It was quite the coincidence—earlier that morning, Clay and Aubrey had obtained two fake IDs from the Denver office and drove straight to the "New Era Tech" manufacturing plant.
Federal agents posing as inspectors was a common tactic. In fact, the FBI itself was often the biggest victim—those CIA bastards frequently used FBI identities for their domestic operations.
But when they arrived, the shift supervisor, barely hiding his schadenfreude, told them they were too late—the final batch of 650 "Little Wings" missiles had just been shipped out half an hour earlier.
Hearing the number 650 was like a bucket of cold water dumped on Clay and Aubrey. They immediately gave chase in their car while notifying Jubal.
As Jubal contacted the Denver office for reinforcements, Clay and Aubrey encountered a group of armed men on the highway.
The attackers had already killed the original truck driver and the guards and had swapped out the trailer using another identical truck cab.
There were seven of them. Four carried Uzi submachine guns and wore body armor. Clay and Aubrey were caught completely off guard.
Luckily, even though they had flown into Denver, they had borrowed two assault rifles from the local office before heading to the plant, just in case. Thanks to Aubrey's cover, former SEAL Clay managed to take down five of the attackers with sheer skill and firepower.
They'd spotted the two trucks parked on the roadside, and Aubrey, riding shotgun, told Clay to pull over to ask what was going on. But as soon as the car door opened, several of the gunmen, pretending to repair the truck with their backs turned, launched a surprise attack.
Fortunately, the kid had always been obedient. Jack had repeatedly drilled into him not to overestimate the protection of a standard bulletproof vest and to always insert ballistic plates when possible.
Several 9mm rounds pierced the car door and only left bruises on his torso. Realizing they were in trouble, Clay slammed the car into reverse and managed to create some distance.
But both front tires of their Suburban had been blown out, so escape wasn't an option. Clay made a split-second decision—after parking, he reclined the seat, crawled into the trunk under Aubrey's covering fire, grabbed the assault rifle, and launched a counterattack.
Poor Aubrey, who had been shot, thought he was done for. He emptied his entire magazine while screaming and then lay there waiting to die. But when Clay finished off the attackers and tore open his vest, he found that Aubrey was miraculously unharmed.
When they called Jack, they were still waiting on the roadside for reinforcements from the Denver office. A police helicopter had already been deployed, but the chances of quickly locating the stolen trailer were slim.
Denver is not only the capital of Colorado but also a major industrial city in the American Midwest, known for its military, energy, and machinery industries, with an extremely dense highway network.
Countless large container trucks travel those roads every day, many of which look nearly identical. The attackers were clearly well-prepared—while five engaged Clay and Aubrey, the remaining two drove off with the switched trailer.
They had just inspected the trailer left behind. Apparently, the original plan was to swap the containers entirely using one filled with bricks of equal weight.
Since the cargo was military equipment, opening the containers for inspection was out of the question. According to the shipping manifest, the missiles and launchers were supposed to be sent to Los Angeles and then shipped to South Korea.
Normally, sea transport from the Port of Los Angeles to South Korea takes at least three to four weeks. Given the military's usual inefficiency, the containers might sit in a warehouse until they were nearly obsolete before anyone realized something was wrong.
"So based on your theory, the higher-ups at New Era Tech—including the board of directors—may not even know what's going on, and the real perpetrator is just a lowly security department supervisor?"
At that moment, Joey Reacher arrived at the meeting room. After hearing the full story, he found it a bit hard to believe.
"Well, it's not like they're completely innocent," Jack said after careful consideration, then laid out what they had discovered the night before.
"The higher-ups at New Era Tech fabricated some flashy-looking but essentially useless missiles to scam federal funding. Meanwhile, someone below them—who probably got in touch with AM, an international arms dealer—decided to use the same method to make a fat retirement fund.
While we don't have hard evidence that Senator Lavoie was directly involved, I'm pretty sure he knows by now that two fake FBI agents showed up at his subordinate's door. The question is—does DHS have any interest in a potentially implicated senator?"
Joey looked at his silent younger brother, then at the young FBI agent with the same name as his brother. He rubbed his temples in frustration.
He had originally been the head of the Secret Service's Office of Investigations, and after the large-scale counterfeit bust in Margrave, he had been promoted twice—he was now at the deputy director level.
In addition to overseeing financial crimes, since the Secret Service had been placed under DHS after 9/11, he also served as a consultant on counterterrorism matters.
In other words, within DHS, any anti-terror case that had connections to money laundering or financial instruments could involve Joey.
But ironically, terrorism seemed to be the least pressing part of this case. Jack talked about taking down a senator as if it were no big deal, but political matters are never simple.
Technically speaking, the 100 senators and the interests they represent are the true rulers of this country. If one were to investigate a senator without proper cause and it got out, even Joey himself wouldn't be able to escape the consequences.
"What's the FBI's stance on this case?" Joey asked. Though the young man before him had once saved his life—and later, during the New York bombing incident, indirectly saved an entire team of Secret Service agents and the Bolivian president they were guarding—
He still had to play it safe. That wasn't because he had become a heartless political creature after his promotion.
He was just worried that Jack, being so young and impulsive, might let his emotions get the better of him—and with his fearless younger brother by his side, things could spiral out of control fast.
With two DHS agents still present, Jack had to tread carefully. "My superior, Ms. Moret, has been following this case closely. Here's her number."
He handed over a business card—but it wasn't Dana Moret's. It was David Rossi's.
Joey took one look and instantly understood, slipping the card into his pocket with a small nod. "How do you plan to gather evidence? DHS will fully cooperate."
"Don't touch the New Era Tech facility in Denver for now. Let it be classified as a routine truck hijacking. Start by quietly investigating the plant manager—there's no way they could have intercepted the truck mid-route without an inside source.
According to a certain legislative aide, the missiles were just hardware—the chips were produced in New York. That might be why AM went to Denver first and then planned to head to New York.
It's a $65 million deal, after all. Both parties would need some assurance. Deliver the missiles first, then pay upon delivery of the chips—it makes sense."
Jack held out his hand. "As for the senator, give me one of your bugs and have a surveillance van follow us. Reacher and I plan to go for a little stroll."
Joey glanced at the two DHS agents, who immediately took the hint and left the office.
"I'll contact David Rossi and Ms. Moret. As long as you can obtain solid evidence, I'll handle the procedures necessary to make it all legal. But the condition is—you cannot let those weapons fall into terrorist hands, even if they're just dummies."
"That won't happen. Because we're going to wipe out everyone in Langston's crew," Reacher said with deadly intent, causing Joey to rub his temples again and wave his unruly younger brother out of the room.
——
"Swann's become the scapegoat. Clay and Aubrey found his digital signature on the delivery order at the scene," Jack said in a casual tone, gazing at the Washington Monument in the distance and the Lincoln Memorial on the western side.
"So he might still be alive?" Reacher, scanning the area around them, paused at the thought.
"It's a possibility. You probably saw all the biometric verification systems in the New Era Tech office. His digital signature wouldn't be easy to fake."
Jack was also scanning the surroundings. He was impressed with DHS's coordination this time. Maybe it was thanks to Joey's personal arrangements, but the surveillance van they deployed wasn't one of those obvious box trucks.
Even he hadn't noticed earlier that the ice cream truck parked nearby was something else entirely.
"That said, this is all based on assumptions drawn from the evidence. We can't completely rule out the possibility that Swann was involved. I just want you to be mentally prepared."
This time, Jack genuinely didn't know how things would play out, so he gave Reacher a heads-up.
"I told you—I'll never doubt Swann," Reacher replied firmly.
They had been strolling around the National Mall for less than half an hour. As they crossed the street beside Constitution Gardens, two black GMC government SUVs suddenly pulled up beside them.
The doors opened, and a man and a woman in black suits stepped out and blocked Jack and Reacher's path.
Reacher let out a merciless laugh. "Let me guess—government plates, official vehicles, uniformed agents. And Senator Lavoie only just figured out who messed with his subordinate last night?"
Both agents had a distinctly military air about them, especially the woman—her commanding presence gave Jack the uncanny feeling of seeing a gender-swapped version of Reacher, even though their height and appearance were vastly different.
______
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