The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,94

carried the servers inside. Then the suitcases. Then the bolt cutter and the duct tape and the remains of the other supplies Reacher had bought. Four minutes’ exposure. An acceptable risk. Then Reacher took the minivan and dumped it way on the far side of the site. Sands would be able to return it to the rental office at the airport once everything was resolved. But for the time being it was too hot to use. Thomassino had seen it. Budnick had seen it. The random customer at Norm’s Self Storage had seen it. And it had most likely been recorded by half a dozen of Norm’s security cameras.

Reacher picked up three pizzas and three Cokes at the first restaurant he passed and took them back to the motel. He let himself into room eighteen and switched on the light. It was the kind of place that was probably considered luxurious at one time. Now most people would call it adequate. Or economical. There was a pair of queen beds with flowery covers and a scattering of cushions. An armchair. A TV. A fridge. A desk. A bathroom. And a closet. The floors were fake wood. The walls were painted in pale, neutral tones. Finishes selected for durability rather than comfort, Reacher figured. Even the wattage of the lightbulb was designed to save on the electric bills rather than to provide a cosy atmosphere. But none of that bothered him. There was a bed. A place to wash. And access to coffee.

Reacher opened his half of the connecting door and knocked. Sands opened the other side and he stepped through to room nineteen. It was a mirror image of eighteen. Identical, except for the modifications Sands and Rutherford had made. They’d taken the duvet from one of the beds and taped it over the window to prevent any light from spilling out. They’d taped all around the door frame, for the same reason. They’d set up one of the eight original servers on every flat surface they could find. And they’d created a rat’s nest of power cables and thick yellow wires to connect everything together. Except for Rutherford’s laptop. It was on the edge of the stripped bed, tethered to the other equipment with a thick blue wire. Rutherford was sitting in front of it, cross-legged, concentrating so hard on the screen he didn’t notice that Reacher had returned.

‘How’s it looking?’ Reacher handed a pizza and a drink to Sands, and dropped another on the bed next to Rutherford.

‘Good, I think,’ Sands said. ‘Rusty?’

‘What’s that?’ Rutherford said. ‘Oh. Thanks.’

‘How is it looking?’ Reacher said. ‘With the servers. The data. Is it still there?’

‘Oh. Yes. Seems to be. Cerberus is pretty messed up, though. Looks like the ransomware tried to rewrite parts of it. Might take a while to figure out what and how. And why. And how to build some protection into our final product. But I’ve got to say, this is better than I’d dared hope for. End of the day, Cerberus got bent, but it didn’t get broken. And that’s a result, in my book.’

‘That’s good,’ Reacher said. ‘But the records from the archive project. Are they still there? All of them?’

‘The disk is full. Nothing seems corrupted. So I guess so.’

‘Can you find out for sure?’

‘I could, but—’

‘Then do it now, please.’

‘But I need to figure out how Cerberus—’

‘Rusty, this is important. Check now. Please.’

Rutherford sighed then spent a couple of minutes tapping on his keyboard and prodding at his touchpad. ‘OK. Look. I haven’t opened every one of the thousands and thousands of scanned images – basically photographs of documents – but to the best of my belief, the archive records are all intact and undamaged.’

‘In that case I need you to make a copy,’ Reacher said. ‘No. Two copies.’

‘No way. Forget it. I already told you, I’m not letting anyone have a copy of anything. Not until Cerberus is perfected. My future depends on it. Sarah’s too.’

‘I understand. But here’s the thing. When I got back to Mitch’s apartment this morning, I told you the truth about what happened to me. But I didn’t tell you the whole truth.’

TWENTY-THREE

‘What do you guys know about a thing called The Sentinel?’ Reacher said.

‘Zip,’ Rutherford said. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘I’ve heard a little about it,’ Sands said. ‘Mostly gossip. From some people at the Bureau. Word is, about four years ago there was a major brain drain out of cyber crimes. A bunch of the top guns