The Hard Way

your concern, sir. Completely. And you have my word that no cop or prosecutor anywhere in America will think twice about anything that I do.”
    “I have your word?”
    “As an officer.”
    The guy smiled. “And as a gentleman?”
    Reacher didn’t smile back. “I can’t claim that distinction.”
    “No cop or prosecutor anywhere in America?”
    “I guarantee it.”
    “You can do that, realistically?”
    “I can do that absolutely.”
    The guy paused. “So what do you want me to do?”
    “Get me confirmation of something so I don’t waste my time or money.”
    “Confirmation of what?”
    “I need you to check a passenger name against flight manifests out of this area during the last forty-eight hours.”
    “Military?”
    “No, commercial.”
    “That’s a Homeland Security issue.”
    Reacher nodded. “Which is why I need you to do it for me. I don’t know who to call. Not anymore. But I’m guessing you do.”
    “Which airport? What flight?”
    “I’m not sure. You’ll have to go fishing. I’d start with JFK. British Airways, United, or American to London, England. I’d start with late evening the day before yesterday. Failing that, try flights out of Newark. No hits, try JFK again yesterday morning.”
    “Definitely transatlantic?”
    “That’s my assumption right now.”
    “OK,” the guy said, slowly, like he was taking mental notes. Then he asked, “Who am I looking for? One of Edward Lane’s crew?”
    Reacher nodded. “A recent ex-member.”
    “Name?”
    Reacher said, “Taylor. Graham Taylor. He’s a U.K. citizen.”

CHAPTER 53
    THE PENTAGON GUY left with a promise to liaise in due course via Lauren Pauling’s cell phone. Reacher got a coffee refill and Pauling said, “You didn’t find Taylor’s passport in his apartment.”
    Reacher said, “No, I didn’t.”
    “So either he’s still alive or you think someone’s impersonating him.”
    Reacher said nothing.
    Pauling said, “Let’s say Taylor was working with the guy with no tongue. Let’s say they fell out over something, either what they did to Kate and Jade in the end, or the money, or both. Then let’s say one of them killed the other and ran, on Taylor’s passport, with all the money.”
    “If it’s the guy with no tongue, why would he use Taylor’s passport?”
    “Maybe he doesn’t have one of his own. Plenty of Americans don’t. Or maybe he’s on a watch list. Maybe he couldn’t get through an airport with his own name.”
    “Passports have photographs.”
    “They’re often old and generic. Do you look like your passport photograph?”
    “A little.”
    Pauling said, “A little is sometimes all you need. Going out, they don’t care as much as when you’re coming in.”
    Reacher nodded and looked up and saw Brewer coming in the door. Big, fast, energetic. Something in his face, maybe frustration, maybe concern, Reacher couldn’t tell. Or perhaps the guy was just tired. He had been woken up early. He hurried through the room and slid into the booth and sat in the same spot the Pentagon guy had just vacated.
    He said, “The body in the river was not the guy in Patti’s photograph.”
    “You sure?” Reacher asked.
    “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything. Patti’s guy is about five-nine and athletic and the floater was six-three and wasted. Those are fairly basic differences, wouldn’t you say?”
    Reacher nodded. “Fairly basic.”
    Pauling asked, “Did he have a tongue?”
    “A what?” Brewer said.
    “A tongue. Did the floater have a tongue?”
    “Doesn’t everybody? What kind of question is that?”
    “We’re looking for a guy who had his tongue cut out.”
    Brewer looked straight at her. “Then the floater ain’t yours. I was just at the morgue. He’s got everything except a heartbeat.”
    “You sure?”
    “Medical examiners tend to notice things like that.”
    “OK,” Reacher said. “Thanks for your help.”
    “Not so fast,” Brewer said. “Talk to me.”
    “About what?”
    “About why you’re interested in this guy.”
    Something in his face.
    Reacher asked, “Did you get an ID?”
    Brewer nodded. “From his fingerprints. They were mushy, but we made them work. He was an NYPD snitch. Relatively valuable. I’ve got buddies uptown who are relatively unhappy.”
    “What kind of a snitch?”
    “Methamphetamine out of Long Island. He was due to testify.”
    “Where had he been?”
    “He just got out of Rikers. They swept him up along with a bunch of