Foreign and Domestic: A Get Reacher Novel (16 page)

BOOK: Foreign and Domestic: A Get Reacher Novel
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“Yeah,” she said and let go of him.

Cameron asked, “Something wrong?”

“No. Just heard that one before. It’s common. People—civilians, I mean—always make Lincoln jokes. Or Kennedy ones.”

“No
McKinle
y
 
jokes?”

“What?”

“William McKinley. He was the twenty-fifth president and was shot in 1901 by an anarchist named Leon Czolgosz.”

“Leon who?”

“Czolgosz.”

“How the hell did you know that? Are you really that smart?”

Cameron stood up from the chair and looked down at her. He said, “Of course.”

She paused.

Then he let out a huge smile and said, “I just read it online. Don’t even know if I’m saying the guy’s name right.”

Li said, “Well. You’re wrong anyway. Czolguxman—or whatever—didn’t kill McKinley.”

“That’s what I read.”

“It wasn’t him. McKinley died later from gangrene. It poisoned his blood. That’s how he died. Not the gunshots.”

Cameron said, “Now who’s the smart one?”

And he kissed her.

At that perfect moment, her phone rang from her inside jacket pocket. She withdrew from him and reached in and pulled it out.

The phone’s screen read Sean Cord.

She answered. Cameron couldn’t hear the other end of the line, but it was a short conversation. A lot of Li agreeing.

She clicked off and said, “We gotta go. Sean has a busy day and said I need to bring you to meet him. He’s out on a job.”

Cameron followed Li out to her car and they got in.

He said, “Where to?”

“Springfield.”

“In Virginia?”

“Yeah. You been there?”

“No.”

“It’s about thirty minutes.”

Cameron sat back in the seat and waited for Li to fire up the car.

She didn’t. Instead, she cleared her throat.

He stared at her. She was making a seatbelt gesture.

“Right. Sorry,” he said, feeling stupid that he kept forgetting because his mom used to make him do it. Same thing. She wouldn’t move the car until he had his belt buckled.

Chapter 22

LI DROVE INTERSTATE 95 FOR ABOUT TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES
and then took the exit and wound an interstate cloverleaf until they were driving through downtown Springfield. They drove for another twenty minutes, leaving the small town center and strip malls. They weaved through a residential area and then back onto another road lined with more strip malls and a single community college, whose campus was huge like an Army base.

Li turned into one of the strip malls. The parking lot was relatively empty.

She pulled the car in front of a quaint small town café called Mason’s Tea & Coffee House.

Cameron wasn’t sure if it was owned by a person named Mason or if it was owned by the actual masons. Neither would’ve surprised him because the place had a very masonic feel to it. White building. Marble and stone everywhere. Engravings on the walls, possibly religious. There were thin white pillars out in front of black windows. The place was like a slice of DC outside of the city.

Maybe it was a tourist gimmick—a guy gets off a plane, heads to his motel, which is probably a Comfort Inn or a Holiday Inn or one of those chains, stumbles upon the masonic-looking café and stops in. At least that was the way that Cameron pictured it in his mind.

The weather outside was warm, early September weather. The sky was clear and blue. The sun beat down, but the temperature was probably a balmy seventy degrees.

Off to the back corner of the building, Cameron could see the front end of a black Chevy Tahoe. Tinted black windows. Typical Secret Service vehicle. Cameron imagined there were red and blue sirens embedded in the front grill.

He figured it belonged to Sean Cord.

Li said, “Here we go.”

The patio had five tables with big, green umbrellas. It was relatively dead. There was a good-looking woman sitting with a guy who looked pretty fit. Both were young and had a college kid look about them. No backpacks or anything, but the guy wore a polo shirt with the collar turned up like from the old vampire movies. This was a stupid fashion that Cameron had seen on frat boys before. But he wasn’t judging—to each his own. And Cameron liked pluralism. It was the thing that made America great. He liked walking down a street in Los Angeles or San Francisco or Seattle or some other American port and hearing different languages. He liked places that had both a Little Italy and a Chinatown.

But these two were an odd couple in the sense that they didn’t belong together in terms of fashion. The guy was obviously a frat boy type, but no way was the girl a part of that crowd. No sorority in her life. She had pink hair, one side completely shaved down to stubble just above her ear. She wore all black. Black top, tight and low-cut. Black skirt. Black boots with silver chains linked down the sides like some kind of fashion statement.

Cameron would’ve guessed that maybe they had sat together by mistake, like maybe they were strangers, but they were holding hands, and then they kissed.

On the opposite side from the couple, at the far corner of the patio, was a man in a black suit. He looked Secret Service all the way. Black shoes. Black coat. Black pants. No tie. Small clear earpiece in his ear with a curly cord disappearing beneath his shirt. And, of course, he wore dark sunglasses. He looked like agents did in the movies, only more real life and with an ordinary height and weight. He was older than fifty but not by much. He could probably be mid-fifties. He had black hair that receded a little from his part on the right temple of his head. Cameron wondered what the age limit was for entering the Secret Service. Whatever it was to enter, this guy was way past, but maybe he had been in all of his adult life.

Cameron said, “That must be Cord?”

Li turned the wheel, and the tires jerked the car up over a speed bump near the entrance to the parking lot.

She said, “That’s him.”

“I don’t see any other agents. He’s alone.”

“Yeah.”

Cameron said, “I thought you said he was on duty.”

“He is,” Li said.

“So where’re the rest of the agents?”

“He’s alone.”

“Solo?”

“Yep.”

Cameron said, “Since when does the service assign solo agents?”

Li said, “Ask him. I’m sure he’ll tell you. But I’d better not say anything.”

Cameron stayed quiet, and they parked the car near the back.

Li shut off the engine, and they got out. She left the doors unlocked.

They walked from the back around the side of the café. Cameron let Li walk out in front not because he was letting her lead him, but rather because he wanted to be behind her. To Cameron, the view was far better from behind. He liked it a lot. If he were in front of her, he wouldn’t be able to see her at all.

One of the problems with the nomadic life was that it left him free but alone. In Cameron’s mind, there was no future Mrs. Cameron. There was no white picket fence and no car in the driveway because there would never be a driveway.

He found himself wondering if Jack ever thought about settling down with anyone. He hadn’t settled for Cameron’s mom, but then again, Jack hadn’t even known that she was pregnant.

They walked and turned the corner to the front. Li led him past the young couple and around the entrance to the café and between the large white pillars.

Cord stood up when he saw her and said, “Cameron? You look just like I thought you would.”

Cord spoke with a warmer voice than what Cameron had expected from a Secret Service agent. Although he had never known a Secret Service agent before. He’d only known cops.

Cameron stayed quiet.

Li said, “Cameron, this is Agent Sean Cord. Mr. Cord, this is Cameron.”

Cord held his hand out to Cameron to shake. Cameron accepted it and shook it.

Cord said, “Please, sit down.”

Cameron nodded and took a chair across from him at the table, and Li remained standing.

“I’m sorry to drag you all the way out here, but I need your help,” Cord said.

“You knew Joe?”

“Yes, I did. Well, I knew
of
him. He was head of financials for a while.”

“So you didn’t know him?”

“I met him. We actually dated the same girl. Not at the same time.”

Cameron stayed quiet.

Cord said, “Her name was Frolic. She died.”

Cameron said, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He didn’t ask more about it. Didn’t think it’d be appropriate.

“She was young. Youngest female agent in a leading role that I ever heard of.”

Cameron nodded.

Cord said, “She was killed by a sniper’s bullet. Just like you see in the movies. Just like what people think of when they think of the United States Secret Service. She literally took a bullet for a protectee. Jumped right out in front of it.” Cord paused a beat and then asked, “Does anyone know you’re here?”

Cameron shrugged. “My lawyer.”

Cord said, “Anyone else? A cousin or friend?”

Cameron said, “I don’t have any of those.”

Li looked over at him.

“I meant cousins. I’m making new friends all the time. But no one knows where I am. Except for you. What’s going on? Why all the questions?”

Cord said, “I lied to you.”

“You lied?”

“Right. I can’t find your father. In fact, that’s not why you’re here.”

Cameron said, “Lied to me to get me here?”

“That’s right. I’m sorry, but we’re desperate.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Do you know where Jack is?” Cord asked.

“No. That’s why I came out here. I thought you knew where he was.”

“We don’t. But we sure wish we did.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Cameron repeated.

Cord said, “We’re really hoping you can help us find Jack. But I’m afraid our timetable is significantly short.”

“Can’t you just find him from his bank records? Tax records? Don’t you have all of that Patriot Act shit?”

“That won’t work in our case because checking bank records requires a paper trailer. And tax records are even worse.”

Cameron said nothing about that. Instead, he asked, “What kind of paperwork? Like a search warrant? I thought you guys didn’t need those?”

“Not warrants. But paperwork. We just can’t go hacking and searching people’s bank records without having others in the agency know about it. The Secret Service is like any other bureaucracy. There are specialists and departments, and we don’t want that kind of attention. We don’t want to ask one department to do this or that or request inquiries into a drifter. The whole thing would raise eyebrows. We can’t have that. Not now.”

“Why? They’re all your people, right? Aren’t your people sworn to secrecy? So who’s going to talk about your snooping around in bank records from some has-been ex-Army cop?”

Cord said, “It’s complicated.”

Cameron said, “How complicated?”

“It’s a matter of life and death.”

“So why the secrecy? Why Jack?”

Cord paused, and then he said, “Please, take a ride with me. There’s someone who needs to speak to you.”

Cameron asked, “Where?”

“You’ll see. I promise you aren’t in any danger or under any obligation. Just meet with someone. It’s important.”

“You said that,” Cameron said and looked at Li.

She had a blank expression on her face like she had no idea what the hell was going on.

Cord said, “Just listen to what my boss has to say and then make up your mind.”

“Why not? Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” Cord got up and pulled out his wallet, a black leather thing that looked as if it had seen better days. He riffled through it and pulled out a ten-dollar bill and left it under an empty coffee mug on the patio table. He said, “You can follow me. Ride with Li.”

“Okay,” said Li.

And they walked back to their cars and got in them and drove away.

Chapter 23

CORD DROVE THE SPEED LIMIT.
Not that he was worried about the police stopping him but because he didn’t want any attention. Li stayed four car lengths behind and used her turn signals just as Cord did.

Cameron stared ahead and stayed quiet.

Li said, “I really have no idea what this is about.”

Cameron said, “I know.”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was keeping something from you.”

“I know. You were ripped from your test yesterday. I believe you.”

Li said, “Good. Because I don’t want you to think I was lying to you. I…”

She stopped talking, and Cameron turned his head and said, “What?”

“Nothing.”

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