Blue Moon

“No,” Jetmir said. “Given the history of recent days, you’ll understand that Dino will not feel well disposed toward taking a meeting with you at this time. Not without an extensive preview of the issue at hand, and a good word, both from me. I’m sure you would operate in the same manner, under the same circumstances. You have a staff for a reason. So does Dino.”

Gregory said, “Tell him we didn’t start killing your guys, and I don’t believe you started killing our guys. Ask him if he could get on board with that theory.”

“And if he can?”

“Ask him what it means.”

“What does it mean?”

“That’s enough of a preview. Now I’m requesting the courtesy of a meeting.”

“Then who killed our guys? And yours? You’re saying someone was running a false-flag operation against both of us at once.”

Gregory said nothing.

“Yes or no answer,” Jetmir said. “Do you believe there was outside interference?”

“Yes,” Gregory said.

“Then we should talk. Dino delegated the matter to me.”

“This is above your pay grade. With respect. There’s a reason staffs have bosses.”

“Dino isn’t here,” Jetmir said.

“When will he get in?”

“He was in early. He already left again.”

“I’m serious,” Gregory said. “This is very urgent.”

“Then talk to me. Dino will tell you to anyway. Right now you’re wasting time.”

Gregory said, “Did they take phones from you?”

Jetmir paused a long moment.

He said, “You ask because clearly they took phones from you, which would indicate an imminent data attack, which narrows the field, when it comes to potential opponents.”

“We think narrows it all the way down to the only one who would dare.”

“Dino will say you Ukrainians are always obsessed with the Russians. It’s a well known fact. You would accuse them of anything.”

“Suppose this time it’s true?”

“Neither one of us can beat the Russians.”

“Not separately.”

“Is that your proposal? I’ll make sure Dino gets it.”

“I’m serious,” Gregory said again. “This is very urgent.”

“I’m taking it seriously. Dino will get back to you as soon as he can. Maybe he’ll walk over to see you himself. To the taxi office.”

“Where he will be treated with the same courtesy I have enjoyed here.”

“Perhaps we’ll become accustomed to trusting each other,” Jetmir said.

“Time alone will tell,” Gregory said.

“Perhaps we’ll become friends.”

Gregory had no answer to that. He walked away. Out of the scoop, onto the sidewalk, and west, toward Center. Jetmir stood and watched him go. Then he turned away and ducked back inside, through the judas gate, to the low corrugated shed, with the smell of pine and the whine of saws.

Where his cell phone rang. With bad news. A made man from the night watch by the name of Gezim Hoxha had been found half dead in the trunk of his own car, abandoned way out on the edge of a ticky-tack old housing development. A tip had been called in by one of their old moneylending customers, hoping for points off her next loan. At that time no suspects had yet been identified. But a careful search of the area was already underway. There were extra cars on the streets. There were plenty of eyes wide open.

—

Reacher and Abby threaded their way out of the Shevicks’ development by following their inward route in reverse, keeping well out of sight of the parked Ukrainian car, staying on side streets wherever possible, until the very last moment, when they had to make a right and join the main drag, that led past the gas station with the deli counter, and on toward downtown. Up until then they felt pretty good. But from that point onward the exposure was pitiless. The sun was bright. The air was clear. There was no possibility of concealment. It was a standard urban streetscape. On the left, a three-story brick façade, with dusty windows and mean doors. Then a brick sidewalk, and a stone curb, and a blacktop street, and a stone curb, and a brick sidewalk. On the right, a three-story brick façade, with dusty windows and mean doors. No cover anywhere taller than a hydrant, or wider than a light pole.

Only a matter of time.

Abby’s phone rang. She answered. Vantresca. She put him on speaker. She walked with her phone out in front of her, carried flat on her hand. She looked like a carving from an old Egyptian tomb.

Vantresca said, “I got Barton and Hogan. They’re OK. They’re right here in the car with me. They told me what happened last night. No one has been to their house since then.”

Reacher asked, “Where are you now?”

“We’re setting out over to Abby’s, like she said. Barton knows where it is.”

“No, come pick us up first.”

“They told me you had a car.”

“Unfortunately it just got repossessed. With the guy still in the trunk. Which is why I was worried about Barton’s address.”

“No one has been to the house,” Vantresca said again. “Not so far. Clearly the guy isn’t talking yet. Maybe he can’t. Barton told me about the Precision Bass.”

“A blunt instrument,” Reacher said. “But the point is right now we’re walking. Right now our asses are hanging out in the breeze. We need a rendezvous for an emergency evacuation.”

“Where are you exactly?”