Bad Luck and Trouble

it.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    “The Mark Twos have a small fluorescent arrow painted on them. To make loading easier in the dark.”
    “That’s all?”
    “You got it.”
    “It’s a scam.”
    “Of course it’s a scam. It’s a way of making the paperwork look legal when Mahmoud’s people drive them through the factory gate.”
    Reacher nodded. A gate guard would fight to the death to prevent the unauthorized removal of ordnance. But if he saw paperwork with a reason on it, he would pass the load through with a smile and a cheery wave. Even if the reason was the absence of a small painted arrow on something that cost more than he made in a year. Reacher had seen the Pentagon junk stuff for less.
    He asked, “How do the electronics packs fit on?”
    “In,” Neagley said. “Not on. There’s an access port in the side. You unscrew it and plug the pack in. Then there’s some testing and calibration.”
    “Could I do it?”
    “I doubt it. You’d need training. In the field it’s going to be a specialist’s job.”
    “So Mahmoud couldn’t do it, either. Or his people.”
    “We have to assume they’ve got a guy. They wouldn’t spend sixty-five million dollars without being shown how to put the things together.”
    “Can we nix that transport order?”
    “Not without raising an alarm. Which would be the same thing as dropping the dime.”
    “You still got any markers left on your guy?”
    “A couple.”
    “Tell him to have someone call you the second those units roll out.”
    “And until then?”
    “Until then Mahmoud doesn’t have the missiles. Until then we have complete freedom of action.”

59
    At that instant it became a race against time. When the warehouse door opened in Colorado, a door of a different kind would slam shut in LA. But there was still a lot to prepare. There was still a lot to discover. Including exact locations. Clearly New Age’s glass cube in East LA wasn’t the center of anything. For one thing, there was no helicopter there.
    And they needed exact identities.
    They needed to know who knew, and who flew.
    “I want them all,” Reacher said.
    “Including the dragon lady?” Neagley asked.
    “Starting with the dragon lady. She lied to me.”
    They needed equipment, clothing, communications, and alternative vehicles.
    And training, Neagley thought.
    “We’re old, we’re slow, and we’re rusty,” she said. “We’re a million miles from what we used to be.”
    “We’re not too bad,” O’Donnell said.
    “Time was when you’d have put a double tap through that guy’s eyes,” she said. “Not a lucky low shot to his leg.”
    They sat in the lounge like four out-of-towners discussing how to spend their day. As far as ordnance went, they had two Hardballers and the Daewoo DP-51 from Vegas. Thirteen rounds each for the Hardballers, eleven for the Daewoo. Not nearly good enough. O’Donnell and Dixon and Neagley had personal cell phones registered to their real names and real addresses and Reacher had nothing. Not nearly good enough. They had a Hertz Ford 500 rented in Dixon’s real name and the captured Chrysler. Not nearly good enough. O’Donnell was in a thousand-dollar suit from his East Coast tailor and Neagley and Dixon had jeans, jackets, and evening wear. Not nearly good enough.
    Neagley swore that budget was not a problem. But that didn’t help with the time factor. They needed four untraceable pay-as-you-go cell phones, four anonymous cars, and work clothes. That was a day’s shopping right there. Then they needed guns and ammunition. Best case, a free choice for each of them and a lot of spare rounds. Worst case, one more make-do handgun and a lot of spare rounds. That was another day’s shopping. Like most cities, LA had a thriving black market in untraceable weapons, but it would take time to penetrate.
    Two days of material preparation.
    Maybe two days of surveillance and research.
    “We don’t have time to train,” Reacher said.

    Azhari Mahmoud had time for a leisurely lunch. He took it in a sidewalk café in Laguna Beach. He was staying in a rented townhouse a short walk away. Safe enough. The lease was legitimate. The development had a large transient population. It wasn’t unusual to see U-Haul trucks parked overnight. Mahmoud’s was two streets away, in a lot, locked up and empty.
    It wouldn’t be empty for long.
    His contacts at New Age had insisted that Little Wing must not be used inside the United States. He had