Night School

  “We looked everywhere. Literally everywhere in the world. We didn’t find them. So the majority view prevailed. They never existed in the first place. The invoice was an intended fraud, but someone got cold feet and never submitted it.”

  “What was your personal opinion?”

  “We were preparing for a land war against the Red Army in Europe. We had hundreds of supply depots all over Germany. The largest was bigger than some of their cities. The smallest was bigger than a football stadium. I thought the majority was sticking its fingers in its ears and singing la-la-la.”

  “Would Arnold Mason have been involved in the search?”

  “Almost certainly. This was years later, don’t forget. Those were the guys who actually knew what they were looking for.”

  “So those were the stories young Horace Wiley heard. The missing crate. Ten lost bombs as big as Hiroshima. Buried treasure.”

  Sinclair said, “Why would he expect to find them when no one else could?”

  “Different people have different talents,” Reacher said. “Maybe Uncle Arnold gave him half a clue. Maybe he hit on something no one else did. Maybe he was the right kind of smart.”

  “This sounds completely impossible.”

  “I agree.”

  Helmsworth said, “Ma’am, nothing was impossible. It was the Cold War. It was a kind of madness. One time they sewed a microphone and a transmitter in a cat’s neck, with a thin antenna threaded through inside its spine and up its tail. They were going to train it to wander into the Russian Embassy compound and pick up loose talk. Its first day on the job it was run over by a car. Nothing was impossible and everything went wrong sooner or later.”

  Neagley said, “Does it even matter? Because who knows the arming codes? Were they ever issued? Even if they were, they’d be split between two personnel. That was a basic nuclear safeguard. For ten bombs, that’s twenty veterans. Who exactly?”

  Helmsworth said nothing.

  Reacher said, “General?”

  Helmsworth said, “It gets worse.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “You’ve seen the movies about D-Day. Anti-aircraft fire, map reading errors, wind and weather, swamps and rivers, immediate ground combat. The chances of landing two personnel in the same place at the same time were precisely zero. Which would have left us with a hundred useless hunks of metal. But it was essential we were effective. Therefore the split-code safeguard was considered a tactical impediment.”

  “Considered by who?”

  “Tactical commanders.”

  “Like you?”

  “I told my quartermaster to tell our armorer to write the whole code on the bomb itself with yellow chalk. That way the guy carrying it could get killed and someone else could still complete the mission. It was the Cold War. Looking back we know it didn’t happen. It felt like it could at the time.”

  “But the eleventh crate never made it to the field.”

  “In which case it has its codes in a top-secret file placed in a custom receptacle on the inside back wall. That was the part the apprentice made. Eleven times over.”

  No one spoke for a very long time.

  Then Sinclair said, “OK, one minute from now I have to call the president and tell him we may have ten loose atom bombs, complete with full arming codes, each one as powerful as the Hiroshima bomb, which means up to ten world cities could soon be completely destroyed. Can anyone give me a reason why I should not make that call?”

  No one spoke.

  —

  Chief of Detectives Griezman took the elevator to Herr Dremmler’s office. It was very slow. An original installation, no doubt, part of the rebuilding. But it got there in the end. A minute later Griezman was sitting uncomfortably in a too-small visitor chair in front of Dremmler’s desk, who first ordered coffee from a secretary Griezman took to be South American, and then asked how he could help.

  Griezman said, “It’s about Wolfgang Schlupp.”

  Dremmler said, “You know, I talked to him earlier in the day. Purely by chance.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “He said nothing of interest. Certainly nothing that would help you shed light on what happened to him afterward.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “It was all pleasantries. I saw him once at a business dinner. He was a nodding acquaintance, nothing more. I was merely saying hello. A professional courtesy. I hardly knew the fellow.”

  “Were you trying to sell him shoes?”

  “No, no, not at all. It’s a politeness. It oils the wheels.”

  “Do you go to that bar often?”

  “Not very.”

  “Why that day?”

  “To see and be seen. I have many different places. On rotation. It’s what we do.”

  “We?”

  “Entrepreneurs, civic leaders, business people, wheelers and dealers.”

  Griezman said, “Did you notice who your back was to?”

  Dremmler paused a beat. Remembered elbowing in next to Schlupp, shoulder first, his back to the room. Who was behind him? He couldn’t recall.

  Griezman said, “It was a fellow about to run into trouble with the taxman. He overheard the whole conversation. He was very specific about the details.”

  Dremmler paused again. He had a good memory. Solid judgment. He was also nimble and creative. A man in his position needed such qualities. He rewound the tape in his head and played the day-old conversation from the beginning, from when he had asked how was business, and Schlupp had asked what he needed. He skimmed it fast and picked out the important parts, which were the words information, and cause, and new Germany, and drivers and licenses, and the question about the American’s new name, and the cause again, and the bribe, and the word important, and for the third time, the word cause.

  Busted.

  He said, “I have people in places that might surprise you. It would be hard for this city to run without them. And none of them has broken any law. Myself included.”

  “Yet.”

  “Which is to say, none of them has broken any law.”

  “We’ll be ready when you do.”

  “Persecuting us will only increase our numbers.”

  “Prosecuting is not persecuting.”

  “Think for yourself, Herr Griezman. You’re facing a powerful force. Soon to get even more powerful. It might be time to abandon obedience to your masters. You should side with us. Our interests are perfectly aligned. You have nothing to fear. Your job will be safe. Even in the new Germany there will be petty criminals.”

  Griezman said, “Did Schlupp call you back before he died, with the American’s new name?”

  Dremmler said, “No.”

  And Griezman believed him. He expected nothing less.

  —

  Sinclair made the call to the White House from the regular office. Helmsworth had left. Bishop had arrived. Waterman repeated his gloomy predictions, that it was too late anyway, that the Germans would take half a day even to respond, and a whole day to brief in. Maybe more, because they were starting from cold. Then they heard that a NATO clause had been invoked, which only added to the complexity. Sinclair predicted a significant delay. Reacher called Griezman, and was told he was out in his car. His secretary said she would make sure he called back just as soon as he could. She sounded like a very pleasant woman.

  He hung up.

  Sinclair said, “Wiley is an AWOL soldier in the same city as you.”

  Reacher said, “I need his new name.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “We could attempt a prediction.”

  “Based on what?”

  “We know customers were free to choose what names they wanted. We know Wiley used Ernst and Gebhardt at the rental franchise. Why choose those two? And if they were number three and number two on a list, what was number one?”

  “That would be highly speculative.”

  “What the MP business would call a wild-ass guess
.”

  “Is that better than a Hail Mary, or worse?”

  “It leaves a Hail Mary so far behind you can barely see it. It’s a gut call. Like closing your eyes and swinging the bat.”

  “So what’s his new name?”

  “I’m not sure yet. It’s in the back of my mind. Can’t get it all the way out. I might need to check a book or make a call.”

  “Call who?”

  “Someone who grew up in southeast Texas.”

  The phone rang.

  Griezman.

  Who said, “How may I help you?”

  Reacher said, “I’m not sure you can yet.”

  “Then why did you call me?”

  “I hoped to be ready.”

  Sinclair said, “Gamble, Reacher.”

  He remembered raising his hand and brushing her forehead with his fingertips, and sliding his fingers into her hair, and running them through. He remembered the texture, alternately thick and soft as the waves came and went. He remembered sweeping it back and hooking part of it behind her ear, and leaving part of it hanging free.

  It had looked good.

  He had gambled then.

  He said to Griezman, “I need you to check city records for the development where Wiley lives.”

  Griezman said, “For what name?”

  “Kempner.”

  “That’s fairly common.”

  “Single males, middle thirties, living alone, not much else going on in their lives in terms of a paper trail.”

  “That’s hours of work. Are you in a hurry?”

  “We’re stepping a little faster than we’d like to be.”

  “Then you better be sure. This could be your only wish. No time to rub the lamp again.”

  “Try it.”

  “Kempner?”

  “Get back to me as soon as you can,” Reacher said.

  He killed the call.

  Sinclair said, “Why Kempner?”

  “Why Ernst and why Gebhardt? Wiley grew up in Sugar Land, Texas, and then one day years later he was asked for three German names. What came to the surface? There’s a lot of German tradition in Texas. An ancient community. A lot of success, and a lot of stories. Legend has it the first German to arrive was a guy named Ernst. He founded the colony. I’m sure Wiley heard all about him. Then years later another guy brewed a hot sauce. Now you can get it in plastic bottles from the PX or the supermarket. It’s all over Texas. I’m sure Wiley has put it on his food all his life. The brand is Gebhardt.”

  “Coincidence,” Sinclair said. “Both of them.”

  “But what if? If Ernst and Gebhardt came from a subliminal association with growing up in southeast Texas, what would come next?”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea.”

  “Wiley was proud of his home town. That was in the original AWOL file. And Specialist Coleman confirmed it. Wiley’s crewmate from the Chaparral truck. Wiley’s home town was all about Imperial Sugar. Founded in 1906. Sugar Land was a company town, side to side and top to bottom.”

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  “There was a movie. And I read about it once, on a bus, in the Houston Chronicle. Imperial Sugar was founded by Isaac H. Kempner. He was the father of the town, essentially. He built it. I’m sure he’s very famous there. Maybe they named a street for him.”

  “Hell of a gamble.”

  “You made me do it.”

  White said, “They should close the port.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Sinclair said. “I’m sure those discussions are already underway. The White House will call us back and let us know.”

  She checked the clock on the wall.

  The banks in Zurich were open for business.

  The phone didn’t ring.

  Chapter 36

  The phone didn’t ring during the first hour. Or the second. Reacher said, “I want to bring Orozco on board.”

  Bishop said, “Why?”

  “We need an extra pair of hands. We’re running short of time.”

  “What could he do for us?

  “He’s a good interrogator. If we find Wiley before we find the crate he’s going to have to tell us where it is. Orozco would be good for that. People respond to him.”

  “How much does he know already?”

  “Some of it.”

  Sinclair said, “Call him.”

  So Reacher did, there and then. He told Orozco as of ten hundred Zulu and eleven hundred Lima he was TDY to the NSC and for further detail an immediate 10-16 was required at the front desk number.

  Then he killed the call.

  Neagley looked at him.

  He said, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  He left the office and walked down the stairs. To the front lobby. He waited at the desk. The phone rang. The guard picked up. He looked confused for a second, and then he handed the phone to Reacher. It was Orozco. A 10-16 was MP radio code for a report by land line. An immediate 10-16 meant call back right away. At the different number, Orozco would understand, for reasons of privacy.

  Orozco said, “Are we in trouble?”

  Reacher said, “Not yet.”

  “That sounds like the guy who just jumped off a building. How does it feel? Pretty good so far. Like flying.”

  “All we need to do is get the guy.”

  “Are we going to?”

  “How hard can it be?”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “I told them you’re coming in as an interrogator. But you’re not. You’re coming in to get the Iranian out of the safe house. They’ve forgotten all about him. Or else they’re set on taking a stupid risk. We can’t let either thing happen. They’ll kill him. So get him out as soon as we make a move.”

  “Are you going to make a move?”

  “I remain optimistic.”

  “How will I know which are the Saudis and which is the Iranian?”

  “I’m sure a man with your level of cultural sensitivity will have no trouble at all.”

  “What do I do with the Saudis?”

  “They can be collateral damage, if you like.”

  “That’s hardcore,” Orozco said.

  “There are ten missing bombs.”

  “Is that what this is about?”