Page 15 of Exit Strategy
‘So what’s going on?’
‘My guess? Smuggling. The way it works is that a gang latches onto a legitimate shipment. They bribe a dockhand at the port of origin, or somewhere intermediate, to look the other way. They open the container, hide whatever it is they want to smuggle, and reseal it with the right kind of tags. Then, when it arrives at its destination, more money changes hands, they open the container, retrieve their contraband, and seal it up again. Depending on what they’re smuggling, the whole operation could take minutes. The only anomaly is that smugglers usually pick fruit or vegetable containers. Their contents is perishable so they get priority when the ship’s unloaded. The gang can get their stuff out quicker, so there’s less time to get hit with a random inspection. But they can piggyback on any kind of shipment. There’s no way to trace them. There’s nothing in any records.’
Reacher said, ‘So the merchandise this guy is setting up to steal is whatever’s being smuggled – not the furniture.’
‘I would think so.’
‘And the information the guy wants. Is it hard to get?’
‘No. It’s a piece of cake. That’s not the problem.’
‘Then what is?’
‘If I stay, I’m a dead man.’
Reacher thought back to the note Gilmour had slipped him.Must Disappear. Life in Danger.‘What makes you think that?’
‘They’ve already killed someone.’
‘Who has?’
‘Whoever’s doing the smuggling, I guess.’
‘So you’re getting squeezed. The smuggler will kill you if you stay. The wannabe thief will hurt your nephew if you don’t.’
‘Right.’
‘So call your brother. Tell him to hide out someplace with the kid. Then call the police.’
‘I can’t. That wouldn’t work. My brother’s a dentist. His wife’s a potter. They’re not the kind of people who could act normal while they pull off a disappearing act. They’d alert the whole damn neighborhood just packing their minivan. They’re being watched, remember. How else did these guys who threatened me get the photo of my nephew? And they have resources. The apartment where they cornered me? It’s not my regular one. It’s a bolt-hole. A complete secret. My name’s not on the lease. It’s not on any utilities. I have no idea how they even found it.’
‘So, a rock and a hard place. You’ve got a tough call to make.’
‘Not really.’ Gilmour paused for a moment. ‘Not if you stick around and watch my back.’
‘Forget it.’ Reacher took hold of the door handle. ‘I’m not a babysitter.’
‘Wait. Please. It would only be for a couple of days, max. And I don’t have any other option. I saw how you handled those guys with the chains. You’re my only hope of getting through this. And my nephew’s only hope.’
‘Leave your nephew out of this.’ Reacher tugged on the handle and the door swung open. ‘You got him involved. Not me.’
‘I’ll pay you for your time.’
‘I’m not interested in your money.’ Reacher climbed out of the car. ‘You made your bed selling secrets to this crook. Now you have to lie in it.’
ELEVEN
Morgan Strickland hit the final key then logged off and pushed the keyboard across the desk. He slumped back in his chair. It was late. He was tired. Everything took longer with only one hand, which left him frustrated. He had planned to head back to his home in Annapolis that night but now he was no longer sure. Tomorrow was set to be a big day, with the recruits’ final assessments taking place. The day after would be hectic, too, but for a different reason. He had an arrival to supervise. The eyewitness from Armenia. Her journey was not exactly straightforward, and he had a lot of moving parts to keep track of. The cot he kept in his office was beginning to seem like a very welcome option.
Again.
Strickland heaved himself to his feet. The stainless-steel surfaces in the control room were strangelydisconcerting in the red light, and the air was heavy with ozone from all the electronics. He was looking forward to being back on the ground. To being able to breathe more easily. He took a step toward the door and ‘Enter Sandman’ started to play. It was his phone again. He checked the screen and saw the same Pentagon number as earlier. He hit the Answer key, raised the handset, and said, ‘Mark. It’s late. Make this quick.’
Hewson’s voice came on the line. ‘I’ve been thinking about the things you said. You made some good points. So, yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll sign. Go ahead. Make your preparations for Armenia.’
‘I will, but I need the contract. I need a wet-ink signature.’
‘You’ll get one. I’ll deliver it in person. On one condition.’
