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“They just got new diary entries. Both Turner and Elwood. They have a meeting in D.C. very early tomorrow morning. They’ll be leaving for the airport any minute.”

“San Francisco or San Jose?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see their flights. They must be paying cash and using phony ID.”

“What about the big guy?”

“We should assume he’s still with her. So there are three of them now.”

“Who is he?”

“No one knows. Cavemen had bigger digital footprints. I think he’s a hacker. He must be, to erase himself so completely.”

“They’re messing with our heads.”

“They’re the army’s own FBI. They’re smart people.”

“But not as smart as us, bro. No one is. Always remember that. It’s why we’re going to rule the world. I’m going to call Hennessy right now. He can send one crew to San Francisco and the other to San Jose. We’ll get them before they leave the state.”

“One last thing,” Cameron said. “General Turner just read Bisley’s wife’s background check. Her name is Julia. Turns out she’s an M.I.T. graduate.”

“Good for her,” Brill said. “So what?”

“We know Turner doesn’t understand what Bisley was looking at. I think she’s wondering if his wife does. Why else check on her education? She’s assuming they discussed it at home.”

“Are they allowed to do that?”

“Human nature, bro. Two coders stuck at home with a baby? What else are they going to talk about?”

“Is this a problem?”

“Could be.”

Brill was quiet a moment.

“OK,” he said. “We’ll try for two scores tonight. Let’s see what Mr. Hennessy can do for us.”

—

Elwood set his phone for car rental return at San Francisco International. More D.C. flights from there than San Jose. More hustle, more bustle, more anonymity. The 101 was slow but not a disaster. The Avis guy checked all four corners of the car for scratches and gave them a receipt. They waited for the shuttle bus to departures.

“We can use our credit cards again,” Turner said. “And our real IDs. If they can see our diaries, they already know we’re heading home tonight. No need to hide anymore.”

“I’ll stick with the Chief of Staff’s cash,” Reacher said. “I like how he encourages me to go first class.”

He found Adam Tow’s business card in his jacket pocket and transferred it to his pants pocket. The journalist. Just in case. He shrugged off the jacket and balled it up tight and dumped it in a trash can already half full of other contraband items that couldn’t be smuggled through. Mostly bottles of water and almost-empty baggies of weed. Two Glocks, two suppressors, three spare magazines and a stolen coat filled out most of the rest of the prohibited list. Reacher stepped back to the bus stop feeling a hundred pounds lighter in mind and body. No more luggage. He had survived his close encounter.

The bus came and gave them a jerky, bouncy ride around to the check-in curb. They went inside. Reacher located the cash desk. Turner and Elwood went straight to the premium desk. They were done much sooner than he was. He saw them step away, boarding passes in hand. He waved them onward and continued his transaction. He would catch up to them at the gate.

—

Hennessy had sent the day crew to San Francisco. They had been standing by for instant dispatch, so giving them the longer journey made practical sense. Because of the daytime hour the night crew took twenty minutes to get together and get going. They went to the airport in San Jose. A later start, but a shorter distance. The math said both teams should hit their targets around the same time.

In fact the night crew got to San Jose first. Operationally it was a two-man team, because the third man had no choice but to stay behind the wheel. Parking was a nightmare at the airport. No-waiting enforcement was even worse. The Suburban looped around and around, stopping where it could, sometimes for a whole minute, before it got moved on again.

The two men went inside the terminal. They did the logical thing and started at the back of the hall. They eyeballed the people waiting in the security line. They were the last passengers they could get to. The folks ahead of them were already airside and out of reach. They checked the photos on their phones. They had the general and the colonel. Turner and Elwood. No one in the line looked anything like them. They had been told there was a guy with them. No name, no photo. No one knew who he was. He was described as big. That was all. But there were no big men in the security line.

The two guys turned away and moved slowly back through the hall, toward the street again, against the natural flow. They checked every face. They checked every man-man-woman combination they saw. One continued on alone, while the other ducked away to check stores and restrooms and shoeshines and coffee carts. No dice. They regrouped at the doors. They kept one eye on incoming travelers and used the other to check the departures board. San Jose didn’t offer many flights to D.C. The last one had been an hour and a half ago, and the next was two hours away. They felt it was much more likely their targets were flying out of San Francisco.