Jack Reacher 01 - Killing Floor

threateners at the same time in the same place making the exact same threat, that’s another link.”
    “So Morrison was inside the same scam as Hubble?” he said.
    “Owned and operated by the same people,” I said.
    Then I told him Hubble had been talking to an investigator. And I told him the investigator had been talking to Sherman Stoller, whoever he had been.
    “Who was the investigator?” he asked. “And where does Joe fit in?”
    “Joe was the investigator,” I said. “Hubble told me the tall guy with the shaved head was an investigator, trying to get him free.”
    “What sort of an investigator was your brother?” Finlay said. “Who the hell was he working for?”
    “Don’t know,” I said. “Last I heard he was working for the Treasury Department.”
    Finlay pushed off the statue and started walking back north.
    “I got to make some calls,” he said. “Time to go to work on this thing.”
    “Walk slow,” I said. “I haven’t finished yet.”

    FINLAY WAS ON THE SIDEWALK. I WAS IN THE ROAD, STAYING clear of the low awnings in front of every store. There was no traffic on the street to worry about. Monday, two o’clock in the afternoon, and the town was deserted.
    “How do you know Hubble’s dead?” Finlay asked me.
    So I told him how I knew. He thought about it. He agreed with me.
    “Because he was talking to an investigator?” he said.
    I shook my head. Stopped outside the barbershop.
    “No,” I said. “They didn’t know about that. If they had, they’d have got to him much earlier. Thursday at the latest. I figure they made the decision to waste him Friday, about five o’clock. Because you pulled him in with the phone number in Joe’s shoe. They figured he couldn’t be allowed to talk to cops or prison guards. So they set it up with Spivey. But Spivey’s boys blew it, so they tried over again. His wife said he got a call to wait at home today. They were setting him up for a second attempt. Looks like it worked.”
    Finlay nodded slowly.
    “Shit,” he said. “He was the only link we had to exactly what the hell is going on here. You should have hit on him while you had the chance, Reacher.”
    “Thanks, Finlay,” I said. “If I’d known the dead guy was Joe, I’d have hit on him so hard, you’d have heard him yelling all the way over here.”
    He just grunted. We moved over and sat together on the bench under the barbershop window.
    “I asked him what Pluribus was,” I said. “He wouldn’t answer. He said there were ten local people involved in the scam, plus hired help in from the outside when necessary. And he said the scam is vulnerable until something happens on Sunday. Exposed, somehow.”
    “What happens on Sunday?” Finlay asked.
    “He didn’t tell me,” I said.
    “And you didn’t press him?” he asked.
    “I wasn’t very interested,” I said. “I told you that.”
    “And he gave you no idea what the scam is all about?” he asked.
    “No idea,” I said.
    “Did he say who these ten people are?” he asked.
    “No,” I said.
    “Christ, Reacher, you’re a big help, you know that?” he said.
    “I’m sorry, Finlay,” I said. “I thought Hubble was just some asshole. If I could go back and do it again, I’d do it a lot different, believe me.”
    “Ten people?” he said again.
    “Not counting himself,” I said. “Not counting Sherman Stoller, either. But I assume he was counting Chief Morrison.”
    “Great,” Finlay said. “That only leaves me another nine to find.”
    “You’ll find one of them today,” I said.

    THE BLACK PICKUP I’D LAST SEEN LEAVING ENO’S PARKING lot pulled up short at the opposite curb. It waited there, motor running. The Kliner kid leaned his head on his forearm and stared out of the window at me from across the street. Finlay didn’t see him. He was looking down at the sidewalk.
    “You should be thinking about Morrison,” I said to him.
    “What about him?” he said. “He’s dead, right?”
    “But dead how?” I said. “What should that be saying to you?”
    He shrugged.
    “Somebody making an example of him?” he said. “A message?”
    “Correct, Finlay,” I said. “But what had he done wrong?”
    “Screwed something up, I guess,” he said.
    “Correct, Finlay,” I said again. “He was told to cover up what went down at the warehouse Thursday night. That was his task for the day. He was up there at midnight, you know.”
    “He was?” Finlay said. “You said that was a