by Lee Child
Reacher yanked open the door and surveyed the inside of the café. The barista was taking her time serving a couple of men in suits. Four more people were waiting in line. Two men. Two women. A pair of teenagers were in the sole booth at the back, pressed together, whispering. Three of the other tables were occupied. One by a man with grey hair, wrinkled and stooped over his cup. One by a woman in her twenties, tapping away at the keys of a slim silver computer. The other by a guy with long straight hair, staring at the wall and moving his hands like he was playing an imaginary set of drums.
No sign of Rutherford.
Reacher took a step into the room. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
Silence descended and everyone turned to look at him. Everyone apart from the drummer.
‘I’m looking for Rusty Rutherford,’ Reacher said. ‘Everyone know who that is?’
Heads nodded. Voices muttered and mumbled, all in the affirmative.
‘Has he been in today? Or has anyone seen him anywhere else?’
Heads shook. Voices muttered and mumbled, all in the negative.
‘Anyone know where he lives?’
Heads shook.
‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘If you do see Rutherford, I need you to give him a message. Tell him Jack Reacher says to go home. Or to the police station. Whichever is closer. Without delay. And wait for me to make contact. Can you do that?’
Heads nodded. But not with much enthusiasm.
Reacher drove three blocks and dumped Marty’s car outside the diner. Inside, only one booth was occupied. It was beneath a picture of a pink Cadillac. A retired couple, old enough to have owned the real thing, were sitting side by side. They were having a relaxed breakfast. Steak and eggs for him. A short stack with some kind of fruit topping for her. And coffee for both of them. Plenty of it. The waitress had left the whole pot.
There was no one at the centre tables. No one using the pay phone on the wall at the rear of the room. No one visible in the kitchen.
No sign of Rutherford.
Reacher took a step closer to the old couple’s booth.
‘Sorry to interrupt your morning, folks,’ he said. ‘Do either of you know Rusty Rutherford?’
‘We know him,’ the man said, after a moment.
The woman jabbed her elbow into her husband’s ribs.
‘Well, we know who he is,’ the man added. ‘It’s not like he’s a friend or anything. Can’t say we’ve ever even exchanged words, thinking about it.’
‘He’s an idiot, is what he is,’ the woman said. ‘Why are you asking about him?’
‘I need to find him,’ Reacher said.
‘To kick his ass?’
‘That’s not top of my list, no.’
‘It should be.’ The woman dropped her fork on to her plate. ‘You should definitely kick his ass. Kick it good. He deserves it. He’s an imbecile.’
‘Maybe he deserves it,’ Reacher said. ‘Maybe he doesn’t. Either way I need to find him. And fast. If you see him, will you give him a message from me?’
The man eventually nodded so Reacher told him what he wanted passed on to Rutherford, then turned when he caught movement from the corner of the room. It was a waitress emerging from the kitchen. The first one he’d met the night before.
‘You’re not here to cause trouble again, are you?’ she said.
‘Again?’ Reacher said. ‘I didn’t cause trouble before.’
The waitress gave him a hard stare, then collected the coffee pot from the old couple’s table. ‘All right, then. Table for one? Sit where you like. I’ll get you a mug.’
‘I’m not staying,’ Reacher said. ‘I’m looking for Rutherford. The guy I was with last night.’
‘I know who Rutherford is. Everyone in town does.’
‘Has he been in today?’
‘No. Haven’t seen him. He never comes in the morning. He’s strictly a dinner guy.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘Not exactly. Somewhere in town, I guess. Not too far away because he always walks. Never seen him get out of a car.’
‘Thanks,’ Reacher said, and started towards the back of the room.
‘Where are you going?’ the waitress said.
‘To the pay phone.’
‘It’s not hooked up. Who do you want to call?’
‘No one. I want to check the directory. See if Rutherford’s address is listed.’
‘There’s no directory, either. That thing’s just a prop. The decorator put it there. Said it added authenticity.’
‘Really?’ Reacher said. ‘OK, then. Guess I’ll try something else.’ He nodded and turned for the door.
‘Why not look it up on your phone?’ the waitress said. ‘Who uses paper directories these days, anyway?’
Reacher paused. He used them. The same way he’d used military radio and the regular phone network and the United States Postal Service. Things he understood. He’d sent and received telexes and faxes back in the day, too. But he’d never involved himself with cell phones. Not to any major extent. He’d never needed to. Not even when all they did was make and receive calls.
‘Could you do that for me?’ Reacher pulled out his bundle of cash. ‘Look Rutherford’s address up on your phone? How much does that sort of thing cost?’
The waitress waved the money away and pulled her phone out of her apron pocket. ‘I have unlimited data. I’m grandfathered in to my ex-husband’s contract, through his work. Don’t knock it. It’s the only good thing to come out of our marriage.’ She prodded at the front of the phone for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘Sorry. No record. Although that’s probably a good thing if you think about it, given how unpopular he is right now.’
Reacher squeezed back into Marty’s car, fired it up, and pulled a tight U-turn. He blasted through the intersection. Narrowly missed an ancient Chevy pickup. Took the next two lefts. Parked in a hatched-off area at the end of the courthouse lot. And hurried around to the main entrance.
Officer Rule was on desk duty when Reacher approached the reception area in the basement. He used the public stairs, which she didn’t object to. And she didn’t seem surprised to see him, which made Reacher happy.
‘What can I help you with, Mr Reacher?’
‘I need some information.’
‘Regarding?’
‘Rusty Rutherford. Have any reports been made about him? Since last night? About him going missing, or being dragged into any other vehicles?’
‘Mr Reacher, behave yourself. I heard you were an MP. Which means you know that even if we had received any reports …’ Officer Rule paused for a moment, ‘I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about them.’
‘Thank you. How about his address, then? Do you know where he lives?’
‘I do. But you know I can’t share that kind of information.’
‘Please. This is important. I’m worried about him.’
‘Why are you worried?’
‘He’s disappeared. I need to find him.’
‘I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about. If Rutherford’s not around he probably just left town. He was probably scared after yesterday. He’s not exactly the physical type, and almost getting into two fights in one day was probably too much. I bet he went to visit relatives somewhere. That would be the smart move for him to make.’
‘I tried to convince him to leave town. He refused. He was adamant about staying.’
‘In that case he’s probably just holed up again. He went home after he got fired and didn’t come out for a week.’
‘That’s why I need his address. To check he’s OK.’
‘Why wouldn’t he be? Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘The guy I spoke to this morning before getting a ride with Detective Goodyear’s friend. Is he still around?’
‘No. He left right after you did. Why?’
‘Did he leave any instructions about watching out for Rutherford?’
‘Not that I know of. Sh
ould he have?’
‘I need that address.’ Reacher paused. ‘What if I’d received an anonymous tip?’
‘Specifically threatening violence? Against Rutherford?’
‘Not specifically. Call it an old investigator’s hunch.’
‘I’d need more than that. And I’d have to go myself. Make it official. Would he want that, given all the unwelcome attention he’s been getting?’
‘At least point me in the right direction. You know I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m the one who saved his ass yesterday.’
‘You seemed to. That’s true. But maybe two groups are after Rutherford and you were just keeping your rivals at bay until reinforcements arrive.’
‘Say I did want to snatch a guy like Rutherford. Do I look like I’d need reinforcements?’
‘Well, no. But you could be following orders.’
‘I used to follow orders. Most of the time. Do I look like someone who does now?’
Officer Rule didn’t reply.
‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘I get it. Don’t give me Rutherford’s address. Just tell me this. If I was an old friend wanting to pay him a surprise visit, what kind of place should I look for? A cottage in the countryside? A converted loft in the centre of town? A single family home near the place where he worked?’
‘You’re not credible. Rusty Rutherford’s hardly the kind of guy who has truckloads of friends showing up unannounced.’
‘Even so. Humour me.’
Officer Rule was silent for a moment. ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why are you going to all this trouble? Why do you care so much about Rusty Rutherford? No one else does. What’s he to you?’
Reacher shrugged. ‘It seems like he was trying his best to do the right thing and got screwed by the people above him. Something similar happened to me once. It doesn’t feel good. And now he’s got a bunch of assholes on his tail for some reason he doesn’t understand and you people are in no hurry to help him. Someone’s got to.’
‘And that someone’s you?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Why is that?’
Reacher shrugged again. ‘I’m the one who’s here.’
‘All right. Listen. I can’t speak in any kind of official capacity, but personally I would peg Rutherford as the kind of guy who lives in an apartment. And if an old friend happened to eat at the diner you went to yesterday and looked directly across the street, he wouldn’t be completely in the wrong part of town.’
NINE
Reacher knew that cell phones could display maps. He’d seen it done. The level of detail was fine for basic navigation, he figured. He’d heard you could factor in real-time traffic information and weather updates, which could be useful if you were driving somewhere. Or hiking. He knew you could call up satellite images, too, if you wanted to see roofs or the tops of trees. But give him the choice and Reacher would always prefer a paper map. The kind he’d trained with at West Point. Large enough and granular enough to reveal the underlying terrain. A critical factor for a soldier. The difference between victory and annihilation. Or between setting a trap and walking into one.
A critical factor for a soldier. Sometimes just as important for a civilian.
Reacher could picture it so clearly. The diner. The apartment building. The coffee shop. A tight triangle. Rutherford’s entire area of operations, aside from his brief excursion to the police station. He’d made it so easy for the people who wanted to take him. If Rutherford strayed outside again, Reacher couldn’t imagine any way he wouldn’t be spotted immediately. And there’d be no one to save him this time.
If Rutherford was holed up in his apartment, he might be OK. For a while, at least. Snatching someone off the street is one thing. By its nature a fluid process. Quick. Easy to disguise. Easy to abort if it goes wrong. Extracting someone from inside a building is a different ball game. Particularly if you want to do it covertly. You can’t just smash down the door to someone’s apartment. Too noisy. Someone would hear. A neighbour, or someone working in the building. So some kind of ruse is required. That involves additional planning. Greater resources. Maybe props and costumes. And even if you gain entry, there’s still the problem of getting the target to the street.
If Rutherford was holed up in his apartment.
Reacher thanked Officer Rule then took the stairs from the courthouse basement three at a time and almost knocked over a guy who was hurrying in through the doors. He was slightly built, wearing chinos and a polo shirt. With a logo. To show he meant business.
Rusty Rutherford himself. Not holed up. Not kidnapped. Not yet.
Reacher grabbed Rutherford by the shoulders, spun him around, and bundled him back outside.
‘Let go!’ Rutherford tried to squirm free. ‘What the … what are you doing, Reacher?’
‘It would be better to stay away from the police for a while.’ Reacher released him. ‘I just told them you’re in trouble again. Maybe missing. They might have questions.’
‘I almost was in trouble.’ Rutherford straightened his shirt.
‘What happened?’
‘I came downstairs in my building this morning. Heading for the coffee shop. I got as far as the door but one of my neighbours was on his way in. He’s an older gentleman so I hung back to let him get past and I saw a face I recognized. Across the street. The woman who was driving the car those assholes tried to push me into yesterday.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I freaked out. I totally panicked. I ran to the doorman and screamed at him to get me a cab to the airport. Then I went upstairs to grab some things but I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t decide what to pack. I knew I had my wallet with my ID and my credit cards so I figured I’d just get away – to anywhere – and buy whatever I needed when I got there. So I went back down and jumped into the cab when it finally came. It took an eternity. Or it felt like it, anyway.’
‘So why are you here now?’
‘I got halfway to Nashville and then I thought, what am I doing? I don’t know how to be on the run. I don’t want to be on the run. I want to stay here. Clear my name. And then I thought about you.’
‘What about me?’
‘You were in jail. For saving my ass. A second time. I couldn’t leave you behind bars so I figured bailing you out was the least I could do.’
‘I appreciate the sentiment, Rusty, but the fight outside the diner wasn’t about you.’
‘Yes it was. Those guys were there to grab me. Holly – the waitress – was sure about that. Which is why she helped me out through the back door into the alley.’
Reacher shook his head. ‘Those idiots were there for me. They thought I was working for the insurance guy who’s negotiating to get the town’s computers back up and running. Holly set it up. Remember the questions she was asking? About who I arrived in town with?’
‘I don’t understand. They think they can make insurance negotiators work faster by roughing them up?’
‘They didn’t want me to work faster,’ Reacher said. ‘They wanted me to back off.’
‘That makes even less sense. Everyone in town wants to get back to normal as fast as possible.’
‘Someone doesn’t. And whatever the reason I think it’s separate from the hot water you’re in. I think we should find out for sure. And I think we should start by getting something to eat.’
‘How will that help?’
‘Always eat when you can. Then you won’t have to when you can’t. And it’s an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. If Holly’s there, anyway. It’s time for her to spill some beans.’
Reacher led the way around the side of the courthouse, and when they reached the parking lot he tossed Marty’s keys to Rutherford. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘You drive.’
Rutherford stopped dead. ‘Wait. Whose car is this? Did you steal it?’
‘It belongs to a guy I met this morning. He loaned it to me. He won’t be needing it for a while.’
‘I don’t kno
w.’ Rutherford stayed still. ‘I have my own car. Why don’t we use it?’
‘This one’s here. Yours isn’t.’
Rutherford touched the handle cautiously like he thought it might electrocute him, then opened the driver’s door and climbed inside. ‘I thought we were going to the diner?’ He scrabbled for the button to move the seat forward. ‘It’s not far. We could walk.’
Reacher shook his head. ‘We can’t leave the car here. We might need it later. And we’re not going directly to the diner. I want you to drive around a little first.’
‘Drive around where?’
‘Anywhere. Show me your old school. Your first girlfriend’s house.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m hoping someone will follow us.’
Rutherford turned right out of the lot and for a few minutes his driving was awkward and jerky, like a nervous teenager trying out for his permit before he was ready. He spent more time looking in the mirror than through the windshield. Twice he clipped the kerb. But after a while he settled and found his way past the house where he’d been born. Then he drove past his grade school. Then the house where an Irish girl named Siobhan had lived, who as a six-year-old he’d hoped to marry until she dumped him for refusing to give up his dream of becoming a race-car driver. Next was the house his family had moved to when he was ten. His high school. And so he continued, threading his way from one neighbourhood to another, some tidy and prosperous, some shabby and depressed, each with some kind of tie to his past. It was like travelling through a bricks and mortar encyclopedia of his life. Each new landmark seemed to relax or rejuvenate him. Each one made Reacher feel more claustrophobic. The idea of spending an entire life in one place made real and solid before his eyes.
