Jack and Joe: Hunt for Jack Reacher Series (The Hunt for Jack Reacher Series Book 6) (15 page)

Gaspar gave our names. Five minutes later, a professionally dressed woman in her mid-thirties entered through a door on the opposite side of the lobby and approached us.

“Agents Otto and Gaspar? I’m Delphina Osgood, Mr. O’Connor’s assistant. Please come with me.”

We followed her through a labyrinth of corridors that smelled like warm apple cider until we reached a corner office in the back. The door was open.

Thomas O’Connor, looking exactly like his corporate headshot on the web page, paced the room. He was thicker through the middle than expected, but otherwise of average size and build. Clean-shaven. Brown hair neatly parted and combed. A plain gold wedding band encircled the appropriate finger.

He held a telephone receiver to his ear and occasionally responded with “Uh huh,” and “Right,” and “I see.” He waved us into the room with one hand.

Delphina Osgood stood aside and said, “Would you like coffee?”

The question always jolts me. It’s like asking if I would like oxygen. “That would be great. Black.”

Gaspar smiled and said, “Cream and sugar, if you have it.”

“Certainly,” she replied and left.

The office, like the building, was neat, square, contemporary, and impersonal. And utterly ordinary. As if someone had ordered the entire setup from an online catalog in one package called “The Office.” Dark wood desk and credenza. Black leather desk chair and visitor chairs. Plain beige drywall surrounded us on all the vertical surfaces. The carpet was darker beige. Framed photos on the walls were probably ordered from the same catalog.

Delphina Osgood brought the coffee and one for O’Connor and placed our business cards on his desk before she left. After muttering a few more verbal nothings into the receiver, O’Connor ended his call and turned his attention to us.

“I’ve already told the FBI everything I know. I thought this was over.” His delivery was smooth as if he talked to the FBI on a regular basis, which it sounded like he probably did. Probably on a first name basis with every security agency in the country, public and private, too.

He sat behind the desk and folded his hands on top. He glanced at the cards. “Otto and Gaspar, is it?”

“You’ve already told the FBI everything you know about what?”

“The Clifton investigation. That’s why you’re here, right? Matthew Clifton is one of the finest men I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t violate contracting ethics or any other kind of ethics. I don’t know who your whistleblower is, but he’s barking up the wrong tree here.” O’Connor’s earnest expression matched his words. “The Justice Department arrested and convicted Hanlon. That’s the end of it.”

His tone suggested the opposite. He clearly subscribed to the a-strong-offense-is-the-best-defense approach.

Fine with me. I’d circle back to the whole “Clifton investigation” business.

“Actually, we’re with the Special Personnel Task Force. We are completing a background investigation on a former Army officer.” Defense contractors, particularly former JAG officers, weren’t the same as housewives. Unlike interviewing his wife, we didn’t need to warm him up first. He wouldn’t think the abrupt statement or an active investigation required further explanation. Not at first.

“Who is the candidate?”

“Major Jack Reacher. We understand you had contact with him while you were both on active duty. Have you kept in touch with Major Reacher?”

He frowned as if he was puzzled now by the name and the question. “It’s a big army and I haven’t been active for a long time. Can you give me a bit more to jog my memory?”

“How about Colonel Eunice Summer?”

“Yes, of course, I’ve worked with Colonel Summer. Small woman. Carried herself like a catwalk model.” He nodded, but the frown stayed in place. “I retired eighteen years ago, and I haven’t seen her much since then.”

“Back in 1990, you prosecuted a case with General Matthew Clifton. Colonel Summer was the MP handling the criminal investigation. Major Jack Reacher was Summer’s senior officer.”

His frown cleared. “Yes. I do recall. Though Major Reacher did not assist us in the prosecution. He had been reassigned by the time I began working on the case.”

“Do you know why he was reassigned?”

“Let me think a minute.” He steepled his fingers together and rested his forefingers against his bottom lip. “It seems I remember something about a parking lot brawl. A complaint was filed against him by a fellow officer, as I recall. The complaint was investigated and probably substantiated, given the outcome.”

“Meaning Reacher was involved in a bar fight? That wouldn’t be enough to get him busted back to Captain,” Gaspar said. “Had to be more to it than a brawl.”

“You’re right, Agent Gaspar,” O’Connor replied. “It was a long time ago and I handled a lot of cases after that. I’m sorry I can’t remember the specifics. Maybe there was a civilian involved? That would make sense.”

“You never interviewed Reacher in your big case against the senior officers?”

“We didn’t need to. The officers confessed, I believe. And we had Lieutenant Summer, who was familiar with all the facts.”

“Did you ever have any dealings with Reacher after that?”

He shook his head slowly as if he was thinking about it and coming up with nothing. “I’m pretty sure I never crossed paths with him at all, back then or since.”

“What’s your job here?” I asked.

“I’m the Chief Compliance Officer. I make sure that we comply with all federal rules and regulations. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork involved in an operation like this.” He laughed and then seemed to remember he was talking to the FBI. “Or maybe you would.”

“What exactly is your firm’s work with the Army?”

“Design, development, and manufacture of advanced weapons systems. Without revealing any secrets, we are involved with what they call The Big Power War.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we anticipate a conflict with other major powers instead of the ragtag guerrillas and insurgents we have been fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. The change in focus requires a return to conventional warfare equipment, such as tanks and bombers.”

“And that’s where Dynamic Defense Systems comes in.”

“Exactly. We’re not the only company providing newer and better equipment, but we are one of the bigger, more successful contractors.”

“And how are you working with Colonel Summer?”

“We’re not. I haven’t actually worked with Colonel Summer directly since that case all those years ago.” He stood, which suggested we should do the same. He gestured with an extended arm and open palm toward the door. “I’m sorry I can’t be of help to you. If you think of anything else, call me anytime.”

Delphina Osgood reappeared as if she’d been listening for her cue. Maybe she had been.

I ignored her and took a solid guess. “Colonel Summer was handling the Clifton investigation, though. So you’ve been working with her on that, right?”

“That matter is not being handled by the FBI.” He gave us the sweeping open palm again. “I’m not allowed to discuss military issues with civilians. You’ll need to get answers on military matters directly from the Army.”

He picked up a ringing phone and turned his back to us. Gaspar shrugged. We followed Delphina Osgood, who escorted us all the way to the double glass doors that opened automatically and scanned us as we exited. To be sure we’d left the premises instead of lying in wait, or something.

Standing outside on the pavement, Gaspar said, “Well that was a total waste of time.”

“You’re a man, you tell me,” I said, maybe a bit too belligerently. “How likely is it that Joe Reacher is O’Connor’s wife’s ex and the man responsible for introducing him to his beloved, yet O’Connor has to strain to remember the Reacher name? And what about that bullshit on the Clifton investigation? You buying any of that?”

Gaspar smirked. “He did display an appalling lack of curiosity, didn’t he?”

CHAPTER 21

After surviving another flight, we reached another military base. They were all different, yet familiar. Each one popped my internal alert level into the red zone and held it there. Bases were populated with highly trained military personnel and thousands of weapons and plenty of tension. In my book, that meant a potential disaster waiting to happen at a moment’s notice. Civilians who lived on base as well as those who came and went presented another layer of risk. The adrenaline running through my system could have propelled an old mare to the Triple Crown.

This time the sign said:

Welcome to Fort Herald

Home of America’s Armored Corps

This was the most populous U.S. military installation in the world. Its massive dimensions—350 square miles, more than 215,000 acres—could only be truly appreciated from the air. It’s worth the trip to Google Maps.

We entered through the main gate and cleared the first hurdles easily because the Boss had paved the way. Our credentials were examined and we were provided with visitor passes and directions to General Matthew Clifton’s office. So far, so good.

We drove less than a mile past buildings and lawns that were meant for visitors, not combat troop training. The soldiers were easy to distinguish from the civilians because soldiers were dressed in ACUs. Everyone moved with purpose.

November was warmer in Dallas than in the North Carolina Mountains or Nashville, but a chill wind still blew through the parking lot. We left the Crown Vic parked as instructed and made our way to the headquarters building, which was nowhere close to as nice as Dynamic Defense Systems. This was the Army. Strictly utilitarian, even for the upper echelons.

General Matthew Clifton was waiting for us in the Commanding Officer’s assigned duty station, which he would occupy for a few more days, his brother had said. His appearance was startling because he resembled Tony not at all. He was of average height, with a receding hairline and sandy hair. The only physical attribute they shared was a pair of striking bottle-green eyes.

Nothing about him was sparkling or friendly. Certainly, he sported no blinding mega-watt smile. His style was all business. “Cooper and Finlay asked me to hear you out. I have ten minutes, so let’s get to it.”

Both names jarred. Charles Cooper was a name rarely uttered by friend or foe on this assignment. I didn’t even
think
about him by name, and Gaspar and I certainly never used the Boss’s name, either. Not even between us. We were under the radar. He didn’t want his fingerprints all over our work. He’d made that crystal clear from the outset.

But
Finlay
, too? Another name I didn’t expect to encounter here, for sure. Lamont Finlay, Ph.D. Special Assistant to the President for Strategy. One of the most powerful men on the planet.
Why the hell was he involved in this?

General Clifton thought I already knew. Which meant I couldn’t ask him outright.

So I did as he’d instructed and went straight to the meat. “Yesterday, three unusual things occurred at Fort Bird. All three are related to an old case handled by Jack Reacher’s 110th Special Investigations Unit back in 1990. A case you were involved with, too. We are trying to figure out whether Reacher is connected to these new crimes, or if someone with an old grievance is fighting back. Maybe trying to frame them or exact some kind of revenge. Or both.”

Clifton barely blinked. He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and slipped his arms into first one sleeve and then another. “How does any of this involve me?”

“You knew both Jack and Joe Reacher, I’m told.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point, General, is that the junior officer Reacher worked with on that 1990 case is now dead, and your brother has Reacher’s former XO position. You were the senior JAG officer who prosecuted the case Reacher handled, and you are currently doing business with the junior JAG officer who prosecuted it along with you. And if that’s not enough, that same junior JAG officer is married to Joe Reacher’s ex-wife. That is a truly remarkable tangle of connections.”

“You could connect every Army officer who’s served over the last twenty-five years with three phone calls. Every top-level government civilian connected to the military, too, if you wanted to.” He shrugged and buttoned his jacket. “I fail to see the relevance of any of this. Why are Cooper and Finlay interested in Reacher after all this time?”

“I can’t speak for them,” I said. But what I thought was,
Good question
. “I need to know what went down back then. And whether Reacher or someone else is delivering payback.”

“Cooper and Finlay know all of this already. Reacher did a lot of things right, but he was no saint. He was busted back to captain because he’s got some kind of god complex. He decided to be judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into some kind of avenging angel.” He collected his briefcase. “He was wrong. People didn’t like it.”

“People?”

“The politicians. The politically correct crowd. People who think what we do here is some kind of goddamned John Wayne movie.”

“Okay, General,” Gaspar said. “But what did he do? Exactly.”

Clifton leveled those bottle-green eyes straight at Gaspar. “Reacher called a guy out in a parking lot. A civilian. Can’t remember the victim’s name. He owned a local strip joint.” His tone bordered on disgust. “He disabled the guy with a kick to the knee. Took him down. Guy was never the same again. A fellow officer filed a formal complaint. Reacher admitted what he’d done and we busted him back. We’d have saved everybody a lot of trouble if we’d shipped him to Leavenworth with the others.”