‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘I guess I was daydreaming. I guess it was a good thing no one else was around.’
The cop was pretty sure the air coming off the guy smelled like beer.
He said, ‘Licence.’
Billy dug in his pocket and handed it over.
The cop said, ‘Sir, please wait there.’
He walked back to his car, as slowly as he could. He got in. He had a computer terminal on a swan neck, bolted to the tunnel near the shifter. Courtesy of the last new mayor. All kinds of budget promises.
He typed in Billy’s details.
Up came a code from the western division of the federal DEA.
He got out of the car again. He walked back to Billy, as slowly as he could, and when he got there he spun him around, and banged his head on the old Ford’s roof, and cuffed his hands behind his back.
THIRTY-FIVE
THEY MET IN the lobby at eight in the morning. After the diner they drove to the grocery store, where they bought stuff for Rose. Food, mostly, some of it wholesome, some of it not, but also soap, and a pair of pink socks, and a new comb with wide-spaced teeth, and a paperback book. The kind of little thing that got left out, when a household budget came under pressure.
They bought two of every type of antiseptic cream. Bramall’s phone rang in the checkout line. He looked at the screen and said, ‘It’s Special Agent Noble, from the DEA.’ He answered and listened, and made appreciative but non-committal noises. At one point he left a split-second gap, as if he should be saying something, but wasn’t. As if he was choosing not to. One federal guy playing chess with another. Reacher knew the signs.
Bramall clicked off and said, ‘Billy was arrested last night in a small town in Oklahoma. Noble questioned him by phone. So far he’s denying everything. Including he claims he doesn’t know anyone named Rose Sanderson, or where she’s located.’
‘Yesterday’s news,’ Mackenzie said. ‘We don’t need Billy any more.’
The drive back to Rose’s place was a typical Wyoming time warp journey. In their minds they didn’t have far to go. It was a purely local trip. Mule Crossing was just down the road, and Rose lived just west of the turn. But in reality it took two whole hours to get there. The long, long two-lane, and then the dirt road, slower than they wanted through the infinite space, and then the rutted four-mile driveway. The sky was the colour of steel. Not a threat, but a reminder. Winter was on its way.
The three cowboys met them where the track came out of the woods in the final clearing. They were doing nothing. Just waiting and watching, strung out in a ragged line thirty yards short of the house. Like a defensive perimeter. We got kind of protective. Bramall slowed down, in a no-threat kind of way, and eased around to where he had parked before. Reacher unloaded the groceries and stacked them on the porch. Mackenzie carried them into the house. She closed the door behind her.
The clearing went quiet.
Reacher saw Bramall at the edge of the ravine. A small neat man, in a dark suit, with a collar and a tie. He should have looked out of place in the wilderness. But he didn’t. He looked perfectly at home. He was that kind of guy. He was thinking about something. Reacher could see it in his face. A problem. A struggle. Some kind of an ethical dilemma.
Reacher was pretty sure what it was.
Billy.
Not yesterday’s news.
Tomorrow’s news.
Reacher walked over to where Bramall was standing.
He said, ‘I know,’ in what he hoped was a sympathetic way.
‘You know what?’ Bramall said back.
‘You feel bad you didn’t tell the Boy Detective we found Rose without Billy’s help.’
‘Would you have?’
‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘Too much information. What happened in Oklahoma?’
‘He ran a red light. The system kicked out his name and his face. Noble called him and tried to get some answers out of him. The question is why he did that. It could have been purely a courtesy on our behalf, because he was sympathetic to Mrs Mackenzie’s situation. She asked him if he could let her know, after all. Maybe he was just going through the motions for her. Or maybe not. Maybe he was getting real. Maybe he figured since he got handed Billy on a plate anyway, he might as well write up a comprehensive report. It would scratch an itch, after all. He doesn’t like the ghost network. In which case, if he knew where Rose was, the book says his first logical move should be question her as a witness, or arrest her for buying illegal narcotics, or both. This is not the time for me to risk either outcome. Not right now. For many reasons. One of which is my client’s stated preference to keep her sister out of the system. So I didn’t tell him. And yes, I feel a little bad about it. I prefer not to conceal things from people like him.’
‘Was your contract extended?’
‘For the duration of the current crisis.’
‘How long will that be?’
Bramall glanced up at the house.
He said, ‘I’m not an expert.’
‘How long will Billy hold out?’
‘If Noble gets real?’
‘Even if he doesn’t, I guess. Billy could say something stupid at any time. Some little slip. The Boy Detective might prick up his ears. There’s a big prize, don’t forget. Folks who can tell the difference say what they’re getting out here is the real deal. Made in America. Straight out the factory door. Whole shipments of it, in the proper boxes. Which the Boy Detective thinks is impossible. He’ll take it personally. He’ll hunt it down. He’ll plug the last leak. This is not the time to risk cold turkey either. I’m sure your client’s other stated preference is to keep her sister out of the locked ward in the hospital.’
Bramall glanced up at the house again.
He said, ‘I assume the kind of decisions they’re making can’t be made fast.’
‘Normally I guess not,’ Reacher said. ‘But this time they can’t be made slow, either.’
‘How long have we got?’
‘My instinct would be get out of here within two or three days.’
‘Until then we should say nothing to Noble.’
‘Easy for me,’ Reacher said. ‘But you have a licence from the state of Illinois.’
‘Tell me about it. While simultaneously having credible evidence a man named Arthur Scorpio, in Rapid City, South Dakota, which is presumably comfortably inside the western division, is currently coordinating a network invisible to the DEA, but that extends at least into Wyoming and Montana, and that uses some kind of last-surviving loophole source, like El Dorado, the discovery of which would be hailed as a major triumph and the capstone of an outstanding regional success story. I could hand it over on a plate. In fact I have a professional obligation to do exactly that. If and when I believe a crime has been or is about to be committed. And on top of all that I have obvious ethical obligations. I should tell Noble everything I know.’
‘But not yet,’ Reacher said.
‘Because the illegal supply must be allowed to continue. At least until my client arranges an alternative semi-legal supply somewhere else.’
‘Relax,’ Reacher said. ‘You’re retired.’
‘Second career.’