Page 76 of In Too Deep

Reacher figured there could be a different kind of response altogether, but he didn’t say anything.

—

There was atap on the door and right away Agent Devine burst into the room. She was breathing hard and her eyes were wide. She said, “Grab your gear. We leave in five minutes. And, Reacher, this is thanks to you. One of the aliases you gave me has panned out. Vidic has booked a plane ticket. He’s flying from Oklahoma City to St.Louis. Today. We will have someone watching to make sure he gets on the plane and we’ll be at the other end when he gets off.”

Reacher and Knight waited together in the hallway but when the Suburbans arrived outside the agents separated them. They insisted they ride in different vehicles. Reacher knew it was standard procedure to keep suspects separated but he was disappointed, all the same. He was allocated to the second Suburban in a line of four. He climbed all the way through to the backseat. He had to fold his legs almost to his chin and stretch out sideways in order to fit. Four other agents rode ahead of him. He saw Knight climb into the Suburban behind his. The convoy left a moment later. The drivers took it easy on the twisty local roads then cut a little looser once they made it to US63.

The trees on either side of the road began to give way to scrappy fields. The vehicles stuck together like they were joined by an invisible rope as they surged past. The drivers settled into a steady speed, and Reacher relaxed his body and closed his eyes. But he didn’t sleep. The agent in front of him had a laptop open on the next seat and she spent most of her time on the phone. Reacher got the impression that plenty of people must be focused on Vidic and his trip. Updatescame in regularly. Information was being gleaned from his email. His text messages. His credit card use.

The data set the agents were interested in went back two weeks. That was when contact was first established with someone using an email service based out of Switzerland. It was highly encrypted, one of the agents said. Almost impossible to hack.

Almost.

The correspondence was banal on its face. One party had something to sell. The other wanted to buy. A price was agreed. And that’s where things got interesting. Slang terms were used, which an agent translated as meaning$2,000,000.Terms were set. Cash was insisted on. The date and the time fell into place. St. Louis was agreed upon. The only thing missing was the precise location. There was nothing to indicate whether it was somewhere in the airport. In the city. Or just somewhere in the general vicinity.

The convoy swung northeast onto I-44. Reacher knew that was part of the original Route 66. And before he knew it the song was playing in his head. The frequency of the agents’ reports slowed down. Evidently all available hands were trying to nail down the place where the transaction was due to occur. There seemed to be no lack of effort. But no result, either.

After another half hour Reacher heard Agent Devine on the phone. He guessed she was talking to people in the other three SUVs. They agreed that if no firm information was received before they reached the city they would rendezvous in the parking lot of the World WarII museum and wait for updates from the team that would pick Vidic up at the airport.

Reacher said, “He’ll go somewhere outdoors. Somewhere with plenty of people. One of the parks or the area around the Arch.”

Devine said, “Or maybe he wants privacy. He’s about to commit a crime. He might not want a bunch of witnesses.”

“Witnesses are exactly what he wants. Last time out was a dry run with the property sharks. Bowery went to collect their payment. The buyers picked the venue. A diner. And it was a disaster. Bowery was kidnapped. Their merchandise was stolen. They didn’t get paid. They were naïve, but they’re not stupid. They won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

They were within sight of the museum when Devine’s phone rang. She put it on speaker. A man’s voice said, “Vidic has just left the airport. He’s in the ride share pickup area. He’s calling an Uber. We have eyes on his screen. 4145 Main Drive. That’s Tower Grove Park. Humboldt North Pavilion. We have roving teams deployed. One is rerouting to that specific area of the park as we speak. We’ll follow him all the way and company will be waiting for him when he gets there.”

The line went dead. Devine turned to the driver. She said, “Figure out the most likely route a cabdriver would take to the pavilion from the airport. Then take us to the opposite side of the park. Two streets back. When we get there, find somewhere to wait. We’ll see how this plays out from there. And hopefully we’ll be close enough to join if we’re needed.”

—

Devine called theagents in the other Suburbans. She outlined the plan and told them to each find a spot on a separate street. One black Suburban is suggestive enough. Parking four together would be like taking out an advertisement in thePost-Dispatch. The FBI is here.

Devine’s phone rang again. She hit the speaker key. It was a woman’s voice this time. She said, “Vidic is mobile. He’s in an Uber. A silver Prius. Still on I-70. We’ll watch him all the way to the park. He’ll likely arrive on the north side. ETA sixteen minutes. Out.”

The driver pulled over to the side of the road. Reacher figured they were two streets from the south side of the park. He was starting to get twitchy. Back in the day he would have been the one running an operation like this. He was itching to get out of the SUV. To get into the park. To be involved. But he knew there was no chance of that happening. The agents had only brought him along to keep him on ice until they were sure he wasn’t mixed up in the fallout from the theft of the report.

A quarter of an hour crawled by, then Devine’s phone rang. It was the woman’s voice again. She said, “Slight delay. Nothing to worry about. ETA now two minutes. Out.”

Devine’s phone rang again almost immediately. It was the man’s voice. He said, “The roving team in Tower Grove spotted a man, mid-twenties, wearing a hoodie, with the hood pulled up. He approached Humboldt South Pavilion. If you’re not familiar with the area, Main Drive cuts through the park. At the center it divides and runs around each side of an oval that is filled with trees. The pavilions are opposite one another on either side. They’re maybe thirty seconds apart on foot. There’s a large trash can just adjacent to the South Pavilion. The man deposited a black backpack and then strolled across and sat on a bench. He’s still there, looking at his phone. We have eyes on the trash can and on the individual. It looks like this is a live one. Out.”

The woman called and reported that Vidic’s Uber had reached the park. Vidic had exited and was heading for the North Pavilion.

The man called. “We have eyes on Vidic. He’s approaching the North Pavilion. Going inside. Glancing around. He…has not made us. Repeat, not. He’s sitting on a bench. He’s leaning down like he’s tying a shoelace. He’s taken something from his sock. A tiny envelope. He’s peeled the backing off an adhesive patch. He’s stuck the package onto the underside of the bench. He’s sat up straight. He’slooking at his phone. Maybe sending a message. He’s getting up. He’s walking around the oval. He’s heading for the South Pavilion. Is he? Yes. The man in the hoodie is on his feet. He’s moving. He’s heading the opposite way around the Oval. Heading for the North Pavilion. Going straight for the bench that Vidic just left. He’s sitting on it. He’s reaching underneath. We’re moving. We have him. We have the envelope. Vidic is sitting on a bench. He’s looking around. Hold on. I don’t like his body language. He’s getting squirrelly. Now he’s standing. He’s going for the trash can. He’s going to pull out the backpack. We’re— Wait. No. He didn’t stop. He’s still going. He’s abandoned the backpack. He’s running. He’s—” The call dropped out.

There was silence in the Suburban. The agents looked at one another. Reacher felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees.

Devine’s phone rang. A new woman’s voice said, “Confirming one male suspect in custody. One package secured. Contents: One USB computer memory stick.”

Devine said, “What about Vidic? Do you have him?”

The line went dead.

Five minutes crawled past. Six. Then the man called. He said, “We’re still looking, but as of now we do not have a visual on Vidic. We’ll keep you posted.”

Two more minutes crawled past. Then Devine turned to the driver and said, “Take us right up to the park. We’re not doing any good here. It’s time to get our hands dirty.”

---