Page 11 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

Morin pulled two unmarked one-hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the bar. He gathered the phone and slipped off the stool. The bartender was busy at the other end of the bar, but he acknowledged Morin’s cash. Morin waved over his shoulder on his way to the exit.

He stepped outside where the spring evening weather was pleasant but not warm enough. Another month and the concrete jungle would be hotter than Hades.

Morin turned his collar against the cool wind and walked the few blocks toward his favorite riverside park.

A few lovers walked arm in arm along the riverfront. Otherwise, the place was deserted.

Morin stood watching the stars for a few minutes, as if the tranquility was why he’d come here. From his position in the shadows, he took another look around. Then he raised his arm and tossed the phone as far out into the river as he could throw it.

The lightweight plastic arched and fell a satisfying fifty feet or so, plopping down into the deep water. He imagined it floating slowly to the bottom where the river would destroy the electronics and bury the cheap plastic in the muddy garbage already piled there.

Morin shoved his hands into his pockets and set off to walk the last few blocks to his apartment. He pressed the buzzer and waited for the midnight shift doorman to release the door. When the lock clicked open, Morin went inside and trudged to the elevator.

He wouldn’t get much sleep tonight and he’d be hung over in the morning. Which would be okay.

He was scheduled to attend another mind-numbing committee meeting at the UN early tomorrow. Keep up appearances, Brax had ordered. Morin had no choice. His was not to reason why and all that claptrap.

Still, committee meetings were nothing but a waste of time. Political theater. Designed to show that the US State Department was willing to play the game.

Nothing of consequence ever happened in those meetings or anywhere else at the UN for that matter. Morin planned to sleep through it.

Unless Fox needed assistance.

Morin didn’t expect that to happen. Not for a while, at least. Had the search for Liam Stuart been simple, Morin would have done it already.

Instead, he’d brought Fox into the situation, for good reason.

First things first.

Fox had to find the journalist, on the other side of the country. Which would lead Fox to the foolish scientist.

He had some breathing room before Brax returned. But not much.

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Chapter 5

Friday, June 3

Near Cleveland, OH

Finlay hadn’t turned up at Kim’s apartment after all. He’d sent Travis Russell, his Secret Service agent, instead. Which was much better. Russell didn’t make her nervous.

Russell was a member of Finlay’s protective detail. Kim had met him several times before and he was aware of her black ops Reacher assignment.

All of which made dealing with Russell easier. He asked few questions and offered little extraneous conversation. Kim appreciated the focus.

“Where are we taking him?” Kim asked when Russell entered the security of her apartment.

“Finlay suggested a private mortuary in Cleveland to preserve secrecy until we identify the body,” Russell replied, scanning the doorway and the body. “Unless you have another preference?”

“No. I’m good with that,” she said.

“Cleaners will be along shortly,” Russell said. “They’ll find their own way in and out. No evidence will survive. Don’t worry.”

Kim nodded. “Weekly maintenance service comes on Friday. Your team needs to be done before the regular crew arrives.”

“Roger that,” Russell replied. He pulled a phone from his pocket and sent a couple of texts. “Looks like he took two gunshots to the head. No exit wound for the forehead shot. Big exit wound for the temple shot. Did you find the bullet?”

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