Page 71 of The Secret

Reacher said, “The first thing is new, actually. My CO is a bit of an innovator. He’s started a study to see if graphology could be applied to our work in any way. The study of handwriting.”

“OK?”

“He’s looking for samples for his expert to analyze. It’s totally anonymous and unofficial, but if I could take him a real-life example it would earn me a load of kudos.”

“You want me to write something down?”

Reacher took a notebook and a pen out of a briefcase he’d borrowed and passed them to her. “If you wouldn’t mind. A couple of words.Clears marathons. Sounds weird, but apparently it’s important for every sample to say the same thing and that’s what our guy came up with.”

Kasluga scribbled on the first page. “Done.”

“Thank you. And while you’ve got the pen, could you give me your phone number? Not your office. I have that one. A home number. In case I have any follow-up. When I have paperwork backed up I tend to work late.”

“No problem.” She added a string of digits to the second page and handed back the pad.

Reacher hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry if this is an insensitive time to ask, but how much did your husband tell you about his involvement in Project 192?”

“It’s OK.” Kasluga took a moment to bring her emotions undercontrol. “He didn’t tell me much. Just that he suspected someone was killing the scientists from the sixties in order to force one of them to give up the identity of the eighth man on their team, and that he was the eighth man. He didn’t want to breach state secrets or anything, but he was worried the killers would come after me to get to him. Which is exactly what did happen, of course.”

“What did he tell you about Project Typhon?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what that is.”

“OK, well I think that pretty much wraps everything up.” Reacher started to heave himself out of the chair, then sank back down. “Actually, let me ask you one more thing. I’m curious. I came across an early draft of a press article about your role following that accident in ’69. Made you sound a lot more heroic than the one that got published. Heroic is closer to the truth, right? From what I’ve seen I can’t picture you as a passive, talking-head type of person.”

Kasluga looked down and smiled. She said, “I didn’t realize that original version is still making the rounds. But you’re right. It was pretty much spot-on. When the gas leaked, and what a nightmare that was, by the way, there were no senior managers to be found. They all buried their heads in the sand. Someone had to take action, so I did. I organized the work to neutralize the gas that had leaked. And to treat people who had been exposed. Then to clean any contaminated water and repair the damage to the soil.”

“And when you’d done all the heavy lifting the bosses resurfaced, took the credit for themselves, and downplayed your role.”

“I was seriously pissed at the time. I won’t lie. It’s one of the reasons I quit that job and founded AmeriChem. But you know what they say. The best revenge is massive success. And look at me now.”

“They also say that pride goes before a fall.”

Kasluga tipped her head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

“The gas that leaked in ’69 was a product of Project Typhon. So you did know about it.”

“It wasn’t. It was a new kind of disinfectant from the Mason Chemical plant, where I worked. And look, seven people died which makes it—”

“One thousand and seven.” Reacher took a photograph out of his briefcase and laid it on the table. Flemming had given it to him the previous afternoon. It was the wide shot of the bodies strewn out across the desolate field. “You knew which chemicals to use to neutralize the gas. So you knew what kind of gas it was. That’s the truth.”

Kasluga didn’t reply.

Reacher said, “In fact, it’s only part of the truth. You didn’t just know about the Typhon gas. You stole the formula. And when you set up AmeriChem, it became the basis for your first blockbuster product. In a watered-down form. Your big-deal disinfectant. I bet it’s one of the ones you have hanging on the wall.”

Reacher saw Kasluga glance at the left-hand canvas.

She said, “That’s a lie. I devised the formulas for AmeriChem’s first five products myself, on my own, and only after I had established the company.”

Reacher set a second photograph on the table. Another from the leak in ’69. A close-up of a victim’s face. He set a third photo next to it. Also a close-up of a face. With skin stained with the exact same kind of weird purple blotches. Walsh had dug it up when he threw a searchlight on Kasluga’s professional life. It was in the envelope he had left at Reacher’s hotel.

Reacher said, “That picture was evidence when you were sued after AmeriChem had a gas leak.”

Kasluga glanced at the canvas again but didn’t say a word.

Reacher said, “Same symptoms. Same gas. No question.”

Kasluga picked up the first picture from ’69. “Where did you get this?”

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