Gone Tomorrow - Lee Child [120]
“Which I will.”
“Your future plans are your business. But you need to take care. You need to understand. Because this has been their tactic for two hundred years. That’s why their abuse was always within earshot of the front lines. They wanted to bring out the rescue parties. Or provoke revenge attacks. They wanted a never-ending supply of prisoners. Ask the British. Or the Russians.”
“I’ll take plenty of care.”
“I’m sure you’ll try. But you’re not going anywhere until we’ve finished with you, about the train.”
“Your guy saw what I saw.”
“It’s in your interests to help us.”
“Not so far. All I have is promises.”
“All charges will be dropped when we have the memory stick in our possession.”
“Not good enough.”
“You want it in writing?”
“No, I want the charges dropped now. I need some freedom of action here. I can’t be looking out for cops the whole time.”
“Freedom of action for what?”
“You know what.”
“OK, I’ll do what I can.”
“Not good enough.”
“I can’t give you guarantees. All I can do is try.”
“What are the chances you can succeed?”
“None at all. But Sansom can.”
“Are you authorized to speak for him?”
“I’ll have to call him.”
“Tell him no more bullshit, OK? We’re past that stage now.”
“OK.”
“And talk to him about Theresa Lee and Jacob Mark, too. And Docherty. I want a clean slate for all of them.”
“OK.”
“And Jacob Mark is going to need counseling. Especially if he sees a copy of that DVD.”
“He won’t.”
“But I want him looked after. The ex–husband, as well. Molina.”
“OK.”
“Two more things,” I said.
“You drive a hard bargain, for a guy with nothing to offer.”
“Homeland Security traced the Hoths coming in from Tajikistan with their crew. Three months ago. Some kind of a computer algorithm. I want to know how many people were in the party.”
“To estimate the size of the opposing force?” “Exactly.” “And?”
“I want to meet with Sansom again.” “Why?”
“I want him to tell me what is on that memory stick.” “Not going to happen.”
“Then he doesn’t get it back. I’ll keep it and take a look for myself.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ve actually got the stick?”
“No,” I said. “But I know where it is.”
Chapter 65
Springfield asked, “Where is it?”
I said, “I can’t volunteer information.”
“You’re full of shit.”
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
“You sure? You can take us there?”
“I can get you within fifteen feet. The rest is up to you.”
“Why? Is it buried? In a bank vault? In a house?”
“None of the above.”
“So where is it?”
“Call Sansom,” I said. “Set up a meeting.”
Springfield finished what was left of his water and a waiter came by with the check. Springfield paid with his platinum card, the same way he had for both of us at the Four Seasons. Which I had taken to be a good sign. It had indicated a positive dynamic. So I chose to push my luck a little further.
“Want to get me a room?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Because it’s going to take time for Sansom to get me off the most-wanted list. And I’m tired. I was up all night. I want to take a nap.”
Ten minutes later we were on a high floor, in a room with a queen-sized bed. A nice space, but tactically unsatisfactory. Like all high-floor hotel rooms it had a window that was no good to me and therefore only one way out. I could see that Springfield was thinking the same thing. He was thinking I was a lunatic to put myself in there.
I asked him, “Can I trust you?”
He said, “Yes.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Give me your gun.”
“I’m not armed.”
“Answers like that don’t help with the trust thing.”
“Why do you want it?”
“You know why. So if you bring the wrong people to my door I can defend myself.”
“I won’t.”
“Reassure me.”
He stood still for a long moment. I knew he would rather stick a needle in his eye than give up his weapon. But he ran some calculations in his head and reached around under his suit coat to the small of his back and came out with a nine-millimeter Steyr GB pistol. The Steyr GB had been the sidearm of choice for 1980s-era U.S.