Blue Moon Page 11

  The heels kept on coming. Tap, tap, tap. Maybe she was headed for a cubicle all the way up front.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The inner door opened. A woman stepped through. Bohdan saw it was one of the older ones. In fact the one due to get the paddle when she came off duty. Like all of them she was half-wearing a half-size shiny white latex version of a nurse’s uniform, complete with a little white cap pinned up top. The hem of her skirt rode six inches higher than the tops of her stockings. She raised her hand, one finger vaguely ahead of the others, like people do, simultaneously as an apology for an interruption, and the introduction of a question.

  She never got there. Whatever mundane issue was on her mind remained unexpressed. More towels, more lotion, new rubber gloves. Whatever it was. The door swinging open was in the left corner of the left-hand guy’s eye, and he fired instantly, a neat quiet stitch of three into her centre mass. No reason for it. Some kind of hyper state. Some kind of fever pitch. A twitch of the muzzle, a twitch of the trigger finger. There was no echo. Just a long, ragged, plastic, fleshy thump as the woman went down.

  Bohdan said, ‘Jesus Christ.’

  It changed the argument. Getting gut shot was no longer a theory. Visual aids had been introduced. Ancient human instinct took over. Stay alive a minute longer. See what happens next. They got in the car voluntarily. By chance they crossed Center Street and entered Albanian territory at the exact same moment the woman in the nurse costume died. She was alone on the floor of the parlour, half in and half out of the back corridor. All the clients had fled. They had jumped over her and run. Likewise her co-workers. They had all done the same thing. They were all gone. She died alone, in pain, uncomforted and unconsoled. Her name was Anna Ulyana Dorozhkin. She was forty-one years old. She had first come to the city fifteen years earlier, at the age of twenty-six, all excited about a career in PR.

  SEVENTEEN

  Aaron Shevick didn’t know exactly where the city’s pawn shops were. Reacher’s guess was they would be somewhere on the same radius as the bus depot. At a discreet distance from the fancy neighbourhoods. He knew cities. There would be low-rent enterprises packed tight throughout the outlying blocks. There would be window tinting and laundromats and dusty old mom-and-pop hardware stores and off-brand auto parts. And pawn shops. The problem was planning a route. They wanted to be able to pick Mrs Shevick up if she had already done her business and was already walking home. Not knowing her destination made that difficult. In response they drove wide loops, finding a pawn shop, checking inside through the window, not seeing her, setting out home until they were sure she couldn’t still be ahead of them, and then driving back and starting over with the next place they saw.

  In the end they found her all the way west of Center, stepping out of a grimy pawn shop across a narrow street from a taxi dispatcher and a bail bond office. Mrs Shevick, right there, large as life, head up, her purse hooked on her elbow. Abby pulled over next to her and Aaron wound down his window and called out to her. She was very surprised to see him, but she got over it fast. She got right in the car. Less than ten seconds, beginning to end. Like it had been arranged in advance.

  She was embarrassed at first, in front of Abby. A stranger. You must think us very foolish. Aaron asked her how much she had gotten for the rings and the watch, and she just shook her head and wouldn’t answer.

  Then eventually she said, ‘Eighty dollars.’

  No one spoke. They drove back east, past the depot, through the four-way light.

  At that moment, in his office, Gregory was getting the news about his massage parlour. By chance another of his guys had been passing by on unrelated business. He had sensed something wrong. Too quiet. He had gone inside. The place was completely deserted. Nothing but an old hooker, shot dead on the floor, in a big pool of blood. No one else. No clients. Apparently all the other hookers had run away. There was no trace of Bohdan or Artem. Artem’s phone was lying on his desk, and Bohdan’s jacket was still on the back of his chair. Not good signs. They meant they had not left the premises voluntarily. They meant they had left under some kind of duress.

  Gregory called his top boys together. He told them the facts. Then he told them to think hard for sixty seconds, and come up with first an analysis of what the hell was going on, and second what the hell to do about it.

  His right-hand man spoke first.

  ‘This is Dino’s doing,’ he said. ‘I think we all know that. He’s a man on a mission. We took two of his guys, with the trick about the spy in the police station, so he took two of ours, up at the Ford dealer. Which was fair. Can’t dispute it. What goes around comes around. Except evidently he didn’t like losing the loan business, so he decided to punish us by taking two more of our guys, on the restaurant block. So we took two more of his, outside the liquor store last night. Which was then four for four. A fair exchange. End of story. Except apparently Dino doesn’t agree. Apparently he feels he has a point to make. Perhaps an ego thing. He wants to be two guys ahead at all times. Perhaps it makes him feel better. So now he’s made it six for four.’

  ‘What should we do about it?’ Gregory asked.

  His guy was quiet for a very long time.

  Then he said, ‘We didn’t get where we are by being stupid. If we make it six for six, he’ll make it eight for six. And so on, for ever. It will be a slow-motion war. We can’t get into a war right now.’

  ‘So what should we do?’

  ‘We should suck it up. We’re down two guys and the restaurant block, but we got the loan business instead. Overall we came out ahead.’

  Gregory said, ‘Makes us look weak.’

  ‘No,’ his guy said. ‘It makes us look like the grown-ups, playing the long game, with our eyes on the prize.’

  ‘We’re down two men. It’s humiliating.’

  ‘If a week ago Dino had offered to trade all of his loan business for two of our men and the restaurant block, we would have bitten his hand off. We came out way ahead. Dino is humiliated, not us.’

  ‘It feels weird, just to leave it.’

  ‘No,’ his guy said again. ‘It feels smart. We’re playing chess here. And right now we’re winning.’

  ‘What will they do to our guys?’

  ‘Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.’

  No one spoke for a minute.

  Then Gregory said, ‘We need to find the hookers. Can’t let them run away. Bad for discipline.’

  ‘We’re on it,’ someone said.

  Silence again.

  Then Gregory’s phone rang. He answered and listened and hung up.

  He looked straight at his right-hand man.

  He smiled.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘Maybe having the loan business puts us ahead.’

  ‘How so?’ his guy asked.

  ‘Now we have a name,’ Gregory said. ‘And a photograph. The guy who asked about Max Trulenko last night is called Aaron Shevick. He’s a customer. Currently he owes us twenty-five thousand dollars. We’re working on getting his address. Apparently he’s a big ugly son of a bitch.’

  Abby parked on the kerb next to the picket fence, and they all got out and walked up the narrow concrete path. Maria Shevick took her keys from the purse on her elbow and unlocked the door. They went inside. Maria saw the can of coffee on the kitchen counter.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Pure self-interest,’ Reacher said back.

  ‘You want some?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Maria opened the can and set the machine going. She joined Abby in the living room. Abby was looking at the photographs on the wall.

  She asked, quietly, gently, ‘What’s the latest news on Meg?’

  ‘It’s a brutal treatment,’ Maria said. ‘She’s in a special isolation unit, either out of her mind on painkillers, or fast asleep, because they sedate her. We can’t visit. We can’t even talk on the phone.’

  ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘But the d
octors are optimistic,’ Maria said. ‘So far, anyway. We’ll know more soon. They’ll do another scan before long.’

  ‘If we pay for it first,’ her husband said.

  Six chances before the week is over, Reacher thought.

  He said, ‘We think Meg’s old boss is still in town. We think he still has money. Your lawyers reckon the best strategy is to sue him direct. Absolutely can’t fail, they said.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Shevick asked.

  ‘We don’t know yet.’

  ‘Can you find him?’

  ‘Probably,’ Reacher said. ‘That kind of thing used to be part of my job.’

  ‘The law moves slow,’ Maria said, like she had once before.

  They ate the lunch from the gas station deli. In the living room, because the kitchen had only three chairs. Abby sat cross-legged on the floor where the TV used to be, and ate off her lap. Maria Shevick asked her what she did for a living. Abby told her. Aaron talked about the good old days before computer controlled machine tools. When everything was cut by eye and feel, to a thousandth of an inch. They could make anything. American workers. Once the greatest natural resource in the world. Now look what happened. A crying shame.

  Reacher heard a car in the street. The soft hiss and squelch of a big sedan. He got up and stepped into the hallway and looked out the window. A black Lincoln Town Car. Two guys in it. Pale faces, fair hair, white necks. They were trying to turn the car around. Back and forth, back and forth, across the narrow width. They wanted to be facing in the right direction. For a fast getaway, perhaps. Abby’s Toyota didn’t help. It was in the way.

  Reacher went back to the living room.

  He said, ‘They figured out Aaron Shevick’s address.’

  Abby stood up.

  Maria said, ‘They’re here?’

  ‘Because someone sent them,’ Reacher said. ‘That’s the thing we have to remember. We’ve got about thirty seconds to figure this out. Whoever sent them knows where they are. If anything happens to them, this house becomes ground zero for retribution. We should try to avoid that if possible. If we were somewhere else, no problem. But not here.’

  Shevick said, ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘Get rid of them.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Any of you. Just not me. I’m the one they think is Aaron Shevick.’

  There was a knock at the door.

  EIGHTEEN

  There was a second knock at the door. No one moved. Then Abby took a step, but Maria put a hand on her arm, and Aaron went instead. Reacher ducked into the kitchen, and sat there, listening. He heard the door open, and then a missed beat from the step, just silence, as if the two guys were momentarily set back by the fact that the man who had opened the door was not the man they were looking for.

  One of them said, ‘We need to speak with Mr Aaron Shevick.’

  Mr Aaron Shevick said, ‘Who?’

  ‘Aaron Shevick.’

  ‘I think he was the last tenant.’

  ‘You rent here?’

  ‘I’m retired. Too expensive to buy.’

  ‘Who’s your landlord?’

  ‘A bank.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to tell you that, until you state your business.’

  ‘Our business is private, with Mr Shevick alone. It’s a very sensitive matter.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Shevick said. ‘Are you from the government?’

  No answer.

  ‘Or the insurance fund?’

  One of the two guys said, ‘What’s your name, old man?’

  Menace in his voice.

  Shevick said, ‘Jack Reacher.’

  ‘How do we know you’re not Aaron Shevick’s dad?’

  ‘We would have the same name.’

  ‘Father-in-law, then. How do we know he’s not in the house right now? Maybe you took over the lease and he squats in a room. We know he’s not exactly swimming in cash right now.’

  Shevick said nothing.

  The same voice said, ‘We’re coming in to take a look.’

  There was the sound of Shevick getting shoved aside, and then footsteps in the hallway. Reacher stood up and moved behind the kitchen door. He opened a drawer, and another, and another, until he found a cooking knife. Better than nothing. He heard Abby and Maria move out of the living room and into the hallway.

  The footsteps kept on coming.

  He heard Abby say, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘We’re looking for Mr Aaron Shevick,’ one of the guys said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Abigail,’ Abby said.

  ‘Abigail what?’

  ‘Reacher,’ she said. ‘These are my grandparents, Jack and Joanna.’

  ‘Where’s Shevick?’

  ‘He was the last tenant. He moved out.’

  ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘He didn’t leave a forwarding address. He gave the impression he was having serious financial problems. I think basically he skipped in the night. He ran away.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I know who lives here, mister. This is a two-bedroom house. One for my grandparents, and one for me, when I’m here. For guests, when I’m not. There are no squatters. I think I would have noticed.’

  ‘Did you ever meet him?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mr Aaron Shevick.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I met him,’ Maria Shevick said. ‘When we first saw the house.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘I remember him as being tall and powerfully built.’

  ‘That’s the guy,’ the voice said. ‘How long has he been gone?’

  ‘About a year.’

  No response. The footsteps moved on, to the living room door. The voice said, ‘You’ve been here a year and you don’t have a TV yet?’

  ‘We’re retired,’ Maria said. ‘These things are expensive.’

  The voice said, ‘Huh.’

  Reacher heard a quiet, scratchy click. Then the footsteps retreated. Back down the hallway. To the front door. To the front step. To the narrow concrete path. Reacher heard the car start up, and then he heard it drive away. The soft hiss and squelch of a big sedan.

  Silence came back.

  He put the knife in its place in the drawer, and he stepped out of the kitchen.

  ‘Nice work, everyone,’ he said.

  Aaron looked shaky. Maria looked pale.

  ‘They took a photograph,’ Abby said. ‘Like a parting shot.’

  Reacher nodded. The quiet, scratchy click. A cell phone, imitating a camera.

  ‘A photograph of what?’ he said.

  ‘The three of us. Partly for their report. Partly for their just-in-case database. But mostly to intimidate. It’s what they do. People feel vulnerable.’

  Reacher nodded again. He remembered the luminous guy in the bar. Raising his phone. The little snitch of a sound. If I was a real client, I wouldn’t have liked it.

  The Shevicks stepped into the kitchen, to make more coffee. Reacher and Abby went to the living room, to wait for it.

  Abby said, ‘Intimidation is not the only issue with that photograph.’

  ‘What else?’ Reacher said.

  ‘They’ll text the picture. Among themselves. That’s what they do. In case someone can fill in another part of the puzzle. Sooner or later everyone will get the text. The guy on the door at work will get it. He knows I’m not Abigail Reacher. He knows I’m Abby Gibson. So do a lot of other guys on a lot of other doors, because I’ve worked a lot of other places. They’ll start asking questions. They already don’t like me.’

  ‘Do they know where you live?’

  ‘I’m sure they could make my boss tell them.’

  ‘When will they send the text?’

  ‘I’m sure they already have.’

  ‘Is there someplace else you could stay?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I have a friend,’ s
he said. ‘East of Center Street. Albanian territory, happily.’

  ‘Can you work there?’

  ‘I have before.’

  Reacher said, ‘I sincerely apologize for the disruption.’

  ‘I’m thinking of it as an experiment,’ she said. ‘Someone once told me that every day a woman should do something that scared her.’

  ‘She could join the army.’

  ‘You need to be based east of Center anyway. We can stick together. At least tonight.’

  ‘Will that be OK with your friend?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘Will the Shevicks be OK tonight?’

  Reacher nodded.

  ‘People believe their own eyes,’ he said. ‘In this case their own eyes were the luminous guy’s in the bar. He met me. His phone took my picture. I am Aaron Shevick. It’s set in stone. In their minds Shevick is a big tall guy from a younger generation. You could tell by the things they said. They accused him of being Shevick’s dad, or his father-in-law, but they never accused him of being Shevick himself. So they’ll be OK. As far as those guys are concerned, they’re just an old couple named Reacher.’

  Then Maria called through to say the coffee was ready.

  The manager of the grimy pawn shop across the narrow street from the taxi dispatcher and the bail bond office came out the door and dodged a truck and ducked into the taxi place. He ignored the weary guy on the radio and pushed on through to the back. To Gregory’s outer office. Gregory’s right-hand man looked up and asked him what he wanted. He said something had happened. Quicker to walk it across the street than put it in a text.

  ‘Put what in a text?’ the right-hand man asked.

  ‘This morning I got an alert and a photograph about a man named Shevick. A big ugly son of a bitch.’

  ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘Is Shevick a common name in America?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I had a client named Shevick this morning. But a small old woman.’