Jack Reacher 01 - Killing Floor

Eno had a way with eggs. I washed it all down with pints of coffee. I had the waitress running back and forth with the refill jug.
    “Pluribus means nothing at all to you?” Roscoe asked. “You guys never knew anything about some Pluribus thing? When you were kids?”
    I thought hard and shook my head.
    “Is it Latin?” she asked.
    “It’s part of the United States’ motto, right?” I said. “E Pluribus Unum. It means out of many, one. One nation built out of many former colonies.”
    “So Pluribus means many?” she said. “Did Joe know Latin?”
    I shrugged.
    “I’ve got no idea,” I said. “Probably. He was a smart guy. He probably knew bits and pieces of Latin. I’m not sure.”
    “OK,” she said. “You got no other ideas at all why Joe was down here?”
    “Money, maybe,” I said. “That’s all I can think of. Joe worked for the Treasury Department, as far as I know. Hubble worked for a bank. Their only thing in common would be money. Maybe we’ll find out from Washington. If we don’t, we’re going to have to start from the beginning.”
    “OK,” she said. “You need anything?”
    “I’ll need that arrest report from Florida,” I said.
    “For Sherman Stoller?” she said. “That’s two years old.”
    “Got to start somewhere,” I said.
    “OK, I’ll ask for it,” she shrugged. “I’ll call Florida. Anything else?”
    “I need a gun,” I said.
    She didn’t reply. I dropped a twenty on the laminate tabletop and we slid out and stood up. Walked out to the unmarked car.
    “I need a gun,” I said again. “This is a big deal, right? So I’ll need a weapon. I can’t just go to the store and buy one. No ID, no address.”
    “OK,” she said. “I’ll get you one.”
    “I’ve got no permit,” I said. “You’ll have to do it on the quiet, OK?”
    She nodded.
    “That’s OK,” she said. “There’s one nobody else knows about.”

    WE KISSED A LONG HARD KISS IN THE STATION HOUSE LOT . Then we got out of the car and went in through the heavy glass door. More or less bumped into Finlay rounding the reception counter on his way out.
    “Got to go back to the morgue,” he said. “You guys come with me, OK? We need to talk. Lot to talk about.”
    So we went back out into the dull morning. Got back into Roscoe’s Chevy. Same system as before. She drove. I sat across the back. Finlay sat in the front passenger seat, twisted around so he could look at the both of us at once. Roscoe started up and headed south.
    “Long call from the Treasury Department,” Finlay said. “Must have been twenty minutes, maybe a half hour. I was nervous about Teale.”
    “What did they say?” I asked him.
    “Nothing,” he said. “They took a half hour to tell me nothing.”
    “Nothing?” I said. “What the hell does that mean?”
    “They wouldn’t tell me anything,” he said. “They want a shitload of formal authorization from Teale before they say word one.”
    “They confirmed Joe worked there, right?” I said.
    “Sure, they went that far,” he said. “He came from Military Intelligence ten years ago. They headhunted him. Recruited him specially.”
    “What for?” I asked him.
    Finlay just shrugged.
    “They wouldn’t tell me,” he said. “He started some new project exactly a year ago, but the whole thing is a total secret. He was some kind of a very big deal up there, Reacher, that’s for sure. You should have heard the way they were all talking about him. Like talking about God.”
    I went quiet for a while. I had known nothing about Joe. Nothing at all.
    “So that’s it?” I said. “Is that all you got?”
    “No,” he said. “I kept pushing until I got a woman called Molly Beth Gordon. You ever heard that name?”
    “No,” I said. “Should I have?”
    “Sounds like she was very close to Joe,” Finlay said. “Sounds like they may have had a thing going. She was very upset. Floods of tears.”
    “So what did she tell you?” I asked him.
    “Nothing,” Finlay said. “Not authorized. But she promised to tell you what she can. She said she’ll step out of line for you, because you’re Joe’s little brother.”
    I nodded.
    “OK,” I said. “That’s better. When do I speak to her?”
    “Call her about one thirty,” he said. “Lunch break, when her office will be empty. She’s taking a big risk, but she’ll talk to you. That’s what she said.”
    “OK,” I said again. “She say anything else?”
    “She let one little thing slip,”