A Wanted Man

FIFTY

SORENSON WAS GOING a mute kind of crazy on the bed. The guy in Reacher’s ear was breathing hard. Reacher said, ‘I have very modest demands, Mr Perry. If you want to get Agent Sorenson back safe and sound, all you have to do is precisely nothing. Don’t call me, don’t try to track me, don’t try to find me, don’t hassle me, don’t interfere with me in any way at all.’

The guy said, ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘I just did.’

‘I can help you. We can work together on this.’

Reacher asked, ‘Did you take the hostage negotiator’s course?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘It shows. You’re not listening. Just stay away from me.’

‘What are you planning to do?’

‘I’m planning to do your job.’

‘My job?’

Reacher said, ‘You’ve got dead people here, and a missing kid. You should have told the CIA and the State Department to sit down and shut up, but you didn’t. You caved instead. So stay out of my way while I fix things for you.’

‘Who the hell are you?’

Reacher didn’t answer that. He just clicked off the call and tossed the phone on the bed.

‘You’re crazy,’ Sorenson said.

‘Not really,’ Reacher said. ‘This way he’s blameless and you’re blameless but the job still gets done. Everyone wins.’

‘But he’s not going to do what you told him. I know this guy, Reacher. He’s not going to just sit there and take it. He’s not going to let you embarrass him in front of the CIA. He’s going to come after you. He’s going to start a full-on manhunt.’

‘Let the best man win,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ve been hunted before. Many times. And no one ever found me.’

‘You don’t get it. It’ll be easy. He can track my phone.’

‘We’ll leave it right there on the bed. We’ll buy another one.’

‘He can track my car, for God’s sake.’

‘We’re not going to use your car.’

‘What, we’re going to walk?’

‘No, we’re going to use Sheriff Goodman’s car. It’s right here. And he doesn’t need it any more, does he?’

Goodman’s car was still there on the crown of the road. The keys were still in it, which was what Reacher had expected. City cops usually took their keys with them. Country cops, not so much. There was nothing more embarrassing than having some street kid steal a patrol car during an urban melee, but that kind of danger was rare in the boonies, so habits were different.

And there was an added bonus, too. They didn’t need to buy a new phone. Goodman’s cell was right there, charging away in a dashboard cradle identical to Sorenson’s own Bureau issue. The screen was showing two missed calls. One from Sorenson’s cell, and the other from the department’s dispatcher.

Post-mortem calls.

Reacher racked the driver’s seat back and fired up the engine. The car was a police-spec Crown Vic, under the skin exactly the same as Sorenson’s more discreet version. But it was older and grimier inside. The seat had been crushed into Goodman’s unique shape by many hours of use. Reacher felt like he was putting on a dead man’s clothes.

Sorenson asked, ‘Where are we going?’

Reacher said, ‘Anywhere with cell reception. We need to wait until we hear from your tech guys. About the autopsy. You need to call them and give them the new number.’

‘We’re basically stealing this car, you know.’

‘But who’s going to do anything about it? That idiot Puller?’

Reacher turned around in Delfuenso’s empty driveway and headed back south and west towards the crossroads. He got less than half a mile before Goodman’s phone rang in its cradle. A loud electronic squawk. Urgent, and nothing fancy.

The readout window showed a 402 area code.

‘Omaha,’ Reacher said.

Sorenson craned over to read the rest of the number.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘That’s my SAC’s private line.’

‘He’s calling Goodman? Why?’

‘You kidnapped me. He’s alerting local law enforcement all over eastern Nebraska. Iowa too, probably.’

‘Doesn’t he know Goodman is dead?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t see how he could. Not yet.’

‘How did he get this number?’

‘Database. We have lots of numbers.’

‘Has he spoken to Goodman before?’

‘No. I don’t think so. The night duty agent took a call from him. That’s all. That’s how this whole thing started.’

‘How do I work this phone?’

‘You’re not going to talk to him, are you?’

‘We can’t let everyone ignore him. He’ll start to feel bad.’

‘But he knows your voice. You two just spoke.’

‘What did Goodman sound like?’

‘Like a seventy-year-old guy from Nebraska.’

‘How do I work the phone?’

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Quick, before it goes to voice mail.’

‘There’s a microphone in the windshield pillar. Just hit the green button.’

Reacher hit the green button. He heard telephone sounds over the car speakers, unnaturally loud and clear and detailed. Every hiss and every crackle was faithfully rendered. He heard Special Agent in Charge Perry’s voice. It sounded brisk and a little tense. It said, ‘Is this Sheriff Goodman?’

Reacher took his right hand off the wheel and put his little finger in the corner of his mouth. Like an intrusive implement during a dental procedure. He said, ‘Yes, it is.’

The voice filling the car said, ‘Sheriff, I’m Anthony Perry, the SAC at the Omaha FBI. The Bureau has an interest in a situation that may be developing in your neck of the woods.’

‘And what situation would that be, sir?’

‘I believe you may have met Agent Sorenson from my office.’

‘I had that pleasure last night. A mighty fine young woman. You must be proud to have her working for you, sir.’

Sorenson laid her head back and closed her eyes.

Perry said, ‘Well, yes, but that’s beside the point right now. We picked up a report from the Nebraska State Police that a child went missing this morning.’

‘Sad but true, sir.’

‘I believe Agent Sorenson may have headed directly to you as a result.’

‘That’s good,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll be glad of all the help I can get.’

He gulped saliva past his finger.

Perry said, ‘Are you OK, sheriff?’

‘I’m tired,’ Reacher said. ‘I’m an old man and I’ve been awake for a long time.’

‘You haven’t seen Agent Sorenson today?’

‘No, not yet, but I’ll be sure to watch out for her.’

‘It’s not that simple, sheriff. I believe she may have detoured on her way here with a male suspect. I believe that male suspect may have somehow overpowered her and may be currently holding her hostage.’

‘Well, sir, I can certainly see how you might describe that as a situation. Yes, indeed. But you don’t need my permission to come look for her. I think you’re entitled to take care of your own people. And you’re always welcome here.’

‘No, I can’t spare the manpower,’ Perry said. ‘We can’t be everywhere at once. I’m asking you and your boys to be my eyes and ears down there. Can you do that for me?’

‘Do what exactly?’

‘Let me know immediately if you see Agent Sorenson, or her car. And if possible take her companion into custody.’

‘Do you have a description?’

‘He’s a big guy with a broken nose.’

‘Is he dangerous?’

‘You should treat him as extremely dangerous. Don’t take unnecessary risks.’

‘You mean shoot first and ask questions later?’

‘I think that would be a very sound operating principle, under the circumstances.’

‘OK, you got it, Mr Perry. You can cross my county off your list of concerns, as of right now. If he comes here, we’ll deal with him.’

‘Thank you, sheriff. I very much appreciate your cooperation.’

‘We’re here to serve, sir,’ Reacher said. He took his finger out of his mouth and pressed the red button on the phone.

Sorenson didn’t speak.

Reacher said, ‘What? That’s a good result. This whole county is ours now. We can come and go as we please.’

‘But suppose we have to stray out of this county? Don’t you get it? You’re a wanted man. He’s putting a hit on you.’

‘People have tried that too,’ Reacher said. ‘And I’m still here, and they’re not.’

A mile later Sorenson called her tech team to let them know she had a new cell number. Her guys didn’t answer, so she had to leave a voice mail, which Reacher took to be a good sign, because it likely meant that right then they were hard at work, bent over a stainless steel mortuary table somewhere. He didn’t envy them their task. Like all cops he had attended autopsies. A rite of passage, and a character thing, and sometimes important to the chain of evidence. Decomposed floaters were the worst, but badly burned people were a close second. Like carving a London broil, but not exactly.

He stopped a couple of miles short of the crossroads. He didn’t want to be seen driving the dead sheriff’s car. Not by local people and especially not by Puller or any of the other deputies. He didn’t want controversy or radio chatter. Not at that point. At that point anonymity was his friend. He found a field entrance and backed up into the tractor ruts and left the motor running for the heat. He had about half a tank of gas. He stared straight ahead out the windshield at flat brown dirt that ran all the way to the horizon. Six months from then the car would have been hidden by green leaves, in the middle of thousands or tens of thousands of tons of produce, all made by plant DNA and rain and minerals from the earth.

Sorenson asked, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Right now?’

‘No, about Delfuenso’s autopsy.’

‘It’ll be a yes or no answer,’ he said. ‘Either one thing or the other.’

‘Care to expand on that?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I might embarrass myself.’

‘Are you easily embarrassed?’

‘I can feel a little foolish if I make grand pronouncements that turn out wrong.’

‘Does that happen often?’

‘More often than I would like. Do you have kids?’

Sorenson shook her head. ‘Never happened for me.’

‘Did you want it to?’

‘I’m not sure. You?’

‘No and no. Are you easily embarrassed?’

‘Not easily,’ Sorenson said. ‘Not professionally, anyway. Sometimes personally, I suppose. Like right now I wish I could shower and change. I’ve been wearing this shirt since I got up yesterday.’

Reacher said, ‘I wear mine three days minimum. And right now my nose is busted. So I can’t smell anything anyway.’

She smiled.

He said, ‘You could go shopping. You could shower at Delfuenso’s house. This county is ours.’

‘Showering at Delfuenso’s house would be creepy. A dead woman’s bathroom?’

‘We’re driving a dead man’s car.’

‘Where could I go shopping, anyway?’

‘There must be a store in town. You could get bib overalls.’

‘You don’t want to go to town. Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped here.’

‘We could go to Sin City. We know they have shirts there, at least. In the convenience store.’

‘Not very nice shirts.’

‘You’d look good in anything.’

‘I’ll choose to ignore that,’ she said. Then she said, ‘OK, let’s go to Sin City. I’ll do what you did. I’ll buy a shirt and you can get me an hour in a motel.’

‘Doesn’t work that way in the afternoon. The maids will have gone home. You’d have to pay for a whole night.’

‘No problem. It’s worth it to me.’

‘You’re very fastidious.’

‘Most people are.’

‘We could get lunch, too.’

But then Goodman’s phone rang again. The same urgent electronic squawk, loud and resonant through the speakers.

The area code was 816.

‘Kansas City,’ Reacher said.

‘Don’t answer it,’ Sorenson said.

The phone squawked on, six, seven, eight times, and then it stopped. The car went quiet again. Just the purr of the motor, and the whir of the heater.

Reacher said, ‘Your counterterrorism guys are from Kansas City, right?’

‘They’re not mine,’ Sorenson said.

‘Dawson and Mitchell, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who else would call Goodman from a Kansas City number?’

‘Could be anyone. Brother, sister, daughter, son. Old college roommate. Fishing buddy.’

‘During work hours?’

‘Why not?’

‘Did Goodman even go to college?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘I don’t think his chief deputy did.’

The phone trilled once. Voice mail. Sorenson leaned over and fiddled with the phone. Her hair touched Reacher’s arm. The car filled with a watery, distorted sound.

‘Cell phone,’ Sorenson said. ‘Weak signal. Probably indoors. Or in a moving vehicle.’

Then a voice broke through and said, ‘Sheriff Goodman, this is Agent Dawson with FBI counterterrorism out of Kansas City. We met last night. I need you to call me back as soon as possible. And until then I need to warn you about a man travelling with Agent Sorenson out of our Omaha office. He’s a dangerous fugitive and should be apprehended on sight. My partner and I are on our way to you. We’ll deal with the situation after we get there, but please take care until we do. We’ll be with you in about thirty minutes or less. We’ll check in at the department and hope to see you there.’

Then there was more watery distortion, and then there was silence.

Just the purr of the motor, and the whir of the heater.

Sorenson said, ‘Not our county after all.’