The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,79

shower. Rutherford stayed in the kitchen, hunched over his computer. Reacher stretched out on the couch and made a start on the newspapers. Neither of them moved for half an hour. Neither said a word. Then Sands came out of the bathroom and Rutherford went in. She poured two mugs of coffee, carried them to the living room, and took a seat opposite Reacher.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Sands said. ‘You were in the army. You were an MP. You investigated things. And people. Yes?’

‘That was the general idea,’ Reacher said.

‘You must have had resources. Records. Databases. Other soldiers who could make calls. Verify information. Find out if people had been telling the truth?’

‘All of the above.’

‘Do you miss that, now that you’re on your own?’

‘Life in the army was pretty good, overall,’ Reacher said. ‘I worked with some outstanding people. Aside from the time I wasted dealing with bullshit from senior officers. Other than that I left with very few regrets.’

‘No,’ Sands said. ‘I mean the support you had. The ability to get facts checked. If you found yourself in a particular situation, for example, and you were given a plausible account for it. Then you realized there might be an alternative explanation. A much less favourable one, from a certain individual’s point of view. What would you do now?’

‘I’d listen to my gut. If I had any doubt, I’d walk away.’

‘Even if that meant leaving a friend in danger?’

‘OK, Sarah. Enough beating around the bush. What’s your real question?’

‘Well, when I was in the shower just now I started thinking, what if I wanted to get something from Rusty? Something critically important. And I wanted to do it without anyone realizing. I wouldn’t steal it, because he’d notice and report it missing. I wouldn’t try to buy it from him or trick him into handing it over, because he might see through me. He might play along and then report the attempt. Or run. I could kidnap him, of course, and force him to give it to me. But then I’d have to kill him to preserve the secret. So maybe I’d do this instead. I’d stage a kidnapping attempt. Make it look very professional. Very convincing. The kind of thing that would certainly have succeeded if someone hadn’t intervened. Someone with all the right skills and experience who just happened to be walking by. Someone who would instantly gain Rusty’s trust, and then offer to stick around and help him.’

‘That someone being me?’ Reacher said.

‘I’m not trying to be an asshole here. But you have to admit it’s a possibility.’

‘It’s absolutely a possibility. It wouldn’t be the first time something like it happened.’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it’s not just the kidnap attempt that could be fishy. Every other time you’ve had contact with whoever we’re up against you’ve been on your own. A series of coincidences? Or clandestine meetings?’

Reacher smiled and looked away.

‘What?’ Sands said. ‘Is this funny to you?’

‘No. It’s just this town. There must be something in the water. First I get mistaken for an insurance guy. And now you think, what? Follow it through. If I’m working with these kidnappers, I must be some kind of mercenary. Someone good, because this operation wasn’t thrown together on a budget. Therefore someone expensive. So I must be secretly rich. What’s your theory? This whole image is a sham? I really live in some Manhattan mansion with closets full of silk suits and a garage crammed with Ferraris?’

‘Is that any less likely than a retired major being homeless?’

‘I’m not homeless.’

‘So that’s one lie you told.’

‘When?’

‘You told Rusty you don’t own a house. You just drift around. A night here. Two nights there. No fixed abode.’

‘That’s true.’

‘So you are homeless.’

‘No. My situation is not the same at all. It’s like the difference between being alone and being lonely. Two separate, distinct things.’

‘OK, then. Back up. Say you have earned a fortune as a mercenary. It doesn’t follow that you spent the money on a house and clothes and cars. That’s faulty reasoning. You might not have spent the money at all. You could have stashed it all in a bank in the Cayman Islands. Or hidden it inside a hollow tree. Or given it to a cat shelter.’

‘True. I could have. But I didn’t.’

‘Can you back that up?’

‘How? I can’t prove a negative. No one can.’

Sands slumped back on the couch.

‘Try this,’ Reacher said. ‘Flip it around. I have the means and the