The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,24

an hour exactly. A minute more than one prime number. A minute short of another. Reacher was disappointed.

The guy was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and a narrow burgundy tie. He was older than Goodyear. That was clear. But how much older was hard to tell. Reacher guessed ten years, minimum, but the guy had the kind of podgy face that resisted wrinkles and didn’t sag. His head was bald, but freshly shaved so there was no indication of where his hairline would naturally be. He was slim. And he looked fit, in an unassuming, middle-of-the-road kind of way.

The guy sat at the table. He took a black notebook from his jacket pocket, then gestured for Reacher to get up from his spot on the floor and join him. ‘My name’s Wallwork. It’s early and I’m not a morning person so let’s get straight to the point. Why did you attack those men last night?’

‘Where’s Detective Goodyear?’ Reacher said.

‘He’s here somewhere,’ Wallwork said. ‘But I’m handling this case. So. Tell me. The fight at the diner. What started it?’

‘Those cretins did.’ Reacher folded his arms. ‘They came after me. I gave them a chance to walk away. It’s not my fault they were too stupid to take it.’

‘Why did they attack you, then?’

‘You’re the detective. You figure it out.’

‘There’s no reason you can think of?’

‘Aside from stupidity?’

‘OK. So I should put this down as a random, unprovoked attack?’

‘Unprovoked, yes. Random, no. They thought I was working with some insurance guy. They tried to warn me off.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘You’re the detective.’

‘Fine. Don’t help me. But you should certainly help yourself. Listen. I’ve just been to the hospital. You banged those guys up pretty good. They won’t be able to work for quite a while. Won’t be able to do much of anything. They’re not happy about that. They’re looking for some kind of payback. Talking about pressing charges.’

‘Let them. Nothing would stick.’

Wallwork shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But it would lead to a trial. There’d be no way around that. The courts are pretty backed up around here. Could be a while before you appear. We’d have to keep you locked up in the interim. And there’s the jury to think about. They’d all be locals. Do you think they’d like the idea of a hooligan blowing into town and beating on their own? And here’s another thing. The guys have already had their photos taken. By a professional. Multiple shots. They have all kinds of swellings. Bruises. Cuts. They look bad.’

‘They didn’t look great to start with.’

‘I’m not disputing that. But get a few mothers on the jury? Get them imagining you doing that kind of damage to their sons? You’d be taking a gamble.’

Reacher said nothing.

‘Of course, there is another path we could take. These are not the smartest of individuals. I could probably change their minds. Get them to drop all this talk of criminal charges. But if I did that for you, I’d need something in return.’

‘Such as?’

‘The previous incident. The one involving Rusty Rutherford. Detective Goodyear was left with the sense that you weren’t being entirely forthcoming. Level with me, and I’ll see you get to walk out of here.’

‘Level with you how? Some guys tried to kidnap Rutherford. I stopped them. There’s nothing more to tell.’

‘You followed Rutherford along the sidewalk for a spell, correct?’

Reacher nodded.

‘Did you see him drop anything? In a trash can, maybe, or down a drain?’

‘No.’

‘After you intervened, before the officers arrived, did he try to hide anything?’

‘No.’

‘It could have been very small. A key, or a flash drive.’

‘He didn’t hide anything.’

‘Did you see him mail anything?’

‘No.’

‘At the diner you two must have talked. Did he say anything about having a storage unit? Or a safety deposit box?’

‘No.’

‘Did he mention having been anywhere recently?’

‘No. But he did say he’s leaving in a couple of days for a fishing cabin he has in Nova Scotia. But when he pulled out his pocketbook to pay for dinner I saw he had a Mexican passport in there. A plane ticket. And a bunch of pesos.’

Wallwork closed his notebook and set it down. ‘Are you messing with me, Mr Reacher?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be? You’re messing with me, detective. Or should I say agent?’

Wallwork didn’t respond.

‘It’s a little bit about the suit,’ Reacher said. ‘A little bit about your questions. But mainly about your shoes.’

Wallwork instinctively looked down at his feet.

‘I bet they set you back three times what Detective Goodyear’s cost,’