“Where did—”
“Wait! I have an idea. What if this Begovic guy isn’t really innocent? What if he paid Minerva to help fix the appeal? Or his family did? Minerva could have tried to wash the money through the books. Not very well. And Angela could have smelled the rat.”
“If there is dirty money, why would they let it anywhere near the business? Why not take it in cash?”
Hannah shook her head. “See, that’s the kind of question you only ask if you’ve never bought a house. Or a car. Or a spare pair of pants. A big heap of cash is the biggest red flag there is. You’d have the IRS so far up your ass you’d see them when you brush your teeth. No. I think I’m on to something. And you clearly shouldn’t be let out on your own. So here’s the deal. I’m coming with you. But while you’re busy degrading the enemy or whatever, I’ll hang back at the hotel. I’ll dig into Begovic’s background. Find out all about his conviction. His appeal. What it was based on. Why it took so long. I’ll maybe talk to some of Sam’s contacts. Tap into the industry scuttlebutt. Find the real story.”
Chapter 27
Five words were ringing in Jed Starmer’s ears as he crouched between a pair of dumpsters in an alley on the other side of the Greyhound station: I’m a law enforcement officer.
The guy’s voice had been a little muffled from where he lay on the floor of the car but Jed was sure about what he heard. Although he wasn’t sure what kind of officer the guy was. He hadn’t been wearing a uniform. Neither had his partner. So Jed figured they must be detectives. Or FBI agents. Something high up. Important. But he wasn’t too concerned about which organization they belonged to. Or what rank they held. He was just glad they had shown up when they did. He had no idea what the scruffy guys had wanted with him but it didn’t take a clairvoyant to see it wasn’t going to be anything good.
Jed was glad the officers had shown up, but at the same time he was horrified. Because it meant they must have been looking for him. That was certainly what it sounded like from the exchanges he overheard. The guy from his first bus must have called them. After they finished their breakfast in Dallas. He’d kept nagging Jed about going to the police. When Jed refused the guy must have taken matters into his own hands. Which meant Jed would have to change his plans. He had been intending to sleep on the seats in the Greyhound station that night and then make his way to Winson the next morning. He couldn’t risk staying in town now. Not in a public place. Not somewhere out in the open. He had no option. He had to leave. Immediately.
* * *
—
Reacher left the atlas, one of the captured Berettas, and the last dregs of his coffee in the truck with Hannah and walked back to the main building to change his clothes. After that his plan was simple. He was going to find the next pair of Minerva guys at the nearby intersection and give them exactly what they wanted.
For a moment, at least.
He figured that the guys would be looking for him in a car, or at the side of the road as he tried to hitch a ride. If they spotted him in a car, things could get complicated. They wouldn’t be able to stop him right away because of the whole identification rigmarole. They would have to take his photograph, send it off to the guys who had seen him in Colorado, and wait for their response. So they would have two choices. They could follow his car and intercept it if his ID was confirmed. Or they could stay put and send the intel to the guys who would be stationed at the outskirts of Winson. Neither of those options appealed to Reacher. Forcing a car off a highway at speed in heavy traffic is dangerous. There’s plenty of scope for injuries. Maybe fatalities. Maybe involving other vehicles with innocent drivers and passengers. And if the guys passed the information along the chain, that would be no immediate help, either. Reacher would be miles away by then, out of contact, and it would only make his life more difficult when he arrived in the town. So the smart move was to stand where the guys would be hoping to see him, stick out his thumb, and hope no regular motorists were on the lookout for company.
From above, the intersection looked like a capital A, rotated by forty-five degrees, with a curved crossbar. One side was I-20, which swung a little north of east after clearing the river. The other side was US 61, which branched off and ran to the south. The crossbar was made up of the ramps joining I-20 east to US 61 south, and US 61 north to I-20 west. The other significant part of the picture was the space beneath the crossbar. It was taken up by a giant store. Reacher couldn’t tell from the map which chain it belonged to or what sort of products it sold. And he didn’t much care. The only thing that mattered to him was that it had a convenient parking lot.