Margrave, Georgia
November 2
2:50 p.m.
The GHP Aviation Unit UH-1H Huey settled on Harry Black’s front lawn in a storm of noise. The ground was too wet for dust, but pine trees bent and waved. Uniformed personnel ran doubled over through the downdraft and fanned around the house. All local. No federal agents yet.
Roscoe and two others were the last to come through from the whipping wind. Then the Huey lifted off again. One of Roscoe’s companions was the surviving Leach brother. He looked all wrung out. His hands were sooty. His face was lined by smoke and sweat and horror. He had big patches of dried blood on his filthy uniform.
His brother’s blood.
Roscoe nodded the introductions. “FBI Special Agents Otto and Gaspar, GHP Officers Archie Leach and Sam Friesen.”
Archie Leach stared holes in Gaspar’s chest. Kim felt the showdown simmering. She understood a brother’s need for vengeance. She didn't know why he directed that need toward them. She planned to steer clear of Archie Leach. She figured Gaspar should do the same.
Kim said, “We picked up charred scraps of hundred dollar bills at the site of the explosion. We figured they were in the car and might have come from here.”
Roscoe nodded.
“Kliners,” she said.
“What are they?” Gaspar asked.
“It’s what we call them.”
“Call what?”
Archie Leach said, “Stop screwing around, G-man. You know what we mean. Counterfeit hundreds. From the old Kliner operation. Find any here or not?”
Kim blinked.
Harry’s stash wasn’t porn money.
It was counterfeit money.
Made sense.
As if he had known all along, Gaspar said, “We found the storage spot, but no Benjamins, which is what they call them where I come from. This way.”
They followed him to the bedroom. He pointed, then stood aside. Leach and Friesen yanked out the back of the closet revealing the black hole. Leach pulled his flashlight. He twisted sideways to get his bulk through the narrow entrance. He pulled the light cords as he went.
Roscoe stared as if he had exposed the lost city of Atlantis.
At the far end Leach turned back to face them, shaking his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe it. His buddy Friesen whistled, long and low. He said, “Could Harry Black have kept this place full of Kliners? All these years?”
Kim thought they were genuinely surprised. She glanced at Gaspar for confirmation. He shrugged, unwilling to abandon his suspicions. Harry Black was a cop and had $67 million in dirty money. Hard to make that happen as an independent operator.
Gaspar had a valid point.
Then Roscoe took charge.
Kim followed her outside. Roscoe lined up her subordinates and said, “Get on the horn to GHP. Tell them we need forensics out here again. A full team to collect evidence. Properly this time. Tell them to bring a twenty-four-foot truck if they have it, a hand-truck, and a tool box. They’ll need food and coffee. They’re going to be here a while.”
Sergeants Brent and Kraft were there. They exchanged quizzical looks. Brent said, “What’s up, chief?”
Roscoe ignored his question. “You talk to me alone. No one else. And we need this place secured. No one goes in or out or past you except law enforcement with full ID. Any questions, you call me and only me for authorization. Set up at the driveway entrance and log every visitor, including the vehicles they arrive in. You keep doing that until I personally tell you otherwise. Each person asking to enter, you take a picture of them and their ID. Send it to me immediately. Got all that?”
“Got it,” Brent said, but he made no move to do her bidding. Kraft took his lead from Brent and stood still. “Who are we looking for?”
Roscoe said, “Make those calls. I’ll update you as soon as I can.”
Brent and Kraft jogged toward the end of the driveway. Kim hoped Roscoe was wondering whether they were trustworthy. She needed to.
Kim asked, “Why are they called Kliners?”
Roscoe swiped her hair away from her face with a grubby palm. Soot had settled in the starburst crevices around her eyes. Fatigue freighted her shoulders. She said, “Because of the Kliner Foundation.”
“What was the Kliner Foundation?”
“A charitable foundation based in Margrave, long ago.”
“What kind of charity?”
“No kind, as it turned out. It was a front.”
“For counterfeiting?”
“On a massive scale,” Roscoe said. “Bad hundreds were floating around Margrave like leaves off the trees.”
“How much total?”
“Joe Reacher estimated four billion a year. For five years or more.”
“That’s twenty billion,” Kim said.
“Could have been more. We never got an accurate count. But it was enough to destabilize the currency, potentially. Which is why Joe Reacher was involved. Plus murder, intimidation, kidnapping, bribery, theft, embezzlement, bank fraud, and trafficking. You name it. Anything and everything except printing money. They didn’t print the bills here as far as we know. Joe thought the printing was done in Venezuela.”
Pieces of the puzzle crashed together. Joe Reacher’s treasury job was to bring counterfeiters to justice. His death in tiny Margrave in the line of duty must have been caused by the Kliner Foundation. The waitress’s freak-out at Eno’s Diner when Gaspar paid the check with his crumpled hundred happened because she must have thought it was a Kliner fake.
And Jack Reacher lived so far off the grid because with that much cash and some ingenuity, he could easily erase his paper trail forever.
Roscoe said, “I really thought this mess was behind us. But Kliner spread the cash pretty thick. He was buying silence. And I guess people being what they are, bills got stashed. And pulled out on a rainy day here and there.”
“But?” Kim asked.
“There could have been more than fifty million hidden here.”
Kim said, “We figured sixty-seven million and change. Assuming each box was full. Including the two boxes worth that must have been in the Chevy.”
Roscoe nodded. “It’s unfathomable to me. Harry couldn’t have acquired that many Kliners fifteen years after we squashed the operation. Where the hell did he get them from?”
Kim watched Roscoe and said, “And where are they now?”
Roscoe just shook her head.
Kim knew Roscoe was the key to building the Reacher file. Whether she was trustworthy enough to help was the big issue. Now Kim decided the answer to one simple question would make up her mind.
She asked, “Will you lose your job over this, Beverly?”
“Yes,” Roscoe said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Whose decision is it?”
“The mayor appoints the chief of police.”
“Why won’t he let you keep the job?”
Roscoe’s shoulders slumped; she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Long story. Family rivalry. Goes back a hundred years. Teales think they own Margrave.”
“How’d you get appointed, then?”
“Finlay insisted. Mayor Teale’s been looking for a good excuse to fire me before the second I was sworn in.”
“Why didn’t he fire you before?”
“No cause. But look at the facts here. Harry Black was operating right under my nose. Even folks who believe I didn’t know what my sergeant was up to will judge me incompetent. You know how hard it is to pass counterfeits these days. The banks have taken old bills out of circulation. Harry’s stash might have been equal to all the old hundreds still existing in the entire country. Every time he tried to spend one, it would be rejected by the scanners. People will figure he couldn’t have passed those bills anywhere in Margrave, hell, anywhere in Georgia, without my knowledge. Even I can’t believe it. This is definitely the end of my career. Even Finlay won’t be able to help. Can’t imagine our little asshole mayor will let such a prime opportunity go to waste. In his shoes, I wouldn’t. Would you? I mean, it’s not so much losing the job. When you serve at the pleasure of a weasel, that’s always hanging over you. It’s going out in shame that hurts. My entire family has been so proud of me. After a hundred years of obscurity, we’d finally become something in Margrave again. Might not mean much to you, but in our little corner of the world, to my kids and my husband, my parents, it means a lot.”
Roscoe shuddered, and Kim watched her.
Now or never. Life or death. Yes or no?
She took the plunge.
She said, “I can help you, chief.”
Roscoe raised her head, looked deeply into Kim’s face, wary and weary.
She asked, “In exchange for what?”
Kim said, “Reacher.”
Kim said, “Think about it, chief. We were sent here because of Reacher. And think about the two shots in Harry’s head. That’s how Joe Reacher died, too, wasn’t it? It was a message. Reacher killed Harry. He killed the guy in the Chevy. Maybe vengeance for his brother. Maybe money. Maybe Sylvia. Maybe something else.”
Roscoe was listening.
Kim continued. “Then Reacher rescued Sylvia. You saw her face on that video. She was expecting him. She was happy to see him.”
A flicker of something else crossed Roscoe’s face.
Jealousy?
Kim pressed on. “A clever jailbreak, easy enough for an ex-military cop, right? He knows where the weak points are. He’s got Harry’s money now, too. He can go underground forever if we don’t find him soon.”
She wasn’t pleading, but her argument was solid even if she couldn’t prove it all. Roscoe had to recognize that. “Help us find him. And you’ve got my word. I’ll help you navigate your way out of this mess. Finlay’s not the only guy in high places. You’ve checked me out. You know I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t deliver.”
Roscoe studied Kim for what felt like a long time. She breathed in, and breathed out. She shook her head, slowly, and maybe with regret. She said, “Even if I knew where Reacher was, I wouldn’t tell you. Even though I’d like to see him again, myself.”
Kim shrugged, one bad habit she’d already picked up from Gaspar. She’d tried. She’d given Roscoe the best she had to offer. Sad. She’d come to like the woman. There would be no pleasure in bringing her down.
There were helicopters again in the distance, getting louder. Two, maybe three.
Roscoe said, “The GHP isn’t going to accept all those shoe boxes were empty when you found them. You won’t be able to leave Margrave tonight.” She took out a card and a key. She said, “Make yourselves at home. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
She walked away.
Kim read the card in her hand. It said: Mr. & Mrs. David Trent, 37 Roscoe Place Drive, Margrave, Georgia.