The Affair: A Reacher Novel

dressing.”
    “What, someone shot a guy and then gave him first aid? Sounds like a civilian accident to me.”
    “I hoped you weren’t going to be that predictable. How do you explain the round and the dressing?”
    “Remington .223 and a surplus store.”
    “And two guys were beat up before that, by someone they swear was a soldier.”
    “Not a soldier based at Kelham.”
    “Really? How many Kelham personnel can you vouch for? In terms of their exact whereabouts this morning?”
    “All of them,” Munro said.
    “Literally?”
    “Yes, literally,” he said. “We’ve got Alpha Company overseas as of five days ago, and I’ve got everyone else confined to quarters, or else sitting in the mess hall or the officers’ club. There’s a good MP staff here, and they’re watching everyone, while also watching each other. I can guarantee no one left the base this morning. Or since I got here, for that matter.”
    “Is that your standard operating procedure?”
    “It’s my secret weapon. Sitting down all day, no reading, no television, no nothing. Sooner or later someone talks, out of sheer boredom.Never fails. My arm-breaking days are over. I learned that time is my friend.”
    “Tell me again,” I said. “This is very important. You’re absolutely sure no one left the base this morning? Or last night? Not even under secret orders, maybe local, or from Benning, or maybe even from the Pentagon? I’m serious here. And don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
    “I’m sure,” Munro said. “I guarantee it. On my mother’s grave. I know how to do this stuff, you know. Give me that, at least.”
    “OK,” I said.
    Munro asked, “Who was the dead guy?”
    “No ID at this time. Civilian, almost certainly.”
    “Near the fence?”
    “Same as the guys that got beat up. Like a quarantine zone.”
    “That’s ridiculous. That’s not happening. I know that for sure.”
    We both went quiet for a second, and then I asked, “What else do you know for sure?”
    “I can’t tell you. Orders are to keep this thing tighter than a fish’s butt.”
    “Let’s play Twenty Questions.”
    “Let’s not.”
    “The short version. Three questions. Yes or no answers.”
    “Don’t put me on the spot, OK?”
    “We’re both on the spot already. Don’t you see that? We’ve got a real mess here. And either it’s in there with you or it’s out here with me. So sooner or later one of us is going to have to help the other. We might as well start now.”
    Silence. Then: “OK, Jesus, three questions.”
    “Did they tell you about the car?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did anyone mention money from Kosovo as a possible motive?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did they tell you about two other dead women?”
    “No. What other dead women?”
    “Last year. Local. Same MO. Cut throats.”
    “Connected?”
    “Probably.”
    “Jesus. No, nobody said a word.”
    “Do you have written records of Bravo Company’s movements? June and November last year?”
    “That’s your fourth question.”
    “We’re just chatting now. Two officers, equal rank, just shooting the shit. The game is over.”
    “There are no records of Bravo Company’s movements here. They’re operating under special ops protocols. Therefore everything is filed at Fort Bragg. It would take the biggest subpoena you ever saw just to get a look at the outside of the file cabinet.”
    I asked, “You making any general progress there?”
    No answer.
    I asked, “How long does it normally take for your secret weapon to work?”
    He said, “It’s usually much faster than this.”
    I didn’t answer, and there was more dead air, and some quiet breathing, and then Munro said, “Listen, Reacher, I guess this is hardly worth talking about, because you’re just going to think, well, what else would I say, because we both know I was sent here to cover someone’s ass. But I’m not like that. Never have been.”
    “And?”
    “From what I know so far, none of our guys killed any women. Not this month, or November, or June. That’s how it looks right now.”

Chapter
29
    I put the phone down on Munro, and Deveraux came back into the office immediately. Maybe she had been watching a light on the switchboard. She said, “Well?”
    “No quarantine patrols. No one has left Kelham since Munro arrived.”
    “He would say that, though, wouldn’t he?”
    “And he’s not smelling anything. He thinks the perp is not on the base.”
    “Ditto.”
    I nodded. Smoke and mirrors. Politics and