by Diane Capri
“Yeah, sure. Help yourself.”
She snagged cold water in two glass bottles, returned to the desk, and offered one to him. “Anything earth-shattering in there?”
“Don’t know yet. But given how hard someone is trying to keep it secure, I’d bet it’s earth-shattering to the owner. I need some passcodes to get in there, though.” He screwed the cap off his water. “Data security is a pain in the neck. Everything can be hacked, so people think security systems are an unnecessary hassle.”
“Which they are,” she nodded.
He frowned. “Point is, people can’t be bothered to use the systems effectively. For passcodes, they choose things like the dog’s name or their birthplace. Nonsense like that.”
“Yeah, and since we don’t know who that flash drive belongs to, the easy stuff like that is a little tough to guess.” She took a long, slow sip of cool water to bathe her throat.
He nodded. “Well, normal people also reuse the same passcodes in a variety of places, so they don’t forget them.”
She raised her hand. “Guilty as charged. All my passcodes are phrases like I love chocolate martinis with coffee or Chico is a pain the ass when he’s tired.”
“Smart. That kind of nonsense is harder for a hacker to break.” He frowned.
She grinned. “Sometimes I’ll add an exclamation point or a hashtag, just to make it interesting.”
“Another thing people do is store more complicated passwords inside a file tree, kind of like putting your cash in the freezer at home instead of in the vault at the bank. They think hackers won’t look there. Which is stupid.” Gaspar continued to scroll through the files, shaking his head. “But I’m not seeing anything like that, unfortunately.”
Otto warned, “That software probably has a limit on the number of times you can try before we get locked out.”
The door opened, and a slender, exceptionally attractive woman with long, curly black hair entered the room. Her high heels tapped a staccato beat across the floor as she approached. She extended her right hand to shake.
“Carlos told me you were coming. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kathryn Scarlett. Call me Katie.”
“Kim Otto. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she replied, looking up past bright teeth and full lips to her alert green eyes. Mid-thirties, Otto guessed. A little young for Reacher. And not his type, anyway. Which meant Gaspar wasn’t here to interview her for their assignment. Why was he here?
Scarlett turned her attention to Gaspar. “How can I help?”
Gaspar replied, “We have a flash drive to open. It’s encrypted by BlackTech. I’ve worked with them in Miami. They’re headquartered here. Do you know anybody over there who can help us get past the security passcodes quickly?”
Scarlett nodded. “BlackTech’s a client. The CEO is Larry Black. He’s a friend. Let me make a call.”
She scrolled through her list of contacts on her cell phone until she found the one she wanted. She placed the call. The phone must have rung a few times, judging from the wait, but it was eventually picked up.
“Larry, it’s Katie Scarlett. I need some help with one of your systems.” She put a lot of warmth in that greeting. She smiled at Otto and held up two crossed fingers on her left hand as if she was either lying or hoping.
Scarlett nodded while he talked. “You know I would never ask if it wasn’t important.”
She listened a bit longer, and then replied, “Exigent circumstances….Yes, life and death….Unfortunately, we don’t have time for a warrant….”
More waiting and then her smile broadened, and she nodded. “That’s really helpful. I’m handing the phone to Carlos. He’s sitting at the keyboard. Can you talk him through it directly?”
She nodded again. “Thank you, Larry. Say hello to Elaine for me. And I owe you one.”
Scarlett handed her phone to Gaspar.
“Tell me what I need to do,” he said.
Larry must have offered a list of instructions because Gaspar’s fingers flew over the keys. Every couple of seconds he said things like “Uh-huh…right…got it…yeah…okay…”
At one point, Gaspar read a long list of digits and characters aloud. After that, he paused until he received a much shorter list of digits and characters back, which he typed and then clicked.
A big grin lit up his face.
He said, “We’re in. Thank you, Larry.”
He disconnected the call and handed the phone to Scarlett.
“Do you need anything else from me?” Scarlett asked.
“I think we’re good here for now, thanks,” Gaspar replied.
Scarlett smiled at Otto and left the room.
Otto sipped the cold water and asked the question much more casually than she felt. “Who is she, anyway?”
“We’ll get into that,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the screen. “This stuff on the flash drive looks like two sets of accounting records. I’m guessing one set is legit, and the other is not.”
Gaspar continued flipping through the files. Otto leaned forward as he pointed out lists of customers, inventory, receivables, payables, and so on. More data attached to all of it, covering years, not weeks. Standard business stuff.
She was a trained forensic accountant, but her expertise was not necessary here. The duplicity was blatant.
Identical spreadsheets. One set contained very modest revenue numbers, while the other showed a wealthier enterprise. The sort of thing she’d seen from a guy hiding assets, or stealing, or cheating the IRS.
Gaspar was right. Someone was cooking the books.
“Two sets of bank documents, too. One set domestic, the other for offshore accounts. Big money. Lots and lots of zeros on here.” He pointed to the lists.
Otto read the names on the bank accounts. Polka Brothers Limited. Bramall said Big Mike Bavolsky was the head of a Polish mafia in Chicago. She’d found the flash drive in Unit D-6 in a shoebox filled with cash, along with a stash of illegal drugs.
It wasn’t a huge leap to connect “T. Mackenzie” to Bavolsky and drug trafficking, which usually involved other related crimes. Made sense.
But how did Bramall and Reacher fit into this puzzle?
And what about the two sisters?
“Let’s close this up. We need to talk, and it’s late. I’ll buy you dinner,” she said.
Gaspar’s reply was a bit testy. “Your wish is my command, Suzy Wong. I know a place for great sushi.”
CHAPTER 28
Friday, February 11
8:15 p.m.
Houston, Texas
Gaspar ordered a car. It arrived a few minutes later, and they slipped inside. He gave the driver the address and Otto didn’t ask any questions.
The car deposited them in front of an old gas station converted to an upscale eatery. Mouthwatering aromas spilled onto the sidewalk when the door opened. The flashing red sign featured an old-fashioned tow truck and the words “Jack’s Blue Tractor.”
She tossed a quizzical look Gaspar’s way and he replied, “Trust me. You’re gonna love it.”
He pulled the door open and she walked inside. The interior décor was pure country. Tables were slabs of weathered barn wood and the chairs were aluminum tractor seats with sturdy peg legs. The hostess was dressed in boots, pricey torn jeans, and a plaid shirt.
“Welcome to Jack’s Blue Tractor, y’all,” she said with a drawl. “Two for supper?”
She led them to a table in the back and left menus attached to smaller barn wood slabs, promising the server would be with them in just a minute. Otto glanced at the menu, which listed items numbered with radio codes a wrecker might have responded to back when this place was an operating service station.
Otto grinned. “Only in Texas would you find good sushi in a place like this.”
“Wait ’til you try it before you mock it,” Gaspar replied.
They placed their orders and he leaned back in his tractor seat, extending his bad leg. She noticed the wince, and i
gnored it because that’s what he expected. He’d never explained what happened to his leg. She knew the injury happened on the job, but nothing more. He’d made it clear that he didn’t plan to explain further. She respected his wishes and in return, he refrained from crossing her boundaries, too.
Even in the dim candlelight, she noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles under his eyes and deep crevices in his face. He lived with constant pain, and it was taking its toll.
She’d seen him a few days ago in New York before he was released to return to work. Since he was back on the job, she’d expected more improvement. His health was a constant worry to them both.
“Okay. You’ve stalled long enough. What’s going on?” she asked.
Gaspar took a deep breath before he replied, “Things have changed, Kim. We started out doing a background check, and now we’re involved in a manhunt.”
“Mission creep.” She grinned. “Keeps us law enforcement types in business.”
“Marie put her foot down.” He shook his head and cleared his throat, and the words tumbled out as if he might change his mind unless he said them quickly. “I’ve got a tribe of kids. Bills. I’m done.”
She said nothing because her heart seemed to stop beating. She relied on Gaspar every day. And they’d become good friends. She didn’t want to lose him.
He lowered his voice, “And let’s face it. I can’t pull my weight anymore. It’s time for me to move on.”
She widened her eyes. “You mean after we find Reacher?”
“Can’t do it.” He shook his head. “I’ll stick around until the Boss gets you another partner. He’s got someone in mind. Won’t take long.”
He’d laid this off on his wife because Otto wouldn’t argue with Marie. But Marie would never have interfered with her husband’s career choices. She was a wiser woman than that. Gaspar had made up his own mind, as he always did.
Otto might have tried to argue with him, but she knew he was right. He’d been struggling to do the job from the beginning. He swallowed Tylenol like candy. He could barely walk. He’d gone above and beyond the call of duty too many times. He owed her nothing. She couldn’t ask him to give up the rest of his life to stay on as her partner.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” she replied, blinking glassy tears away before he noticed. She felt more emotional about losing him than she’d expected. They’d been through a lot together. More than that, Gaspar understood her in a way no partner had ever done before. He was irreplaceable, really.
He looked down while the server placed their meals on the table. When she left again, Gaspar said, “You’re going to love this. Best sushi in Houston.”
“Like you would know,” she teased to cover her feelings and let him off the hook. “Tried all the sushi in Houston, have you?”
“A fair amount of it, actually.” He looked down at the food to avoid her eyes. “I’ve, uh, been working here off and on with Scarlett for a few weeks now.”
She stared at him. “A few weeks?”
“Since before we partnered up.”
“A few weeks? Try a few months instead.”
He nodded, still not meeting her gaze. “I’ve been putting off telling you until we finished our assignment, but with the changes…I just felt like it was time.”
“You never thought to mention this to me before?” Her heart pounded against her sternum as if she’d been sprinting. “You didn’t trust me?”
He squirmed. “It’s not that. The Boss asked me not to tell you.”
“Why?” She widened her eyes.
“Hell if I know. Why does he do anything?” He shrugged. “When we started out, the assignment seemed straightforward enough. I thought it would be fairly short. He told me not to mention my impending change in status, and I didn’t question him. I never do. I was in the Army. A superior officer gives me an order, and I salute, you know?”
He paused until she nodded. He said, “As we kept going, things…morphed.”
She stared across the table, straight into his eyes, unflinching.
He shrugged again. His all-purpose gesture for everything. “There was never a good time to bring it up. I didn’t want to let you down. I tried to tell you in New York last month, but…”
He picked up his fork and dug into his food, shoveling it in, just like he always did. Nothing wrong with his appetite. The guy could eat his weight in sushi.
The thought made her grin.
Gaspar wasn’t asking her permission. Hell, he wasn’t even asking her opinion. He’d made up his mind. All she could do was support his decision and move on. They’d still be friends. But it wouldn’t be the same. She knew it. He knew it.
Life goes on.
She took a deep breath and picked up her chopsticks. One of many things she’d learned from her mother was how to eat with chopsticks. Another thing was to recognize that when there’s only one choice, it’s the right choice.
All she could do was support his decision. She owed him that and so much more. “Just tell me my new partner is not Kirk Noble, Boy Detective,” she said, scowling.
Gaspar laughed. “You don’t like him?”
“He’s annoying as hell.”
“He’s also DEA. The Boss isn’t likely to reach outside the bureau. I’d say you’re safe there,” Gaspar replied.
“Okay, then,” she said as if the matter were settled. She took another bite of the Dynamite Roll. “This sushi is really great.”
“Told you so, Suzy Wong, You never listen to me,” he teased with a grin.
She threw her chopsticks at him.
He ducked, just in time.
She swallowed her food and then returned to business, which was safer ground. “Tell me something useful for a change, Cheech. I’ve filled you in on everything I’ve learned. What intel did you find on the twin sisters that I don’t already know?”
He smiled. “I started with the same files you have. Did some digging. Found some phone records, which led me to a witness.”
She cocked her head. “You found a witness who knows where Jane and Rose are?”
“Not quite. I’ll explain everything.” He paused. “We need to go through the rest of the stuff on that flash drive, too, but you’re dead on your feet. I made hotel reservations. Let’s get some sleep. We have an appointment with the witness in San Antonio in the morning. We can talk on the way there.”
CHAPTER 29
Friday, February 11
10:15 p.m.
Houston, Texas
Otto left Gaspar at the elevator and settled into her hotel room. She hadn’t mentioned her plan. He wouldn’t have approved, and she didn’t feel like arguing about it.
She used the dedicated burner phone to place the call.
Lamont Finlay, Ph.D., was Special Assistant to the President. His current position gave him power and resources that no one else had. He operated out of the spotlight, without oversight of any kind. Which made him flexible in ways that had proved valuable.
Simply put, when Reacher’s brother was murdered, he and Finlay had partnered in a vendetta of violent and illegal vigilante justice.
Reacher moved on.
When the dust eventually settled, Finlay not only escaped unscathed, he was catapulted to a bigger, better career. Which Otto figured he could keep only as long as his past deeds with Reacher stayed buried.
Finlay picked up on the fourth ring. “I see you made it to Houston.”
“Eventually. After a couple of detours.” She rubbed the bruises on her neck.
“Your assignment has changed and your partner is retiring. A bunch of folks are missing and you believe Reacher is involved. Cooper is obfuscating. That about it?” he said.
“Pretty close,” she replied.
“What did I leave out?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.”
He chuckled. He had a damn sexy voice for such an imposing man. “When I got your text, I checked around. There’s no record of Reacher bein
g involved with Rex Mackenzie, his wife or her sister. There’s also no record of any partnership, dubious or otherwise, connecting Bramall and Reacher.”
“Same old same old,” she said wearily. “Yet both Cooper and Noble insist that Reacher and Bramall worked together before and are working together again. What’s your explanation for that?”
“Black holes? Alternate universe?” When she didn’t laugh, Finlay chuckled anyway. His tone became serious. “A few weeks ago, someone put a flag on Reacher’s bank account. The one that receives his military pension.”
“What kind of flag?” She widened her eyes. “Do we know who it was?”
“The message was a military police radio code. Ten Two, which means wrecker requested.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” Members of Reacher’s 110th Special Investigative Unit had used radio codes to contact him through his bank in the past. It was not a precise method of communication. She knew of two cases where it had worked, and no idea how many times it had failed.
“Hard to say. There was a phone number attached, which is where things get interesting,” Finlay said.
“Why?”
“The number is a disposable cell phone. It’s been active awhile and used quite a bit, so we have data on it, but no contacts from Reacher.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Thing is, it’s data your partner already collected.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re on your way to meet the guy tomorrow. General Sean Simpson.”
“So Simpson went out of his way to try to contact Reacher, but he’s had no nibbles on his bait yet, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s how it looks.” He paused. “But that’s not the only interesting thing. Simpson’s been chatting with your missing soldier, Sanderson. They’ve had several conversations back and forth over the past few months. Long chats, too, according to the phone records. I don’t have the actual conversations yet, but we’re working on it.”
“You think he’s having an affair with her?”
