Without Fail - Lee Child [149]
“My grandmother couldn’t drive,” Reacher said. “Still figuring on three guys?”
Bannon shook his head. “No, on reflection we’re sticking at two. The whole thing profiles better that way. We figure the team was split one and one between Minnesota and Colorado on Tuesday and it stayed split afterward. The guy pretending to be the Bismarck cop was acting solo at the church. We figure he had the submachine gun only. Which makes sense, because he knew Armstrong was going to be buried in agents as soon as the decoy rifle was discovered. And a submachine gun is better than a rifle against a cluster of people. Especially an H&K MP5. Our people say it’s as accurate as a rifle at a hundred yards and a lot more powerful. Thirty-round magazines, he would have chewed through six agents and gotten to Armstrong easy enough.”
“So why was the other guy bothering to drive here at the time?” Stuyvesant asked.
“Because these are your people,” Bannon said. “They’re realistic professionals. They knew the odds. They knew they couldn’t guarantee a hit in any one particular place. So they went through Armstrong’s schedule and planned to leapfrog ahead of each other to cover all the bases.”
Stuyvesant said nothing.
“But they were together yesterday,” Reacher said. “You’re saying the first guy drove the Vaime here and I saw the guy from Bismarck on the warehouse roof.”
Bannon nodded. “No more leapfrogging, because yesterday was the last good opportunity for a spell. The Bismarck guy must have flown in, commercial, not long after the Air Force brought you back.”
“So where’s the H&K? He must have abandoned it in Bismarck somewhere between the church and the airport. You find it?”
“No,” Bannon said. “But we’re still looking.”
“And who was the guy the state trooper saw in the subdivision?”
“We’re discounting him. Almost certainly just a civilian.”
Reacher shook his head. “So this solo guy hid the decoy rifle and legged it back to the church with the H&K all by himself?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Have you ever hidden out and lined up to shoot a man?”
“No,” Bannon said.
“I have,” Reacher said. “And it’s not a lot of fun. You need to be comfortable, and relaxed, and alert. It’s a muscle thing. You get there well ahead of time, you settle in, you adjust your position, you figure out your range, you check the wind, you assess the angle of elevation or depression, you calculate the bullet drop. Then you lie there, staring through the sight. You get your breathing slow, you let your heart rate drop. And you know what you want at that point, more than anything else in the whole world?”
“What?”
“You want somebody you trust watching your back. All of your concentration is out there in front of you, and you start to feel an itch in your spine. If these guys are realistic professionals like you say they are, then no way would one of them work that church tower alone.”
Bannon was silent.
“He’s right,” Neagley said. “Best guess is the guy in the subdivision was the back-watcher, on his way from hiding the decoy. He was looping around, well away from the fence. The shooter was hiding out in the church, waiting for him to get back.”
“Which begs a question,” Reacher said. “Like, who was it on the road from Minnesota at the time?”
Bannon shrugged.
“OK,” he said. “So there are three of them.”
“All ours?” Stuyvesant asked, neutrally.
“I don’t see why not,” Bannon said.
Reacher shook his head. “You’re obsessed. Why don’t you just arrest everybody who ever worked for the Secret Service? There are probably some hundred-year-olds left over from FDR’s first term.”
“We’re sticking with our theory,” Bannon said.
“Fine,” Reacher said. “Keeps you out of my hair.”
“I warned you against vigilantism, twice.”
“And I heard you twice.”
The room went silent. Then Bannon’s face softened. He glanced across at Froelich’s empty chair.
“Even though I would completely understand your motive,” he said.
Reacher stared down at the table.
“It’s two guys, not three,” he said. “I agree with you, it profiles better. A thing like this, the best choice would