moving her head slightly she could see the entrance, too. Not perfect. But good enough for government work.
A waitress walked over and put two laminated menus with curled corners down on the red plastic table top and asked, “Can I bring y’all some coffee while you decide what you want?”
“Absolutely,” Kim said, without looking up from the menu. One page with pictures of all-American diner food on both sides. Breakfast, lunch, deserts, and drinks. No dinner. No alcohol. No pre-packaged food. Ptomaine, she decided, was a real possibility.
“Wide selection here,” Gaspar said. “We can get our burgers with or without cheese. Or our cheese with or without burgers.”
“I didn’t take you for a vegetarian,” Kim said, and the waitress returned with the coffee. “What do you recommend, Mary? And can you leave the pot?”
Mary’s name was embroidered on her breast pocket. She seemed pleased that Kim had noticed and made the effort. She set the coffee pot down. She said, “I’d have the burger with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Fries are good, if you like the crispy thin ones. Dill pickles.”
“Sold,” Kim said.
“Make it two,” Gaspar said.
“Be about fifteen minutes while I get it ready,” Mary told them, taking their menus and heading back to the kitchen to do the cooking.
“Low margin operation,” Gaspar said. He took the sugar jar and tipped it to pour about two ounces of sugar into the eight ounce cup. Kim wondered how he was going to get half a cup of cream in there, too. She took out her personal smart phone and saw a surprisingly strong signal, considering their location. She brought up a search engine. Typed “Major Jack Reacher” with one thumb. Waited for the search to complete.
“Figured it out yet?” Gaspar asked.
“Figured what out?”
“When exactly Black was shot.”
“Have you?”
"He's not God. He doesn't know everything."
She blinked, shook her head quickly as if to clear the fog inside. "What?"
“How fast does the boss think?”
“Pretty damn fast,” Kim said.
“Exactly. Therefore Black was killed around three this morning. The boss put a plan in place and called us at four, so we’d be here when the call came in.”
“How did he delay the 911?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he need us here at all?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the brains of the outfit. I thought we had established that already.”
Kim’s smart phone pinged. She looked at the screen for the results of her search. Nothing. She tried “Jack Reacher, U.S. Army,” and pressed search again.
She asked, “What else do you know?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I know what you know. I got a call. Told to fly to Atlanta, meet you, drive to Margrave. I got encrypted files identical to the four you got, I think, but you’re welcome to read them for yourself. The last one is about you. Name, rank, and serial number. And I’m guessing your last one is the same about me. The assignment is build the Reacher file for some secret project and keep it under the radar. I’m number two, you’re number one. Interview Chief Roscoe first, get to her before 11:30 a.m. Met you at the airport. We’ve been together ever since. That’s it.”
Her phone pinged again. Still no results. She tried one more time, “Reacher, Jack,” and the phone pinged once more. No results. Reacher was a ghost. He didn’t exist. Or her equipment was faulty. She thought about it a couple of seconds and tried a name belonging to an actual flesh and blood person she had seen with her own eyes: Beverly Roscoe .
She asked, “So is this whole Reacher thing a distraction?”
“It would be a very elaborate decoy, wouldn’t you say? Four files, and a guy we actually can’t find?”
“And the dead cop? The one with the killer-pretty wife wearing designer duds and packing pricey luggage? Is he the elaborate decoy instead?”
“He can’t be.”
“So how are they connected,
A waitress walked over and put two laminated menus with curled corners down on the red plastic table top and asked, “Can I bring y’all some coffee while you decide what you want?”
“Absolutely,” Kim said, without looking up from the menu. One page with pictures of all-American diner food on both sides. Breakfast, lunch, deserts, and drinks. No dinner. No alcohol. No pre-packaged food. Ptomaine, she decided, was a real possibility.
“Wide selection here,” Gaspar said. “We can get our burgers with or without cheese. Or our cheese with or without burgers.”
“I didn’t take you for a vegetarian,” Kim said, and the waitress returned with the coffee. “What do you recommend, Mary? And can you leave the pot?”
Mary’s name was embroidered on her breast pocket. She seemed pleased that Kim had noticed and made the effort. She set the coffee pot down. She said, “I’d have the burger with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Fries are good, if you like the crispy thin ones. Dill pickles.”
“Sold,” Kim said.
“Make it two,” Gaspar said.
“Be about fifteen minutes while I get it ready,” Mary told them, taking their menus and heading back to the kitchen to do the cooking.
“Low margin operation,” Gaspar said. He took the sugar jar and tipped it to pour about two ounces of sugar into the eight ounce cup. Kim wondered how he was going to get half a cup of cream in there, too. She took out her personal smart phone and saw a surprisingly strong signal, considering their location. She brought up a search engine. Typed “Major Jack Reacher” with one thumb. Waited for the search to complete.
“Figured it out yet?” Gaspar asked.
“Figured what out?”
“When exactly Black was shot.”
“Have you?”
"He's not God. He doesn't know everything."
She blinked, shook her head quickly as if to clear the fog inside. "What?"
“How fast does the boss think?”
“Pretty damn fast,” Kim said.
“Exactly. Therefore Black was killed around three this morning. The boss put a plan in place and called us at four, so we’d be here when the call came in.”
“How did he delay the 911?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he need us here at all?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the brains of the outfit. I thought we had established that already.”
Kim’s smart phone pinged. She looked at the screen for the results of her search. Nothing. She tried “Jack Reacher, U.S. Army,” and pressed search again.
She asked, “What else do you know?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I know what you know. I got a call. Told to fly to Atlanta, meet you, drive to Margrave. I got encrypted files identical to the four you got, I think, but you’re welcome to read them for yourself. The last one is about you. Name, rank, and serial number. And I’m guessing your last one is the same about me. The assignment is build the Reacher file for some secret project and keep it under the radar. I’m number two, you’re number one. Interview Chief Roscoe first, get to her before 11:30 a.m. Met you at the airport. We’ve been together ever since. That’s it.”
Her phone pinged again. Still no results. She tried one more time, “Reacher, Jack,” and the phone pinged once more. No results. Reacher was a ghost. He didn’t exist. Or her equipment was faulty. She thought about it a couple of seconds and tried a name belonging to an actual flesh and blood person she had seen with her own eyes: Beverly Roscoe .
She asked, “So is this whole Reacher thing a distraction?”
“It would be a very elaborate decoy, wouldn’t you say? Four files, and a guy we actually can’t find?”
“And the dead cop? The one with the killer-pretty wife wearing designer duds and packing pricey luggage? Is he the elaborate decoy instead?”
“He can’t be.”
“So how are they connected,
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