“You’re going to die,” Borken said.
McGrath was jammed between two soldiers on the back seat of the jeep.
He was bouncing around because the road was rough. But he couldn’t
move his arms, because the seat was not really wide enough for three
people. So he put the shrug into his injured face instead.
“We’re all going to die,” he said. “Sooner or later.”
“Sooner or later, right,” Borken said. “But for you, it’s going to be
sooner not later.”
Borken was twisted around in the front seat, staring. McGrath looked
past him at the vast blue sky. He looked at the small
3AK.
white clouds and thought: who was it? Who knew? Air force operational
personnel, he guessed, but that link was ludicrous. Had to be somebody
nearer and closer. Somebody more involved. The only possibilities
were Johnson or his aide, or Webster himself, or Brogan, or Milosevic.
Garber, conceivably. He seemed pretty hot on excusing this Reacher
guy. Was this some military police conspiracy to overthrow the joint
chiefs?
“Who was it, Borken?” he asked.
“Who was what, dead man?” Borken asked back.
“Who’s been talking to you?” McGrath said.
Borken smiled and tapped his finger on his temple.
“Common cause,” he said. This sort of issue, there are a lot more
people than you think on our side.”
McGrath glanced back to the sky and thought about Dexter, safe in the
White House. What had Webster said he’d said? Twelve million people?
Or was it sixty-six million?
“You’re going to die,” Borken said again.
McGrath shifted his focus back.
“So tell me who it was, before I do,” he said.
Borken grinned at him.
“You’ll find out,” he said. “It’s going to be a big surprise.”
The jeep pulled up in front of the courthouse. McGrath twisted and
looked up at it. There were six soldiers standing guard outside the
building. They were fanned into a rough arc, facing south and east.
“She in there?” he asked.
Borken nodded and smiled.
“Right now she is,” he said. “I may have to get her out later.”
The walkie-talkie on his belt burst into life. A loud burst of static
and a quick distorted message. He pressed the key and bent his head
down. Acknowledged the information without unclipping the unit. Then
he pulled the radio transmitter from his pocket. Flipped it open and
pulled up the short antenna. Pressed the send button.
“Webster?” he said. “You lied to me. Twice. First, there were three
of your agents down there with you. We just rounded them all up.”
He listened to the response. Kept the radio tight against his ear.
McGrath could not hear what Webster was saying.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Borken said. “They weren’t all on your side.
Some people in this world will do anything for money.”
He paused for a response. Apparently there was none.
“And you bullshitted me,” Borken said. “You weren’t going to fix the
line at all, were you? You were just stringing me along.”
Webster was starting a reply, but Borken cut him off.
“You and Johnson,” he said. “You can get off the bridge now. The
Marines stay there. We’re watching. You and Johnson walk back to your
trucks. Get yourselves in front of those TVs. Should be some
interesting action pretty soon.”
He clicked off the radio and folded it back into his pocket. A big
wide smile on his face.
“You’re going to die,” he said to McGrath for the third time.
“Which one?” McGrath asked. “Brogan or Milosevic?”
Borken grinned again.
“Guess,” he said. “Figure it out for yourself. You’re supposed to be
the big smart federal investigator. Agent-in-charge, right?”
The driver jumped down and pulled a pistol from his holster. Aimed it
two-handed at McGrath’s head. The left-hand guard squeezed out and
unslung his rifle. Held it ready. The right-hand guy did the same.
Then Borken eased his bulk down.
“Out,” he said. “We walk from here.”
McGrath shrugged and eased himself down into the circle of weapons.
Borken stepped behind him and caught his arms. Cuffed his wrists
together behind his back. Then he shoved him forward. Pointed beyond
the ruined county office.
“Up there, dead man,” he said.