Night School (Jack Reacher #21)

“We’ll be ready when you do.”


“Persecuting us will only increase our numbers.”

“Prosecuting is not persecuting.”

“Think for yourself, Herr Griezman. You’re facing a powerful force. Soon to get even more powerful. It might be time to abandon obedience to your masters. You should side with us. Our interests are perfectly aligned. You have nothing to fear. Your job will be safe. Even in the new Germany there will be petty criminals.”

Griezman said, “Did Schlupp call you back before he died, with the American’s new name?”

Dremmler said, “No.”

And Griezman believed him. He expected nothing less.



Sinclair made the call to the White House from the regular office. Helmsworth had left. Bishop had arrived. Waterman repeated his gloomy predictions, that it was too late anyway, that the Germans would take half a day even to respond, and a whole day to brief in. Maybe more, because they were starting from cold. Then they heard that a NATO clause had been invoked, which only added to the complexity. Sinclair predicted a significant delay. Reacher called Griezman, and was told he was out in his car. His secretary said she would make sure he called back just as soon as he could. She sounded like a very pleasant woman.

He hung up.

Sinclair said, “Wiley is an AWOL soldier in the same city as you.”

Reacher said, “I need his new name.”

“Good luck with that.”

“We could attempt a prediction.”

“Based on what?”

“We know customers were free to choose what names they wanted. We know Wiley used Ernst and Gebhardt at the rental franchise. Why choose those two? And if they were number three and number two on a list, what was number one?”

“That would be highly speculative.”

“What the MP business would call a wild-ass guess.”

“Is that better than a Hail Mary, or worse?”

“It leaves a Hail Mary so far behind you can barely see it. It’s a gut call. Like closing your eyes and swinging the bat.”

“So what’s his new name?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s in the back of my mind. Can’t get it all the way out. I might need to check a book or make a call.”

“Call who?”

“Someone who grew up in southeast Texas.”

The phone rang.

Griezman.

Who said, “How may I help you?”

Reacher said, “I’m not sure you can yet.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“I hoped to be ready.”

Sinclair said, “Gamble, Reacher.”

He remembered raising his hand and brushing her forehead with his fingertips, and sliding his fingers into her hair, and running them through. He remembered the texture, alternately thick and soft as the waves came and went. He remembered sweeping it back and hooking part of it behind her ear, and leaving part of it hanging free.

It had looked good.

He had gambled then.

He said to Griezman, “I need you to check city records for the development where Wiley lives.”

Griezman said, “For what name?”

“Kempner.”

“That’s fairly common.”

“Single males, middle thirties, living alone, not much else going on in their lives in terms of a paper trail.”

“That’s hours of work. Are you in a hurry?”

“We’re stepping a little faster than we’d like to be.”

“Then you better be sure. This could be your only wish. No time to rub the lamp again.”

“Try it.”

“Kempner?”

“Get back to me as soon as you can,” Reacher said.

He killed the call.

Sinclair said, “Why Kempner?”

“Why Ernst and why Gebhardt? Wiley grew up in Sugar Land, Texas, and then one day years later he was asked for three German names. What came to the surface? There’s a lot of German tradition in Texas. An ancient community. A lot of success, and a lot of stories. Legend has it the first German to arrive was a guy named Ernst. He founded the colony. I’m sure Wiley heard all about him. Then years later another guy brewed a hot sauce. Now you can get it in plastic bottles from the PX or the supermarket. It’s all over Texas. I’m sure Wiley has put it on his food all his life. The brand is Gebhardt.”

“Coincidence,” Sinclair said. “Both of them.”

“But what if? If Ernst and Gebhardt came from a subliminal association with growing up in southeast Texas, what would come next?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea.”

“Wiley was proud of his home town. That was in the original AWOL file. And Specialist Coleman confirmed it. Wiley’s crewmate from the Chaparral truck. Wiley’s home town was all about Imperial Sugar. Founded in 1906. Sugar Land was a company town, side to side and top to bottom.”

“How do you know this stuff?”

“There was a movie. And I read about it once, on a bus, in the Houston Chronicle. Imperial Sugar was founded by Isaac H. Kempner. He was the father of the town, essentially. He built it. I’m sure he’s very famous there. Maybe they named a street for him.”

“Hell of a gamble.”

“You made me do it.”

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