Page 71 of In Too Deep

“Exactly. How could you know? But I do. I use Siri all the time. And I was so taken up with wanting to put the fear of God into Kane, to making sure he knew I could have killed him if I wanted to, I didn’t make the connection. His phone was right there by his side. It didn’t matter that his hands were tied behind his back. He could have called anyone he wanted.”

“The four guys we sent away, presumably. We must have missed them by minutes.”

Knight threw herself back on the bed. “So it’s even worse. I should have kept his phone when I sent that text. Or smashed it. But he was unconscious then. I didn’t think about him waking up and being able to talk. And I figured the Feds would want the phone when they showed up. Maybe there was something useful in it. And I had no idea we’d be coming back to the house.”

Reacher gave her a minute to clear her head, and then said, “What did you make of the hooker’s story? The woman from room2. I meant to ask you last night. But I got…distracted.”

Knight sat up again and said, “It was kind of strange, wasn’t it? Do you think Vidic could have been confused? He said he was watching the rooms from the diner. We don’t know what his eyesight is like. There could have been people in the way, milling around. Hecould have mixed up the door numbers. Rooms1 and 2 are next to each other.”

“Possible.”

“The woman said she was dressed smart. As smart as a typical agent, maybe, from a distance? She said she left the room a few minutes after Gibson. And if she drives an old detective special that could easily be confused for a Bureau car by a layperson.”

“I could buy Vidic being confused. Or paranoia playing a part. But here’s the thing. The Bureau confirmed that Gibson was an agent. Now they’ve ID’d his prints from his Lincoln, too. If Vidic actually saw him with a hooker, not a handler, and jumped to the right conclusion for the wrong reason, isn’t that a little coincidental?”

“Not necessarily.”

“No?”

“No. Here’s an example. Were you good at math at school?”

“I got by.”

“See, I was terrible. But I remember this one time, in sixth grade, we got a new math teacher. She came in early, her first morning. Wrote a problem on the board. Told us to try to solve it. It was super difficult. She was sure no one would be able to. It was supposed to be a motivational thing for the rest of the year. Work hard, and you’ll get it in the end. But the funny thing is, when I tried, I completely scrambled the method, but somehow got the answer right. It was a total fluke. A mistake. The teacher was so mad at me. Maybe Vidic did something like that?”

“Maybe. But I guess the clincher is whether there actually was a handler at the motel that day. We have some quality time coming up with the Bureau. Let’s see if our new friends will share.”

—

Reacher saw apair of vehicles approaching. Chevy Suburbans. Both black. They were close together, one in front of the other, and hints of shiny paint glinted through a thick coat of road dust. They ignored the open spaces in the parking lot and drove right up to the motel room door. Reacher stepped outside. Knight followed him. An agent jumped down from each of the SUVs. Hands were shaken. IDs were checked. Then the agent from the lead Suburban helped Knight into his backseat. He climbed in and pulled away. The second agent opened his back door. Reacher stayed where he was. He said, “Where are we going?”

The agent said, “I’m not at liberty to—”

“I am at liberty. Literally. And I’m going to stay that way unless you lighten up.”

The agent thought for a moment then said, “Fine. You’ll see for yourself soon, anyway. It’s a house. One of the crime scenes. Owned by some Russians and crammed full of smuggled goods. Everything’s been confiscated now and the building’s been commandeered. There’s nothing else suitable nearby.”

“Do you have a coffee pot there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t drink coffee.”

“Think. This is important. I can’t be sequestered somewhere with no available caffeine. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.”

“One of the agents brought something. Not a pot. One that works with pods.”

“As long as it makes coffee, it’ll do.”

Reacher walked around the Suburban and got into the passenger seat. The agent shrugged, climbed in himself, and headed for the exit. He hit the gas a lot harder than the agent who was driving Knight had done. Reacher thought it was maybe a good job that the guy had no caffeine in his system. He knew firsthand what happened to drivers who took the upcoming switchbacks too fast.

—

Fletcher’s Escalade wasgone when Reacher arrived at the house. So were Vidic’s Jeep and Paris’s Land Rover. Their places in the driveway had been taken by three more black Suburbans. Knight was standing by the front door. She was talking to a guy Reacher hadn’t seen before. He was tall and thin. He was wearing a plain black suit. His head was shaved and the morning sunlight was reflecting off it. He was wearing small, round wire glasses, which made him look studious. And he was gesticulating enthusiastically with his hands. Reacher pegged him as the local guy in charge. Probably looking to make a good impression with his people before the bigger hitters arrived from Quantico.

Reacher waited for the agent to come around and open his door. Then he climbed down and made his way toward Knight and the tall guy.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Dokonaly,” the guy said. He offered his hand. “Thanks for coming. We’ll take up as little of your time as possible.” He nodded toward the door. “Let’s get started.”

Inside, the house was fundamentally the same as it had been the day before, only all the crates and packages had been removed and it had already picked up the vibe of an office or an institution rather than a home. Dokonaly led the way to the dining room. A picnic table had been set up in the center. It had a plastic top and folding metal legs. Four collapsible chairs were arranged around it. They looked like they’d been bought from a camping store, Reacher thought. Maybe this was an example of the kind of out-of-the-box thinking that Wallwork aspired to.

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