“We have to bide our time. We can’t arrest them for thought crimes. We need actual crimes.”
Reacher said, “There was a guy watching my hotel. He left when you showed up.”
“Not one of mine,” Griezman said.
“Federal?”
“No reason. I haven’t reported Dr. Sinclair’s visit. Not yet. No one knows she’s here. She’s registered under a different name.”
Reacher said nothing.
Griezman said, “Did you run the fingerprint?”
Reacher said, “Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“You can call it a cold case now. It will never be solved.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know who it was, and I won’t tell anyone.”
“But I helped you.”
“I know you did. And I thank you.”
“Do I get nothing in return?”
“She was a very expensive hooker. Her client list was therefore of interest. But I won’t tell anyone about that, either.”
Griezman was quiet a beat.
Then he said, “The CIA? I was of interest?”
Reacher nodded. “To the part that was trained under the previous system.”
“You’re going to blackmail me.”
“Not my style. I already said I won’t tell anyone. No strings attached. Whether you choose to keep on helping me is entirely up to you. If you do, I’ll take it as two simple detectives getting along, nothing more.”
Griezman paused again.
“I wish to apologize,” he said. “I’m not the man you thought I was.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Reacher said.
“I don’t know why I did it.”
“I’m not your shrink.”
“But I would like to know why.”
“Was she cute?”
“Incredible.”
“There you go.”
“You think it’s that simple?”
“I’m a military cop.”
Griezman said, “I’ll help you if I can.”
“Thank you.”
“What do you need?”
“You could tell your night-shift guy to spend the rest of his watch right here. It’s a bottleneck. Wiley might come through again. If so, arrest him for walking while foreign. Keep him in the car until I get here.”
“There are many other ways out of the complex. There are cycle paths and footbridges at the back. And a big bridge to the bus stop on the main road.”
“We might get lucky. He might want more champagne.”
“Tell me one thing, about the man whose identity you are concealing. Will he be punished?”
“Yes,” Reacher said. “He will.”
“That’s good.”
“You liked her, right?”
Griezman said, “I’ll drive you back to your hotel.”
—
Wiley gave the champagne thirty more minutes in the refrigerator, and then he peeled off the foil wrap and eased out the cork, with his thumbs, slowly and gently, until it made a polite little pock and fell to the floor.
He poured a glass, which had also gotten thirty minutes in the refrigerator, and he carried it to his table, where his map of Argentina was spread out. The outline of his ranch was rubbed greasy by his fingertips. Truly his ranch now. Or soon, when the money reached Zurich and left again. Or more precisely when some of it left again. Not all of it. He had liked the girl they sent with the message. Sir, what I am permitted to know is, we accept your price. She was polite. Kind of deferential. Like when she popped the third button. There would be girls like that in Argentina. Dark, like her. Shy, but with no other choice.
He got up and refilled his glass. He held it high, as if toasting a cheering crowd of thousands. Horace Wiley, from Sugar Land, Texas. King of the world.
—
Reacher listened at Sinclair’s door and heard talking, so he knocked, and she said, “Come in.” Neagley was there, and Bishop, from the consulate. The head of station. Sinclair was sitting on the bed, and Bishop and Neagley were in the green velvet armchairs. Neagley had handwritten notes in her lap.
Reacher said, “Progress?”
“You?”
“I think he lives in an apartment complex near the waterfront. One of Griezman’s guys got a glimpse of him. He was out buying champagne.”
“Celebrating,” Bishop said.
Reacher nodded. “We should assume the negotiation is over. We should assume they agreed to the price. The wheels are in motion.”
“How big is the apartment complex?”
“Huge.”
“Paper trail?”
“Nothing in the name of Wiley.”
“Is he in there now?”
“Almost certainly.”
“We should lock the place down.”
“There’s an unmarked car at the main exit. That’s the best Griezman can do. He was already paying overtime earlier in the day.”
Neagley said, “It appears Wiley has no uncles. The witness who mentioned one has been ordered here for further questioning. Landry is working on possible great-uncles and the mother’s possible boyfriends. The latter could take some time.”
“OK,” Reacher said.
“And I spoke to his COs from Benning and Sill. The guy from Benning doesn’t remember him at all. The guy from Sill does. He said it was clear Wiley wanted to do his tour in Germany. He was fixated on it. He aimed for it. Every qualification he took narrowed his choices.”
“The guy remembers all that, three years later?”
“Because they had a long conversation at the time. The CO pointed out the consequences of the drawdown. A dead end, a black hole, and so on and so forth. Wiley said he wanted to go anyway. He wanted to serve in Germany.”
“So it was a long game,” Sinclair said, from the bed. “Now we’re trying to figure out what.”
Reacher said, “There was a guy watching this hotel. An hour ago. He disappeared when Griezman showed up.”
“Not one of mine,” Bishop said.
—
Muller called Dremmler at home again, and woke him up. It was very late. Or very early, depending on which direction a person was facing. Dremmler composed himself and Muller said, “Reacher got back to the hotel just before one in the morning. But Griezman came by and picked him up before he went inside. I got out of there real quick, in case Griezman recognized me.”
“What did Griezman want?”
“One of my traffic cars heard it on the radio. The American they’re looking for was seen in St. Pauli. His name is Wiley. Griezman’s men have Klopp’s police sketch in their cars.”
“Any other details?”
“One of my guys just checked a car in a no-parking zone near the water. Near some new apartments. It was one of Griezman’s detectives, in an unmarked unit, watching for Wiley. My guy asked why, and they talked for a minute. Just blue-to-blue gossip. Griezman’s guy didn’t know the details, but he said it was obviously some heavy duty thing. His orders came through flagged red.”
“What does that mean?”
“It used to mean organized crime, but now it means terrorism. The guy wasn’t clear whether it was supposed to be an old red or a new red. There’s some confusion at the moment. But I think it was a new red, because they were also watching an apartment near Reacher’s hotel. Earlier in the day. There was supposed to be a Saudi guy coming out. But it didn’t happen. I checked the city records and there’s an apartment in that building with three Saudis and an Iranian. All young men. I think this is some kind of Middle East thing.”
“Is Wiley in the city records?”
“No trace.”
“Klopp says he saw him in the bar more than once. Maybe someone there knows him.”
“Maybe,” Muller said.
Dremmler said, “We need you to get us a copy of Klopp’s police sketch.”
—
Neagley left, and then Bishop. Reacher took an armchair. Sinclair staye
d on the bed. She said, “Waterman and White will be here tomorrow morning. And Landry and Vanderbilt. I relocated the whole operation. This is where the action is. We’ll work out of the consulate.”
“OK,” Reacher said.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Work life or personal life?”
“You can think about both at once?”
“Most of the time.”
“OK, work first.”
“Wiley’s hair.”
“What about it?”
“It’s a way in. Possibly. He didn’t cut it. He let it grow.”
“Maybe he was worried a barber would remember.”
“He could have done it himself. He shaved the sides every day. He could have shaved it all and started over. But he didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I think there’s a vanity to him. A kind of flamboyance. He likes Davy Crockett. Maybe he’s growing his hair long so he can buy a fringed suede jacket and be the king of the wild frontier. The way he moved on the tape was interesting. He’s a small guy, but he swaggers. He’s got it going on. And he bought expensive champagne. I think he likes grand gestures. Which combined with the hundred million dollars doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel like something huge is coming.”
Sinclair was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “What about personal life?”
Reacher smiled.
He said, “You walked right into that one.”
“Which one?”
“Same exact answer,” he said. “I feel like something huge is coming.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said.
Chapter 26
When they woke up Reacher went back to his own room and showered, and dressed again. He took the stairs down to breakfast, alone. The four guys from McLean were in there already, after their overnight flight. Waterman, White, Landry, and Vanderbilt. Neagley was with them. They looked tired. She didn’t. Landry said he had traced the great-uncles. But the news was not good. Most were long dead and none had lived near the kid growing up. There was no evidence of contact. Not even circumstantial. They were not necessarily the visiting type. Two had done prison time. Extended influence was thought unlikely.
But Waterman had better news. He said Wiley’s mother had been located, and had agreed to an interview about her old boyfriends. She was living in New Orleans, on welfare. The local field office had been alerted. Agents would be dispatched. First results were expected in seven or eight hours. Because of the time zones.
White didn’t look happy to be there. The CIA guy. His hair looked longer than ever. He looked thinner. He was twitching and writhing. And wringing his hands, and squinting.
Reacher said, “What?”
White said, “They really need to get the Iranian out.”
“None of this comes from the messenger. We missed her completely.”
“Ratcliffe thinks too narrowly. If something bad happens to them in the city of Hamburg, their inquisition will range far and wide. Everybody will be a suspect. They aren’t dumb. They’ll deduce the facts. How many variables are there? Two different messengers, but only one house. The Iranian will last less than five minutes.”
“You should talk to Bishop.”
“Bishop runs the kid, but he doesn’t have the authority to pull him out.”
“He must have.”
“Not for big-picture reasons. Imminent danger only.”
“Which you think is now.”
“It will start the same minute you get your hands on Wiley. The minute their deal falls apart. Which will be when?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Exactly.”
“You should talk to Bishop,” Reacher said again.
Then Sinclair came in. Black dress, pearls, nylons, shoes. Her hair was damp. Landry and Vanderbilt made a space and she sat down. She said, “I talked to Mr. Ratcliffe. We’re assuming the negotiation phase is over and the delivery phase is about to begin. So we need to know what, where, and when.”
“The messenger could be home already,” Neagley said. “She might have flown direct. Or nearly. Then they’ll send a messenger to Switzerland. Because they don’t trust the phones. With the account details and the passwords. The transaction might take an hour or two. Could happen tomorrow.”
“Or a year from now,” Vanderbilt said. “Are they ready to act? Do they have the money?”
“Wiley can’t wait another year,” Waterman said. “He’s already been on the run four months. Not easy. A lot of stress, and a lot of risk. He needs to get settled. I think this will happen fast now. Tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I’m sure the money is lined up and ready to go. Probably in the same bank. Different blips in the same computer.”
“OK,” Sinclair said. “So it’s what, where, and soon.”
“The where depends on the what,” Reacher said. “If it’s intelligence or a document, they might do the handover right there in the banker’s office. If it’s a big thing, right now it must be stored or hidden somewhere in Germany, so they’ll have to send a crew over to haul it away.”
“We should watch the bank,” Waterman said.
“Don’t know which one. They have hundreds.”
“The airports, then. Here and Zurich.”
Landry said, “The easiest way would be to figure out what he’s selling.”
“No shit,” Neagley said.
“Must be something.”
“But what? He can’t go get it now. He would be arrested immediately. Therefore it was stolen or otherwise obtained more than four months ago. Except nothing was reported missing.”
White said, “We need to get the Iranian out.”
“Not yet,” Sinclair said.
“Then when?”
“Talk to Mr. Bishop. We’re heading for the consulate now. He set up an office for us. Be in the lobby in ten minutes.”
—
Muller walked up the fire stairs to Griezman’s floor. It was still early. Before eight o’clock. No one was in. The secretarial stations were still deserted. Griezman’s secretary’s in-tray looked like it had before.