Near noon, the doorbell on the main entrance to the Most Wanted Unit office building, which had barely been used since it was opened, rang.
Normally, whether Jack and his friends were returning or friends were over for lunch, they would drive down the driveway and down to the underground parking lot, where a facial recognition access control system was installed.
Whenever someone appeared within the access control area, regardless of visitor privileges, everyone on the Most Wanted Unit would receive a notification on their phones, allowing them to see the person's appearance on a real-time video feed.
The main entrance had a similar feature. After Jack confirmed the visitor's identity, the gate slowly opened, and a black Range Rover slowly drove in. Jack opened the door and nodded slightly to the 30-something mixed-race woman who got out.
"Frances Negley?"
"The big guy said your name is Jack too? Luckily, we've always called him Reacher." The visitor greeted Jack with a familiar air.
Her complexion wasn't too dark, and though she was tall enough to play basketball, she didn't give the impression of being slow. On the contrary, she was lean, and her gait gave the impression of a female leopard poised for action.
"Yes, I'm used to being called by my name," Jack said, ushering her into the house and out to the backyard.
Frances Negley's eyes flashed with cunning, and she surveyed the furnishings with feigned curiosity. "What exactly is this place? A secret base for federal agents? I saw at least 20 cameras outside."
"You're pretty close. We're both good at finding people and solving cases," Jack said with a mysterious smile.
Negley didn't know Jack, but Jack did. If he hadn't intervened and saved Joey in Margrave, she would have been the one Reacher recruited to avenge his brother. This woman was originally a sergeant major in the Army. Before enlisting, she worked at a gas station. Her family wasn't particularly well-off, but she learned a lot under Reacher and, after leaving the army, became a successful private investigator.
The two of them arrived at the backyard vegetable garden and saw Reacher, his back to them, crouched before a pumpkin vine, seemingly studying something.
"Major?"
The moment she saw Reacher, Negley was overcome with emotion, even tears welling in her eyes.
"Negley, long time no see." Reacher turned, his expression remarkably calm.
"I rushed over as soon as I got your call," Negley paused, glancing at Jack beside him.
Reacher's cheek twitched, and he forced a smile. "Jack's one of us. If he joins the military, I'll invite him to join the 110 Special Investigations Unit."
Jack smiled back. "Even though I won't be 17 by the time you say that, I'd still be honored." The minimum enlistment age in the US is 17.
Negley's eyes widened. Although Jack looked youthful, she, too, had a baby face, and her complexion made it look anything but her age, yet she was actually in her 30s. She hadn't expected Jack to look so young.
The three of them returned to the house. Jack brewed a pot of tea, poured each of them a cup, and then got down to business.
"Sorry, I was busy with a case. I only had time to check my email after receiving your message, and I found that Franz left me a few messages a few weeks ago, wanting to get some information from me."
As he spoke, Negley's expression darkened slightly, a glint in his eyes.
"I think he couldn't reach me, so he asked Sanchez and Orozco for help. They run a law firm in Atlantic City."
"It's not your fault," Reacher said stiffly.
"I know, I know." Perhaps because they were both military veterans, both Reacher and Negley were extremely reserved, not revealing the same sadness as most people when discussing their friend's death.
"What are you going to do next? Have other cops handle our friends' cases?" Negley glanced at Jack.
Although she hadn't known Jack's identity before, even a casual observer would have noticed something was amiss the moment she entered the small building. After all, the FBI logo was plastered everywhere, including on Jack's laptop on the desk.
While the large kitchen adjacent to the living room looked a bit out of place, the small blackboard on the wall wasn't covered with recipes, but rather a series of crossed-out pictures of wanted criminals.
"Jack isn't just another cop. He's FBI, and he's also my friend. Over two years ago, he saved my brother, and maybe me, too, in Margrave."
Knowing Reacher wasn't known for compliments, Jack accepted the compliment with satisfaction, even though it was concise.
Negley looked at Jack with a hint of curiosity and inquiry. "I thought you were sent by the FBI to monitor the big guy."
Jack shrugged. "You're right. I have to keep it to myself, otherwise his picture will be on that wall over there soon."
"That depends on who we're dealing with," Negley mumbled, then looked at Reacher.
"I contacted David O'Donnell and Caiola Dixon, but their calls went to voicemail. I left messages for both of them.
And Tony Swann, I don't have his number, but I know he lives in Queens. O'Donnell was closer to him and should have his address."
The three names Negley mentioned were all former investigators with the Army Military Police's 110th Special Investigations Unit, Reacher's subordinates.
Including Franz, Sanchez, and Orozco, who are now confirmed dead, and Larry, who died in a car accident a few years ago, the unit totaled nine people, led by Reacher as a major.
A murderous glint flashed in the burly man's eyes. "So, besides you, we can't contact anyone else?"
"You want me to arrange for someone to find and protect them?" Jack's scalp tingled. What kind of misfortune had befallen this 110 Special Investigations Unit? Was it really a revenge plot?
Reacher shook his head. "That's not right. I know my people's abilities. If they found themselves in danger, they would immediately try to contact each other, rather than being silently eliminated one by one.
O'Donnell and Dixon should be fine. Can you find Swan's address?"
Jack didn't know the abilities of the special investigators, but after leaving the military, they generally took jobs related to investigators, either private detectives or corporate security consultants.
The NYPD quickly sent Tony Swan's address, and Jack, disguised once again, joined them in the Land Rover driven by Negley and headed to Queens.
Queens was less crowded than Manhattan, and Tony Swan's home was in a relatively good middle-class neighborhood, a townhouse that was much more comfortable than a high-rise apartment.
(End of Chapter)