The Affair_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [133]
“Yes, and I already traced the name for you.”
“In half an hour?”
“It was easy, I’m afraid. Paul Evers died a year ago.”
“How?”
“Nothing dramatic. It was an accident. A helicopter crashed at Lejeune. It was in the newspaper, actually. A Sea Hawk lost a rotor blade. Two pilots and three passengers died, one of which was Evers.”
I said, “OK, plan B. The other name I want is Alice Bouton.” I spelled it out. I said, “She’s been a civilian for the last five years. She was discharged from the Corps without honor. So you better call Stan back. He’s better than you at this kind of stuff.”
“The only thing Lowrey has that I don’t is a friend at a bank.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why you need to call him. Corporations know about civilians better than we do.”
“Why are we doing this?”
“I’m checking a story.”
“No, you’re clutching at straws. That’s what you’re doing.”
“You think?”
“Elizabeth Deveraux is as guilty as sin, Reacher.”
“You’ve seen the file?”
“Only the carbons.”
I said, “But with a thing like this, you have to flip a coin.”
“As in?”
“As in, maybe she did it, maybe she didn’t. We don’t know yet.”
“We know, Reacher.”
“Not for sure.”
Neagley said, “It’s a good thing you don’t own a car.”
I hung up with her and before I was a step away the phone rang on the wall, with the first good news of the day.
Chapter
77
It was Munro on the phone, and he wanted to tell me he had had a cup of coffee. Or more specifically he wanted to tell me he had talked to the steward who had brought him the cup of coffee. The conversation had been on the subject of the day’s upcoming festivities, and Munro said the stewards expected to be very busy until after dinner, but no later than that, because the mess bar would be deserted all evening, because the last time the senator visited he had hosted everybody in town, at Brannan’s bar, because politically it seemed more authentic, and no doubt the old guy would do the same thing again.
“OK,” I said. “That’s good. Riley will come to me after all. And his father. What time will dinner finish?”
“Scheduled to be over by eight o’clock, according to the steward.”
“OK,” I said again. “I’m sure father and son will leave the base together. I want you on them from the moment they drive through the gate. But unobtrusively. Can you do that?”
“Could you?”
“Probably.”
“Then what makes you doubt I could?”
“Innate skepticism, I suppose,” I said. “But whatever, keep your ear to the ground until eight tonight, and use this phone number as a contact if you need me. I’ll be in and out of this diner all day long.”
“OK,” Munro said. “I’ll see you later. But whether or not you’ll see me is a different question altogether.”
I hung up with Munro, and I asked the waitress to answer the phone for me if it rang again. I asked her to write down the callers’ names on her order pad. Then it was all about waiting. For information, and for face to face encounters, and for decisive conclusions. I stepped out to the Main Street sidewalk and stood in the sun. Across the street the guy from the shirt store was doing the same thing. Taking a break, and tasting the air. On my left two old guys were on a bench outside the pharmacy, four hands piled on two canes between two sets of knees. Apart from the four of us the town was deserted. No hustle, no bustle, no traffic.
All quiet.
Until the goon squad from Kelham showed up.
There were four of them in total. They were Kelham’s own local version of Senate Liaison, I guessed, preparing the ground the same way a Secret Service advance team prepares the ground ahead of a presidential visit. They came out of the mouth of the alley beyond the two old guys on the bench. I guessed they had just called on the Brannan brothers and alerted them to what was going to happen that night. Maybe they had made invoicing arrangements. In which case I wished the Brannan brothers the very best of luck. I imagined billing a Senate office was a long and frustrating experience.
The four guys were all officers. Two lieutenants, a captain, and a light colonel