Blue Moon

“It started with a rumor I heard from a friend of a friend. The story was, whatever was claimed politically, the intelligence professionals had in fact traced the fake news on the internet all the way back to the Russian government in Moscow, and they had also gotten pretty good at blocking it, except suddenly they had a sudden setback. The rumor was somehow the Russians had gotten inside. They were operating inside the United States, and the blocking didn’t work anymore.”

“OK,” Reacher said.

“But I got to thinking. Obviously there was nothing coming out of their embassy, because we would have known. We’re all over that place, electronically. And they didn’t move the whole project here, because it’s not just us they’re messing with. They’re hacking the world. So obviously they outsourced the American part of the project to someone who was already here. Like a straightforward business deal. Like a franchise. But who? The Russian mob in the U.S. isn’t good enough, and anyway, no way would the Russian government want to be in business with them. I tried to figure it out. I had some information. The geeks at the paper follow this stuff. They have league tables, like the NFL. All those old Soviet states are pretty good at technology. Estonia, for instance. And Ukraine, they figured. But Moscow and Kiev can’t talk. They’re at permanent loggerheads. But Moscow can talk to the Ukrainian mob in the U.S. Same people, same talent, but a different place. And it would be perfect cover. It’s a very unlikely link. And the geeks said the Ukrainians were just about good enough to do it, in a technology sense. So I figured that was what had happened. An annual contract, between the Russian government and Ukrainian organized crime in America, probably worth at least tens of millions of dollars. I have no proof, but I bet I’m right. Call it a journalist’s guess.”

“OK,” Reacher said again.

“But then a couple months ago they suddenly got much better at doing it. They went way beyond just good enough. It happened more or less overnight. Suddenly they were doing really smart stuff. The geeks said they must have brought in new talent. No other way of doing it. Maybe a consultant from Moscow. So I went there to check. Naively I thought I might see a Russian walking around town, looking lost.”

“So you already aimed to break the story.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Where would you have looked?”

“I had no idea. That was going to be my next step. But I never got that far.”

“OK,” Reacher said. “Thank you.”

“Is that enough?”

“Credible person, credible reason. The boxes are checked.”

“Thank you again, for the first part of the call. I do feel better.”

“It’s a great feeling,” Reacher said. “Isn’t it? You’re alive, and they ain’t.”

—

At the end of their hour Barton and Hogan came up to the street, damp with exertion, loaded with gear. Vantresca was helping them. He read the new text. The photograph, in the fat green bubble. He said, “This is absurd.”

Reacher said, “He took me by surprise.”

“Not the photograph. The message is from Gregory himself. He says you’re the vanguard of an attack from a direction he can no longer reliably discern. It is even possible you are an agent of the Kiev government. You must therefore be captured at all costs. You must be brought to him alive.”

“Better than the alternative, I suppose.”

“Did the doorman tell you anything?”

“Plenty,” Reacher said. “But the journalist told me more.”

“She talked to you?”

“It’s about fake news on the internet. It was coming in from Russia. Now it’s inside the United States. We can’t block it anymore. She figured Moscow hired the Ukrainians as a proxy. Then about two months ago the standard went way up. She said the geeks at the paper figured the Ukrainians must have brought in new talent. No other way to explain it.”

“Trulenko went into hiding about two months ago.”

“Exactly,” Reacher said. “He’s smart with computers. He’s managing the contract. The Russian government is paying Gregory, and Gregory is paying Trulenko. After taking a healthy percentage for himself, I’m sure. Must feel like Christmas morning. The journalist said the contract could be worth tens of millions of dollars.”

“What did the doorman tell you?”

“It’s a secret satellite operation physically separate from the main office. He didn’t know where it is, or how big it is, or who works there, or how many.”

“You call that telling you plenty?”

“If we put the two things together, we can start to work out what they need. Security, accommodations, reliable power, reliable internet speed, isolated, but close enough for easy supply and resupply.”

“Could be any basement in town. They could have run new wires and put in a couple of cots.”

“More than cots,” Reacher said. “This is an annual contract. No doubt renewable. Could be a long-term project.”

“OK, as well as the wires, they also brought in wallboard and paint and put carpet on the floor. Maybe king-size beds.”

“We better start looking,” Abby said.