One Shot (61 page)

The Zee sighed. Started talking. Slowly at first, and
then faster. He told a long story. So much length and so
much complexity that it got confusing. He spilled details
of earlier unconnected crimes. Then he got to the
bidding process for the city contracts. He named the
official he had suborned. It wasn't just about money.

There had been girls, too, supplied in small groups in a
Caribbean villa. Some of them very young. He talked
about Ted Archer's fury, his two-year search, his close
approach to the truth. He described the ambush, one
Monday morning. Jeb Oliver had been used. The red
Dodge Ram had been his payoff. Then the Zee paused,
decided, moved on. He described the fast decision to
get rid of Oline Archer two months later, when she
became dangerous. He described Chenko's subterfuge,
the hasty but thorough planning, the way they lured
James Barr out of the way with a promise of a date with
Sandy Dupree. He described the end of Jeb Oliver's
usefulness. He told them where to find his body. He told
them about Vladimir killing Sandy in an effort to stop
Reacher in his tracks. Altogether he talked for more than
thirty minutes, hands tied behind him, and then he
stopped suddenly and Reacher saw calculation in his
eyes. He was already thinking about the next move. The
next roll of the dice. A mistrial. A jailbreak. A ten-year
appeals process.

The room went quiet.

Donna Bianca said, 'Unbelievable.'

Reacher said, 'Keep talking.'

The Zee just looked at him.

'Something you left out,' Reacher said. 'You need to tell
us about your inside man. That's what we're all waiting
for.'

The Zee switched his gaze. He looked at Emerson.

Then at Donna Bianca. Then at Alex Rodin. Right to left,
along the line. Then he glanced back at Reacher.

"You're a survivor,' Reacher said. 'But you're not an
idiot. There won't be a mistrial. There won't be a
jailbreak. You're eighty years old and you won't survive
a ten-year appeals process. You know all that. But still
you agreed to talk. Why?'

The Zee said nothing.

'Because you knew sooner or later you'd be talking to
a friend. Someone you own. Someone you bought and
paid for. Am I right?' The Zee nodded, slowly.

'Someone right here, right now, in fact.'

The Zee nodded again.

'One thing always bothered me,' Reacher said. 'From
the start. At first I didn't know if I was right or if I was
letting my ego get in the way. I went back and forth with
it. Finally I decided I was right. The thing is, when I was
in the service I was a hell of a good investigator. I was
maybe the best they ever had. I would have put myself
up against anyone. And you know what?'

'What?' Helen Rodin asked.

'I would never have thought of emptying that parking
meter. Not in a million years. It would never have
occurred to me to do that. So I was facing a question.

Was Emerson a better investigator than me? Or did he
know that quarter was there?' Nobody spoke.

'Emerson is not better than I was,' Reacher said.

'That's just not possible.

That's what I decided.' Then he turned to the Zee. 'The
coin was one clue too many. You see that now? It was
unnatural. Was it Chenko's idea?' The Zee nodded.

"You should have overruled him,' Reacher said. He
turned to Emerson. 'Or you should have left it there. It
wasn't like you needed it to make the case.'

'This is bullshit,' Emerson said.

Reacher shook his head. 'A lot of things clicked into
place after that. I read the 911 transcripts and the squad
car call log. Right at the start you were awful quick to
make up your mind. You had a bunch of incoherent
panic calls but within twenty seconds you were on the
radio telling your guys that this was a lone nutcase with
an automatic rifle. There was no basis for that
conclusion. Six shots fired, ragged sequence, it could
have been six kids with a handgun each, firing once.

But you knew it wasn't' 'Bullshit,' Emerson said again.

Reacher shook his head again. 'Final proof was when I
was negotiating with your boss here. I said he'd have to
tell the truth to a detective called Emerson. I could have
said the cops generically, or Alex Rodin the DA. But I
didn't. I said your name specifically, and a little light
came on in his eyes. He sparred around for a minute
more, for form's sake, but basically he agreed real fast
because he figured he'd be OK as long as you were in
charge.'

Silence. Then Cash said, 'But Oline Archer went to Alex
Rodin here. He buried it. That's what you found out'

Reacher shook his head again. 'We found out that
Oline went to the DA's office. I went there myself, first
thing after I got to town. And you know what? Alex here
has got himself a couple of real dragon ladies working
the door. They know he doesn't like walkins. Dollars to
doughnuts they sent Oline on her way. That's a matter
for the police, they'll have told her. Her co-worker said
she was gone most of the afternoon. My guess is the
dragon ladies sent her trekking all across town to the
station house, where she sat down with Emerson here.'

Silence in the room.

The Zee struggled on the sofa. 'Emerson, do
something, for Christ's sake.'

'Nothing he can do,' Reacher said. 'I'm not dumb. I
think ahead. I'm sure he's got a Glock under his arm, but
he's got me behind him with a.38 and a knife, and he's
got Cash facing him with a sniper rifle hidden behind
the sofa, and what can he do anyway? I guess he could
try to kill us all and say there was some kind of a big
massacre here, but how would that help him with NBC?'

Emerson stared at him.

'NBC?' Cash repeated.

'I saw Yanni fiddling with her phone earlier. I'm
assuming she's transmitting all of this back to the
studios.'

Yanni pulled out her Nokia.

'Open channel,' she said. 'Digital audio recording on
three separate hard discs, plus two analogue tapes as
backup. They've all been running since well before we
got in the Humvee.'

Cash stared at her. 'That's why you asked me that
dumb question about the night scope. That's why you
were talking to yourself like a sports announcer.'

'She's a journalist,' Reacher said. 'She's going to win
an Emmy.'

Nobody spoke. Everyone was suddenly self-conscious.

'Detective Bianca,' Reacher said loudly. 'You were just
promoted head of the Serious Crimes Squad. How does
it feel?' Yanni made a face. Reacher stepped forward
and leaned over the back of Emerson's chair and slid
his hand under his coat. Came back out with a Glock
nine. Handed it to Bianca. 'You've got arrests to make,'

he said.

Then the Zee smiled, and Chenko walked into the
room.

Chenko was covered in mud and his right arm was
broken, or his shoulder, or his collar bone, or maybe all
three. His wrist was jammed into his shirt like a sling.

But there was nothing wrong with his left arm. Nothing
at all.

Reacher turned round to face him and saw the sawn-off rock-steady in his left hand. He thought, irrelevantly:
Where did he get that from? His car? Were the cars
parked to the east? Chenko glanced at Bianca.

'Put the gun down, lady,' he said.

Bianca laid Emerson's Glock on the floor. No sound as
it touched the carpet.

'Thank you,' Chenko said.

Nobody spoke.

'I guess I was out for a little while,' Chenko said. 'But I
got to tell you, I feel a whole hell of a lot better now.' 'We
survive,' the Zee said, from across the room. 'That's
what we do.'

Reacher didn't look back at him. He looked at
Chenko's gun instead. It had been a Benelli Nova Pump.

The stock had been cut off behind the pistol grip.

The barrel had been hacked off ahead of the slide.

Twelve-gauge. Four-shot magazine. A handsome
weapon, butchered. 'Emerson,' the Zee called. 'Come
over here and untie me.'

Reacher heard Emerson stand up. He didn't look back
at him. Just took a tiny pace forward and sideways,
closer to Chenko. He was a foot taller and twice as wide.

'I need a knife here,' Emerson said.

The soldier's got a knife,' Chenko said. 'I'm damn sure
of that, based on what I saw happened to my buddies
downstairs.'

Reacher moved a little closer to him. A big guy and a
little guy directly face to face, separated by about three
feet, most of which was occupied by the Benelli.

Reacher's waist was level with Chenko's chest. 'Knife,'

Emerson said.

'Come and get it,' Reacher said.

'Slide it across the floor.'

'No.'

'I'll shoot,' Chenko said. 'Twelve-gauge, in the gut'

Reacher thought: And then what? A pump-action
shotgun ain't much use to a one-armed man.

'So shoot,' he said.

He felt eyes on him. He knew everyone was looking at
him. Staring at him.

Silence buzzed in his ears. He was suddenly aware of
the smells in the room.

Dust in the carpet, worn furniture, fear, tension, damp
night air blowing in from the open door downstairs and
the busted window upstairs and carrying with it the
odour of rich earth and fertilizer and budding new
growth. 'Go ahead,' he said. 'Shoot.'

Chenko did nothing. Just stood there. Reacher stood
there directly in front of him. He knew exactly how the
room was laid out. He had arranged it. He pictured it in
his mind. Chenko was in the doorway facing the
window. Everyone else was facing the other way.

Reacher himself right in front of Chenko, face to face,
close enough to touch. Cash directly behind him, way
back, behind the sofa, on the window sill, staring
forward. Then the Zee on the sofa, looking the same
way. Then Emerson in the middle of the floor, near the
Zee, standing up, indecisive, watching. Then Yanni and
Franklin and Helen and Rosemary Barr in the armchairs
against the side walls, heads turned. Then Bianca and
Alex Rodin on their dining chairs, twisted round at the
waist, eyes wide. Reacher knew where everyone was,
and he knew what they were looking at.

'Shoot,' he said. 'Aim at my belt. That'll work. Go
ahead.'

Chenko did nothing. Just stared up at him. Reacher
was so close and so big he was all Chenko could see. It
was just the two of them, like they were alone in the
room.

'I'll help you out,' Reacher said. I'll count to three. Then
you pull the trigger.'

Chenko just stood there.

'You understand?' Reacher said.

No reply.

'One,' Reacher said.

No reaction.

'Two,' Reacher said.

Then he stepped out of the way. Just took a long fast
sideways shuffle to his right. Cash fired from behind the
sofa at the spot where Reacher's belt had been a split
second before and Chenko's chest blew apart.

Then Cash put his rifle back on the floor just as silently
as he had picked it up.

Two night-shift squad cars came and took the Zee and
Emerson away. Then four ambulances arrived for the
casualties. Bianca asked Reacher what exactly had
happened to the first three. Reacher told her he had
absolutely no idea. None at all. He speculated that it
might have been some kind of internal dispute. A falling-out among thieves, maybe? Bianca didn't push it.