued, smooth and steady. A minute later she said, "We're clear."

Reacher raised the seat. "What did you see?"

"The car was positioned with a good view of the front of a house. A large place. Fancy. Half-timbered, like it was trying to look European. Only the driver was visible."

"They're running surveillance. The passenger will be watching the rear."

"That would be my guess, too."

"Vidic said Fletcher wanted the extra muscle because he was worried that Bowery sold him out. The missing guy. This must be the target. They're thorough. The job's scheduled for 4:00 a.m . Could you find out who owns the place?"

"Possibly. I'd have to call in a favor or two, given that I'm persona non grata right now. It would take a while. And assuming something fishy is going on, I doubt we'd learn much. Just the name of some shell corporation out of the Cayman Islands or somewhere. That would be my bet."

"The waitress at the diner told me a couple of these places got bought by Russians, in early twenty-one. What are the odds this is one of them?"

Knight pulled over to the side of the road. She pointed to her phone. "The other car has stopped, too." She did something to the screen that caused the map to zoom in. The outline of a building appeared next to the stationary dot.

"Is that shape accurate?"

"Pretty much. I think."

"It's another house. Another surveillance job?"

"Let's find out."

—

Reacher tipped his seat back again when they were near the second car and straightened up when Knight gave him the all-clear.

She said, "Carbon copy. They're watching both places. No doubt about it. The question is, why? Are they going to hit both? Or is it an either-or situation? Maybe they'll make a late decision depending on what the watchers report?"

Reacher said, "Or maybe it's neither. Fletcher wanted to avoid getting hit. I assumed that meant he wanted backup at the target location. Which works if the origin of the threat is unknown. But what if the Russians, the owners of these properties, are connected? Offense is the best defense. These guys' job could be to make sure they don't make it to the target at all."

"How can we confirm that?"

"There's no point hanging around, watching the watchers. They won't give anything away. And it's not like Fletcher or Kane will show up and talk to them. Anything develops, they'll call them on the phone."

"So what do we do?"

"Go back to Fletcher's house. He had a bad day yesterday. Maybe he didn't square everything away properly."

"How will we get in? If they figure out someone's been messing with the locks, they'll run, for sure."

"Not a problem." Reacher pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. "We can use these. They're Fletcher's. He lost them."

"Lost them?"

Reacher shrugged.

Knight said, "He must know they're missing. What if they changed the locks?"

"Then we think of something else. But for that to happen Fletcher would have to admit to his people how badly he screwed up. Does that sound like the way a boss would behave?"