White said, “They should close the port.”
“I’m sure they will,” Sinclair said. “I’m sure those discussions are already underway. The White House will call us back and let us know.”
She checked the clock on the wall.
The banks in Zurich were open for business.
The phone didn’t ring.
Chapter 36
The phone didn’t ring during the first hour. Or the second. Reacher said, “I want to bring Orozco on board.”
Bishop said, “Why?”
“We need an extra pair of hands. We’re running short of time.”
“What could he do for us?
“He’s a good interrogator. If we find Wiley before we find the crate he’s going to have to tell us where it is. Orozco would be good for that. People respond to him.”
“How much does he know already?”
“Some of it.”
Sinclair said, “Call him.”
So Reacher did, there and then. He told Orozco as of ten hundred Zulu and eleven hundred Lima he was TDY to the NSC and for further detail an immediate 10-16 was required at the front desk number.
Then he killed the call.
Neagley looked at him.
He said, “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He left the office and walked down the stairs. To the front lobby. He waited at the desk. The phone rang. The guard picked up. He looked confused for a second, and then he handed the phone to Reacher. It was Orozco. A 10-16 was MP radio code for a report by land line. An immediate 10-16 meant call back right away. At the different number, Orozco would understand, for reasons of privacy.
Orozco said, “Are we in trouble?”
Reacher said, “Not yet.”
“That sounds like the guy who just jumped off a building. How does it feel? Pretty good so far. Like flying.”
“All we need to do is get the guy.”
“Are we going to?”
“How hard can it be?”
“What do you need from me?”
“I told them you’re coming in as an interrogator. But you’re not. You’re coming in to get the Iranian out of the safe house. They’ve forgotten all about him. Or else they’re set on taking a stupid risk. We can’t let either thing happen. They’ll kill him. So get him out as soon as we make a move.”
“Are you going to make a move?”
“I remain optimistic.”
“How will I know which are the Saudis and which is the Iranian?”
“I’m sure a man with your level of cultural sensitivity will have no trouble at all.”
“What do I do with the Saudis?”
“They can be collateral damage, if you like.”
“That’s hardcore,” Orozco said.
“There are ten missing bombs.”
“Is that what this is about?”
“We just figured it out.”
“What kind of bombs?”
“Nuclear bombs,” Reacher said. “Atom bombs as big as Hiroshima.”
“Are you serious?”
“As lung cancer.”
“Ten of them?”
“In a crate.”
Orozco was quiet for a long, long moment.
Then he said, “I would want to bring my sergeant.”
Reacher said, “I would expect nothing less.”
“I’m on my way,” Orozco said.
Reacher hung up and took the stairs back to the regular office. The phone rang as soon as he got there. Sinclair put it on speaker. Not the White House. Not new orders from NATO. It was Griezman. Who said, “There are five Herr Kempners in Wiley’s development. Four look unlikely based on age. The fifth is a strong possibility. His lease expires in less than a month. He has no employment records. The source of his funds is unclear. He is registered as Isaac Herbert Kempner.”
“That’s him,” Reacher said. “That’s the guy who founded Imperial Sugar. The exact same name. We found Wiley.”
“I’ll pick you up in five minutes,” Griezman said. “But please, just you, Sergeant Neagley, and Dr. Sinclair. No CIA. I haven’t told Berlin yet. I’m out on a limb with this.”
Sinclair killed the call.
She looked at Reacher, and said, “Congratulations, major. Another medal.”
Reacher said, “Not yet.”
—
Muller closed his office door and called Dremmler from his desk phone. He said, “Griezman is checking city records for a guy named Kempner. In the new development where they think Wiley lives. Where they had the unmarked car.”
Dremmler said, “It’s a common name.”
“I looked for myself and found five in that neighborhood. Three are old men. One is a student. The fifth is thirty-five years old. He has a driver’s license. Which gives me access to his record. Which is completely empty. There’s nothing there. No speeding tickets, no parking tickets, no warnings or cautions, no insurance claims, no witness statements, no nothing. No contact whatsoever with the bureaucratic world. That’s not normal for a thirty-five-year-old. I don’t think he’s real. I think Kempner is Wiley’s new name.”