Page 60 of Exit Strategy
‘What? No. I already knew that.’
‘Who is it?’
‘An asshole called Morgan Strickland. You’ve probably heard of him. His outfit’s been all over the news. He’s gagging to invade Armenia with his gang of toy soldiers.’
‘So what was the point of leaning on Weaver?’
‘I needed to know how he was communicating with Strickland.’
‘To send Strickland false information. To trick the guy.’
‘You make it sound like I’m cheating on my homework. You have to understand the scale of operations here. Strickland literally has a private army. I’m up against him with one other person, plus a crew member we bribed on the ship. I can’t go toe-to-toe, as much as I’d love to. I have to box clever. And I would have won if it hadn’t been for you idiots sticking your noses in.’
‘You had a hiding place in the container. The red one.’
‘Obviously. I knew Strickland might not buy my story about the delay. Not all the way, anyway. But I hoped itwould plant a doubt in his mind, at least. Cause him to second-guess himself. Then, if he was watching at the original time and he thought the crate was a diversion, he would check the container. If it looked empty, he might be convinced a little more easily than normal. He might go after the crate a little quicker. Then we’d have time to get out and slip away.’
‘It must have been a small space.’
‘Tiny. At the end opposite the open doors. I couldn’t make it too big or the proportions would have given us away.’
‘You were going to cut the fence. I saw the bolt cutters.’
‘It was the obvious way out. But it all went to shit because I saw you come in. I figured you were one of Strickland’s goons. I saw you pick up the crowbar, so I assumed you were going after the crate. We came out. You were gone. Andbang, Strickland’s guys showed up. Tipped off by you, I now understand. Thanks for that. So how about we wrap this little chat up and get moving. A woman’s been taken. She’s in danger and I need to get her back.’
‘She’d be safer with you?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Why is that? Softer bedsheets? Better clientele?’
‘What? Wait. Are you suggesting … You are. All right. Get out of the car. Say that again. See what happens.’
‘She must be pretty valuable for you to smuggle her in all alone. I thought you guys usually brought dozens of women over at a time. Economies of scale or whatever. There must be a lot of money at stake.’
Kasselwood sighed and acted like she was looking to the heavens even though the roof of the car was in theway. She said, ‘I’m trying to stop a war and this is the bullshit I have to put up with?’
‘Which war are you trying to stop?’
‘The invasion of Armenia, obviously. The special military operation Strickland’s pushing so hard for.’
Gilmour leaned in closer. He said, ‘Look, maybe this Strickland guy is an asshole. Maybe war for profit is morally dubious. But do you really want Iran to get its hands on weapons-grade uranium? Is that going to make the world a safer place?’
Kasselwood rolled her eyes. ‘Listen. There is no uranium. Iran has nothing to do with this. They’re just a convenient bogeyman. The Nagorno-Karabakh separatists aren’t even involved. They know nothing about it. You have to understand, the entire basis for the invasion is a scam. Strickland fabricated the whole thing, from soup to nuts. He made up the press reports. The eyewitness testimony. The social media posts. Everything. It’s all a pretext so his company can make more money.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I know Strickland. I’ve been watching how he operates for more than twenty years.’
Reacher said, ‘Who’s the woman he’s taken? Why is she so important?’
‘Her name is Violeta Vardanyan. She’s his star witness in the court of public opinion. And every word she’s said on camera so far has been a lie.’
THIRTY-FOUR
Gilmour fired up the engine and continued to the exit, driving a little faster now. The Toyota was in the same place as before, still blocking the gate. The empty crate was still in its load bed. Four semis were lined up on the other side. And there was no sign of Arlon James.
Kasselwood climbed out of the car. The lead semi started to honk. She ignored it, crossed to the Toyota, and opened the driver’s door. The woman who was dressed like her was still there. Her hood covered her face. Her right arm had been pushed through a gap in the steering wheel and her wrists had been cable-tied together.
