bringing people in from all the other states.’
‘Damn right.’
‘So you have contacts. With similar sad-ass groups in other places.’
‘You can stop right there. I’ll go to jail before I betray my brothers.’
‘Refuse, and jail will be the least of your worries. But let me ask you one thing about your cause. You shared it with Klostermann?’
‘Correct.’
‘Henry Klostermann was your brother?’
Goodyear nodded.
‘He wasn’t your brother,’ Reacher said. ‘He was a Russian agent. He was playing you for a fool. Using you every step of the way. I bet he laughed himself to sleep every night, thinking about how dumb you are.’
‘Nice try, Reacher. But I’ll never believe that.’
‘That picture.’ Reacher pointed at the wall above the filing cabinets. ‘Was it always up when you came here?’
Goodyear stood and threw out a sharp salute. He winced as he tried to straighten his hand. ‘Always.’
‘Take it down. See what’s on the other side.’
Goodyear stayed where he was. ‘Touching it would be sacrilege.’
‘I’ll do it then.’ Reacher stepped forward, but Goodyear darted in front of him.
‘No,’ Goodyear said. ‘If anyone’s going to, it should be me.’
Goodyear paused in front of the picture as if saying a prayer. Then he stretched out and took hold of it. He used both hands. One on each side of the frame. Lifted it down. Paused again. And turned it over.
‘You know who that is, right?’ Reacher said. ‘Klostermann’s true idol. Henry Klostermann dedicated his entire life to destroying everything you believe in. And he tricked you into helping him. The journalist who was murdered? Toni Garza? Klostermann killed her. Because she was going to expose him. Only you buried the investigation. Because he told you to. You helped him get away with it.’
Goodyear shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Doesn’t matter if you believe me or not,’ Reacher said. ‘The FBI will explain it to you. I wasn’t lying when I told you the agents are on their way. You can stay and help them round up the other groups. Which would be doing your brothers a favour, honestly. It would stop anyone with a double-digit IQ being able to exploit them. Or if you don’t like that idea we can go to your house.’ Reacher pulled a cigarette lighter out of his pocket. ‘We can pick up some gas on the way.’
Goodyear sank back down on to the floor. ‘No. I’ll stay.’
‘Take out your cuffs,’ Reacher said.
Goodyear pulled them from a leather pouch on his belt.
‘Secure yourself to a filing cabinet. To the drawer handle.’
Goodyear did what he was told.
‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘Two last things before I go.’ First he took the painting and smashed it over Goodyear’s head, leaving the frame hanging like a necklace. Then Reacher punched Goodyear in the face. Normally he would have used his left hand. Maybe dialled back the power a little too. But making an exception seemed the right thing to do.
Reacher left Klostermann’s burner phone on his desk. There were four numbers in its call log. Goodyear’s, which was accounted for. Marty’s, which was a dead end. Literally. But that still left two for the FBI to track down. Two more crooked cops, maybe. Or two more suitcase carriers. Whatever they turned out to be, they needed to be stopped.
He checked that Goodyear was breathing. Then made his way out of the house and across to the red Chevy. He figured he would drive to the truck stop. Leave the car in a parking lot. Walk over to the gas station. To the truck side. And go wherever the first driver willing to take him was heading.
He pulled up to the gate. Waited for it to slide to the side. Drove through. And stopped dead. A car had pulled in front of him. From out of nowhere, it seemed. Certainly not the road ahead. It must have been up on the grass verge, parallel to the wall.
Reacher waited for the car to move. It was small. A late model Honda Civic. A woman was driving. She was wearing plain clothes. Which was why it took Reacher a moment to recognize her. It was Officer Rule.
Rule recognized Reacher at the same moment. She climbed out of the Honda and walked around to Reacher’s door. He rolled down his window.
‘Reacher?’ Rule said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Leaving,’ Reacher said. ‘In fact, I was never here. You?’
Rule was silent for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether to answer. ‘I followed someone here.’
‘Detective Goodyear?’
Rule nodded.
‘Why?’ Reacher said.
‘I figured something