Blue Moon - Lee Child Page 0,55

stay.

Abby passed her phone to Reacher.

He said, “They’re looking for me. Because I mentioned Trulenko. They got worried. Just ignore them.”

Maria asked, “Suppose they knock on the door?”

Seventy, stooped, and starving.

He said, “Let them search the house. Show them whatever they want to look at. They’ll see I’m not there, and they’ll go back to their car, and after that all they’ll need to do is watch the sidewalk. Should be relatively painless.”

“Very well.”

“Any news on Meg?”

“Good and bad,” Maria said.

“Start with the good,” Reacher said.

“I think for the first time the doctors truly believe she’s improving. I can hear it in their voices. Not what they say, but the way they say it. Their words are always circumspect. But now they’re excited. They think they’re winning. I can tell.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“They’ll want to confirm it with tests and scans. Which we’ll have to pay for first.”

“How much?”

“We don’t know yet. A lot, I’m sure. They have amazing machines now. There have been dramatic advances in soft tissue analysis. It’s all very expensive.”

“When will they need it?”

“Obviously half of me wants it to be as soon as possible. And obviously the other half doesn’t.”

“You should do what is right medically. We’ll figure out the rest as we go along.”

“We can’t borrow it,” Maria said. “You would have to do it for us, because they think you’re Aaron Shevick. But now, for you, that would be a trap. Because you asked about Trulenko.”

“Aaron could borrow it under my name. Or any name. They’re new at this game. They have no system for checking. Not yet, anyway. It’s an option. If you need it fast.”

“You said you could find Trulenko. You said it used to be part of your job.”

“The question is when,” Reacher said. “I figured I had six chances before the week is over. Now maybe not so many. I need to work on a faster plan.”

“I apologize for my tone.”

“No need,” Reacher said.

“This is all very stressful.”

“I can only imagine,” Reacher said.

They hung up and Reacher passed the phone back to Abby.

Barton said, “This is crazy, man. I’m going to keep on saying it, because it’s going to keep on being true. I know those people. I play their clubs. I’ve seen what they do. One time, there was a piano player they didn’t like. They smashed his fingers with a hammer. The guy never played again. You can’t take them on.”

Reacher looked at Hogan and asked, “Do you play their clubs?”

“I’m a drummer,” Hogan said. “I play anywhere they pay me.”

“Have you seen what they do?”

“I agree with Frank. These are not pleasant people.”

“What would the Marine Corps do about them?”

“Nothing. The pointy-heads would hand them off to the SEALs. Much more glamorous. The Corps wouldn’t get a sniff.”

“What would the SEALs do?”

“A lot of planning first. With maps and blueprints. If we’re assuming a hardened bunker of some kind, they would look for emergency exits, or delivery bays, or incursions by ventilation shafts or water pipes or sewers, and places where they could gain access by demolition of walls between adjacent structures. Then they would plan simultaneous assaults from everywhere they could, at least three or four places, with three- or four-man teams in each location. Which would probably get the job done, except it might be hard to keep any single person of interest alive. There would be a lot of crossfire. It would depend on dimensions and visibility.”

Reacher asked, “What were you, in the Corps?”

“Infantry,” Hogan said. “Just a plain old jarhead.”

“Not a bandsman?”

“That would have been too logical for the Corps.”

“Were you always a drummer?”

“I was as a kid. Then I stopped. Then I took it up again in Iraq. Every big base had a kit lying around somewhere. I was advised I would enjoy creating patterns I alone controlled. I was advised I would find it helpful, since I could already play a bit anyway. Also I was advised it would get rid of aggression.”

“Who advised you?”

“Some old sawbones. I laughed it off at first. But then I found I was really enjoying it again. I realized I should have been doing it all my life. I’ve been playing catch-up ever since. Trying to learn. I missed a few years.”

“You sounded pretty good to me.”

“Now you’re blowing smoke. And trying to change the subject. You’re one guy. You’re not a SEAL team.”

“I’ll figure it out. By definition there must be a dozen better plans than what the navy would

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