—
Neagley told Landry to call his New Orleans field office and script some questions for Wiley’s mother, on the subject of any and all old boyfriends named Arnold, and any and all old boyfriends who were ranchers and then subsequently drafted, and any and all old boyfriends who ever talked about Davy Crockett. Then Vanderbilt called her over to a chattering telex, where she tore out an armful of paper. Her request, via Sinclair and the Joint Chiefs, for cold-case property crimes in Germany. Near military installations or areas of activity. During the span of Wiley’s active in-country deployment.
There were plenty of crimes.
Reacher said, “When do we get Wiley’s movement orders?”
“Soon,” Neagley said. “They’re working on it.”
The crimes were many and various. All unsolved. There were silent midnight burglaries, and armed invasions and robberies, and stick-ups, and hijacks, all aimed at cash-rich local businesses, like bars and betting parlors and strip clubs. Geographically the locations matched the military map. Because that was where the money was. Hence the cash-rich businesses. Perpetrators in such crimes would come from miles around. From far and wide, like seagulls to a landfill. Very few of them would be soldiers. But some of them would be.
Neagley said, “Look at the dollar values.”
“They’re bullshit,” Reacher said. “For the insurance. We should cut them in half.”
“Even so. One or two of these would give Wiley all the seed money he needed. Three or four of these would put him in a whole different category. We would need to make new assumptions. He could have multiple locations and major resources.”
“When did he steal the thing he’s selling?”
“Somewhere between the day he located it and the end of his final ninety-six-hour pass. Somewhere in that ten-month period.”
“Why hasn’t it been reported missing?”
“That depends on what it is. Depends on the audit cycle, I suppose. Maybe they’re counting something right now. Maybe the news will break tonight.”
“How thorough are the audits?”
“On average not very,” Neagley said. “Mostly it’s a head count. If there are three containers listed on the inventory, they count one, two, three, and they make a check mark.”
“But the containers could be empty or something.”
“Got to be one or the other. Either the count hasn’t happened yet, or he fooled them somehow. Those are the only two possibilities.”
“No, I think there’s a third,” Reacher said. “Maybe whatever he stole was never on an inventory. Maybe no one knew it was there, so no one knows it’s gone.”
“Like what?”
“Like my pants.”
“What about them?”
“You like them?”
“They’re pants.”
“They’re U.S. Marine Corps khakis manufactured in 1962 and shipped in 1965. At some point they were delivered by mistake to a U.S. Army warehouse in Maryland. They stayed there thirty years. Never counted, never audited, never on any guy’s list.”
“You think someone just bought a hundred million dollars’ worth of pants?”
“Not specifically pants.”
“Shirts?”
“Something that got lost in the back of a warehouse. As a third possibility.”
“Like what?” Neagley said again.
“We were going to fight the Red Army here. We had all kinds of stuff. And people screw up. If they can randomly send a bale of jarhead pants to an army base, they can randomly send anything anywhere.”
“OK,” Neagley said. “It’s a third possibility.”
Then the phone rang.
Griezman.
Who said, “Something weird happened.”
Chapter 29
Reacher put the call on speaker, and all seven people gathered around, and Griezman said, “A local police station just got a telephone call from the manager of a car rental franchise. Near your hotel, as a matter of fact. A man who spoke in English and sounded American just rented a large panel van. Despite the fact he spoke only in English, his ID was German. The clerk at the desk did the deal. But the manager was in the back office and overheard the conversation. He recognized the customer’s voice. The guy had rented there before, not long ago. Afterward for some reason the manager checked the deal in the computer and saw the guy had used a completely different name than the last time. He had used a whole different set of ID.”
“When was this?” Reacher said.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Description?”
“Vague, but it could be Wiley. That’s why I’m calling you. I already sent a car with a copy of the sketch. We’ll know in a minute or two.”
“Was the name German the last time?”
“Yes, but different. Last time it was Ernst, and this time it’s Gebhardt.”
“OK, thanks,” Reacher said. “Get back to us when the rental people have seen the sketch.”
He killed the call.