Grew up in the military, worked in the military.
Always told where to go, when to be there.
Now I see my country on my own terms.
Motels, cash, fake names. Travel light.
Mostly I take buses or hitchhike. You get used to it.
Commanded the 110th
Special Investigations Unit of the Military Police.
You refer to these special investigators
as your team?
They're soldiers. You need new friends.
But you know we're more than that, right?
Hundred thousand years ago there were people
who stayed by the campfire, and people who wandered.
I'm pretty sure I'm a direct descendant of the wandering type.
It's just who I am.
I don't care about process, just product.
And this product emotes feelings.
Hey, man, greatest song on the subject of water.
Ocean, river, stream, it doesn't matter.
It's gotta be "Surfin' Safari," right? So?
"Surfin' Safari's" a rip-off of Chuck Berry's "Sweet Little Sixteen,"
so that knocks it out on principle.
Oh, man.
Solid answer. What can I do for you?
Your sign says you buy vinyl.
Ethel Merman Disco Album.
- Are you shitting me? - But this is a college town.
Some hipster will buy 'em to be ironic.
No...
What the hell?
Oh. Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no!
Okay.
Okay...
- No. Please? - I'm not gonna hurt you.
- Get in. - Well, I—
They may have backup on the way.
Hey!
You shot a cop.
I didn't know.
I thought he was pulling a gun.
- We got to go. Now! - What?
Why are people trying to kidnap you?
Campus police?
- Are you shitting me? - Pull over.
I killed a cop with an illegal gun!
Well, it was an accident.
I'm not explaining my way out of this.
Get down!
Look out!
Hang on.
Oh!
You could have killed 'em!
I slowed 'em enough to limit the impact.
But I bet they called the real cops.
I got to find a new ride.
Uh...
We're only a few miles from campus.
There could be more kidnappers coming up right behind us.
You're gonna steal it?
Parked out back with a sun shade?
Probably belongs to an employee who won't notice it's missing
till tonight.
Gives me a head start.
Keep an eye out.
Aah. Hey, where'd you learn to do all this stuff?
Steal cars, drive like that?
- Shoot people? - Army.
Other stuff I picked up here and there.
You got a phone?
Uh, why?
So you can call for a ride.
Tell 'em you're in shock and can't remember what I look like.
What? No! You can't just leave me here.
What if those guys find me?
What am I supposed to do? Take you to the cops?
I can't do that after what I did.
So then take me home.
No.
Done enough for you for one day.
I got to disappear.
Please.
I'm a drifter who used an unlicensed gun to kill a cop.
I'm not taking any chances.
I'm getting lost.
My dad's rich.
And connected. He can... he can help you.
Why would he do that?
Well, you saved his son.
That cop was an accident. Right?
So, look, he'll j... he'll just be grateful
that you kept me from getting kidnapped again.
- Again? - First time was five years ago.
That what happened to your ear?
They wanted to make a point.
- 'Cause your dad wouldn't pay the ransom? - Yeah.
After he got my ear in the mail, he paid.
Not as bad as you did.
Kidnapping is a rare crime in this country.
Pretty unlucky it almost happened to you twice.
What does your father do for a living?
Imports rugs.
That all he imports?
He's just a rug merchant.
But he's got generational wealth, and that makes me a target.
So the guy who got blown up in your car wasn't your driver.
- He was your bodyguard. - Yeah.
Tell your dad to hire a better one next time.
Guy who took a run at you was a pro.
If it hadn't been for me, it would have worked.
Okay, so then, take me home
and let my dad repay you for what you did.
Y-You want to disappear? You-you need money? He has money.
Please.
You got a name, kid?
Richard. Richard Beck.
Get in, Richard.
- Get out of the car. - Yeah, it's all right, Paulie.
I talked to my dad and told him we were coming.
I don't give a shit.
Get out.
No.
Just let him do it.
- He's rude. - Please.
You know what I'm hoping to find?
More HGH and a hypodermic needle?
A reason to kick your ass, shithead.
And maybe you just gave it to me.
Uh...
His-his gun is in the glove compartment, Paulie.
Here, just take it.
Why is it empty?
Because I shot all the bullets.
Lot of security for a rug merchant.
I told you. He's rich.
Your dad's employees always
talk like that to his son's friends?
Paul Van Hoven does whatever he wants.
Yeah. Oh, are... are you hungry?
Sure.
I'll make him a plate.
I can just take that one on the counter.
That's not for you. And you don't have time to eat.
Beck wants to see you.
Office is upstairs, down the hall and to the right.
Uh, I can show you.
No. He wants to see him alone.
And that's Chapman Duke, head of security.
Why is he eating outside?
Who knows? But you better do what he says.
Mr. Reacher.
Just... Reacher.
Noted.
I'm Zachary Beck.
You had some morning.
I bet you could use a drink.
This is 50-year-old Macallan.
I only open it for my top business associates...
and people who save my son's life.
Suit yourself.
Have a seat there.
Okay, fine.
Don't sit.
I'm sure you heard what Richard told me about the attempted kidnapping
when he called me from the car.
What can you add to that?
Just that the guy you hired to look after him was useless.
- You're speaking ill of the dead. - A ratty old pickup
hanging around a rich-kid college town?
What kind of bodyguard doesn't clock that?
But you noticed a detail that small.
I tend to do that.
What makes you so good at threat assessment?
I was in the Army. MP.
I was trying to unload records
- for some extra cash. - Is that your job?
Selling used records in New England college towns?
There a lot of money in that?
- Don't have a job. - So, how do you pay the rent?
Don't have a home.
- I move around a lot. - With a gun?
Wherever I go, trouble just seems to find me.
I understand you accidentally killed a police officer.
I just need a place to lie low for a few days
and then some money to buy a fake I.D. for a clean start.
That's no small ask.
But I do owe you.
Let me think it over and I'll...
figure out the best way I can be of help.
Okay.
Duke.
Sir, could you show Mr. Reacher back to the kitchen, please?
I believe Agnes has some nice shepherd's pie.
I gripped it firmly so you'll have a clear set of prints to run.
Don't be offended, Mr. Reacher.
Just need to know who you are.
I'm the guy who saved your son's other ear.
If I go in to hit the head, you gonna hold it for me?
If I want to.
Hey, hey, where are you going?
- To check on the kid. - We'll take care of him.
Like your guy did this morning?
You forgot to add the guard house.
No, I didn't.
How was your talk with my dad?
He has trust issues.
Surprised he hasn't come to check on you. Considering all that happened.
We talked on the phone. He knows I'm okay.
He'll check on me soon.
Okay.
Where's your mother?
Since I was four, St. Sebastian's Cemetery.
You only paint what you see out those windows?
Paint what you know.
You ever paint, Reacher?
No.
Well, if you did, what would it be of?
I don't know.
Dogs, maybe.
Beck wants to see you.
Guess it's back to the office.
We're not going back to the office.
Sit.
Today's excitement made the news.
Lot of buzz for a college town.
I get made?
Guys at the record shop gave a general description,
but that could match any inside linebacker, so...
no one knows who you are.
But we do.
We ran your prints.
That was fast.
Must have some serious connections.
Everything we do here is serious.
Your record is impressive.
West Point graduate.
Two Silver Stars,
Purple Heart.
Green clovers, blue diamonds.
He's a fucking bowl of Lucky Charms.
Paulie was in the Army, too.
He doesn't like officers.
You failed the OCS exam.
Not surprised.
You don't look like you could spell OCS.
What if I could do more than give you a couple bucks, Reacher?
At a time we're short a man, it appears we're under attack.
'Cause you're a rug merchant?
Because I'm wealthy. And powerful.
So I hear.
And because of that, you want to hire me?
Maybe.
But first a little test.
What am I supposed to do with that?
You're gonna play Russian roulette, asshole.
Federal law prevents you from asking me if I'm married during a job interview,
so I'm pretty sure this isn't allowed.
I need to see if you have any stones.
If you can follow orders.
- To work for a rug merchant. - You shot a cop.
We can turn you in or you can do what you're told.
Those are your choices.
What if I just shoot you instead?
That would be the last thing you do.
Good. We got that out of the way.
You proved your point.
Welcome to the team, Reacher. Duke will get you squared away.
You're kidding.
Thought I was on the team.
I got enough crazy on my hands with Paulie.
I don't need your big ass walking around here with a gun, too.
I'm not crazy.
I know the bullet didn't have any powder in it. It's a dud.
What would you have done if I had killed myself?
Same thing we did with the last guy.
Let's go!
You start first thing in the morning. You're locked in until then.
Why?
Because Beck might trust you now, but I don't.
- What if I don't like that arrangement? - Call the cops.
- Yeah? - I'm in.
Wait.
Wait! Wait!
Wait!
Hey. We'll catch the next one, okay?
Don't do it.
What?
You're gonna take the next bus with that woman and steal from her bag.
Fuck you.
Only one bus runs on this line.
You didn't take the last one 'cause your marks were bad.
One guy had a locked briefcase, the other two didn't have anything.
The woman at the end of this bench
has an unclasped purse and a four-year-old taking up most of her attention.
Easy pickings.
Are you a cop?
Don't need to be to see your clumsy approach.
Exact fare in quarters?
What teenager after 1994 walks around with quarters in their pocket?
No.
You're new at this.
If you were a pro, you'd have a bus pass.
What are you gonna do?
Here.
You need money, right? Take it.
Then go get a job.
Because the next guy who catches you stealing might not give you a hundred.
He might give you a beating.
Thanks.
Give me your phone.
110th Special Investigators. Warrant Officer Powell speaking.
This is Jack Reacher. I need to speak to your C.O. immediately.
Sorry, sir. Major Turner is unavailable.
Tell her to call me back ASAP.
I'm calling in that favor she owes me.
I can do that, sir, but she won't get the note for a while.
She's on assignment.
Undercover and incommunicado for at least two weeks.
Is this really Major Reacher?
Like, the Jack Reacher who started the 110th?
It is.
I need your help, Powell.
Whatever you need, sir.
- Run a license plate for me. - Of course. Shoot.
Civilian. Maine.
Seven. Seven. Four. Oh. Tango. Lima.
Running now.
Hey, uh...
mind if I ask you a question?
Shoot.
Your old desk is still here and there's a dent
on the right-hand side.
Legend is you made it with a colonel's head.
That true?
David O'Donnell did that messing around with Stan Lowrey's bowling ball.
Lowrey got back at him by drawing
genitals on his face when O'Donnell fell asleep on the couch.
Man, we've heard stories about those guys, too.
Looks like something's up with their system.
I can give you a call when I get it. Can I reach you at this number?
No. Take down where I'm staying.
Federal agents. Open up.
Where you going, Mr. Reacher?
Who says my name's Reacher?
Not the guy that runs this shithole.
He says you registered as Rob Refsnyder,
but you don't look much like a middle infielder to me.
Now, do you wanna talk by the dumpster
or can we find a place that smells less like vomit?
Nice place.
- Motel 6 was booked. - Mm.
This is like a Motel 2.
It's not like I invited you here, Agent...?
Duffy. Susan Duffy. The two you left standing at the door
with their dicks in their hands are Eliot and Villanueva.
Why'd you run?
We identified ourselves as federal agents.
Anyone can say they're anything.
This place attracts a criminal element. I panicked.
You don't seem like the panicking type, Mr. Reacher.
Just Reacher.
Okay, Reacher. Why do you use an alias?
I like my privacy.
- Is that why you gave no address? - No.
Then why no address?
Because I don't have one.
What are you doing in Maine?
I wanted good lobster.
- We're being serious. - So am I.
I was in Cape May, I had subpar lobster, wanted better, so I came up here.
- You think this is funny? - I think this is a waste of my time.
I don't know what you want from me, but I know I want nothing from you.
So I'm going back to my room.
To wait for a call from Warrant Officer Powell?
Don't bother. It's not coming.
So, why don't you drop your seat warmer in that chair.
You can finish feeding Daffy and we can finish our conversation.
Powell gave you up.
He wouldn't roll till we threatened him with obstructing a federal investigation.
- Kid was nearly in tears. - Fuckin' embarrassing.
What federal investigation?
We're looking into a rug import business called Bizarre Bazaar.
And the DEA think rugs aren't the only thing they're importing.
Several weeks ago, a high-level, L.A.-based drug dealer
flew to Maine for a meeting with the owner of Bizarre Bazaar.
Major drug runners don't travel 3,000 miles to buy carpets.
So we figure the owner of Bizarre Bazaar is his supplier.
Which would make him responsible for most of the poison
being pumped into the Western United States.
Problem is, we can't dig anything up on the guy.
Not even an address.
Figure the property's set up under an LLC or something.
What's this got to do with me?
The license plate you ran was screwed to the car
that brought the Carpet King to that meeting.
We flagged the number on the system so Powell tripped our alarm
when he looked it up for you.
Why were you checking the plate?
Maybe the driver hit my car and ran off.
Did he hit your car and run off?
I don't own a car.
Zachary Beck. You know him?
Shit's sake. Eliot, you don't give the guy we're questioning
the name of the subject, then ask if he knows him.
Sorry. Shit.
I don't know him.
You recognize anyone here?
No.
I'll tell you what I think. I think you saw someone in that car
you did recognize and now you're looking for them.
So who was it?
According to Powell, you were some kind of Army super-cop.
We checked you out. More awards than Tom Brady.
Fuck that traitor.
That's why we're coming to you now. We need your help.
Then you really must be desperate.
- Buddy, you don't know the half of it. - And I don't want to.
At least until you do something for me.
You're not the kind of guy I wanna do a favor for.
- Why is that? - You're a pain in the ass.
You answer questions like an asshole.
- You always so direct? - You always so frustrating?
So what can I do for you, Reacher?
Check hospital records around Linton, Virginia
on or just after March 13th, 2012.
- What are we looking for? - An Asian American man in his 40s,
brought in with injuries consistent
with a small-caliber gunshot wound to the head,
a high fall and drowning. Look, you're the Feds.
You've got resources. You find something, call me.
Maybe then we can talk about what you need.
So, we found your guy.
Washed up on a beach barely alive just south of, uh, whatsit, Virginia.
- Linton. - Whatever.
Wounds matched your description.
Small-caliber bullet lodged in his skull, massive internal injuries.
Some beachcomber found him.
Doctors figure the freezin' water saved him.
- Hypothermia. - Yup.
Slowed his heart so he didn't bleed,
decreased oxygen demand prevented brain damage.
Took the docs about six months to put Humpty Dumpty together again.
He tell the medical staff what happened to him?
Claimed he didn't remember.
File?
Psychiatrists interviewed the guy regularly
when he was in the hospital.
He stuck to his story.
Do you see anyone else eating?
What? I was at the Kinko's first thing copying the files,
- I didn't have time for break— - They diagnosed traumatic amnesia.
Thought he was probably genuinely blank about the incident
and the previous day or two,
but they figured he must remember things from before that.
They got the impression maybe he was pretending not to.
They kept questioning him, but he never cracked.
Local cops look into it?
County sheriff ran his prints, but they weren't in the system.
He also didn't match any missing persons and no one came looking for him,
so he stayed a John Doe.
But from the way you're eye-fucking him,
I think you know his name.
Fuck you, big boy. I showed you mine, you show me yours.
Or are there no rules where you come from?
I don't really come from anywhere.
Well, I did. And on Emerson Street,
if you didn't do what's right, you got your ears boxed.
Lieutenant Colonel Francis Xavier Quinn.
Military Intelligence.
Picked up extra cash selling military secrets to hostile nations.
We were never able to execute an arrest.
- Who threw him off a cliff? - Maybe an unsatisfied customer.
He was in business with bad people.
If this guy was Army, his fingerprints should've been in the system.
He had deep connections through M.I.
Figure someone on the inside wiped 'em from his file when he went on the run.
Photos too, maybe.
You saw Quinn in Beck's car.
Yeah.
And now you wanna find him.
Yeah.
So maybe we can help each other out.
Let's take a walk.
Look, I think I can trust you,
but I'm trying to figure out for sure.
Why?
Because I screwed up.
Weeks of surveillance on Darien Prado, he's the L.A. drug dealer,
all inadmissible because of a bad warrant.
How'd that happen?
We surveilled and filmed him from what we thought was public land—
national forest, middle of nowhere—
but it abutted private property.
We were 20 feet over the line and didn't know it.
Warrant didn't let us film from there.
You misread the surveyor's map?
It was a real shit show, okay?
Ton of work down the crapper and the DEA pulled us off the case.
Now you're working it off the books?
I don't let bad guys walk.
And I'm a team leader. No one's watchin' my day-to-day.
So now you're focused on Beck?
Prado flew all the way out here to meet with him,
so Beck could be a bigger fish.
And if we net him, we get Prado too, right?
But Beck turned out to be a ghost. Can't find out shit on him.
So I got the bright idea to reach out to an old C.I.
Something tells me that didn't work out like you planned.
It's this kid named Teresa Daniel.
Few years ago, she was tricked by her scumbag boyfriend
into delivering car parts stuffed with coke.
She had no idea.
I busted her, flipped her, turned out to be the best C.I. I ever had.
This kid is so innocent, so unassuming...
- No one suspects she's a plant. - No one. She's a natural C.I.
So when I saw Bizarre Bazaar had a help wanted ad online for a secretary,
I called Teresa.
She lives with her grandmother, she takes care of her,
so I knew she needed money.
She got the job at Bizarre Bazaar's warehouse
and was gonna just report back what Beck was up to in there.
But?
About a week ago, she disappeared.
I don't hear from her, her grandma's got no idea where she is.
She called Bizarre Bazaar, but they said she never showed up for work,
so the old lady's sure her granddaughter's using again.
But you think there's more to it.
I know junkies. Teresa was past all that.
She'd turned it around.
I think she got caught snooping on Beck
and something happened to her.
I gotta find out what, but no judge is gonna issue a warrant
to search a prominent local businessman
over an ex-druggie blowing off work.
Like, she's 20, but she's still just a kid.
Look. She wears these, uh, giant hoop earrings
like my niece and her friends.
Why are you showing me this?
'Cause you need to know what she looks like
when I put you inside Beck's operation to find her.
I hate to break it to you, but if Teresa was taken by someone
associated with Xavier Quinn, odds are you're too late.
Why would you say something like that to me?
Because you're too smart to lie to.
You'd see through it.
He's that bad?
He's the single worst person I've ever known.
Well, all the more reason for you to get on board.
You need to find Quinn.
While you're doing that, you can help me find Teresa.
You know, I'm not just a pretty face. I have a plan.
Zachary Beck's son, Richard.
Five years ago, he was kidnapped.
You know how often people get kidnapped in America these days?
Could be a turf war thing. Rival drug dealers.
Especially since the kidnappers cut off the kid's ear
and mailed it to Beck, who, by the way, never went to the cops.
How do you know about it, then?
Well, you walk around a college campus with a missing ear and kids ask questions.
Richard answered some of 'em, and one of his classmates talked
in exchange for us dropping some minor drug charges.
So the Beck kid's had it rough. What's he got to do with your plan?
You're gonna get in with Beck
by saving his son from getting kidnapped again.
- Undercover informant? - Yeah, what's the problem?
The last one you had went missing.
You remember what I said earlier about you being an asshole?
You're doing it right now.
All right, so we get a solid car from the DEA impound,
ram the hell outta the bodyguard's car, pin it so that it can't move.
We still gotta deal with the guy.
And he's no pushover either.
Got a jacket and a half: aggravated assault, armed robbery.
He'll know how to use his gun.
Great. How we gonna keep from getting shot?
'Cause we can't just kill the man.
Hey, here he is. Gimme.
- What's this shit? I said Dink's. - A doughnut's a doughnut.
Shut your filthy mouth.
Okay, fine, I'll eat 'em all, then.
Didn't say I didn't want 'em.
- You take your Lipitor today? - Still waiting on the refill.
Oh.
Let's say the impact rings the bodyguard's bell.
Doesn't mean he won't get a few shots off.
Duffy's right. We need more.
In Kuwait, we'd used flashbang grenades
when we wanted to keep a target alive for interrogation.
Bodyguard won't be seriously injured, but he'll be in no condition to retaliate.
It'll blow out the windows, really sell the lie to Richard.
And it'll create a job opening. Beck will need a new bodyguard.
Okay, sorry. I'm confused.
- Shocking. — If the bodyguard isn't really dead,
he can just go tell Beck what actually happened.
So how do we get around that?
We hold him indefinitely.
Without so much as the right to a phone call.
Pretty sure the Constitution says you can't do that.
You're DEA.
Grab some drugs from Evidence, plant it in his car,
say he was buying it from some Central American dealer,
then it becomes a narco-terrorism case.
You can hold him as long as you want
without formal charges and no right to an attorney.
- The law allows for that? - It's kind of a gray area.
A mouse's asshole is a gray area. This is barely legal.
But I don't think we have a choice.
And while we got him, we can question him. Good idea.
Not just a pretty face.
Okay, that takes care of our bodyguard.
Who's playing our kidnapper?
I'll do it.
No. This one's out of your comfort zone, precious.
There's gonna be smashing cars, flying glass.
Villy, can you reel in someone pulling a pension?
No. No. Hell no.
Excuse me?
I'm the one who messed up the warrant.
I'm the one who read the surveyor's map wrong, set us up on private land.
I'm gonna fix this.
No brains, some balls. Fine, you're our kidnapper.
Okay. You'll make a move for Richard. How do I stop you?
He'll have a front row seat, and fake fights look fake.
We shoot him.
Seriously?
You're a fucking raccoon.
Are you sure this is safe?
My buddy's kid uses 'em all the time in these indie films he makes.
- Buddy's kid. - It's top quality stuff.
Okay, don't move.
Okay, point your finger at the kid, say "bang."
No.
Christ's sakes. Bang.
Is that great or what?
I can hide nearby and set off the charges.
Shit, Villy! Warn-warn me first!
You're gonna give him a heart attack. Hand it over.
Jesus! Sh... Come on, guys, it's not funny.
Funny to me. Boys?
Me, too.
Kind of funny.
After the fake grenade blast and a gun fight,
Richard won't come with me easily.
- You're making an assumption— - No.
In an investigation, assumptions kill.
I'm making a reasonable prediction that the college kid,
who was just almost abducted for the second time in his life,
will be scared to death and want the guy who saved him
to take him to the cops.
If he insists on that, this is all a waste of time.
He's not wrong, Villy.
Refuse to do it. You'll be driving, just take him home.
That's suspicious. I'm trying to infiltrate his dad's operation.
We need as little suspicion as possible.
So what do we do?
We take the option of going to the police completely off the table.
How?
I kill a cop.
Time of day we're doing this, streets should be mostly empty.
We should give Eliot an Uzi.
Rat-tat-tat of a machine gun will scatter anyone nearby.
Find me a panel van.
I'll dive behind it for cover, Eliot can really light it up,
put on a convincing show.
You know blanks alone won't sell this.
Was wondering who was gonna say it first.
I'll mix in some live ammo.
I'll ditch the spent casings before I get to Beck's house
so they don't notice a difference.
That lets me put a couple slugs into the radiator
of the kidnapper's ride, and I can shoot out the tires
before I kill Eliot and Villanueva with blanks.
Hmm.
I like this plan.
I don't like this plan. Using live ammo is insane.
What if you forget how many shots you fired?
There could be a real one left in the chamber
when you turn the gun on me or Eliot.
You think about that, hotshot?
Yeah, I did.
- Did you get me the gun I asked for? - Here.
So what?
You got a pocket knife?
Now I always know exactly where the blanks start.
Best impound had to offer.
Minivan will be right by the dumpster.
Coat hanger will be on top of the garbage.
Door will be unlocked. Just pretend to jimmy it.
What's wrong?
I don't know how to hot-wire a car.
We'll loosen the shroud on the steering column, pre-strip the wires.
You touch them together, you're an instant bad guy.
I've also been thinking about the street layout.
Your best vantage point, before everything jumps off,
is from inside the record shop.
But you'll need a reason to hang out in there.
And?
And I got you covered.
What am I supposed to do with these?
Record store buys old vinyl.
Just pretend you want to sell my collection.
Won't work.
Why not?
'Cause no one'll believe anyone thinks they can get a nickel for this crap.
Fuck you.
Ethel Merman Disco Album?
No duck tonight?
Probably doesn't want to be a part of this plan.
Don't think we can pull it off?
If we can set off the bullet hits at exactly the right time,
and if no one actually gets shot,
and if you can keep that bodyguard pinned down long enough,
I only see two potential problems.
- Okay, hit me. - Cops.
Shootout will be over pretty fast, but they'll definitely show up after the fact.
And I'll be there to tell them it's a drug deal gone south,
it's an active DEA investigation, and our jurisdiction.
What about campus security?
Rent-a-cops like to play hero sometimes.
Small department with no regular patrol.
I mean, if they happen to cross your path,
you'll have to dispose of them.
Without causing injury.
What's the second problem?
Communication.
How do we stay in touch?
I think I got the size right.
You know what they say about a man with big feet, don't you?
More room in his boot heel to hide a secret phone.
Government issue, satellite-linked,
pretty much untraceable.
14-day battery life.
If you need me, I am just a phone call away.
You're in? So he hired you?
Yeah. Interesting job interview.
Made me play Russian roulette.
Probably thought it was more theatrical that way.
Fuck. You did it?
I used my own gun.
I had a chamber marked, remember?
I put the bullet in that one so, even with the cylinder closed,
I always knew where it was.
What if the one with the bullet had come up?
I'd have shot the armed guy behind me and tried to fight my way out.
- Any leads on Quinn? - Not yet.
How's the bodyguard?
He's in the adjoining room.
We patched him up, took a few runs at him,
but he's not saying shit.
Claims he spends most of his time with Richard
- and has no idea what we're talking about. - You believe him?
I don't know.
Well, I might have a lead on the girl.
Beck's head of security carried a plate of food outside.
Could've been taking it to the carriage house
where I think there's a hidden cellar.
I'll wait till everyone's asleep.
At 3:00 a.m., I'll check it out.
Keep me posted.
- Reacher. - I'm in the cellar.
Is Teresa there?
No.
But she was.