Page 23 of Exit Strategy
Reacher shrugged again. ‘You know. People.’
‘Sounds like BS. My ear’s to the ground. Believe me.’
‘Fine.’ Reacher stood up. ‘If you’re sure. I mean, this is a classy place. I bet your clientele is loyal. Not the kind of people who’d be tempted by somewhere newer. Shinier. With tables that are a little … straighter.’
Reacher took a step toward the stairs.
Horner said, ‘Wait.’ He was silent for a moment, thena thin smile crept across his face. ‘All right. The guy you want. How’s he fleecing these seniors?’
‘He has a whole dog-and-pony show. Three guys and a bunch of BS about some hotshot investor making an overnight killing on the futures market. Desperate people want in, looking for a slice of the action. I caught it at a coffee shop, but a dollar gets a dime he’s running it other places, too.’
Horner’s smile grew broader. ‘The name you want is Dominic Kelleher. The guy thinks he’s some kind of Irish mafioso. Runs his operation out of a bar in Harbor East. A dump called the Butcher’s Dog. But listen. Don’t think for a minute I believe you. I know you’re shining me on, but I respect the effort. Kelleher’s a dumb son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid enough to try to run with the big dogs. He’s a nuisance, is all. You want to take a swing, be my guest. Hit, miss, doesn’t matter to me.’
‘This Kelleher sounds like a treat. Is he the one you sold Nathan Gilmour’s gambling debt to?’
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous.’
Reacher held up the ice pick. Its shaft was black with blood. He said, ‘Are you sure?’
Horner said, ‘Certain.’ He stood up a little taller. ‘Understand this. I don’t sell debt. I collect. Every penny. Every time.’
‘You sold Gilmour’s.’
‘What are you smoking? Gilmour paid his debt. In full. With interest.’
‘He did not.’
‘Not in person, no. He sent someone to hand over the money. Same difference.’ Horner tried to step aroundReacher. ‘And none of your business. Conversation over. You can keep the pick.’
Reacher moved to block his path. ‘This person who you think Gilmour sent. How did he know how much to pay? You just give out information like that to anyone who asks? You get lots of fairy godmothers showing up in this business?’
Horner slowed his speech right down, dragging out the syllables as if he were talking to an idiot. ‘I didn’t tell him how much. Gilmour did, before he sent him. Obviously.’
‘Who was this guy?’
Horner shrugged. ‘How would I know? Some asshole shows up with a sack of cash. He gives it to me. That’s all the bona fides I need.’
‘You’d never seen him before?’
‘Or since. Now, this is getting old. It’s time for you to leave.’
‘One more question.’ Reacher set the ice pick down on the bar, took the phone Gilmour had given him from his pocket, and fumbled through a couple of menus until the photograph appeared onscreen. ‘Is this the guy?’
Horner glanced at the display. He nodded. ‘He’s the one. Now beat it. We’re done.’
FIFTEEN
Morgan Strickland stepped down with his left foot, then his right, then slid his hand down the outside of the ladder’s vertical rail. He kept up the routine, step, step, slide, over and over, slow and steady, until he was six feet from the bottom. Four feet. Then there was a heavyclunk. His world went instantly dark. He hung in the pitch-black, swearing to himself, and counted to five. The generator coughed back into life, the light returned, and he swiftly covered the rest of the way down until he was standing gratefully on solid ground.
Strickland had been debating whether to sleep at home or in his office, but the conversation he’d just had with Mark Hewson tipped the balance. Hewson wanted to meet Violeta Vardanyan, the eyewitness from Armenia. He needed to be convinced by her testimony. Themeeting was vital to Strickland’s plans, but it was going to happen the day after Vardanyan arrived in the United States. It would be her first time in the country. He had no idea how long it would take for her to get over the journey. Or to adapt to a new culture. Or how cooperative she would be. It was a while since he’d last seen her. All these factors left him feeling like there could well be a need for some serious diplomacy in his future, and for him, diplomacy called for energy. Energy required sleep. So he settled on his office, as it was so much closer. He started to move and, late as it was, a familiar word floated back into his head.Compulsive.Right away he changed direction and made for the storeroom.
Strickland heard the chair-legs scrape on the ground again as he approached, but there was something different about the sound this time. It was quieter. That struck him as odd, as the guards wouldn’t have changed shifts yet. He came around the corner and immediately saw what the issue was. There was only one guard present. Not two. He felt the rage start to flare in his chest. Hot bubbles rose within him like magma in a volcano. He picked up speed until he was almost running, and he stopped a pace away from the solitary guard. Walker. He was standing as still as a statue and as straight as a die, as if he were on a parade ground and expecting an appearance from the commander in chief.
Strickland said, ‘Where’s your buddy Jacklin?’
Walker said, ‘I don’t know, sir.’
Strickland’s voice rose to a shriek and spittle sprayed from his mouth. ‘Don’t lie to me!’
