put his newspaper down and got to his feet. ‘Is that it?’ He nodded towards the black box under Reacher’s arm.
‘As promised,’ Reacher said.
‘Excellent. Put it on the table.’
Reacher set the server down next to a bowl of small white flowers. He’d seen some like them before, but not in real life. In a book he’d read. In history class. Years ago.
Klostermann retrieved a package from the side of his chair. It was made of brown paper and its top was folded over like a carry-out bag from a restaurant. He handed it to Reacher. ‘Your fee. It’s all there. Including your bonus.’
Reacher looked inside. The bag held three bundles of banknotes. Each was about an inch thick. Made up of crisp new twenties. Two hundred and fifty in each one. Making each bundle worth five thousand dollars. And weighing about the same as a decent burger. Reacher took out the cash, put each bundle in a different pocket, and handed the bag back to Klostermann.
‘Remember your promise,’ Reacher said. ‘Any problems with the digital archive getting back online, you donate the server to the town. In Rutherford’s name.’
‘You have my word,’ Klostermann said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting to prepare for.’ He took a small grey box from his pocket. It looked like a garage door opener. He pressed its button. Waited. And nothing happened.
Klostermann looked annoyed. He pressed the button again. He waited. Nothing happened.
‘I apologize,’ Klostermann said. ‘Anya must be occupied in some way. Please. Allow me.’
Klostermann crossed to the door and led the way back along the corridor. As they approached the far end Reacher heard the housekeeper talking. He figured she was on the phone. Her voice was louder than before, and her tone was even colder.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You cannot. You’re an hour early. You are to leave and come back at the correct time. I don’t care. I’m not interested. That’s not Mr Klostermann’s problem. If you cannot follow simple instructions perhaps he doesn’t need your services at all.’
Klostermann continued, apparently oblivious of the one-sided conversation, until he arrived at the front door. He opened it, waited for Reacher to step through, and closed it again without saying another word.
Reacher knew he had to be out of the house for the plan to move forward, but he still wanted to know what Klostermann was doing. Communicating, he hoped. Sending a message up his chain of command: Server recovered. Verification in progress. Followed by an order for the team in the field: Mission Accomplished. Stand down. And a final instruction to the specialist from Moscow: Presence no longer required. Return to base.
Reacher drove up to the gate and while he waited for it to open he pulled out his phone. He dialled Wallwork’s number. Told him the server had been delivered and asked for an update on Klostermann. Wallwork had no new information. He promised to let Reacher know the moment he heard anything. Or, more importantly, received word from Fisher that her cell was being pulled out. Reacher drove on. The ball had been slow and over the plate, he thought. He had taken his swing. Made good contact. Now it was in the air and there was nothing to do but wait and see if it cleared the fence.
Or maybe there was one thing he could do. Klostermann had mentioned a meeting. He hadn’t stated that it would be at the house, but that was the implication Reacher had taken. He had said prepare for. Not go to. And someone had showed up an hour early for something. Which might be completely unconnected. Or mean a bunch of Klostermann’s contacts were about to arrive. Maybe to talk about flower arranging at the local church. Maybe to talk about something else. Not the server, though, Reacher figured. The person who had shown up early was dispensable. The housekeeper had made that clear. And the Russians would only allow members of their trusted inner circle to be involved with something so valuable. But whatever the subject, Reacher figured it would be worth an hour of his time to see if anyone showed up. And if so, who. Wallwork was struggling to come up with fresh intel on Klostermann. Maybe it was time for Reacher to gather his own.
There was nowhere Reacher could reasonably conceal himself and the car, so he pulled over to the side of the road and turned on his blinkers. He judged the location carefully. Humans