Page 74 of The Secret

Kasluga shifted her focus to Reacher. “You too.”

Reacher raised his hands to shoulder height but he kept hold of his gun. It was side on to Kasluga with its muzzle pointing harmlessly at the sky. He said, “I didn’t see those women do anything to your husband. He was already dead when I got there.”

“Because they shot him. The younger one did.”

“Did she?”

Kasluga pulled back farther. “I said, drop the gun.”

Reacher moved the hand holding his gun a little to the side and a little lower, but he didn’t let go. “I found the two agents, dead. Then I heard three shots. They were close together. In time, and origin.”

Smith started to struggle. She tried to twist her head away from the nail but she couldn’t wriggle free. The nail just bit deeper into her skin.

Kasluga said, “Veronica had already shot the agents. Charles fired twice. He hit Roberta and killed her. He hit Veronica and knocked her down but she survived because of her vest. She shot back at the same moment and killed Charles.”

Reacher shook his head. “I heard three shots, then a gun hitting the ground. You shot all three of them. Your husband, then the women. Then you tossed your gun at your husband’s feet. But you made a mistake. You didn’t kill Veronica. And that almost cost you your life.”

“Check the police report. See how many shells were missing from each gun.”

“I did. Two from your gun. One from Roberta’s. Three from Veronica’s.”

“Two from Charles’s gun. Which proves what I said.”

“From the gun found by Charles’s body. Which proves you’re good. For an improvised plan it was adequate in several respects. You asked for time alone with your husband. And you used it to switch one bullet from Veronica’s gun into your own. You even noticed it was a different brand. You use Browning. She used Federal. So you unloaded your gun and reloaded it so that her bullet was at the bottom of the magazine.”

“I did nothing while I was alone with Charles. With his body. I was too upset.”

Smith started to scuffle her feet, trying to pull away. Kasluga elbowed her in the ribs and she stopped moving.

Reacher said, “You switched one bullet. You moved the spent cartridges. The police report noted they were in an odd position. And you wrote your husband’s name on Roberta Sanson’s list.”

“I did not. Now drop the gun. I won’t tell you again.”

Reacher moved the gun a little lower. A little farther forward. “Remember those words you wrote for me?Clears marathons? That’s an anagram ofCharles Stamoran.Same letters, different order. And guess what? The handwriting is a perfect match.”

“Drop the damn—”

“The bigger question is why did you write his name at all? Why not leave the list at seven names? Why make him the eighth?”

“He was the eighth. I didn’t make him anything.”

“Right. He was some kind of a supervisor, 7,500 miles away. He made no difference to the project, day to day. Unlike the ninth person, who was there, on the ground, getting their hands dirty. Cleaning up after the leak. Paying off the relatives and the witnesses.”

“There was no ninth person.”

“There was. It was you.”

Reacher saw Kasluga’s knuckles turn white around the nail. He saw her eyes narrow. The tendons in her neck tense up. So he brought his gun the rest of the way around to the front. He was an expert marksman, with a pistol or a rifle. At that moment the range was negligible. There was no wind. No glare. His target wasn’t moving. He wasn’t out of breath. There were multiple spots he could have picked with minimal risk to Smith. Kasluga’s head. Her shoulder. Either knee. Either shin. Either foot. Reacher pulled the trigger. He hit Kasluga dead in the center of her right instep. She screamed, dropped the nail, and fell hard to the side.

Smith stepped back and clamped her hand over her neck.

Kasluga howled and curled up and clenched her teeth. She managed a strangled, “Help me.”

Reacher said, “Help you? The way you agreed to help those kids after you killed their parents? To help those bereaved families in India?”

“I was wrong.” She was gasping, barely able to breathe through the pain. “Please. I’m begging you.”

“I want information. Two questions.”

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