Never Go Back: (Jack Reacher 18)

she jumped her fingertip to the bottom third of the page, where two words stood out, separated by a dash: Hood – Days. The H of Hood was enhanced after the fact, with baroque curlicues. A man on the phone, bored. Leach said, ‘This is the next signal after the one that’s missing. It’s still in the file room too, immediately after the Kandahar thing. This is our guys checking in from Fort Hood in Texas, reporting that they expect to be all wrapped up in a matter of days.’
    Then she moved her hand upward again and bracketed her fingers over the middle third of the page. She said, ‘So this part here is what corresponds to the gap in the record.’
    The middle third of the page was a mass of bleak doodles, with shapes and whorls repeated endlessly, and boxes and mazes and spirals. But buried right in the centre of it all were the letters A and M, followed by a four-digit number. The whole thing had been first scrawled, and then gone over carefully, with more precise lines, squared up, and sharpened, and underlined, and then abandoned.
    A.M. 3435.
    Turner smiled and said, ‘He’s technically in the wrong, sergeant, but we’re going to overlook it this one time.’
    A.M. 3435.
    Which was a number that Reacher might have remembered pretty well, because it was mildly engaging, in the sense that 3 and 4 and 3 and 5, if raised to the powers of 3 and 4 and 3 and 5 respectively, would collectively add up to exactly 3435. Which was slightly interesting. Such numbers had been much discussed by a guy called Joseph Madachy, who once upon a time had been the owner, publisher and editor of a magazine called Recreational Mathematics . Reacher had read a stack of back issues, as a kid, in the library on a Marine base in the Pacific. He said, ‘Sergeant, what’s my best way of contacting Major Sullivan at JAG?’
    ‘Directly, sir?’
    ‘Person to person.’
    ‘When, sir?’
    ‘Right now.’
    ‘In the middle of the night?’
    ‘Right this minute.’
    Leach pulled another piece of paper from her pocket. Smaller. A sheet from a scratch pad, torn in half. She said, ‘This is Major Sullivan’s personal cell. I’m sure right now it’s on her night table.’
    ‘How did you know I would need it?’
    ‘I figured that was how you were going to have to do it. Defence motions get pretty wide latitude. But permission to speak freely?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Leach took a second slip of paper from her pocket. Another sheet from a scratch pad, torn in half, just the same. She said, ‘This is Captain Edmonds’ personal cell. Your other lawyer. I think she’s a better prospect. She’s more likely to pursue it with vigour. She likes to see the right thing done.’
    ‘Even after I busted myself out of jail?’
    ‘I think so.’
    ‘So she’s an idealist?’
    ‘Get it while you can. It won’t last. It didn’t with Major Sullivan.’
    Reacher asked, ‘Is the FBI involved yet?’
    Leach said, ‘They’ve been notified.’
    ‘Who is organizing the army’s efforts?’
    ‘The 75th MP. A team led by Warrant Officer Espin. Who you met. He was the one who brought you to Dyer. People say he’s taking it personally. He claims you abused his good nature. He claims he did you a favour, and thereby inadvertently set the whole thing in motion.’
    ‘What did he do for me?’
    ‘He kept you at Dyer. Detective Podolski wanted to take you downtown. Espin said no. And then on top of that, you asked him to go get the MP duty captain right away, which he did, which he’s counting as another favour exploited.’
    ‘The duty captain would have come anyway.’
    ‘But not so quickly. And your whole plan depended on getting everything done before late afternoon. So you had to start early. Which Espin feels he accidentally facilitated.’
    ‘Is he getting anywhere?’
    ‘Not so far. But not through lack of trying.’
    ‘Can you get a message to him?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘Tell him to get over himself. Ask him what he would have done in our situation.’
    ‘I will, sir. If I can.’
    ‘What’s your name, sergeant?’
    ‘Sir, it’s Leach.’
    ‘No, your first name.’
    ‘Sir, it’s Chris.’
    ‘As in Christine or Christina or something?’
    ‘Just Chris, sir. That’s what’s on my birth certificate.’
    ‘Well, Chris, if I was still CO of the 110th, I’d move heaven and earth to keep you there. That unit has had its share of great NCOs, and you’re right up there with the best of them.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘No,