Make Me

Still naked, still excited, still smiling, Chang tried the number again, the grandfathered 501 area code, plus seven more digits, but as before it rang and rang without being answered, and without going to voice mail. She gave it a whole hopeful minute, and then she hung up. Then she put her phone on speaker, and called Westwood, and found him in his office at the LA Times. She said, “The 501 number is a pharmacy burner that was sold in a store right next to the Lincoln Park library in Chicago. Therefore Maloney is McCann. We’re assuming he volunteers in the library, which would give him open access to the 773 number he used before. Then when you blocked him he went next door and bought a cell phone and tried again. We need to know his history. We need to know when he started calling.”

Westwood said, “I’ll check.”

They heard pattering keys, and clicking and scrolling, and breathing. Reacher pictured the twin screens, and the phone in the dock. Then Westwood came back and said, “The first McCann call came in a little over four months ago. There were fifteen more before I blocked him. Then he changed to Maloney, and called three more times. But you know that.”

“Got notes on the earlier calls?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

“Keep in touch.”

“We will.”

She hung up.

Reacher said, “We should find the main number for the library. They must have details on their volunteers. We could get a home address.”

She said, “We should shower first. And get dressed. I feel weird doing this with no clothes on.”

Reacher said nothing.

The man with the ironed jeans and the blow-dried hair took a fifth call on his land line. His contact said, “The phone company just called her back. Then she called the LA Times, immediately. She’s all excited about a guy named McCann in Chicago.”

There was a long, long pause.

Then the man with the jeans and the hair asked, “Did she speak to him?”

“To McCann?” his contact said. “No.”

“But she has his phone number.”

“Actually she has two phone numbers. Although one of them seems to be in a public library. Apparently McCann volunteers there.”

“She already knows where he works?”

“Volunteering is not the same thing as working.”

“Why hasn’t she spoken to him?”

“She tried to. She called his cell, but he didn’t answer.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“How would I know?”

“I’m asking you, as a professional. I want analysis. That’s what I pay you for. What are the possible reasons for not answering a cell phone call?”

“Sudden decease of the cell phone owner, loss of the cell phone under the seat of a city bus or similar, not recognizing the incoming caller ID while in a misanthropic mood, being in a location or environment where taking a call would be socially unacceptable. There are hundreds of reasons.”

“What’s her next move?”

“She’ll keep trying the cell number, and she’ll go through the main switchboard at the library to get whatever data is kept on the volunteers.”

“Like an address?”

“That might be difficult. There would be privacy issues.”

“So what then?”

“She’ll go to Chicago. She’ll go anyway. If McCann was Keever’s client, she’ll want to interview him. And she can’t expect him to fly out to her.”

“And Reacher will go with her to Chicago.”

“Most likely.”

“I can’t let them do that. They’re too close already.”

“How do you propose to stop them?”

“Your boy Hackett is right there.”

“At the moment Hackett is engaged for surveillance only.”

“That might need to change. You told me about the menu.”

“You need to think about this carefully. Not just the money. It’s a big step.”

“I can’t let them get to Chicago.”

“You need to be very sure. This kind of decision benefits from absolute certainty.”

“We should have stopped them ourselves, when we had the chance.”

“I’ll need a formal instruction.”

The man with the jeans and the hair said, “Tell Hackett to stop them now. Permanently.”

Chapter 29

The shower made for a slow and gentle transition between what they had been doing and what they had to do next. The tub was narrow, but the curtain was on a bowed-out rail, and the spray was wide and warm, and they didn’t want to get more than an inch away from each other anyway, so all was comfortable. They washed each other, like a game, top to bottom, slowly, carefully, soap and shampoo, no crevice neglected, and some lingered over. They took their time. There was a certain amount of fooling around. Steam rose, and filled the room, and the mirror fogged.

Then eventually they climbed out and dried off with thin towels, and they rubbed circles in the steam on the mirror, one high up, one lower down, and they combed their hair, Reacher with his fingers, Chang with a tortoiseshell implement she fetched from her suitcase. They collected their clothes from where they had fallen, on the floor and the chair and the bed, and they dragged them on over still-damp skin.