The big guy obviously overlooked that not everyone shared the heart of these retired veterans, who took the separation of life and death lightly.
Negley and Dixon consoled Milena for a long time before she stopped sobbing. O'Donnell asked before the big guy, who was still trying to explain, could speak.
"We want to find the real culprit, so we came to seek your help. Did you know that Sanchez and Orozco have recently been in contact with Calvin Frantz or Tony Swan?"
"Yes, Frantz was here a few weeks ago, in this bar. They hadn't seen each other in a while, and everyone was very happy. I even took a picture of them."
Milena wiped her tears with her fingers and hurriedly took out her phone to open the album. The photo showed Franz sitting in the middle, Sanchez and Orozco hugging his shoulders, all three of them smiling with the joy of reunion.
The girl continued, "Sanchez said they're working together to solve a case."
"What case?" Jack asked quickly.
"He didn't tell me." Milena shook her head, staring blankly at the photo on her phone, tears streaming down her face.
"Where's Swan? He hasn't been here?" Jack continued to ask.
Milena continued to shake her head, her eyes fixed on her phone. "He didn't come to Atlantic City, but I heard them mention his name. Sorry, I only knew you through Sanchez's introduction and photos. Didn't you look for Franz?"
Even Reacher was silent now. Seeing everyone's strange expressions, the girl suddenly understood everything. "Oh my God, what happened to them?"
Dixon held her hand. "Honey, we're looking for you to find the real culprit. We need your help. Think carefully. You can tell us everything you remember."
Milena covered her face, completely panicking. At this time, the black bartender who had been paying attention to the situation here brought a bottle of tequila. "Guys, I think you need this."
Seeing Jack was about to take out his wallet again, the black bartender directly removed the tray. "This is my treat. Sanchez and Orozco are also our friends."
The liquor went down her throat, and Milena's mood finally stabilized a little. "I'm not sure if this will help, but the last time I saw Jose (Sanchez), he was sitting on the stool over there.
I remember he took a phone call. It must have been a very important call."
"Did you hear anything?" Reacher asked in a low voice, bending slightly.
"I remember him repeating two numbers, then looking very surprised, or maybe worried, I'm not sure. Then he said he had something to do and had to leave, but he hasn't been heard from since." Milena spoke faster and faster, her emotions rising again.
"What numbers?" Dixon demanded hurriedly.
"Yes, of course. He said '650, 100,000 each.' I don't know what that means."
Tears welled up in the girl's eyes again, but this time she didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead, she looked at the others with hope, hoping that her information would be helpful.
"Are you sure it was those two numbers?" Reacher held her gaze with the same intense intensity.
"Of course!" Milena repeated the two numbers with a firm tone, also looking directly at Reacher. "Would you forget the last words your loved one said to you?"
By the time they left the bar, daybreak had already begun, and everyone was exhausted. Dixon had made a small fortune that day and had booked a presidential suite in a star-rated hotel to accommodate everyone.
"Let's just find a small hotel." Reacher looked at the luxurious suite with a certain unease, feeling uneasy all over.
"They probably wouldn't dare attack directly in such a public place. Besides, casinos and hotels have their own security. I don't want to fight another assassin, at least not until I wake up."
O'Donnell yawned lazily, found a room, and went to sleep.
"If you really can't adjust, I can have the hotel bring you a park bench," Negley taunted her old boss again before closing the door, seemingly enjoying the experience.
Jack gestured to Dixon on his chest, signaling her not to forget to treat the wound, then retrieved his laptop and returned to his room.
He had a lot of things to attend to before bed. The investigation in New York was already making progress, and he needed to synchronize the two sides' progress.
By the time he finished, daylight had broken, and the noise next door had finally stopped. It must have been Reacher, who had been called in to help with the wound, who had been tricked into bed by Dixon.
Exercise is one of the best ways to relieve stress, and working out in bed is also exercise.
Jack removed his disguise, showered, and went straight to bed. He didn't get up until noon and ordered room service. By the time the waiter brought him lunch, the others had also begun to wake up.
"Shit, who are you?" O'Donnell, still yawning, opened the door and saw Jack sitting in the living room eating lunch, instinctively pulling out his brass knuckles.
Jack was stunned for a moment, wondering if this guy had amnesia. It wasn't until he instinctively touched his face that he realized his prosthetics weren't in place, nor was his mustache.
"It's me, Jack. Looks like my disguise was pretty successful yesterday," he said, a touch of pride in his voice.
O'Donnell's eyes widened, a look of shock lingering for a long moment. "Jack? How old are you?"
Jack's youthful face was a bit of a disconnect with his usual demeanor. Those who'd known him for a while might not notice, but O'Donnell's first impression of him was the square chin and mustache from last night.
But now, not only was his face free of disguise, he wasn't wearing a formal suit, just a T-shirt for sleeping. At first glance, he looked like a college freshman. The contrast was stark.
"Almost thirty," Jack said casually, not wanting to hurt the older man's pride too much. Just then, hearing the noise, Negley opened the door and left the room, also looking sleep deprived.
"I need a large cup of strong black coffee, please." She waved listlessly at O'Donnell, who was fiddling with the coffee machine in the water bar.
"If you're hungry, try the seafood set menu here. The lobster meat is very fresh,"
suggested Jack, who was enjoying his meal. At this time, the door of the adjacent suite opened. Dixon, looking refreshed, walked out first, followed by a slightly depressed Reacher. Dixon was as happy as a little girl who had fulfilled a wish. She smiled and greeted everyone, "Hi, good morning, uh, or maybe good afternoon. We need to talk about what happened last night."
"Everyone in the hotel knows what happened last night." O'Donnell pointed at the dark circles under his eyes with a look of resentment and handed a cup of coffee to Negley.
European and American girls never shy away from such matters, but Dixon still "irresponsibly" pushed all the blame onto Reacher. "I told you you were making too much noise."
Reacher smiled innocently, feeling very aware of taking the blame. "Dixon means we should summarize the current clues."
"The clues are all here, take a look." Jack pushed the computer in front of him towards them. On it was a mind map that Alice had just made.
This thing was an electronic upgrade of the evidence board, and it looked similar. The identity of Scarface, who died at Jack's hands last night, had been confirmed, and a photo was also posted: Trevor Saropian, a New Yorker.
(End of this Chapter)