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As before, just faintly at first, the same mild constant tremor, like the beginning of a distant earthquake. The stones in the rail bed next to us started to scratch and click. The rails themselves started to sing, humming and keening and whispering. The ties jumped and shuddered. The ballast stones crunched and hopped. The ground under my hands and knees danced with big bass shudders. I looked up and gasped and blinked and squinted and saw the distant headlight. Twenty yards south of us the old water tower started to shake and its elephant's trunk started to sway. The ground beat on us from below. The rails screamed and howled. The train whistle blew, long and loud and forlorn. The warning bells at the crossing forty yards away started to ring. The train kept on coming, unstoppable, still distant, still distant, then right next to us, then right on top of us, just as insanely massive as before, and just as impossibly loud.
Like the end of the world.
The ground shook hard under us and we bounced and bucketed whole inches in the air. A bow wave of air battered us. Then the locomotive flashed past, its giant wheels five feet from our faces, followed by the endless sequence of cars, all of them hammering, juddering, strobing in the moonlight. We clung together, the whole long minute, sixty long seconds, deafened by the squealing metal, beaten numb by the throbbing ground, scoured by dust from the slipstream. Deveraux threw her head back under me and screamed soundlessly and jammed her head from side to side and beat on my back with her fists.
Then the train was gone.
I turned my head and saw the cars rolling away from me into the distance at a steady sixty miles an hour. The wind dropped, and the earthquake quieted down, first to gentle tremors again, and then to nothing at all, and the bells stopped dead, and the rails stopped hissing, and the nighttime silence came back. We rolled apart and lay on our backs in the weeds, panting, sweating, spent, deaf, completely overwhelmed by sensations internal and external. My jacket had gotten balled up and crumpled under us. My knees and hands were torn and scraped. I imagined Deveraux was in an even worse state. I turned my head to check and saw she had my Beretta in her hand.
75
The Marine Corps never liked the Beretta as much as the army did, so Deveraux was handling mine with proficiency but less than total enthusiasm. She dumped the magazine, ejected an unfired round, checked the chamber, racked the slide, and then put the whole thing back together again. She said, "I'm sorry. It was in your jacket pocket. I wondered what it was. It was digging into my ass. I'm going to have a bruise. "
"In which case it's me that's sorry," I said. "Your ass deserves nothing but the best. It's a national treasure. Or a regional attraction, at the very least. "
She smiled at me and stood up, unsteady, and went in search of her pants. Her shirt tail hung down, but not far enough. No bruise yet. She asked, "Why did you bring a gun?"
"Habit," I said.
"Were you expecting trouble?"
"Anything's possible. "
"I left mine in the car. "
"So did lots of dead people. "
"It's just the two of us here. "
"As far as we know. "
"You're paranoid. "
"But alive," I said. "And you haven't arrested anyone yet. "
"The army can't prove a negative," she said. "Therefore they must know who it was. They should tell me. "
I said nothing in reply to that. I followed her lead and staggered to my feet and picked up my pants. We got dressed, hopping from foot to foot together, and then we perched side by side on the Caprice's rear bumper and laced our shoes. Getting back to the road was no real problem. Deveraux did it in reverse, backin
g up onto the track like parallel parking, then backing all the way to the crossing, and then turning the wheel and taking off forward. We were in my hotel room five minutes later. In bed. She went straight to sleep. I didn't. I lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling and thought.
Mostly I thought about my last conversation with Leon Garber. My commanding officer. An honest man, and my friend, as far as I knew. But cryptic. It's the truth, he had said. She was a Marine, Reacher. Sixteen years in. She knew all about cutting throats. She knew how to do it, and she knew how to pretend she didn't. Then he had gotten a little impatient. A man with your instincts, he had said, about me. Later I had pushed the issue. You could order me not to go back to Mississippi, I had said. I could, he had said. But I won't. Not you. I trust you to do the right thing.
The conversation replayed endlessly in my head.
The truth.
Instincts.
The right thing.
In the end I fell asleep very late and completely unsure whether Garber had been telling me something, or asking me something.
My long-held belief that there is no better time than the second time was put to a severe test when we woke up, because the fifth time was also pretty terrific. We were both a little stiff and sore after our outdoor extravaganza, so we took it gently, long and slow, and the warmth and the comfort of the bed helped a lot. Plus neither one of us knew whether there would ever be a sixth time, which added a little poignancy to the occasion. Afterward we lay quiet for a while, and then she asked me when I was leaving, and I said I didn't know.
We ate breakfast together in the diner, and then she went to work, and I went to use the phone. I tried to call Frances Neagley at her desk in D. C. , but she wasn't back yet. Probably still on an all-night bus somewhere. So I dialed Stan Lowrey instead, and got him right away. I said, "I need you to do something else for me. "
He said, "No jokes this morning? About how you're surprised I'm still here?"
"I didn't have time to think of any. I wanted Neagley, not you. You should try to get hold of her as soon as you can. She's better than you at this kind of stuff. "
"Better than you, too. What do you need?"
"Fast answers," I said.
"To what questions?"
"Statistically speaking, where would we be most likely to find U. S. Marines and concrete flood sluices in close proximity?"
"Southern California," Lowrey said. "Statistically speaking, almost certainly Camp Pendleton, north of San Diego. "
"Correct," I said. "I need to trace a jarhead MP who was there five years ago. His name is Paul Evers. "
"Why?"
"Because his parents were Mr. and Mrs. Evers and they liked the name Paul, I guess. "
"No, why do you want to trace him?"
"I want to ask him a question. "
Lowrey said, "You're forgetting something. "
"Like what?"
"I'm in the army, not the Marine Corps. I can't get into their files. "
"That's why you need to call Neagley. She'll know how to do it. "
"Paul Evers," he said, slowly, like he was writing it down.
"Call Neagley," I said again. "This is urgent. I'll get back to you. "
* * *
I hung up with Lowrey and shoveled more coins into the slot and called the Kelham number Munro had given Deveraux, right back at the beginning. The call went through to some guy who wasn't Munro. He told me Munro had left at first light, in a car to Birmingham, Alabama. I said I knew that had been the plan. I asked the guy to check if it had actually happened. So the guy called the visiting officers' quarters and came back to me and said no, it hadn't actually happened. Munro was still on the post. The guy gave me a number for his room and I hung up and redialed.
Munro answered and I said, "Thank you for sticking around. "
He said, "But what am I sticking around for? Right now I'm just hiding out in my room. I'm not very popular here, you know. "
"You didn't join the army to be popular. "
"What do you need?"
"I need to know Reed Riley's movements today. "
"Why?"
"I want to ask him a question. "
"That could be difficult. As far as I know he's going to be pretty much tied up all day. You might be able to grab him over lunch. If he gets time for lunch, that is. And if he does, it will be very early. "
"No, I need him to come to me. In town. "
"You don't understand. The mood has changed here. Bravo Company is out from under the cloud. Riley's father is flying in for a visit. "
"The senator? Today?"
"ETA close to one o'clock this afternoon. Billed as an off-the-record celebration of what the guys are doing in Kosovo. "
"How long will it last?"
"You know what politicians are like. The old guy is supposed to watch some training crap in the afternoon, but dollars to doughnuts he'll get a real hard-on and want to hang around all night drinking with the boys. "
"OK," I said. "I'll figure something out. "
"Anything else?"
"Well, since you've got nothing to do except sit around all day, you could tell me a couple of things. "
"What things?"
The phone started beeping at me and I said, "Why don't you call me back on the government's dime?" I read out the number from the dial and hung up. I walked to my table to pay the breakfast check and by the time I got back to the phone it was ringing.
"What things?" Munro said again.
"Impressions, mainly. About Kelham. As in, is there a good reason for Alpha Company and Bravo Company to be based there?"
"As opposed to where else?"
"Anywhere else east of the Mississippi River. "
"Kelham is pretty isolated," Munro said. "Helps with the secrecy thing. "
"That's what they told me, too. But I don't buy it. There are secrets on every base. They could keep the lid on this thing anywhere. Kosovo is not even interesting. Who would even listen? But they chose Kelham a year ago. Why did they do that? Have you seen anything about Kelham that would make it the only choice?"
"No," Munro said. "Not really. It's adequate, no question. But not essential. I assume it was about sending four hundred extra wallets to a dying town. "
"Exactly," I said. "It was political. "
"What isn't?"
"One more thing," I said. "You're clear about how Janice Chapman ended up in that alley, right?"
"I hope so," he said. "Based on what I saw last night, Chief Deveraux operates an exclusion zone in terms of Main Street itself. She makes sure all the action happens between the bars and the railroad track. Therefore both Main Street and the alley would have been deserted. Therefore the perp must have stopped on Main Street and carried the corpse in from that direction. "
"How long would it have taken?"
"Doesn't matter. No one was there to see. Could have been a minute, could have been twenty. "
"But why there? Why not somewhere else, ten miles away?"
"The body was supposed to be found, I guess. "
"Plenty of lonelier places it would still have been found. So why there?"
"I don't know," Munro said. "Maybe the perp was constrained in some way. Maybe he had company, somewhere close by. Like the diner, or one of the bars. Maybe he had to duck out and take care of it real fast. Maybe he couldn't be gone for long without somebody noticing. So maybe he had to trade safety for speed. Which would dictate a nearby location. "
"Can you give me another day?" I said. "Can you be here tomorrow?"
"No," he said. "I'm going to get my butt kicked bad for being one day late. I can't risk two. "
"Pussy," I said.
He laughed. "Sorry, man, but if you don't get it done today you're on your own. "
