CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Tuesday, November 16

1:26 a.m.

Chacho, TX

Denny’s, a chain diner, was predictable. Open 24 hours and almost deserted at this hour before breakfast. The only people inside were the waitress who’d sold them coffee earlier and the cook.

They walked across the parking lots, weaving between parked pickup trucks, and jaywalked across the side streets and reached the empty diner lot. Inside, they walked right past the Please Wait to Be Seated sign and slid into a booth by the window with a view of the motel. Gaspar and Neagley on one side, Morrie and Kim on the other. Just worked out that way.

The waitress delivered coffee and menus. Neagley ordered a cheeseburger and fries without looking. The guys said her order sounded good. Kim’s stomach was twisted by revulsion since Dean’s confession and couldn’t handle the grease. She ordered toast. The waitress said it would be ten minutes to fry the patties. She left the coffee pot and moved back to her newspaper at the counter.

Neagley said, “Cooper going to be of any help in this or is he as political as ever?”

Kim replied, “He’ll oil the wheels, but we’re on our own. We’ve got backup and some local support. But they aren’t going to send in the Marines, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Neagley snorted. “Of course they’re not. Can’t be bothered, I suppose. It’s only four kids and three women and none of the women are sleeping with Cooper.”

Gaspar glanced at Kim. Understanding passed between them. The joint task force had been working to bring down the Black Star operation for three years. They were so close to wrapping up. Careers would be made or ruined on the success or failure of those involved. There were bigger stakes. Simple as that.

Not that they could tell Neagley the Boss’s reasons; not that she’d care if they told her.

When neither Gaspar nor Kim offered a rebuttal, Neagley said, “We can’t drive a bus in there and snatch them back. For one thing, there’s the medical issues. For another, we’d be dead before we reached the bunkhouse.”

“Agreed,” Morrie and Gaspar said simultaneously.

“We’ll go over all the details. But the basic plan is simple, solid,” Kim said. “Neagley and Gaspar can handle the diversion. Morrie and I will confirm the hostages are in the bunkhouse, then call in the ambulances.” She told Neagley about the need to stagger the calls to the two communities to ensure they’d arrive together. “Once we have them loaded, Cooper will make sure they are evacuated to safety.”

Morrie asked, “How will we get in and get out?”

“Our vehicle should be in the motel lot, fully loaded, when we’re done here.”

“Should be?” Neagley asked.

Kim ignored her. “When Berenson’s arrested, she’ll be highly motivated to save her hide. That’ll be problematic for all of us and an even bigger problem for Neagley, Dixon, and Reacher. She’ll start talking about why she and Dean were so interested in Reacher’s crew in the first place. She’ll use the missing money as a bargaining chip. Might even manage immunity in exchange for testimony, assuming we get all the hostages out alive.”

Morrie looked at her as if she’d grown a third head.

As Kim had expected, Neagley said, “Berenson won’t be a problem.”

The waitress returned with the food and they stopped talking while they consumed it like a Shop-Vac sucks up dust.

“What about the timing?” Neagley asked.

“We’ve got some set up first,” Kim replied. “But we go in at your lucky time of the day. Four o’clock in the morning. What did you call it? KGB time? Are you feeling lucky?”