Nothing To Lose Part 50

The gates closed, with a metallicclang that sounded twice, first in real time and then again as an echo. The echo died, and Reacher heard a solenoid open and a bolt shoot home, a loud precise sound like a single shot from a distant rifle. that sounded twice, first in real time and then again as an echo. The echo died, and Reacher heard a solenoid open and a bolt shoot home, a loud precise sound like a single shot from a distant rifle.

The four figures kept on coming.

Reacher kept on walking.

They met in the center of the hidden s.p.a.ce. Thurman and his men stopped. They stood still five feet short of an imaginary line that ran between the pile of wrecked tanks and the eighteen-wheeler. Reacher stopped five feet on the other side. Vaughan kept on going. She picked her way through the mud and made it to Reacher's side and turned around. Put a hand on his arm.

Two against three.

Thurman called, "What are you doing here?"

Reacher could hear the rain beating against the slickers. Three guys, three sets of shoulders, three hats, stiff plastic material.

He said, "I'm looking around."

"At what?"

"At what you've got here."

Thurman said, "I'm losing patience."

Reacher said, "What's in the truck?"

"What kind of incredible arrogance makes you think you're ent.i.tled to an answer to that question?"

"No kind of arrogance," Reacher said. "Just the law of the jungle. You answer, I leave. You don't, I don't."

Thurman said, "My tolerance for you is nearly exhausted."

"What's in the truck?"

Thurman breathed in, breathed out. Glanced to his right, at his foreman, and then beyond the foreman at the giant with the wrench. He looked at Vaughan, and then back at Reacher. Reacher said, "What's in the truck?"

Thurman said, "There are gifts in the truck."

"What kind?"

"Clothes, blankets, medical supplies, eyegla.s.ses, prosthetic limbs, dried and powdered foodstuffs, purified water, antibiotics, vitamins, sheets of construction-grade plywood. Things like that."

"Where from?"

"They were bought with t.i.thes from the people of Despair."

"Why?"

"Because Jesus said, it is more blessed to give than to receive."

"Who are the gifts for?"

"Afghanistan. For refugees and displaced persons and those living in poverty."

"Why is the container welded shut?"

"Because it has a long and perilous journey ahead of it, through many countries and many tribal areas where warlords routinely steal. And padlocks on s.h.i.+pping containers can be broken. As you well know."

"Why put it all together here? In secret?"

"Because Jesus said, when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret. We follow scripture here, Mr. Reacher. As should you."

"Why turn out the whole town in defense of a truckful of gifts?"

"Because we believe that charity should know neither race nor creed. We give to Muslims. And not everyone in America is happy with that policy. Some feel that we should give only to fellow Christians. An element of militancy has entered the debate. Although in fact it was the prophet Muhammad himself who said a man's first charity should be to his own family. Not Jesus. Jesus said whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. He said love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your father who is in heaven."

Reacher said, "Where are the cars from Iran?"

"The what?"

"The cars from Iran."

Thurman said, "Melted down and s.h.i.+pped out."

"Where is the TNT?"

"The what?"

"You bought twenty tons of TNT from Kearny Chemical. Three months ago."

Thurman smiled.

"Oh, that," he said. "It was a mistake. A typo. A coding error. A new girl in the office was one number off, on Kearny's order form. We got TNT instead of TCE. They're adjacent in Kearny's inventory. If you were a chemist, you'd understand why. We sent it back immediately, on the same truck. Didn't even unload. If you had troubled yourself to break into Invoicing as well as Purchasing, you would have seen our application for a credit."

"Where is the uranium?"

"The what?"

"You pulled twenty tons of depleted uranium out of these tanks. And I just walked all over this compound and I didn't see it."

"You're standing on it."

Vaughan looked down. Reacher looked down.

Thurman said, "It's buried. I take security extremely seriously. It could be stolen and used in a dirty bomb. The state is reluctant to let the army move it. So I keep it in the ground."

Reacher said, "I don't see signs of digging."

"It's the rain. Everything is churned up."

Reacher said nothing.

Thurman said, "Satisfied?"

Reacher said nothing. He glanced right, at the eighteen-wheeler. Left, at the parked backhoe. Down, at the ground. The rain splashed in puddles all around and thrashed against the slickers ten feet away.

"Satisfied?" Thurman asked again.

Reacher said, "I might be. After I've made a phone call."

"What phone call?"

"I think you know."

"I don't, actually."

Reacher said nothing.

Thurman said, "But anyway, this is not the right time for phone calls."

Reacher said, "Not the right place either. I'll wait until I get back to town. Or back to Hope. Or Kansas."

Thurman turned and glanced at the gate. Turned back. Reacher nodded. Said, "Suddenly you want to check on what numbers I know."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"Tell me."

"No."

"I want some courtesy and respect."

"And I want to hit a grand slam at Yankee Stadium. I think both of us are going to be disappointed."

Thurman said, "Turn out your pockets."

Reacher said, "Worried about those numbers? Maybe I memorized them."

"Turn out your pockets."

"Make me."

Thurman went still and his eyes narrowed and debate crossed his face, the same kind of long-range calculus that Reacher had seen before, in front of the airplane hangar. The long game, eight moves ahead. Thurman spent a second or two on it and then he stepped back, abruptly, and raised his right arm. His plastic sleeve came out into the downpour and made noise. He waved his two employees forward. They took two long strides and stopped again. The plant foreman kept his hands loose at his sides and the big guy slapped the wrench in and out of his palm, wet metal on wet skin.

Reacher said, "Not a fair fight."

Thurman said, "You should have thought about that before."

Reacher said, "Not fair to them. They've been cutting uranium. They're sick."

"They'll take their chances."

"Like Underwood did?"

"Underwood was a fool. I give them respirators. Underwood was too lazy to keep his on."

"Did these guys wear theirs?"

"They don't work in here. They're perfectly healthy."

Reacher glanced at the foreman, and then at the giant. Asked, "Is that right? You don't work in here?"

Both guys shook their heads.

Reacher asked, "Are you healthy?"

Both guys nodded.

Reacher asked, "You want that state of affairs to last more than the next two minutes?"

Both guys smiled, and moved a step closer.

Vaughan said, "Just do it, Reacher. Turn out your pockets."

"Still looking out for me?"

"It's two against one. And one of them is the same size as you and the other one is bigger."

"Two against two," Reacher said. "You're here."

"I'm no use. Let's just suck it up and move on."

Reacher shook his head and said, "What's in my pockets is my business."

The two guys took another step. The foreman was on Reacher's right and the big guy was on his left. Both of them close, but not within touching distance. The rain on their clothing was loud. Water was running out of Reacher's hair into his eyes.

He said, "You know we don't have to do this. We could walk out of here friends."

The foreman said, "I don't think so."

"Then you won't walk out of here at all."

"Brave talk."

Reacher said nothing.

The foreman glanced across at the big guy.

He said, "Let's do it."