Page 29 of Exit Strategy
Gorbolevski lowered his voice and said, ‘Seriously, Dominic. Take care of this lunatic. He’s your problem now. I’ve talked to the others. We all agree. You deal with it, or one of us will. And we’ll deal with you at the same time. Are we clear?’
Kelleher stepped back and said, ‘There’s no need—’
‘Are we clear?’
Kelleher nodded. He said, ‘Yes. We’re clear.’
Gorbolevski climbed back into the cab and his driver started the engine. He pulled away and the others followed slowly, one at a time. Kelleher stood by the trunk of his Mercedes breathing their fumes. He put his hand in his pocket and fiddled with his keys. Then he turned and went back into his building. The errand he was going to run could wait. He had a new priority now.
Gilmour took the paper from Reacher and ran his index finger over a series of boxes down the right side. He said, ‘I think I was wrong about the smuggling. I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. I think it’s something else altogether.’
Reacher said, ‘As in altogether better? Or altogether worse?’
‘As in, we could altogether be screwed seven ways till Sunday. Or I could be, anyway. You haven’t done anything. You’re not involved. Not really. You should walk away. No. You should run. Like now.’
‘Explain?’
Gilmour took a breath, then let out a long, slow, exaggerated sigh. ‘Suppose you have something you want to bring into the United States. Something sensitive. You can’t bring it on a plane. And it’s on another continent, so you can’t get a truck and drive it over the border. So what do you do?’
‘Put it in a container. Load it on a ship.’
‘Right. Only you can’t just rock up with your own container. You can’t buy them at Walmart. There’s a worldwide shortage, and every one is marked with a special code to identify it. And track it. So you rent a container from a legitimate owner, or you rent space in one, and you load in your cargo. And when you do that, you need a thing called a bill of lading, plus a couple of other documents. They’re basically a record of everything to do with your cargo. What it is. Where it came from. What it’s made of – because a lot of things, certain kinds of wood, animal products, lots of chemicals, are prohibited due to being endangered or hazardous in some way. The container doesn’t get on a ship without these forms. And God help you if you lie when you fill them in, because they go straight to Customs and Border Protection. They take this shit seriously. They put every detail under the microscope. And you can’t submit the paperwork yourselfbecause it has to be done electronically using bespoke software. You need an agent to do it. A specialist. Now, theoretically you could buy the software, but it costs an absolute arm and a leg, and it wouldn’t actually help you. Because to submit the forms you need to be registered with CBP ahead of time, and you need to post a bond. A bond with a lot of zeroes at the end to guard against failure to pay duty, or in case the importer gets fined for having illegal merchandise or breaks some other rule. Which is another reason you need to go through an agent.’
‘Sounds like a tight system.’
‘It is.’
‘So where’s the back door?’
‘Who says there is one?’
‘There’s always a back door.’
‘There’s not one that you or I could use. But you’re partly right. If you were with the CIA. Or a deniable operator working for the CIA. Or Military Intelligence. What do those guys do if they need to bring something in? Something so secret they can’t admit it exists? They follow the same process. Rent a container, load it, get an agent to file a bill of lading along with all the other paperwork. But here’s the crucial part. The shipper provides the information that goes on the bill. And the way it’s designed, certain fields can be completed in a particular way. Certain words can be combined, like a code. It tells CBP that the shipment is officially unofficial, so they don’t inspect it. They don’t go near it. And it tells the handlers at the port to take the container to a specific location, and then leave it alone so the cargo can be recovered.’
Reacher tapped the screenshot. ‘The codes are in here?’
‘I need confirmation. It’s been a while. But I’m pretty sure.’
‘So the guy who paid your debt. Whoever he’s working with, they’re not just going after some random smuggler. They’re looking to rip off the CIA.’
‘Right. Think about that. What could the cargo be? Maybe weapons. Advanced ones. Prototypes stolen from China. Chemical weapons smuggled out of Russia. New kinds of drones from Iran or North Korea. Next gen. Electronics. AI stuff. Shit that definitely shouldn’t wind up in the wrong hands.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘And you know what else? It shows I was right about me getting my coworker killed. For a random smuggler, a cold-blooded murder like that would have been extreme, I admit. But the CIA? Or a contractor? They’d assume anyone snooping was working for a hostile power. By definition. And eliminating that kind of threat is business as usual for those guys.’ Gilmour’s back stiffened, then he jumped out of his chair and snatched up the screenshot. ‘And that’s not all. I just snooped again. They’ll know the log-in is bogus this time. It has to be. They already killed its owner. So they’ll trace the terminal. That’s the next logical step. And it’ll lead them right to us.’
Gilmour logged out of the computer, stretched across to his own desk, and opened the top drawer. He grabbed a tub of alcohol wipes, pulled one out, cleaned the computer’s power switch, then moved on to its keyboard and mouse. Reacher watched him work. He figured Gilmourwas wasting his time, so he shifted his focus to rearranging the pieces of the puzzle in his head. When Gilmour had told him his coworker had been murdered, he’d been dubious. Dropping a shipping container on a person was an unreliable method of assassination. There were too many variables. Too many factors that could not be controlled. Reacher crossed to the window and looked down at the tent that covered the scene of the accident. Or maybe, crime. It was at the edge of a broad, open area. There was no guarantee that any target would pass through that spot. In fact, it was more likely that they wouldn’t. And there was no way to be certain that they’d be alone, so the killer would need the stomach for collateral damage. An unknown number of extra deaths. Potentially multiple casualties. All of that struck Reacher as too much for a bunch of smugglers. If Gilmour’s friend had been shot in the back in a dark alley, he might have believed it. Or if he’d been knifed in the gut in a bar fight. But if Gilmour’s new theory held water and the CIA was bringing in some critical, top-secret item and they believed foreign agents were making a move to steal it? Lethal force wasn’t so far-fetched. It was to be expected. Maybe even required. Especially if the operation had been farmed out to a private contractor with little oversight. If any.
If Gilmour’s theory held water.
Reacher turned back and saw Gilmour drop the tub of wipes back in his drawer, then line up the screenshot in the center of his desk. He said, ‘You need to confirm the contents of that thing?’
Gilmour said, ‘I’m doing that now.’ He took out hisphone, scanned the piece of paper, then prodded away at the little keyboard on the screen for a moment. ‘I’m sending it to a buddy in Wiesbaden. He can check the entries. And don’t worry. Our email is secure. It’s a service we use out of Switzerland.’
‘If I was in the mood to worry, it wouldn’t be about your email.’
Gilmour shrugged, then took his old basic phone out of his pocket. He rummaged for its battery, assembled it, waited for it to come to life, then typed a message. He double-checked that it had sent, then dismantled the phone again. He said, ‘I figured I better send an update on the shipment. Confirm the intel’s still good. I’m putting my ass on the line here, so if that guy harms my nephew after all this, I’ll kill him.’
