Page 55 of The Secret

“We have a list of numbers he called from the hotel.” Reacher explained his theory about Neilsen causing panic at Langley and the need to figure out who he’d spoken to.

Walsh said, “Can I see the list? Numbers are kind of my thing. Even without dollar signs in front of them.”

Smith didn’t respond. Reacher nudged her arm. She said, “Sorry. What?”

Reacher said, “Show Walsh the numbers from the hotel.”

Smith passed him the page the receptionist had printed for her the night before when she flashed her badge.

Walsh studied the paper for a minute then said, “OK. One number crops up over and over. The one with four zeros at the end. That’ll be a switchboard number. Langley? And all these numbers where only the final four digits are different? Direct dial extensions. They’ll be Langley, too. Then there are a few with the same area code. Langley people’s home numbers, I would guess. And a few outliers. I don’t know about those. Friends, maybe? Except for this one. 1-800-266-9328. He called that a couple of times.” Walsh grinned and shook his head. “He was out of control.”

Smith said, “I don’t get it. What’s the significance?”

Walsh said, “I guess it will be advertised alphanumerically…”

Reacher did the transposition in his head. “1-800-BOOZE 2 U. A delivery service, presumably. Liquor stores across the Eastern Seaboard are going to mourn Neilsen’s passing. That’s for sure.”

Smith said, “What a world we live in. OK. We should focus on the Langley numbers. How do we prioritize? The switchboard number’s no good without knowing who he asked for.”

Walsh said, “Maybe if we knew if he also received calls from any of the numbers. That would suggest a back and forth interaction. Not just a brush-off or a message left on a machine. It won’t be possible for the hotel—calls to the room phones go through the switchboard—but here it should be.”

Smith picked the phone up again and made another call. She hung up and said, “They’re on it. It’ll take a while, though. Anything we can do in the meantime? We should build on the panic. Try and get them to send another hitman tonight. If you’re cool with that, Reacher.”

Reacher said, “The sooner, the better. Send him now.”

“There’s maybe something we can do.” Walsh sounded hesitant. “It’s a long shot, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Anyone know if Neilsen was the kind of guy who was uptight about deleting his messages?”

—

Roberta and VeronicaSanson decided not to steal a car this time. They knew they were going to be up to their armpits in law enforcement of all different flavors so they figured renting a vehicle would be a sound investment. They thought a Suburban would look the part. It would blend into the kind of environments they were anticipating operating in, but it took them a while to find a place that didn’t quibble when it came to doing the deal in cash.

Their outlay proved worthwhile inside ten minutes. That’s as long as it took to observe Susan Kasluga leaving the house she shared with her husband. She was sitting in the back of a black Town Car. It nosed out of their fortified gate and merged into the slow morning traffic. Kasluga was reading that morning’sWall Street Journal.A chauffeur was driving and there were two other people on board. Men in cheap suits with earpieces and curly wires disappearing beneath their collars. Bodyguards. From a private agency, by the look of them. Perfect, from the sisters’ point of view.

Roberta eased away from the curb. She was four cars behind Kasluga. She varied the interval as the traffic sped up and slowed down. Sometimes she was three cars behind. Sometimes five. A couple of times when they were on longer sections with no turnoffs she briefly pulled ahead then let the Town Car retake the lead before it reached a point where it had a choice of directions. She kept up the same rhythm for twenty minutes, then the Town Car pulled off to the right onto the top of a ramp that led down to a garage beneath an office building. It was twenty stories high, mirrored blue glass over a steel frame, rectangular sections, relentlessly symmetrical. The headquarters of AmeriChem Incorporated. The company Kasluga founded when she returned from India.

Roberta continued straight, then took two lefts in quick succession. No one was following them. She didn’t expect there to havebeen, but it pays to take precautions. The street they were on was quiet so she pulled over and turned to Veronica. She said, “What do you think?”

Veronica said, “In an ideal world we would watch her for a week, minimum. But they know there are two of us now. And there are no scientists left. They could start piecing things together. So good now is better than perfect later. Let’s check her schedule. If she’s in the office tomorrow, and we can pick up what we need this afternoon, I say we do it in the morning.”

Roberta shifted back into Drive. She said, “Agreed.”

—

Neilsen’s office waslocked. Smith took a slim leather wallet from her purse and selected two slender, metal picks. She inserted the flatter one into the keyhole and held it down low. She slid the pointier one in above it, raked it back and forth, and thirty seconds later the door swung open. Walsh went in first. Reacher followed and the feeling of trespass he always experienced when he entered a dead person’s room soon descended on him. Smith closed the door behind them. Walsh crossed to Neilsen’s desk and hit a button on his answering machine. A smoked plastic lid popped open. There was nothing under it. He turned to the fax machine. Its output tray was empty.

Walsh said, “Well, looks like the Agency cleaned house already. Damn. Although there’s one other thing…”

Walsh tapped a few digits on the fax machine’s keypad. The mechanism began to whirr and a few seconds later a sheet of paper cranked out. Walsh held it out for the others to see. There were columns with dates and numbers and times and durations. He said, “It’s the transmission log. Shows us all the faxes Neilsen sent and received.” Then he turned to Smith. “Can I grab that call list againfor a second?” He checked a detail and nodded his head. “Yes. Look. The same number shows up on both.”

“Does that help us?” Reacher said. “Murderers don’t generally fax their plans ahead of time.”

Walsh said, “I don’t think he sent a fax. Look. Duration: one second. Pages received: zero.”

“So what did he do?”

“In the office they gave me the phone and the fax numbers are one digit apart. Yours?”

Smith said, “Same.”

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