Worth Dying For_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [155]
Eleanor Duncan nodded.
He asked, “Who was in it?”
Eleanor Duncan said, “Six young women and ten young girls. From Thailand.”
“Were they OK?”
“They were fine. Not surprisingly. It seems that a lot of trouble had been taken to make sure they arrived in marketable condition.”
“What did you do with them?”
“Nothing.”
“Then where are they?”
“They’re still in the back of this truck.”
“What?”
“We didn’t know what to do. They were lured here under false pretences, obviously. They were separated from their families. We decided we have to get them home again.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m driving them to Denver.”
“What’s in Denver?”
“There are Thai restaurants.”
“That’s your solution? Thai restaurants?”
“It isn’t nearly as dumb as it sounds. Think about it, Reacher. We can’t go to the police. These women are illegal. They’ll be detained for months, in a government jail. That would be awful for them. We thought at least they should be with people who speak their own language. Like a supportive community. And restaurant workers are connected, aren’t they? Some of them were smuggled in themselves. We thought perhaps they could use the same organizations, but in reverse, to get out again.”
“Whose idea was this?”
“Everybody’s. We discussed it all day, and then we voted.”
“Terrific.”
“You got a better idea?”
Reacher said nothing. He just looked at the blank gray side of the van, and its salt stains, all dried in long feathered aerodynamic patterns. He put his palm on the cold metal.
Eleanor Duncan asked, “You want to meet them?”
Reacher said, “No.”
“You saved them.”
Reacher said, “Luck and happenstance saved them. Therefore I don’t want to meet them. I don’t want to see their faces, because then I’ll get to thinking about what would have happened to them if luck and happenstance hadn’t come along.”
There was a long pause. The van idled, the breeze blew, the sky darkened, the air grew colder.
Then Eleanor Duncan said, “You want a ride to the highway at least?”
Reacher nodded and climbed in.
They didn’t talk for twenty miles. Then they rumbled past the Cell Block bar and Reacher said, “You knew, didn’t you?”
Eleanor Duncan said, “No.” Then she said, “Yes.” Then she said, “I thought I knew the exact opposite. I really did. I thought I knew it for absolute sure. I knew it so intensely that eventually I realized I was just trying to convince myself.”
“You knew where Seth came from.”
“I told you I didn’t. Just before you stole his car.”
“And I didn’t believe you. Up to that point you had answered fourteen consecutive questions with no hesitation at all. Then I asked you about Seth, and you stalled. You offered us a drink. You were evasive. You were buying time to think.”
“Do you know where Seth came from?”
“I figured it out eventually.”
She said, “So tell me your version.”
Reacher said, “The Duncans liked little girls. They always had. It was their lifelong hobby. People like that form communities. Back in the days before the Internet they did it by mail and clandestine face-to-face meetings. Photo swaps and things like that. Maybe conventions. Maybe guest participation. There were alliances between interest groups. My guess is a group that liked little boys was feeling some heat. They went to ground. They fostered the evidence with their pals. It was supposed to be temporary, until the heat went away, but no one came back for Seth. The guy was probably beaten to death in jail. Or by the cops, in a back room. So the Duncans were stuck. But they were OK with it. Maybe they thought it was kind of cute, to get a son without the involvement of a real grown woman. So they kept him. Jacob adopted him.”
Eleanor Duncan nodded. “Seth told me he had been rescued. Back when we still talked. He said Jacob had rescued him out of an abusive situation. Like an act of altruism and charity. And principle. I believed him. Then over the years I sensed the Duncans were doing something bad, but what turned out to be the truth was always the last thing on my mental list. Always, I promise you.