Page 8 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

More importantly, what was his mission? And why did his mission get him killed?

Lastly, for now, what did any of this have to do with Kim?

She tapped her front teeth with her knuckle as she thought about these questions and a slew of others. She sipped her coffee, which had gone cold, making her notice the time.

Her window of opportunity was closing. This guy, whoever he was, had to go.

She flipped on the sophisticated anti-surveillance devices she’d installed to block surveillance inside her home, drew a deep breath for courage, and made the call.

Kim dialed a number she rarely called to reach the second most powerful man she knew.

Special Assistant to the President, Lamont Finlay, PhD, answered Kim’s call on the second ring.

“It’s very early in the morning, Agent Otto,” he said in his deep, rich baritone, over the background noises she couldn’t immediately identify.

The kind of voice that belonged on late night radio, she had often mused.

He didn’t sound like a man who had been jolted by the phone’s ring.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, assuming she had not, even as she was fully aware of the hour.

“We’re just landing in Detroit,” he replied. “I have a few minutes while we taxi to the gate. What do you need?”

Cell phone calls were electronically jammed while commercial planes were in the air. So he wasn’t arriving on a commercial flight.

Which meant he’d be landing at one of the private executive airports nearby.

She’d met with Finlay in a northern suburb of Detroit a few weeks ago, but normally he worked out of DC or New York.

So why was he here in her city this time? And did his visit have anything to do with the dead Mr. X?

Kim ignored the questions her nerves kept piling on. Plenty of time for all of that later. For now, she said directly, “I need an extraction.”

“For yourself?” Finlay asked without hesitation.

Which she took to mean he’d forego the embarrassing matters for now. Including the one likely to be top of mind for Finlay. Why didn’t she call Cooper?

“No. Mr. X.,” she said.

“Does he need medical attention?”

“No,” she replied.

Finlay paused slightly. “Where is he now?”

He didn’t ask for the man’s name or any identifying characteristics.

“Inside my apartment.”

She’d hoped to startle him. He gave no indication that she’d succeeded.

But the pause before his response was half a beat longer this time. She imagined he was thinking about logistics.

Finlay was familiar with the city and her building’s layout. Removing Mr. X without drawing unwanted attention would be a challenge.

Her building opened onto a busy pedestrian sidewalk, even at this late hour. Traffic along the boulevard out front would be reduced, but still significant enough to pose risks. More risks than any of them wanted to take.

Which meant that Mr. X couldn’t be carried or rolled out on a gurney.

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