Washington, D.C.
November 5
10:35 a.m.
Cooper answered on the first ring. He asked, “How’s Gaspar?”
Kim said, “You know about that already?”
“Of course I do.”
“Gaspar needs a doctor.”
“No doctor. Deal with it.”
“How?”
“You’ve had training. There are drugstores open.”
“It could be worse than that.”
“If it is, call me back.”
It wasn’t worse than that. Kim treated him on the back seat of the Crown Vic. The wound was superficial. A tear in the flesh. Water and antiseptic and drugstore butterfly bandages did the job. He would be fine. Eventually. But he was hurting now.
He asked, “Hale?”
She said, “Still at large.”
“Not for long.”
“How?”
“You can figure that out, boss lady.”
She called Cooper again. Adrenaline had worn off. Shame fueled her now. She was responsible for Gaspar’s injuries. Cooper answered promptly. She gave him the full report without flinching. He said, “Sounds to me like Hale killed Leach. That works, right? And the shooting was righteous. I’ll take care of Hale. Tell Gaspar not to worry. You either.”
“Not good enough,” Kim said. She didn’t want Cooper to take care of Hale. She would do that herself. As soon as Gaspar was good to go. “You knew it was Hale all along, didn’t you? He manipulated Sylvia. He killed Harry. He bombed the Chevy. You knew. We were all human targets. Now Gaspar is hurt and people are dead.”
His voice remained low and controlled. He said, “I wish I had that kind of power. Believe me, the world would be a lot different.”
“I don’t believe you,” Kim said. “I may never believe you again.”
“Oh, come on. At least go with trust but verify. Good enough to bring down the Soviets. Should be good enough for you.”
“OK, let’s verify,” Kim said. “You knew Harry was already dead when you sent us to Margrave. True?”
“Yes.”
“Who killed him? Hale? Owens? Or Sylvia?”
He said, “Does it really matter which one delivered the kill shots?”
Good point, Kim thought. Legally, morally, practically, it made no difference. She said, “Hale and Owens helped Sylvia sterilize the scene, and to steal and launder the Kliners.”
He sounded disappointed. “I wanted your particular expertise. I expected you to learn who else was involved. Like Archie and Jim Leach, we know now, for sure. Probably others. I’d hoped you would figure that out. You let me down.”
“You know Reacher. Personally.”
“Never said I didn’t.”
“You knew his father.”
“Again, never denied.”
“You know where Reacher is.”
“I wish I did. That’s something else you didn’t achieve.”
She ignored the rebuke. “You have a significant numbered account balance and a stash of Kliners in a safety deposit box at Empire Bank in Zurich.”
For the first time, he paused. The silence lasted too long. His tone was quiet.
He said, “That’s good to know.”
Half a beat later, she saw it.
She said, “Finlay hates you.”
“The feeling is mutual. You’ve met the man once. Be careful. Roscoe doesn’t know him as well as she thinks. The man’s a stone killer.”
“And you’re not?”
“Takes one to know one.”
She felt the pushback like a physical force. She said, “What about Sylvia?”
He said, “What about her?”
“You’ll let Hale use her and then kill her?”
“I will if you will.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you want it to mean.”
She didn’t answer.
He asked, “Are we done here?”
“Hell no,” she said. “Where is Hale?”
“On his way to Phoenix, Arizona.”
“Reacher, too?”
“Maybe you should ask your pal Finlay that question.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
He sighed. “So I’ve been told.”
She said, “I’ve got a plane to catch.”