“All you need, and nothing you don’t.”
—Jack Reacher
In 1949, George Orwell published a chilling novel in which Big Brother, the government, was always watching: Private citizens had no privacy. The novel is titled, variously, 1984 or Nineteen Eighty-Four, and was Orwell’s look into the future.
The future is now.
In a post 9-11 world, Big Brother is always watching. With the aid of massively powerful computers used by the NSA, the wealth of data collected about every American citizen—and a good many foreign figures of interest—staggers the imagination. Ironically, citizens are complicit by constantly posting online every aspect—personal and professional—of their lives.
But let Big Brother look for Reacher in vain. The only hard information available can be found in his 201 file. But that only tells us about his past; it tells us nothing about his current whereabouts, or future destinations.
Reacher is a rambling man, by intent, which makes him unique. He works hard at keeping a low profile, at being inaccessible, and has slipped into the shadows.
You can’t find Reacher . . . but, when he wants, he can always find you.
In One Shot, a private detective named Franklin spends three fruitless hours online trying to find out what he can about Reacher.
As recounted in One Shot, Franklin discovers, to his dismay, that, “Reacher fell off the radar after 1997. Completely and totally. There was no trace of him anywhere . . . He had no credit rating. He wasn’t listed as title holder to any real estate, or automobiles, or boats. He had no debts. No liens. No address. No phone number. No warrants outstanding, no judgments entered. He wasn’t a husband. Wasn’t a father. He was a ghost.”
That is by Reacher’s intent. He’s the proverbial invisible man.
In contrast, most people’s lives are complicated because they are tethered, with connections to a job, residence, property, family—immediate and extended—and a growing circle of friends.
Moreover, most people complicate their lives with an array of electronic gadgets: a computer, a “smart” phone, possibly a “smart watch,” and active participation online through social networking websites like Facebook and Twitter, supplemented by instant messages and email. In other words, they choose to be accessible, whereas Reacher works hard at being inaccessible.
People unwittingly leave many electronic “footprints” each time they go online, with servers tracking their every move and caching emails and websites; the wealth of information that can be gleaned online about any individual is breathtaking in its scope. Complicating matters are widespread security breaches that expose personal information to criminals who use it to perpetuate identity theft. But in Reacher’s case, the only information available is his military record, available only by a service member or next-of-kin, which is permanently on file at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA).
Military personnel who have moved frequently because of PCS moves eventually want to settle down and have a place to call home, especially in retirement, but that’s not Reacher’s style.
Reacher, who has no desire to explore the rest of the world, prefers instead to explore his native soil. Moreover, he chooses not to travel by plane or train; he prefers car or bus, so he can get out and walk around. It gives him a close-up look at his world, instead of being distanced from it.
So what does he carry when he travels? Very little, as it turns out. Before 9-11, he carried a folding toothbrush and cash, and afterward he added an ATM card (for convenience) and an expired passport for identification. (In a country that depends on citizens carrying identification, Reacher’s choice to pare down to the essentials makes it more difficult for people to track him, because he’s operating under the radar.)
As to what he doesn’t carry:
In addition, here’s what he doesn’t have, which he considers encumbering because they require extensive social obligations or make it easy to keep track of him:
In point of fact, the only possible concern is the matter of state and federal taxes, because when there’s income, it must be accounted for.
In Tripwire, for instance, Reacher’s working as a pool digger by day and a bouncer at a strip club by night. But unless his employers were paying cash, which is unlikely, since wages paid are legitimate business deductions, Reacher was issued a tax form for “miscellaneous income” (Form 1099), which in turn requires his employer to send the IRS a Form 1099-MISC.
Because Reacher lives a transient lifestyle, and works odd jobs in different places, he’d have several 1099-MISC forms sent by his various employers to the IRS: If he grossed over $600 on any one job, it would be duly reported by the employer directly to the IRS.
More problematic, Reacher also has significant income from dubious sources, liberated from the bad guys. In Bad Luck and Trouble, his share of the take from the bad guys increased his bank balance to nearly a quarter million dollars (precisely $223,644.36), which would be of great interest to the IRS: How did he obtain the money? Is he, in fact, entitled to it? And did he duly report it on a tax return?
The clock cannot be turned back: People who flew on planes before 9-11 simply bought a ticket, got a boarding pass when they checked in at the counter, went through an X-ray screen, and walked on the plane. There was no TSA checking your driver’s license, requiring you to queue up in lines and remove shoes, belts, and anything metallic, put all your carry-on items in plastic bins with liquids limited to three ounces, and go through a full-body scanner.
Reacher, like the rest of us living in a post 9-11 world, must now subject himself to the same indignities and security issues when boarding planes, and possibly buses and trains. In other words, despite his best efforts, he can no longer fly beneath the radar, so to speak. Moreover, security cameras are everywhere today, especially in airports, train stations, and possibly bus terminals, and he’s likely to be photographed and identified if the authorities are looking for him.
But even still, with careful planning, and the use of cash where possible, Reacher has covered his tracks—on- and offline—sufficiently well that, unlike the rest of us, he has a measure of privacy we don’t. That is, of course, by deliberate choice. Big Brother is always watching, but he’s got a lot more on you and me than he’d ever get on Reacher, who prefers to leave as little a trail—electronically or otherwise—as possible, because he truly values his privacy.