The Enemy

would have been specified and carefully monitored. Then the whole business would have been completely forgotten. But the product of all those long months of deliberation was still coming through, thousands of units a year, needed or not.
    “Thanks, soldier,” I said.
    “You need to take it?” the kid asked.
    “Just needed to see it,” I said.

    We went back to my office. It was midmorning, a dull day, and I felt aimless. So far, the new decade wasn’t doing much for me. I wasn’t a huge fan of the 1990s yet, at that point, six days in.
    “Are you going to write the accident report?” Summer asked.
    “For Willard? Not yet.”
    “He’ll expect it today.”
    “I know. But I’m going to make him ask, one more time.”
    “Why?”
    “I guess because it’s a fascinating experience. Like watching maggots writhing around in something that died.”
    “What died?”
    “My enthusiasm for getting out of bed in the morning.”
    “One bad apple,” she said. “Doesn’t mean much.”
    “Maybe,” I said. “If it is just one.”
    She said nothing.
    “Crowbars,” I said. “We’ve got two separate cases with crowbars, and I don’t like coincidences. But I can’t see how they can be connected. There’s no way to join them up. Carbone was a million miles from Mrs. Kramer, in every way imaginable. They were in completely different worlds.”
    “Vassell and Coomer join them up,” she said. “They had an interest in something that could have been in Mrs. Kramer’s house, and they were here at Bird the night Carbone was murdered.”
    I nodded. “That’s what’s driving me crazy. It’s a perfect connection, except it isn’t. They took one call in D.C., they were too far from Green Valley to do anything to Mrs. Kramer themselves, and they didn’t call anyone from the hotel. Then they were here the night Carbone died, but they were in the O Club with a dozen witnesses the whole time, eating steak and fish.”
    “First time they were here, they had a driver. Major Marshall, remember? But the second time, they were on their own. That feels a little clandestine to me. Like they were here for a secret reason.”
    “Nothing very secret about hanging around in the O Club bar and then eating in the O Club dining room. They weren’t out of sight for a minute, all night long.”
    “But why didn’t they have their driver? Why come on their own? I assume Marshall was at the funeral with them. But then they chose to drive more than three hundred miles by themselves? And more than three hundred back?”
    “Maybe Marshall was unavailable,” I said.
    “Marshall’s their blue-eyed boy,” she said. “He’s available when they say so.”
    “Why did they come here at all? It’s a very long way for a very average dinner.”
    “They came for the briefcase, Reacher. Norton’s wrong. She must be. Someone gave it to them. They left with it.”
    “I don’t think Norton’s wrong. She convinced me.”
    “Then maybe they picked it up in the parking lot. Norton wouldn’t have seen that. I assume she didn’t go out there in the cold and wave them off. But they left with it, for sure. Why else would they be happy to fly back to Germany?”
    “Maybe they just gave up on it. They were due back in Germany anyway. They couldn’t stay here forever. They’ve got Kramer’s command to fight over.”
    Summer said nothing.
    “Whatever,” I said. “There’s no possible connection.”
    “It’s a random universe.”
    I nodded. “So they stay on the back burner. Carbone stays on the front.”
    “Are we going back out to look for the yogurt pot?”
    I shook my head. “It’s in the guy’s car, or in his trash.”
    “Could have been useful.”
    “We’ll work with the crowbar instead. It’s brand new. It was probably bought just as recently as the yogurt was.”
    “We have no resources.”
    “Detective Clark up in Green Valley will do it for us. He’s already looking for
his
crowbar, presumably. He’ll be canvassing hardware stores. We’ll ask him to widen his radius and stretch his time frame.”
    “That’s a lot of extra work for him.”
    I nodded. “We’ll have to offer him something. We’ll have to string him along. We’ll tell him we’re working on something that might help him.”
    “Like what?”
    I smiled. “We could fake it. We could give him Andrea Norton’s name. We could show her exactly what kind of a family we are.”

    I called Detective Clark. I didn’t give him Andrea Norton’s