CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

He crossed the room in half a dozen steps and sat across the table to maintain eye contact. “Have we met before?”

The answer was inconsequential, but Parnell needed a baseline to judge Scavo’s reactions later.

Scavo shook his head. “I’ve followed your career for a while now. I knew you’d retired. It was only a matter of time before you showed up here.”

Parnell schooled his features to reveal nothing. “And why is that?”

“Because of the Colonel.” Scavo shrugged. His voice was wheezy. “I was the Executive Vice President of Operational Security Consultants for a few years. I knew you were his inside contact. You funneled off-the-books military contracts to OSC.”

Parnell waited while Scavo’s tale was detoured by a fit of coughing. “At some point, you’d want what was yours.”

Parnell neither confirmed nor denied. He noted that Scavo was smarter than the average OSC soldier. Which was probably why he was still alive.

Parnell waited through another round of hacking.

After the coughing stopped, Scavo wiped spittle from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Made sense that you wouldn’t want your fingerprints on any of the OSC funds until after you parted ways with Uncle Sam.”

Parnell narrowed his eyes. An almost involuntary frown etched his face. Was this a setup? Some kind of sting?

He left Scavo in the kitchen and conducted a more thorough search of the premises, this time for electronic surveillance. He found no hidden cameras or listening devices anywhere.

A laptop and a cell phone rested on a table beside the sofa. The television was hooked up to cable. Parnell disconnected the cable and unplugged the television. He powered down the laptop and removed the batteries from the cell phone and shoved both under the sofa.

Satisfied that no spying devices remained in place, he returned to the kitchen and searched Scavo for tech capable of recording audio or video or both. He found none.

“Who lives next door?” Parnell asked.

“An ex-Marine. Don’t worry, he’s deaf as a post. Besides, he’s been out of town for a couple of weeks. I figured you knew that.” Scavo cocked his head. “Maybe you’re not as careful as I assumed you would be.”

Parnell asked, “What’s wrong with you? Medically, I mean?”

Scavo shrugged. “They don’t exactly know. Some kind of systemic disease, they figure. Maybe latent, from the time I spent as a POW. Most of the symptoms came on suddenly after I returned to the states.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Docs don’t say. Right at the moment, it doesn’t look good, does it?” He flashed a wry grin, which Parnell figured was some sort of coping thing. “The cold dry air makes it worse. Which is why it’s so hot and humid in here, if you were wondering.”

Parnell sat, allowing Scavo to make eye contact. “Since you’ve been expecting me, you know what I came for.”

Scavo shrugged. “I’m guessing you want that nine million that was in the bedroom safe at the Dakota.”

“For starters.”

“And after that, you’re looking to collect the forty-six million the Colonel socked away for you in a safe place, right?”

He smirked. “Precisely.”

“I can help you with that.” Scavo opened his mouth to say more, but another coughing jag possessed him for a long time. When he was able to catch his breath again, he tilted his head toward the refrigerator and croaked, “Water.”

Parnell retrieved a bottle and handed it over. Scavo took a long, thirsty gulp.

“Sorry. I don’t talk a lot. I’m out of practice.” He rested the bottle on the table.

“Where is my money?”

“Your share of the contract payments is still where the Colonel placed it. Or at least it was the last time I checked.”

“Which was when?”

“Right after I met the Colonel in London and, uh, persuaded him to tell me where to find it. I can’t check from here. Too risky. You’re right to be worried about surveillance in this place. Secrets do get out, one way or another.” His voice was raspy and strained. He drank another few sips.

“Why did he give you that information? Were you supposed to collect the money and get it to him?”

“Not exactly. My motives were not that pure.” He smiled again. “The Colonel left me for dead in West Africa. I was captured by the enemy. Let’s just say it wasn’t a pleasant experience. After I escaped, it took me a while to reach my evacuation kit, which I had stored in a hotel safe in London. As luck would have it, the Colonel was in London at the time, so we had a little…discussion about my…compensation.”

“And what about the nine million?”

“That’s a tougher question. I’m not exactly sure.” He adjusted his bony ass on the chair as if the hard surface was too uncomfortable. “I’m sure you know I went to the Dakota apartment when I returned from London.”

He paused, and Parnell nodded.

“I was in much better shape than I am now. I’d begun to have symptoms, but I thought it was malaria at the time. So I ignored it.” He paused and leaned back in his chair. “I found the nine million cash in the safe while I was looking for the documents, but I didn’t have the time to move those big bales.”

“Why not?”

“I had a narrow window of opportunity to find what I needed to…collect the bigger score before the Colonel was due back. I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“So you expected him back,” Parnell said, nodding, as though he believed the lie.

Scavo smirked. “Your forty-six million plus his twenty, which was hidden in the same place, was more enticing.”

“I can see how it would be,” Parnell replied as calmly as he could manage. He hadn’t expected the Colonel to hide that money in a place where Parnell could grab it. The cash situation just kept getting better and better.

“I planned to go back later for the cash. I mean, nine million isn’t sixty-six, but it’s not chump change, either, right?”

Parnell’s mouth had dried up. He nodded.

“And I figured I’d earned it. He owed me, you know?” Scavo cocked his head and waited until Parnell nodded. “But whatever this thing is that’s attacking my body accelerated. Hell, for a few weeks, I couldn’t get out of bed. And then it turned out I didn’t need to go back.”

“Why is that?”

“Because someone, shall we say, liberated that nine million in cash first.” He shook his head and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “The likely thieves were my former OSC colleagues. At the time, I was sure they viewed it as spoils of war, rightfully theirs.”

Parnell narrowed his eyes and barked, “My patience is wearing thin, Scavo.”

Scavo nodded. “It took me a while to figure it out. Even now, all I have is an educated guess. I’ve narrowed it down to two likely suspects.”

“And those two are?” Parnell’s hard-edged question sliced the thick air like a blade. Scavo seemed to be cooperative. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. But he needed to get to it.

“The first possibility is an NYPD detective named Brewer. Gregory Brewer. He was hanging around the first day I went to the Dakota. I didn’t know who he was at the time. I found that out later.” Scavo drained the water bottle and cleared his throat. He tossed the bottle toward the kitchen sink. The lightweight plastic sailed weakly in the right direction but fell short and bounced along the vinyl floor.

Parnell nodded to keep him going.

“Brewer had been inside the apartment, for sure. He’d left one of his business cards on the kitchen counter. Which means he could have gone in as many times as he needed to remove all that cash.” Scavo’s long bout of hacking started up again.

The Brewer story had the ring of truth to it. An NYPD detective would definitely be tempted by nine million in untraceable cash. Although a detective’s salary was reasonable. Certainly, more than cops in smaller towns. Nine million dollars, sitting there for the taking, probably had been too hard for Brewer to resist.

The more Parnell thought about it, the more likely it seemed. An NYPD detective would be in a position to know everything about the security at the Dakota. He could easily have removed the money. That sweaty little fop nor the lazy doorman would have bothered to stop him, even if they’d been around.

Yes. Parnell nodded. Brewer could have been the thief. He’d also have had no trouble locating a good hiding place for that much cash in New York where no one would find it.

“And the other possibility?” Parnell asked when Scavo’s painful spasm slowed.

“You know OSC had significantly reduced manpower after the West Africa debacle.” Scavo raised his eyebrows, and Parnell nodded. “The Colonel had a big, old-fashioned Rolodex of candidates and he added guys to the team as necessary, depending on the job.”

“Right.” Parnell had seen that Rolodex once. He hoped not to spend time tracking every extra grunt listed in there. Scavo was the guy. Had to be.

“A few days before I met the Colonel in London, he hired a new gun. Army vet. Big, fair-haired guy. Bulky. About your size, or maybe bigger.”

“How do you know? You weren’t there.”

“Same way you found out. I asked around.” Scavo paused and Parnell nodded again. Scavo’s body was a wreck, but his mind was still sharp enough.

“What was the new guy’s name?” Parnell asked.

“Nobody at the Dakota seemed to know, and the NYPD detective wouldn’t say.”

“You asked Brewer?”

“Not until I had the name already. After that, I called Brewer.” He smiled weakly, revealing yellowed and missing teeth. “Let’s just say his reactions were enough to confirm that Brewer knows more than he’s telling.”

“You’re saying Brewer took my cash.”

“Not definitively, because obviously, I haven’t seen the money in Brewer’s possession with my own eyes. But I’d bet on Brewer.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

Scavo’s coughing started up again. He hacked for a long, long time. His curved torso bent almost in half as he grew weaker. Parnell collected another bottle of water from the refrigerator and placed it on the table.

He had never heard of a man coughing to death, but he wondered if Scavo would be his first.

When Scavo finally managed to get himself under control, he took a few long pulls on the water bottle and tried to catch his breath.

“Sorry.” His voice was raspy and subdued as if his lungs were too weak to push enough air through his vocal cords to create sound. He struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his cane. “I need rest. I’ll tell you everything. Brewer has a partner.”

“What do you mean?”

His next words were a mere whisper, and Parnell strained to hear. “The last hire I told you about. Bought this place. Furnished it. Paid my medical. Said the money came from the Colonel.”

Parnell made no effort to conceal the malice from his tone. “What’s his name, Scavo?”

“Reacher.” Scavo hacked it out. “Jack Reacher.”

The name alone heated Parnell’s blood. He’d looked for Reacher on three continents and found nothing. His anger bubbled up so fast, he could barely spit out the question. “Where is Reacher?”

Scavo coughed and struggled to draw breath between long spasms. “Brewer knows. Brewer first. Then Reacher.”

Parnell watched him struggle all the way to the bedroom. Simply telling his story to Parnell had all but killed the guy. He’d learn no more from Scavo tonight.

Which left Parnell free to deal with Brewer.

Parnell pulled the laptop and cell phone from beneath the sofa on his way out.