Page 9 of Exit Strategy
‘No. But remember the Gulf. That left a stain on the careers of a whole generation. Not because of the lives lost. Not because of the money spent. But because of the weapons of mass destruction horseshit. The nonexistent threat used to justify the invasion. I can’t risk starting down that road again. Not if I’m walking it alone.’
‘You’re worrying over nothing. For one thing, this isn’t even a full-scale invasion. It’s … Let’s call it a special military operation. A proof of concept, really, that we can do a job without the army slowing us down. A better job. And for another thing, the justification is one hundred percent legit this time.’
‘Are you sure it’s not all a bill of goods? Because thearmy’s not buying it, and I’m not going to lie – that makes me nervous.’
‘The army’s not buying it? Give me strength. It’s a classic case ofnot invented here. Come on, Mark. You’ve read the reports. You’ve seen the video. We have eyewitness testimony. It’s been all over the TV. The internet. Social media.’
‘Is there any way you could shore the story up a little?’
‘It doesn’t need to be shored up, but for you, yes, I can. The witness will be in Baltimore in a couple of days. I’ll have her sit down with my community outreach guy. She can record another video. Give statements to the press. We can make as big a splash as you like. But in the meantime, don’t lose sight of all the other advantages that would come with putting us in the lead role. We can move faster than the army. We’re cheaper. We have fewer rules. There’d be less oversight to hold us back from doing what needs to be done. And fewer reporting requirements. Like being totally scrupulous about casualties. Meaning we would always win. We would win the media battle, anyway, and what’s more important these days?’
‘You have a point.’
‘And that’s only theevolutionarystuff. It hardly moves the needle next to therevolutionaryideas I have. Listen. Until now, war has always cost money. Imagine going down in history as the guy who made itmakemoney.’
‘That would be … something.’
‘Remember the next-gen bodycams we demoed? And the shares that are sitting in a trust for you in the company that makes them? They’re the game changer. The revenue opportunities are outrageous. They’re limitless.Picture this: people paying to stream footage of battles as they’re fought, in real time, with surge pricing based on the level of peril. They could follow their favorite soldier. Vote on strategy. Bet on the outcome of individual actions or wholescale engagements. We could sell virtual embeds for regular civilians, not just legacy media journalists. We could call itdemocratizing war reporting. And we’d make it easy to screen-grab and post on social, so the whole thing would advertise itself.’
‘People do like things to be easy.’
‘Then there’s sponsorship. Customized patches on uniforms, like European soccer players wear, or race car drivers. Logos on vehicles. Weapons.Victory in Helmand Province, brought to you by our friends at Sig Sauer.’
‘That might be going a little far.’
‘You’ve got to think big, Mark. You could have league tables. For contractors, or weapon brands. And how about this: gender. Put the wholeShould women be on the front linesdebate to bed, once and for all, with real data.’
‘Real data’s good, I guess.’
‘And one more opportunity: competitions.Fly a Predator Drone for a Day.With prizes like that.’
‘Morgan, you’ve got to promise me something. One step at a time. Slow down. If ideas like these reach the wrong ears and—’
There was a heavyclunkand Strickland’s phone went dead. His office was suddenly fully dark. The power had gone out. The main connection to the local utility was toast. It was happening more and more frequently and it made Strickland mad. In some of the developing countries he’d served in, where modern infrastructure barelyexisted, or in war-torn cities where the facilities had been blown to hell, he understood. But where there was no extreme weather? No swarms of enemy drones targeting the electricity grid? There was no excuse in his book. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he shook off his irritation, counted to five, and listened as the backup generators kicked in. He’d balked at the cost when they’d been fitting the place out and had almost deleted them from the plans, but now he was glad he hadn’t. The lights flickered back to life. His computer whirred and stuttered. The cave’s cell booster acquired its signal again and the bars on his phone ramped back up to five out of five. He thought about hitting the call-back button but decided not to. If Hewson had been listening, his message would have gotten through. And if he hadn’t been, that was a problem for another day.
EIGHT
The guy on the staircase hung on for an extra thirty minutes before he accepted the inevitable. No one was coming to meet him. He turned his flashlight back on, this time standing it upright on the step where he was sitting and switching it to work like a lantern. He set his gun down next to it, uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his head, and started to rock slowly back and forth. Reacher wasn’t certain but he thought he could hear him moaning. His mind flashed back to the last word on the note –Please –and all of a sudden, without a gun in his hand, the guy didn’t seem like such a threat after all.
Reacher remained in the shadows and said, ‘Stand up. Put your hands behind your head.’
The guy uncurled himself and stopped rocking, but he stayed sitting down.
Reacher added an extra layer of steel to his voice. ‘Up.’
The guy stood. He said, ‘Who—?’
Reacher said, ‘Hands.’
The guy raised his hands to chest height. His palms were facing out and his fingers were quivering slightly. He shuffled around until he could see the top of the stairs. His eyes were moving wildly, scanning every inch of the balcony rail, and after a moment he said, ‘Where are you? Show yourself.’
Reacher said, ‘With your left foot – your left foot – kick the gun away. All the way to the bottom of the staircase.’
The guy’s left leg began to move. His toe touched the gun’s grip, then stopped. He said, ‘Wait a minute. Let’s put this together. This is an obscure place. There’s nothing to steal and there’s nothing to pull in tourists. We could both be here by coincidence, I guess, but I don’t buy that. You’re here because you got my note. Am I right?’
Reacher stepped into the dim light.
‘Okay, good. So now for the important question. Did you bring my money?’
