The Jack Reacher Cases (The Man Who Works Alone)

by Dan Ames

  “So, software?” Pauling asked.

  “More than that, although software is certainly a key component of their portfolio. They have expanded into all things related to our electronic lives, in every sense of the term. Software, hardware, mobile, social and now the very exciting field of artificial intelligence. So much of what they do is classified, you can certainly understand their need for privacy.”

  “When you say classified I assume you mean they are also working with various governments?”

  Torcher nodded his oversized cranium. “They are.”

  “Where are they headquartered?” Pauling asked.

  “Munich.”

  Furlong smiled. “The Germans are second only to the Swiss for their love of privacy.”

  Pauling wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  “Do they have a CEO?”

  “Yes,” Torcher said. “Her name is Becher. Goda Becher.”

  For the first time, Pauling second-guessed her instincts on Zeta. Now she had a name and a location.

  “Also, Zeta is part of a fairly significant meeting among a large group of vendors, employees and other important industry leaders next week in Los Angeles,” Torcher said. “We would be delighted if you would attend. Then you would probably learn more about Zeta than you ever wanted to.”

  Even better, Pauling thought. There was no way they would invite her if Torcher and Zeta had something to hide.

  Furlong must have sensed her change in attitude.

  “Now, do you have any more questions for Henry? He’s got a lot on his plate right now, as you can imagine.”

  “No, I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

  She smiled at Torcher and they all stood. He held out his hand and she shook it. His grip was ferociously strong and he gave it an extra squeeze.

  Pauling felt a twinge of pain and just as suddenly, he let go.

  “I will have all of Zeta’s paperwork immediately couriered to your home,” Torcher said. There was a curious light in his eyes and Pauling disliked the idea he knew where she lived.

  “Perfect,” Pauling said.

  Even to her own ears, she didn’t sound very convincing.

  Chapter 8

  Two for two.

  Two times he’d gone to Rooster’s for a beer and twice he’d wound up in the parking lot providing locals lessons on etiquette.

  Well, there wouldn’t be a third time, Tallon thought. As much as he occasionally enjoyed slipping into town for a beer, it just wasn’t worth it. Because he liked Kate, the owner. She seemed like a straight shooter.

  He was on his way back home, pleased there wasn’t a cop in pursuit. He knew Kate wouldn’t call the police on him and the two thugs he’d knocked around probably wouldn’t either.

  That was good. He didn’t have anything against cops, heck, often times his jobs in various parts of the world could almost be deemed law enforcement. No, he just simply wished to lead a quiet life, which is why he’d chosen Independence Springs in the first place. He had enough action and violence in his day job, he didn’t need that at home, too.

  Now, he pressed his cell phone to his ear and played back Paco’s voicemail message.

  Except, it really wasn’t much of a message.

  Tallon heard the sound of breathing. Paco coughed a couple of times. Maybe there was a whisper and then that was it.

  Tallon frowned.

  That was very unlike Paco. The Paco he knew was sharp, direct and no-nonsense. He was also one of the best operatives he’d ever worked with.

  The hell with this, Tallon thought. He tapped the callback button and put the phone back to his ear.

  His call went straight to Paco’s voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s me. Call me back.”

  Tallon disconnected from the call and turned the volume on his phone all the way up.

  He played back the voicemail message.

  And then he played it again.

  The last time, he heard a little bit differently. Tallon pressed the SUV’s accelerator to the floor and raced back to his casita. He drove into the garage, parked, and went inside. He shut the door to his office and hooked his phone to his office’s sound system and then put it full volume. There were six high-definition speakers placed strategically around the room as well as a powerful subwoofer.

  He listened again.

  This time, the sound quality was much better and the detail was much clearer.

  “Shit.”

  Just like that, Tallon knew Paco was dead.

  Because those two coughs hadn’t come from his friend.

  They’d come from a handgun fitted with a silencer.

  They no doubt were the shots that killed Paco.

  Held by the killer who was the reason Paco had called.

  Tallon unplugged his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found a friend who could trace a cell phone call.

  Tallon was going to find out where Paco was when he made that call.

  And then he was going to go there.

  And if Paco was dead, Tallon was going to find out who killed him.

  And return the favor.

  Chapter 9

  Pauling checked her watch.

  Tallon was three hours behind her, so she decided to wait and call him closer to his dinner time.

  After her meeting with Furlong and Torcher, Pauling had gone to her gym and worked out. Even though she wasn’t operating in the field anymore, that didn’t necessarily mean she never would again. Staying in good physical condition was essential. Especially at her age. She was older than most of the women at the gym, but she prided herself on being among the best in terms of fitness.

  She’d made it in time to do her forty-five minute cycling class and then after that she’d done a circuit on the weight machines. Free weights were better for her, but sometimes she liked the prearranged structure of the machines. The cycling session had kicked her ass anyway, so a hardcore strength session wasn’t the goal.

  With her workout complete, she left the gym and picked up where her thoughts had left off. Namely, what exactly was the next chapter in her life going to be?

  Since she’d sold her company, more and more she’d been thinking about exactly what she wanted in her life and perhaps just as importantly, what she didn’t.

  Not long after the sale went through, her sister had been abducted. Luckily, she and Tallon, along with the help of a private investigator in Florida, had been able to find her and return her to her family.

  Now that she thought about it, Pauling contemplated if she went to Los Angeles, maybe she would catch a flight up to Portland afterward and check on her sister. Readjusting to something like what her sister had been put through could take time and be extremely difficult. Pauling wanted to be there for her sister to help with the transition back to a normal life. Well, as normal as it could be. Her sister, her family, would probably never be the same.

  Now, Pauling returned to her co-op on Barrow Street, keyed in the code to her loft and stepped inside. Not long ago she’d had a state-of-the-art security system installed after someone had broken in and planted listening devices in her home.

  That wouldn’t happen again.

  Pauling set her purse on the kitchen table, opened the fridge and dug out a bottle of white wine. She poured herself a glass and browsed through the mail.

  Nothing of importance. Everything was set up on AutoPay and her bills were handled electronically. She’d been spending so much time with Tallon out west that her life here had slowed dramatically.

  She’d noticed there was virtually no food in the refrigerator, not even leftovers. Pauling weighed her options – go out to a restaurant? Or get creative?

  She took her glass of wine into the living room and settled into the couch. Her home was a good reflection of her personality; stylish, comfortable and modern. Her furnishings were simple but high-quality and everything was in its place.

  The intercom came to life with news she had a delive
ry. Pauling set down her wine and retrieved the package. She noted the return label showed it had originated from Global Strategic Services. It must be the paperwork on Zeta Corporation Torcher had promised her.

  She tore open the envelope and was surprised to see there was only a slim folder.

  She opened the folio and saw it was a travel itinerary. A first-class ticket to Los Angeles and three nights at a swanky hotel in Beverly Hills.

  Pauling checked the rest of the envelope.

  No information included on Zeta.

  Hadn’t Torcher said he was going to send it along with information regarding the conference in LA? Had he forgotten? Or had he once again refused to provide what she had asked for?

  Pauling sighed.

  Corporate America could be like this, she knew firsthand. Say one thing in a meeting and then afterward, do something completely different. Office politics never died.

  Still, it was a trip to LA. From there she could either go to Portland and see her sister or it was close enough that she could just drive to Independence Springs and rejoin Tallon.

  Pauling sat down again and sipped her wine.

  There was no way Torcher had simply forgotten to provide the information she’d requested. It was an obvious oversight. Done purposely.

  The only thing Pauling didn’t know, was why?

  Chapter 10

  Not much can make a man feel old than when his friends start dying. For Tallon, he’d seen many of his buddies die violent deaths and now he feared Paco was a new addition to that macabre list.

  Still, he didn’t know for certain Paco was dead. Maybe those silenced gunshots were fired by Paco, not at him. Maybe his old buddy had his hands full with something and would call Tallon later.

  It didn’t seem that way, though. His guess was that Paco had been wounded, called Tallon for help and then whoever was pursuing him finally fired two rounds to end the story.

  Tallon paced inside his home office. He had several computers as well as his home security system set up inside the space. Mostly, he needed to find out where Paco was when he’d called. He needed a starting point.

  No message had arrived yet from his friend who had the ability to trace cell phone calls, so Tallon went out to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge and stepped out onto the back patio.

  In the distance, the last glimmer of sunlight was fading behind the mountains and the shadows were slowly walking their way toward him. He sat in one of the chairs that faced the fire pit and contemplated throwing some logs together and lighting them up, but chose not to.

  He wasn’t in the mood.

  A dark night without warmth and an encroaching chill seemed more appropriate.

  Tallon thought about texting Pauling but also decided not to. Deep down, he knew what was bothering him. He was feeling old and wondered if Paco’s possible death had been caused in part because his friend was getting old, too. Maybe Paco had been slowing down. He’d lost a step or two, as they liked to say.

  It happened to the best of soldiers. Oftentimes, it took one bad mission, a failure to perform at the level to which they’d grown accustomed, to convince once elite warriors to admit it was time to call it quits.

  Tallon wasn’t there yet.

  But maybe he would be. Sooner than later.

  His phone buzzed in his front pocket and he pulled it out.

  On the screen was a simple message:

  Vegas. Best guess: the Landmark Hotel or very close by.

  So Paco had been in Vegas. The fact caused mixed emotions. He was glad it was close by, but also felt guilt that his former comrade-in-arms had been so close and clearly in need of help.

  He’d never heard of the Landmark Hotel but he wasn’t surprised. Hotels were going out of business and then reopening under a new name all the time in Las Vegas.

  Tallon also knew that tracing a cell phone call wasn’t a totally exact science. But his friend was good with triangulating and if he suggested the hotel, it was probably the right place.

  He drank his beer and thought about his schedule. He wasn’t sure what Pauling was doing. Tallon hoped she would be coming back soon.

  His next job was two months away and would be in Africa. At least a two-month stint providing security for an American geologic company and their personnel.

  Which meant he had plenty of time for a trip to Vegas to see what the hell was going on with Paco.

  Tallon would just have to close up the little ranch, set the security system and pack up his gear. He went back into the house through the kitchen and into a highly secure room that served as his armory.

  If, in fact, the gunshots had been silenced that meant Paco was dealing with someone who was a professional. And if this person had managed to take down a man Tallon knew to be one of the best, then the danger he might face in Sin City was very real.

  He looked at the guns in the cabinets and on the wall and chose two handguns, each fitted with sound suppressors, plenty of ammunition for them, as well as an MP5 submachine gun. Tallon considered bringing one of his sniper rifles but ultimately decided against it. This felt like something that would require close-quarters work.

  Satisfied with his choices he went into his bedroom and began to pack.

  He was glad that it was a relatively short drive and wouldn’t require a flight, which would complicate the transportation of weapons.

  As he packed, he felt conflicted by another emotion.

  Guilt.

  Paco was probably dead and now he was going to show up.

  The damage had been done, most likely.

  Well, it wasn’t totally done, at least not the damage he intended to inflict.

  Chapter 11

  Pauling had never been a fantastic sleeper.

  In fact, she was a bit of a legend at the Bureau for her ability to function at a high level despite having only a couple hours of sleep at night. Since she’d gone into the private sector, she’d definitely changed her habit of going on limited sleep. It just hadn’t been necessary.

  Perhaps it was due to the envelope and Torcher’s obvious reluctance to divulge any more information on Zeta Corporation that had caused Pauling to stare at her bedroom ceiling well into the night.

  Now, bright and early, she rose, poured herself a cup of coffee (the machine was set on a timer) and thought about her day ahead. The flight to Los Angeles left in the early evening, so she had plenty of time to pack and get to the airport.

  Pauling thought about texting her sister but since she and her family lived in Portland, they were a full three hours behind. Instead, Pauling busied herself with packing as well as clearing her email and other minor tasks.

  Later, when it was a more reasonable hour, she sent her sister a message.

  She offered to pop up to Portland after the conference in Los Angeles. Pauling hoped her sister said yes. Sometimes after a traumatic ordeal like her sister endured, victims felt insecure and indecisive.

  When her phone vibrated, Pauling had to smile.

  Actually, we’re going to be away. How about closer to the holidays?

  Her sister had always been direct and clearly she remained as decisive as she’d always been, which made Pauling feel relieved.

  She tapped out a response saying that sounded great, and then called Tallon.

  “Hey,” she said when he answered.

  “Hey right back.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “I’m actually on my way to Vegas.”

  “The airport?” She knew Tallon usually flew out of the Vegas airport when he needed to travel for work. “Or a casino?”

  “Ha,” he said. “Um, neither. A buddy called and might need my help.”

  She caught the change in tone and knew it might not be something he wanted to talk about over the phone.

  “Okay.”

  “How ‘bout you?” he asked.

  “On my way to Los Angeles for a meeting regarding my old firm’s newest client.”

  “The mys
terious one?”

  “Yes, indeed. That’s the one. Apparently, I’m going to learn all I ever wanted to know about Zeta Corporation. I figured after that, I could swing by your place.”

  She had almost called it “home” but neither one of them was at that point just yet.

  “Do you think you’ll be back by then?” she asked.

  “Probably. But I’ll keep you posted.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, ended the call with matching “love yous” and then Pauling disconnected.

  She hoped he would be back by then. Otherwise, she’d have to decide between going to his place when he wasn’t here or coming back to New York.

  Well, it was something she could put off until then.

  For now, she had a plane to catch.

  Chapter 12

  Disposing of dead bodies was never his thing.

  Turning living human beings into dead bodies, however, was.

  It was something he was very, very good at.

  It’s why he’d earned the nickname “Sino” which was an abbreviation of the Spanish word for assassin: Asesino.

  Now, Sino was disgusted. He’d watched as the lower-level team, whose job it had been to grab the blonde hooker along with the briefcase and laptop bag, had totally botched it. He’d almost enjoyed watching them get gunned down by the operative known as Paco. It didn’t matter that they had technically been a part of his team. Sino hated sloppy work and it was better they die now than later.

  Oh, Sino had done his homework. He’d been semi-impressed with Paco’s shooting.

  It had almost been a shame to slip into his adversary’s hotel room and put two bullets in the man’s head. The man had already been wounded, so in some ways Sino considered it a bit of a coup de grace. Not much of a challenge. At this point in his career, Sino liked the occasional challenge. He liked money most of all but sometimes he got bored.