Page 24 of In Too Deep

“Remember the thing with leaving the files or the computer or whatever and me not saying anything, but you finding out, anyway? Can we pretend we’re doing that?”

“Understood. Goodnight, Mary. Thanks.”

—

Reacher set thehandset back in its cradle and retrieved his clothes. He put them on but he didn’t go outside. There were no detectives looking for him. That he was sure about. He guessed that a couple of buddies of the guy he’d thrown in the pig slop had shown up. Maybe in response to the call he had told Mary to make. She must have given up his room number. But if these guys were friends of the motel, and needed it to run their business, they wouldn’t want to riskcausing damage. They would want to lure Reacher outside before starting whatever trouble they had in mind. And if they wanted trouble, Reacher had no problem with giving them some. But it was going to happen on his terms. On his timetable. And it could wait till morning. That would be best from a tactical standpoint. It would leave plenty of time for their adrenaline to drain away. They would be much less brave in a few hours’ time. Reacher was confident about that. But he slept with his clothes on, just in case. And he kept his left hand under his pillow with his fingers against the Glock’s grip.

—

The entrance tothe cave was twenty feet wide by ten feet tall. The opening was square and true, and Fletcher had installed a metal frame to carry the weight of the doors. The first fifteen feet of the excavation was also relatively neat and smooth, but beyond that the floor became ragged and the walls and ceiling began to slope and weave at crazy angles until they met to form a rough shelf another twenty feet back. Fletcher had rigged up a lighting system that ran off a series of car batteries. He’d set up shelves along the left-hand side, constructed a mesh cage in the center for securing the most portable valuables, as well as adding an old safe against the right wall. He’d also dragged in three old couches. They were arranged in a U shape between the cage and the safe, and when Fletcher led Paris and Vidic inside, they saw that Kane was already there, sprawling on the central one. He had a can of beer in his hand and when he caught Paris scowling at him he let out a huge belch.

Paris took a seat as far from Kane as she could get. Vidic sat next to her. Fletcher remained standing. He moved to the center of the U and said, “All right. Listen up. There’s no easy way to put this. We always knew this day could come. We hoped it wouldn’t, but hopedoesn’t keep you out of jail. It looks like the Feds have finally picked up on our scent.”

Paris said, “Because of this stranger showing up? How can you be sure that’s what it means?”

“I’m notsure. The people who wait around to be sure are the people who get locked up. But look at the facts. The stranger targeted Gibson. To do that he must have known Gibson’s routine. Which involves surveillance. Manpower. Resources. Then he set up an incident—the failed carjacking—so that he could gain Gibson’s trust. If it wasn’t for the accident, which Ivan witnessed, he could be sitting here with us now.”

“You can’t know that the stranger set the carjacking thing up. Sometimes a crime is just a crime.”

“He was making himself out to be a bum. A drifter. Who just happened to be carrying a Glock? That’s an expensive weapon. Where would he get the money for one? And look at how he escaped. He was cuffed to a table. Then—gone. Disappeared. Not a trace. Does that sound like the skill set of a random hobo?”

Paris shrugged. “I guess not. But the setup thing. The carjacking. I still don’t buy it. The simple explanation is usually the accurate explanation.” Like with the bruises on Fletcher’s head and throat, Paris thought. It was more likely the stranger kicked his ass than pulled off some magical escape.

Fletcher said, “What are you driving at?”

Paris said, “Maybe the stranger didn’t need to gain Gibson’s trust. Maybe he already had it. Maybe they didn’t run into each other at the motel by chance. Maybe Gibson went there to collect him. Maybe the car bozos were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Fletcher took a step closer to her. “That would mean…”

“…that Gibson was a Fed. Yes.”

Kane crushed his can and tossed it aside. He sat up straighter in his seat.

Fletcher took another step. “No. Gibson was my friend. I brought him in. Do I need to say any more?”

Paris looked away. She shook her head. She got the picture. If Gibson was a Fed, and Fletcher had brought him in, then the ultimate screwup lay at Fletcher’s door. And that was something he would never accept. Just like he’d never admit he’d gotten his ass kicked.

Fletcher said, “Good. Now this is an emergency. There’s no doubt about that. The only question is, level one or level two?”

The different levels of emergency had been laid down long ago. One was measured in minutes. It meant drop everything and run. Two was measured in hours. It meant tie up loose ends, grab what you can, and run.

Vidic shuffled nearer to the front of the couch cushion. He said, “Level two. For sure. The Feds needed to send a guy in undercover, which shows they were fishing. They didn’t have anything solid to justify an immediate bust. They still don’t. The stranger was unconscious when you brought him to the house, and groggy when he somehow got out. He certainly didn’t have time to search the place. And he didn’t come here.”

“Good points. So what do we do?”

“You have a van here, so clearly you’re ready to load up. Fold the tents. Which I agree with. But we should give ourselves twenty-four hours. Do the Russian job. Take what’s already arrived. Forget the final delivery. Split directly from there.”

“Paris?”

Paris said, “Works for me.”

“Kane?”

Kane grunted. “We can’t leave without doing the Russian thing. Idon’t care what is there and what isn’t. We need to teach them a lesson. That’s the priority.”

Fletcher nodded. “Good. We pack up here. We do the Russian job. But that’s not all.”

Paris said, “What else is left?”

---