by Diane Capri
JACK AND JOE
BY
DIANE CAPRI
Presented By:
AugustBooks
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Praise for
New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling Author
Diane Capri
“Full of thrills and tension, but smart and human, too. Kim Otto is a great, great character. I love her.”
Lee Child, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of Jack Reacher Thrillers
“[A] welcome surprise…[W]orks from the first page to ‘The End’.”
Larry King
“Swift pacing and ongoing suspense are always present…[L]ikable protagonist who uses her political connections for a good cause…Readers should eagerly anticipate the next [book].”
Top Pick, Romantic Times
“…offers tense legal drama with courtroom overtones, twisty plot, and loads of Florida atmosphere. Recommended.”
Library Journal
“[A] fast-paced legal thriller…energetic prose…an appealing heroine…clever and capable supporting cast…[that will] keep readers waiting for the next [book].”
Publishers Weekly
“Expertise shines on every page.”
Margaret Maron, Edgar, Anthony, Agatha and Macavity Award-Winning MWA Grand Master
DEDICATION
Thank you to some of the best readers in the world: James Artem, Sebastian Rochester, Declan Maunder, Betty Farish Johnston, Lynne Graham, and Delphina Osgood for participating in our character naming giveaways which make this book a bit more personal and fun for all of us.
Perpetually, for Lee Child, with unrelenting gratitude.
Dear Friends,
Thank you for buying this copy of Jack and Joe: A Hunt for Jack Reacher Thriller. No one loves Jack Reacher more than I do and I’m very excited to share this runaway bestseller in my Hunt for Jack Reacher Series with you. More than a million readers have already enjoyed the Hunt for Jack Reacher Series books—including Jack Reacher’s creator, thank heavens! Whew!
The first question new readers usually ask me is how I’m allowed to write about Jack Reacher. The short answer is that Lee Child and I are friends and he’s a big fan of my work. I write these books with his full support, for which I’m eternally and unrelentingly grateful. I’ve included his Reacher Report at the end of this novel in case you’re not signed up to receive email from Lee directly (and you can sign up to hear from him on his website, if you’d like to).
I hope you’ll see right away why #1 worldwide publishing phenomenon Lee Child calls my work, “Full of thrills and tension, but smart and human, too.” And why Lee gave the series an enthusiastic two thumbs up when he said, “Kim Otto is a great, great character. I love her!”
The second most frequent question I get is when the next Hunt for Jack Reacher book will be published. Right now, there are six books in this series. You can find a complete list here: http://dianecapri.com/books/
And I’m always working on a new book. Please sign up for my mailing list to receive advance notice of new releases and lots of other exclusive stuff for members only. You can do that here: http://dianecapri.com/get-involved/get-my-newsletter/
While you’re waiting for a new Hunt for Jack Reacher Series book, please give my other books a try. I believe you’ll enjoy them. And either way, let me know what you think. You can write to me anytime, and I hope you will. I’d love to get to know you better. You can always reach me here: http://dianecapri.com/get-involved/message/
Meanwhile, thanks so much for reading. Readers like you are the reason I write.
Caffeinate & Carry On!
CAST OF PRIMARY CHARACTERS
Kim L. Otto
Carlos M. Gaspar
Charles Cooper
Lamont Finlay
Eunice Summer
Madeline Jones
Alvin Barry
Jeffrey Mayne
Anthony Clifton
Randy Taylor
Matthew Clifton
Lesley Browning O’Connor
Thomas O’Connor
and
Jack Reacher
Joe Reacher
The Enemy
by Lee Child
1990
Joe and I had started out together, but he had seen the future first, and it had aged him, and worn him down.
* * *
I never went back to Fort Bird. Never saw that Sergeant again, the one with the baby son. I thought of her sometimes, when force reduction began to bite. I never saw Summer again either…. Our paths never crossed again.
JACK AND JOE
by
Diane Capri
CHAPTER 1
Friday, November 19
6:43 AM
Charlotte, North Carolina
The Airbus pilot announced preparation for landing at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. I closed my eyes and gripped the armrests and tensed every muscle in my body, as usual. I thought about the US Airways Airbus A320 ditched by Chesley Sullenberger in the Hudson River on January 15, 2009. The Carolinas Aviation Museum at the Charlotte airport holds an unparalleled technological lead over other commercial aviation museums because it exhibits that plane. I hoped our pilot was as skilled as Sullenberger during our descent through the heavy black clouds.
The Airbus’s wings rocked and we hit the ground with a hard thud and a couple of bounces, but we made it and I believed the danger had passed. But you never see the disaster that gets you.
I gathered my bag, yanked its telescoping handle up and settled my laptop case atop it, and deplaned through the jetway. I’d taken only a few dozen steps of the long trek to the car rental when the aroma of freshly brewed coffee pulled me to the end of a twelve-deep queue of java hounds.
Travelers hustled past in the usual airport chaos while the coffee line inched ahead. I glanced at my Seiko. Only seven-fifteen.
Just as the customer holding up the line finally moved aside with his triple-shot soy caramel macchiato, the Boss’s secure cell phone vibrated in my pocket. His timing was perfect. Which meant he was monitoring my every move, as always. He delivered a new phone at the beginning of every assignment to which only he had access. This one had not rung before, but it was the same phone as all the others, so I knew what it was when I felt it jiggling inside my pocket.
“Otto,” I said into it from habit, distracted by the strength of caffeine addiction and my growing proximity to the heavenly brew’s source. As if anyone else might answer his phone. Or that he didn’t already know my name.
“FBI Special Agent Kim Otto, right?” A woman’s voice glazed by the hint of a Southern accent she might have acquired in childhood.
I blinked. How did she know this particular phone was in my pocket? Maybe she was calling at the Boss’s request, although he’d never allowed anyone else to call one of these secure phones before.
I pulled the phone down and looked at the display. I was good with numbers and the call was from one I didn’t recognize, but that didn’t mean anything. Randomizing source call numbers was a snap for the FBI. Which meant it was probably simple for the military, too.
I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Yes.” Wary. The phone was as secure as possible, but nothing was one hundred percent secure, especially inside an airport.
“This is Colonel Eunice Summer.” She was talking into a speaker. Background noises were present but muffled. “I understand you’re conducting a background check for the SPTF.”
I blinked again. My cover story was the Special Personnel Task Force background check on Jack Reacher. Colonel Summer was my subject. Her job provided access to high-level classified i
ntel and I was scheduled to interview her today at Fort Bird, North Carolina.
“Yes.” I was standing in the middle of an airport terminal surrounded by strangers and subject to data collection by amateurs as well as multiple agencies, foreign and domestic. The very air was literally aware of every transmitted word. The less said, the better.
Summer spoke as if she were aware of the risks but unconcerned. “I’ve confirmed your assignment with the Chief of Staff. He’s ordered me to meet with you and answer all of your questions.”
I felt like I’d landed on a different planet. Never during my assignment to build the Reacher file had an interview subject contacted me in advance. Usually, they had to be coerced into speaking to me at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding as if she meant it.
Here it comes, I thought. The excuses. The delays. The refusals. No friend of Jack Reacher’s had been willing to tell me anything about him. Some of them wouldn’t have answered even one of my questions if their hair were in flames and I was standing two feet away with a fire hose. Why should Summer be different?
“I promised to meet you at ten-thirty in my office in Rock Creek. I’ve had a change of plans. Hang on.”
I heard dead air.
What was she talking about? I looked at my Seiko. It was seven twenty-five already. I couldn’t possibly drive to Rock Creek, Virginia, by ten-thirty this morning.
The Boss knew everything. Why had he sent me to Fort Bird if my subject was located four hundred miles north of here?
She came back on the line. “Sorry. Had to pass a slow-moving RV. Honestly, vehicles should stay in the right lane where they belong if they can’t keep up on these mountain roads.”
“No problem.” I frowned and shuffled ahead a few steps in the java line and waited for the coffee and for her to come to the point.
“Something came up. On a corruption case I’ve been working for a while. I’m driving to Fort Bird, North Carolina. I should arrive in the XO’s office about ten o’clock and I’ll be there the rest of the day.” She paused as if something had caught her attention again. “I don’t know where you’re located, but if you can come to Fort Bird instead of Rock Creek, we can do your interview there. It shouldn’t take long to tell you everything I know and it’s all old news, anyway. I haven’t seen Reacher in twenty years. Would that work for you?”
“Uh, yeah. I can make that happen. Hang on a minute.” I was now at the front of the line and a long queue had formed behind me.
The barista smiled at me and asked for my order. She seemed a little disappointed when I said, “Black coffee, please. The biggest size you’ve got.”
I reached into my pocket for a five-dollar bill just as a hyperactive ten-year-old plowed right into me and knocked me back against my bag.
The bag fell.
I fell on top of the bag.
The kid fell on top of me.
The Boss’s cell phone went flying out of my hand.
The kid’s twin brother came running to a halt inches away from our pile.
He kicked the phone.
The phone smashed into the wall and busted apart.
The pieces were stomped and pushed by shuffling feet and rolling travel bags.
The mother jogged behind the twins, yelling, “Stevie! Larry! Stop!”
Stevie jumped up and dashed farther into the airport with Larry and Mom in hot pursuit.
By the time my well-meaning co-travelers hauled me off the floor, the phone’s pieces were nowhere to be found. They had probably been kicked around and trampled on and who knew what else.
I dusted myself off and righted my luggage and paid for my coffee and moved to the side of the counter out of the melee.
I stretched all my limbs and examined myself for bleeding, but saw none. There would be bruises, especially on my hip where I’d landed on that hard suitcase wheel. But bruises weren’t lethal.
Briefly, I thought about how the Boss had learned Summer was on her way to Fort Bird and who else knew her plans. And then I shrugged and pulled out my personal phone and sent him a text. “Phone destroyed.” He’d know what to do.
CHAPTER 2
Friday, November 19
11:43 AM
Fort Bird, North Carolina
Colonel Eunice Summer, recently promoted Commanding Officer of the Army’s 110th Special Investigations Unit, had been married to the Army her whole life. Twenty-five years of her service was dedicated to investigating crimes and assuring that punishment was swiftly delivered.
Which was how she’d met Jack Reacher. The Boss sent me to interview her while my partner, Carlos Gaspar, was temporarily occupied in Miami.
Before and after her call, my plan was the same. A quick trip to Fort Bird to learn whatever the Boss believed Summer knew and get out of the mountains ahead of the coming ice storm.
For the first time in eighteen days, I’d chosen the four-wheel drive rental vehicle suited to my size and mission. I flipped on the headlights and windshield wipers, and ran the defrosters full blast. I made slow progress through the dreary weather from the Charlotte airport onward, which churned my stomach at the two-antacid level.
I hadn’t called Summer after the lost phone because I’d already told her I’d meet her at Fort Bird. Nor did I want to risk any security breaches from my personal phone.
The GPS sent me north on the Interstate and directed me to exit behind a line of assorted vehicles before I reached New Haven.
The sign at the entrance said:
Fort Bird
Home of The Airborne
and
Special Operations Forces
I followed a trail of vehicles until it backed up at the main gate. The digital clock on the SUV’s dashboard said I was fifteen minutes behind schedule.
I reached into my pocket for another antacid and placed it under my tongue.
Being late is about the worst thing an FBI Special Agent can be, in my book. Tardiness says, “I’m more important than you are. I have no respect for your time.” Never a good way to start an interview when what I needed was a lot of cooperation from any witness, and especially a powerful one like Colonel Summer.
Gaspar had been behind the wheel, driving us around as my number two, from the outset of our off-the-books assignment. My driving skills were rusty, so I’d been too cautious on the road. That’s why I was late and popping antacids.
As it turned out, my being on time would have made no difference at all.
When it was my turn to be logged in, I pulled up to the sentry station and lowered my window to talk to the soldier inside. A frigid breeze blew cold rain in my face.
“FBI Special Agent Kim Otto,” I told the soldier in the booth. “I have an appointment with Colonel Summer.”
“Colonel Summer is not posted here at Fort Bird, Ma’am.”
I nodded. “She’s driving down from Rock Creek.”
“She hasn’t arrived since I came on duty at zero-nine-thirty.” He found my name on the visitors list. Three minutes for paperwork and he gave me a pass and waved me through.
I kept my gun. Army personnel weren’t allowed to carry personal weapons on base, but I’m FBI. Which normally wouldn’t grant me any kind of special treatment, but the Boss had worked his magic on this issue before I arrived.
I followed signs to the visitor parking lot in front of the low block building that housed Fort Bird’s Military Police. I used my personal phone to dial the number I’d memorized from Summer’s earlier call. The phone rang several times and went to voicemail. I kept the message cryptic, just in case: “Otto here. I’ve arrived. I’ll wait for you inside the XO’s office.”
I slipped the transmission into park, turned off all the SUV’s dials and buttons, scooped up my phone and my briefcase and hurried inside where it felt good to be warmed by central heat again.
A sergeant seated behind a spotlessly clean and empty desk greeted me with slightly surly disinterest. Maybe he didn’t want the FBI on his turf o
r something.
Church, according to the nametape on his uniform located about where a pocket for cigarettes could have been when my dad was in the Army. He stammered slightly when he said Colonel Summer was running late. My stomach settled a bit. The sentry had been right. At least I’d arrived before she did.
Colonel Eunice Summer was a lead. A solid lead. And she had been ordered to answer my questions by none other than the Army Chief of Staff. A refreshing change.
I’d planned to ask Summer every question on my three-page list, to squeeze every ounce of information from her until she was drier than a well-juiced lemon. If I was really lucky, she might still have a phone number for Reacher. Even a long-outdated last known address would be the camel’s nose under the tent. A place to start.
No matter what, when I left here I’d vowed to have learned something about Jack Reacher that would lead me in a straight line right to the end of this assignment.
Sitting there in the warm room, drinking coffee, waiting for Summer, I let myself believe I was on the right side and success was finally headed my way.
CHAPTER 3
