"Ahh!"
Amidst Langston's screams, Jack strangled the tourniquet. The old man was still holding up well, not even fainting.
"Are you coming with me?" Reacher shouted, waving to Lavoie's three bodyguards from inside the cabin.
"Of course," the female Ranger, indeed the leader, waved for the other two to follow.
As she passed Jack, she teased, "Where's that ridiculous mustache of yours, handsome?"
Jack shrugged without replying. He wasn't in disguise today, going in his true colors.
"The pilot knows the destination," Dixon whispered into Jack and Reacher's ear. "They're meeting with the middleman at an engineer's house. The engineer will demonstrate how to install the chip into the missile and the complete launch procedure."
Reacher's mouth twitched. He looked the most miserable of the group. Not only was his face covered in wounds, but he'd also been splattered with blood, which he'd just wiped casually with his jacket.
Hearing this, he flashed a sinister grin, a ghostly presence in the dim cabin light, chilling. "You better tell him to fly more steadily."
The helicopter slowly ascended. Aside from Reacher's special investigators and three bodyguards, none of the wanted criminals were on board, save for Jack. Most of them hadn't even made an appearance.
The female Ranger nudged Jack with her arm and casually asked, "Handsome, who are those people down there?"
"We paid some mercenaries, and they provided the equipment," Jack said, his eight large white teeth bared in an innocent smile.
The AS332 Super Puma flew northwest. According to the pilot, the home of a "New Age Technology" engineer was on a small farm near Rochester.
Gazing at the distant, the forest stretched out in the distance, Reacher, already impatient, said, "Have the pilot open the tail hatch."
Feeling the draft of air from high above, Lanston, who had been leaning against the cabin wall, his eyes suddenly widened.
"Wait, wait!" He tried to retreat into the corner, but Reacher grabbed one leg and dragged him toward the open hatch.
"No! No! No! No! No!" Lanston frantically scrabbled with his remaining hand, trying to grab something. "I'm still useful. I can help you prevent those missiles from falling into the hands of terrorists."
Reacher dragged him to the hatch without a word, grabbing him by the collar and forcing him to stand. Lanston's legs gave way and he kicked wildly, unable to stand. He was practically held there by force, half of his body floating in the air.
"No! No! No!" Lanston's old face was covered in snot and tears, and he cried like a 60-year-old child. "Don't kill me. Turn me over to the FBI. I'll cooperate. I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll help you catch the middleman."
"No, we don't need it." Reacher released his hand and, finger by finger, pried open Lanston's left hand that was holding his arm.
"No! Ah!!!"
Seeing the big guy fulfill his promise not long ago, Jack handed the first aid kit to Dixon, took out alcohol and gauze from it, and asked her to clean the bloody Reacher.
The tail door of the helicopter slowly retracted, and Reacher took out a glass jar from his arms, which startled everyone. Jack picked it up and took a look, and immediately understood what was going on, and sighed slightly.
"If it was on the battlefield, Swan would at least not be declared missing." O'Donnell smiled bitterly, took the first aid kit box that Dixon had thrown aside, took off his coat, carefully wrapped the glass jar and stuffed it into the box.
-
"There are still some personal grudges to be resolved, but we will do what we promised Lavoie." Jack said to the three bodyguards with a smile.
"We'll have to deal with it before dawn," the female Ranger seemed easygoing, even flirting with someone before escorting the helicopter pilot and engineer into the barn.
Watching the three bodyguards walk toward the nearby barn and close the gate, O'Donnell couldn't help but curl his lips. "Do you think they'll just let us go?"
"I told Reacher before that we always have to give our Congressman a 'chance,'" Jack smiled and winked at him. The two of them walked into the room and closed the door.
The fireplace was burning brightly, and Dixon was adding firewood. The farm was located at a high altitude, and although it hadn't snowed yet, the nighttime temperature outside was close to freezing.
In the center of the room stood a large table, upon which sat two loaded portable missile launchers, awaiting the arrival of the mysterious middleman, who preferred the pseudonym "AM," to complete the "deal."
Nigley fiddled with the launchers curiously, then, seeing it was almost time, walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and peered outside.
In the distance, the faint flicker of headlights could be seen as a semi-trailer truck towing a shipping container approached the farm.
"They're here," she said, quickly lowering the curtains, checking her weapons, and heading back.
"That saves us some trouble! They're actually bringing missiles." Jack walked to the door, leaning against it, his gun loaded. He glanced back at Reacher, still brimming with murderous intent, and sighed.
"Please, whether you plan to throw him out of a plane or shoot him to pieces, at least let me find out the identity of the buyer."
"Got it," Reacher muttered, his voice muffled, though it was unclear if he'd heard him.
Through the thin curtains, a large truck could be seen pulling up nearby. A man in a short windbreaker jumped out, carrying a large suitcase.
Strangely, he walked with a rather untidy limp, glancing behind him from time to time.
Then the truck's passenger door opened, and a slender figure landed gracefully. Though the curtains made it difficult to see clearly, the figure was clearly a woman.
"'AM' is actually a woman?" Dixon exclaimed softly as he walked to the window, peering through the curtains.
"And a very beautiful woman, very sexy." O'Donnell slyly approached, surreptitiously lifting the curtains for a peek, only to be met with an elbow from Dixon.
The man in the trench coat, carrying his suitcase, stumbled to the door, glanced back at the woman behind him, took a deep breath, and knocked twice.
Reacher opened the door and, facing his horrified gaze, pressed the muzzle of his gun to his forehead. Meanwhile, Negley, who had emerged from the back door earlier, had already circled around to the porch, pointing his MDX508 at the woman standing behind the man in the trench coat.
"Nigley, don't shoot!" Jack, who was following behind, only got a clear look at the woman behind the man in the trench coat after exiting the door, because the large figure blocked his view. He exclaimed in surprise.
"Jack, did you miss me?" The woman ignored Negley's gun, winking playfully at Jack, then hugged him and gave him a French kiss.
(End of Chapter)