as he could, but they had reached the point where the math went absurd.
To be this far south without passing him, Stevie would need to be
driving at a hundred miles an hour. Or a hundred and twenty. Or a
hundred and fifty. He glanced at the others and spoke in a voice which
didn’t sound like his own.
“I blew it,” he said. “It must have been Minneapolis.”
Then the thump of the engines faded and for the second time that day
the huge bass roar of the bomb came back. He kept his eyes wide open
so he wouldn’t have to see it, but he saw it anyway. Not Marines this
time, not hard men camped out in the heat to do a job, but soft people,
women and children, small and smaller, camped out in a city park to
watch fireworks, vaporizing and bursting into a hazy pink dew like his
friends had done thirteen years before. The bone fragments coming out
of children and hissing away through the burning air and hitting other
children a hundred yards farther on. Hitting them and tearing through
their soft guts like shrapnel and putting the luckiest ones in the
hospital for a whole agonizing year.
They were all staring at him. He realized tears were rolling down his
cheeks and splashing onto his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
They looked away.
“I got calls to make,” Webster said. “Why is it Minneapolis now? Why
was it ever San Francisco?”
“Federal Reserve branches,” Reacher said quietly. There are twelve of
them. The nearest two to Montana are San Francisco and Minneapolis.
Borken hated the Fed. He thought it was the main instrument of the
world government. He thought it was a big conspiracy to eliminate the
middle classes. It was his special theory. He said it put him ahead
in his understanding. And he believed the Fed ordered his father’s
bank to finagle the old guy into taking a loan so they could
deliberately default him later.”
“So Borken’s attacking the Fed?” Johnson asked urgently.
Reacher nodded.
Twin blows,” he said. “In the war against the world government. Attack
the old system with a surprise move, like Pearl Harbor. At the same
time as setting up a brand-new system for converts to flock to. One
bird with two stones.”
He stopped talking. Too tired to continue. Too dispirited. Garber
was staring at him. Real pain in his face. The beating of the engines
was so loud it sounded like total silence.
The Declaration of Independence was only half of it,” McGrath said.
“Double decoy. We were supposed to be focused up there, worried about
Holly, worried about a suicide pact, going crazy, while they bombed the
Fed behind our backs. I figured San Francisco because of Kendall,
remember? I figured Borken would target the nearest branch to where
his old man’s farm was.”
Webster nodded.
“Hell of a plan,” he said. “Holiday weekend, agents on leave, big
strategic decisions to make, everybody looking in the wrong place. Then
the whole world looking at the bombing while Borken secures his
territory back up there.”
“Where is the Fed in Minneapolis?” Johnson asked urgently.
Webster shrugged vaguely.
“No idea,” he said. “I’ve never been to Minneapolis. I imagine it’s a
big public building, probably in a nice spot, parks all around, maybe
on the river or something. There’s a river in Minneapolis, right?”
Holly nodded.
“It’s called the Mississippi,” she said.
“No,” Reacher said.
“It damn well is,” Holly said. “Everybody knows that.”
“No,” Reacher said again. “It’s not Minneapolis. It’s San
Francisco.”
“Mississippi goes nowhere near San Francisco,” Holly said.
Then she saw a giant smile spreading across Reacher’s face. A final
gleam of triumph in his tired eyes.
“What?” she said.
“San Francisco was right,” he said.
Webster grunted in irritation.
“We’d have passed him already,” he said. “Miles back.”
Reacher thumbed his mike. Shouted up to the pilot.
Turn back,” he said. “A big wide loop.”
Then he smiled again. Smiled and closed his eyes.
“We did pass him,” he said. “Miles back. Right over his damn head.
They painted the truck green.”
The Night Hawk swung away into a high banked loop. The passengers