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“This is the U.S. Army we’re dealing with. I told you, this is next level now.”

“You’re fired,” Brill said. “I’m hiring a permanent crew. The best of the best, like the big boys have. I’m Axel Brill. I deserve what they’ve got. I deserve more than they ever dreamed of. They’re pygmies next to me.”

The concierge didn’t answer.

“You’re fired,” Brill said again.

“I’m sorry you feel this way.”

“Tell me about the attorney-client bullshit.”

“Everything we ever discussed is confidential. Everything we ever did. I can’t be forced to testify about any of it.”

“Even though you don’t work for me anymore?”

“It’s permanent.”

“Suppose you want to testify?”

“Why would I want to?”

“To cut a deal, or to get paid, or whatever else enters your otherwise empty head.”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to testify. There are rules.”

“There better be,” Brill said. “I’m serious, bro. You breathe a single word, ever, to anyone, about anything, and I’ll send my new crew over to put a bullet in your head. They won’t fail. They’ll win every time. Like I do. An alien concept to you, I know. But try hard to grasp it. A single word, a bullet in the head, guaranteed. Got it?”

Then he clicked off the call and threw the flip phone on the floor and stamped it into shards of gray plastic and green circuit boards. He took a breath, and another, and then he dialed his regular cell. He knew a guy at one of the giants, not far away in Mountain View, who rumor had it did all the hiring in the dark and murky corners his employer would rather not handle personally. Maybe he could induce the guy to defect. All it would take was money. This was Silicon Valley, after all. Maybe the guy could bring an ace crew with him. Ready made. Why the hell not? Who could turn him down? He was Axel Brill.

Chapter 24

Reacher hadn’t set the alarm clock in his head, so he slept until eight. Which was right when Colonel Elwood was due to touch down at the San Francisco airport. He would get to Palo Alto within an hour minimum. More likely ninety minutes. Maybe more. He had to line up for his rental car, and then he would hit morning traffic on the 101. So Reacher took it slow. A long lonely shower, and a check through the armory in his Carhartt pockets. All good. He shrugged the clanking jacket on and stopped by the motel office to return his room key. Then he set out strolling east, to find a breakfast spot. No coat check, and parking nearby for when Elwood showed up. Plus edible food. Those were the requirements.

He found a place off California Avenue. It was half full of people working hard and eating fast. Paperwork and phones and laptop computers were strewn all over their tables. Maybe they were weekly tenants at the Sequoia Suites. It was a short walk away. Maybe they didn’t want to drink insipid pod-machine coffee in their rooms. Or microwave yesterday’s blueberry muffins. He didn’t blame them. Breakfast out was always better. He took a table and ordered a healthy meal. The same as in the Rock Creek diner, on the first morning, with Turner. Pancakes, syrup, bacon, toast, and two fried eggs. Plus coffee, of course. And pie for later. He paid upfront and included the best part of twenty bucks as a tip. From the Chief of Staff’s wad. He figured it would guarantee fast refills of his coffee mug, and no subsequent side-eye when he lingered afterward, waiting for Elwood to show up.

Elwood called on the burner after Reacher’s first cup of coffee but before his food arrived. Reacher recognized his voice. The sound of senior officers everywhere. Elwood said he had picked up his car and was ready to head south. Reacher told him the address and told him where to park. Elwood clicked off with no further conversation. Not friends yet.

—

Axel Brill got his wish. The guy he knew called him back. Brill presented his vision. His company would absolutely dominate the future of humanity. It would blot out the sky. All of today’s famous names would come to be seen as nothing but minor pre-echoes. Mere footnotes in history. Brill’s early stakeholders would one day become the planet’s first trillionaires. Until then, annual salaries would be off-the-charts insane. He was offering a unique opportunity. To the moon and beyond. To prove his confidence, he was happy to pay very generous signing-on bonuses. To allay any lingering doubts. To bring joy and energy. Eight million dollars later he had a head of security and a six-man team. All his own. On staff. On call. The best of the best. Just like the big boys.

—

Elwood showed up in less than another hour. He was instantly recognizable. Out of uniform, but not really. He was wearing brown shoes with a mirror shine, tan slacks with a razor crease, an ironed shirt to match the pants, and an Ike jacket zipped half the way up. The uniform a colonel wears when not in uniform. He had iron-gray hair buzzed close to his scalp and a brick-red face with scowl lines deeply etched either side of his mouth. He was trim and compact, neither tall nor short. His shoulders were all the way back, and his spine was precisely vertical. You could have used a bubble level on it.

Reacher raised a hand but Elwood was already heading in his direction. Maybe Turner had given him a description. He stepped over and pulled out a chair and sat down opposite. He nodded a terse greeting and said, “I saw you on the motel video. You killed two men in Summertown.”

“Those men knifed your man Bisley. Leaving behind a widow named Julia and a fatherless child named Amanda. Not yet a year old. What would you have done?”

“I would have arrested them and brought them to trial.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Reacher said. “Turner wouldn’t have picked you as her number two with a bullshit answer like that. You would have done exactly the same as me. In fact I’m sure you have, many times in the past.”

Elwood paused a long moment.

“No comment,” he said. “The general told me about you. You ran the first 110th. Some people still remember.”

“Very old people. That was a long time ago.”