The Affair

"Did Garber tell you he was sending an undercover guy to town?"

"No, but I guessed he would. That would be you, right? Tasked to snoop on the locals? Which must be going pretty well, seeing as you’re calling from the sheriff’s phone. Which must be fun, in a way. People here say she’s a real looker. Although they also say she’s a lesbian. You got an opinion on any of that?"

"That stuff is none of your business, Munro."

"Call me Duncan, OK?"

"No, thanks. I’ll call you Munro."

"Sure. How can I help you?"

"We’ve got shit happening out here. There was a guy shot to death this morning, close to your fence, northwestern quadrant. Unknown assailant, but probably a military round, and definitely a half-assed attempt to patch the fatal wound with a GI field dressing."

"What, someone shot a guy and then gave him first aid? Sounds like a civilian accident to me."

"I hoped you weren’t going to be that predictable. How do you explain the round and the dressing?"

"Remington .223 and a surplus store."

"And two guys were beat up before that, by someone they swear was a soldier."

"Not a soldier based at Kelham."

"Really? How many Kelham personnel can you vouch for? In terms of their exact whereabouts this morning?"

"All of them," Munro said.

"Literally?"

"Yes, literally," he said. "We’ve got Alpha Company overseas as of five days ago, and I’ve got everyone else confined to quarters, or else sitting in the mess hall or the officers’ club. There’s a good MP staff here, and they’re watching everyone, while also watching each other. I can guarantee no one left the base this morning. Or since I got here, for that matter."

"Is that your standard operating procedure?"

"It’s my secret weapon. Sitting down all day, no reading, no television, no nothing. Sooner or later someone talks, out of sheer boredom. Never fails. My arm-breaking days are over. I learned that time is my friend."

"Tell me again," I said. "This is very important. You’re absolutely sure no one left the base this morning? Or last night? Not even under secret orders, maybe local, or from Benning, or maybe even from the Pentagon? I’m serious here. And don’t bullshit a bullshitter."

"I’m sure," Munro said. "I guarantee it. On my mother’s grave. I know how to do this stuff, you know. Give me that, at least."

"OK," I said.

Munro asked, "Who was the dead guy?"

"No ID at this time. Civilian, almost certainly."

"Near the fence?"

"Same as the guys that got beat up. Like a quarantine zone."

"That’s ridiculous. That’s not happening. I know that for sure."

We both went quiet for a second, and then I asked, "What else do you know for sure?"

"I can’t tell you. Orders are to keep this thing tighter than a fish’s butt."

"Let’s play Twenty Questions."

"Let’s not."

"The short version. Three questions. Yes or no answers."

"Don’t put me on the spot, OK?"

"We’re both on the spot already. Don’t you see that? We’ve got a real mess here. And either it’s in there with you or it’s out here with me. So sooner or later one of us is going to have to help the other. We might as well start now."

Silence. Then: "OK, Jesus, three questions."

"Did they tell you about the car?"

"Yes."

"Did anyone mention money from Kosovo as a possible motive?"

"Yes."

"Did they tell you about two other dead women?"

"No. What other dead women?"

"Last year. Local. Same MO. Cut throats."

"Connected?"

"Probably."

"Jesus. No, nobody said a word."

"Do you have written records of Bravo Company’s movements? June and November last year?"

"That’s your fourth question."

"We’re just chatting now. Two officers, equal rank, just shooting the shit. The game is over."

"There are no records of Bravo Company’s movements here. They’re operating under special ops protocols. Therefore everything is filed at Fort Bragg. It would take the biggest subpoena you ever saw just to get a look at the outside of the file cabinet."

I asked, "You making any general progress there?"

No answer.

I asked, "How long does it normally take for your secret weapon to work?"

He said, "It’s usually much faster than this."

I didn’t answer, and there was more dead air, and some quiet breathing, and then Munro said, "Listen, Reacher, I guess this is hardly worth talking about, because you’re just going to think, well, what else would I say, because we both know I was sent here to cover someone’s ass. But I’m not like that. Never have been."

"And?"

"From what I know so far, none of our guys killed any women. Not this month, or November, or June. That’s how it looks right now."

29

I put the phone down on Munro, and Deveraux came back into the office immediately. Maybe she had been watching a light on the switchboard. She said, "Well?"

"No quarantine patrols. No one has left Kelham since Munro arrived."

"He would say that, though, wouldn’t he?"

"And he’s not smelling anything. He thinks the perp is not on the base."

"Ditto."

I nodded. Smoke and mirrors. Politics and the real world. Utter confusion. I said, "You want to get lunch?"

She said, "After."

"After what?"

"You have a problem to deal with. The McKinney cousins are out on the street. They’re waiting for you. And they’ve brought reinforcements."

Deveraux led me across the corridor to a dim corner room with windows in two walls. The view across Main Street was empty. Nothing happening. But the view north toward the T-junction showed four figures. My two old friends, plus two more similar guys. Dirt, hair, fur, and ink. They were standing around in the wide area where the two roads met, hands in pockets, kicking the dirt, doing nothing at all.

My first reaction was a kind of dumbfounded admiration. A head butt is a serious blow, especially one of mine. To be walking and talking just a few hours later was impressive. My second reaction was annoyance. With myself. I had been too gentle. Too new in town, too reluctant, too proper, too ready to see mitigating circumstances in sheer animal stupidity. I looked at Deveraux and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

She said, "You could apologize and make them go away."

"What’s my second choice?"

"You could let them hit you first. Then I could arrest them for unprovoked assault. I’d love to get the chance to do that."

"They won’t hit me at all if you’re there."

"I’ll stay out of sight."

"I’m not sure I want to do either thing."

"One or the other, Reacher. Your choice."

I stepped out to Main Street like some guy in an old movie. There should have been music playing. I turned right and faced north. I stood still. The four guys saw me. They showed a moment of surprise, and then a moment of warm anticipation. They formed up in a side-to-side line, all four of them strung out west to east, about four feet apart. They all took a step toward me, and then they all stopped and waited. There were two trucks parked on the Kelham road, behind them and to the right. There was the brush-painted pick-up I had seen before, and in front of it was another one just as bad.