Previously on Reacher…
He said 650 at 100K each.
It could be a transfer of 65 million,
a $65 million cover-up, a $65 million bribe.
We got a suspect.
Azhari Mahmoud.
He's known to Interpol as a weapons broker
for terrorist organizations.
He's a ghost. No pictures of him anywhere.
If these are supposed to be fractions,
then it's sloppy work.
On each sheet there's 26 or 27 numerical tabulations.
So, the real question is
what kind of somethings were they counting?
You don't have to be lonely tonight.
There were hit men who tried to kill us in Atlantic City.
They failed,
but they had a parking pass
for a company called New Age.
New Age is an aerospace company.
I'm Marlo Burns,
New Age Director of Operations. The parking pass was issued
- to a man named Trevor Saropian. - Where's his car?
We decided to take it with us.
Holy shit. It's Swan.
He was working at New Age
with the people who've been trying to kill us.
Great. Well, we drove a car through a window
so that I could read workers comp pleadings
for a secretary who slipped on New Age stairs five years ago.
So glad we risked prison for that.
Yeah, I got nothing, too. No new information.
Well, I wouldn't say
we haven't found any new information.
I mean, we've got three special investigators dead,
one in the wind, and the one
who's missing just happens to be the one who worked for New Age.
What? Look, someone's got to say it.
Was Swan working with these guys or with these guys?
- Swan's not dirty. - Look, man,
- we all want to believe that he isn't… - I know Swan.
We all do.
- And you don't think there's even a chance… - No.
I don't.
Focus on what we found.
Brad?
Stacy?
This is a brad.
That is a fastener.
Two names for something that size is stupid.
So is this conversation.
Well, speaking of names,
just found our man in the employee directory.
Seems Swan's title was assistant director of security.
Shane Langston,
director of security.
Maybe he's the guy I got on the phone in Atlantic City.
Why would you say that?
He's the security boss and bosses give orders
and the guys we killed had orders to take us out.
Just a theory.
He could be the guy that got Swan caught up in all this.
Well, if Swan didn't pull him into it first…
I already told you…
Aren't you the guy that said that assumptions kill?
Well, you're assuming that Swan's
the same guy he was back in the 110.
Hey, this is the guy
Reacher chased down outside of Saropian's house.
Same photo as his ID badge. Associate security officer.
Well, that's great.
Swan, Collins, that's two New Age
security personnel somehow involved in this.
Now we got to look into all these fuckers.
Don't forget Marlo Burns.
She knew she was sending us right into a buzzsaw
when she gave us Saropian's address.
So, the entire company's suspect.
We got over a thousand employees.
How we gonna tackle that?
One at a time.
Last night you asked for
a late night warrant for some defense firm,
and an hour later, the place is hit with a smash-and-grab.
Okay, do you know how that makes this department look?
Like we're five steps behind everything.
I made those applications when I had enough for a warrant.
And while you were waiting for them,
all the evidence that you would have collected
from that place is all cleaned out.
And I'll bet you that it is those tin soldiers
that you were supposed to be keeping your black eye on.
It wasn't the army brats. I made it crystal clear to them
not to color outside the lines.
Oh, I see.
You thought, if you told them nicely,
they'd play along?
You're NYPD. These are fucking PIs,
for Chrissakes.
Is this too fucking much for you, Russo?
Lieutenant, lower your voice.
Lower my voice?
You're telling me to lower my voice
in my own fucking office?
Okay.
Would you please go
and find out what they learned, all right?
Am I asking you nicely enough, Russo?
I'll get it handled.
Great.
Close the door.
Who put this song on?
This is the Talking Heads.
You got beef with the Talking Heads?
We're in New York. They're a New York band.
They're a Rhode Island band that moved to New York
and no, I don't have a beef with them. It's just…
"Road to Nowhere," when we're sitting here getting nowhere,
seems a little defeatist.
Besides, it's not even their best song.
Probably prefer "Psycho Killer."
Um, I might have something.
I've been scrubbing the drives for everything
- Swan-related. - And?
And I found an anomaly.
He's the assistant director of security,
so all of his emails have Langston… his boss…
and a half-dozen other security personnel
- cc'd on them. - Makes sense.
I mean, they're a team. They share information.
But he didn't share everything.
There are multiple emails between
Swan and our old friend Marlo Burns. Just them.
- No one else copied. - About what?
Music, but not really.
How do you know?
He wrote,
"I was listening to an album the other day,
thought you might like it.
Jimi Hendrix, Bold as Love.
The sixth song is amazing. Take a listen,
tell me what you think."
Swan hated Hendrix.
Anything with hard guitar.
No Skynyrd, no Hendrix,
no Zeppelin, no Who. I mean, that was his rule.
He's leaving everyone else off the email
and saying he loved something we know he hated.
Could be code.
Or it
could be a guy trying to get laid.
I mean, I once told a girl I loved Georgia O'Keeffe.
We say things.
Yeah. It says the sixth track is called "Little Wing."
Hold on.
I ever tell you you're smart, Neagley?
Not nearly enough.
Right here. A file on a federal defense project
called Little Wing, by far the biggest contract New Age
has ever had.
Four times the size of anything I've seen anywhere else
in their records. A nine-figure contract.
People have murdered for less.
Look at this interoffice memo.
Seems a test
for the Little Wing tech was held for some military brass,
even a senator.
- But what kind of test? And where? - Doesn't say,
but they do note that Senator Malcolm Lavoy
assured he would do all he could to get the congressional votes
to make Little Wing a reality.
And I quote,
"He fully believes in the work we're doing here at New Age
and will do whatever it takes to help us."
Lavoy would fully believe in Snuffleupagus
you pay him enough.
You know this guy?
By reputation.
In D.C., Lavoy's what's known as a paper bag.
His politics and his vote go
whichever way the wind's blowing.
He's known to do some shady shit.
So, if New Age stands to make a fortune on
a government contract and Lavoy is his champion in Congress,
it stands to reason New Age is the wind blowing Lavoy's bag.
That sounds wrong.
So, Swan, who's missing, maybe dirty, maybe not,
is code-texting Marlo Burns,
who tried to have us killed about a program supported
by an ethically-compromised politician.
We need talk to Malcolm Lavoy.
We'll never get close enough to a senator
to find out what he may or may not know.
Oh, we don't need to.
Those guys never even know
what they're voting for.
Thousand-page bills, the legislative record,
they don't read that stuff.
They just vote the way they're told to.
But his legislative director…
they're the guys who actually craft and draft the laws,
which is good for us because those guys
have no security detail.
Okay, but why would those people talk to us?
I can make it so they'll be begging
to tell us what they know.
Something you want to share with the class?
Look, there's a lot of powerful people
in D.C. with, uh…
confidential problems.
Mainly unsavory, but legal, things they do
in private that they'd rather not get made public.
My job is to make sure that their personal business
stays personal.
And the people who know secrets, they keep those secrets.
So, you blackmail?
I incentivize.
- Sounds sleazy, O'D. - It's sleazy-adjacent.
Hey, I got private school tuition
to pay for, okay?
I never break the law.
I simply present the facts to people and let them know
which way the river's gonna flow if they choose
the wrong course of action.
You give me ten minutes to make some phone calls, I'll get
the name of the legislative director and an Achilles' heel.
Do it.
All right.
Thank you.
Reacher, I know you don't want to talk about Swan…
Swan's clean. If he wasn't,
he wouldn't have disappeared like the rest of the guys.
But he didn't disappear like the rest of the guys.
His body was never found His place wasn't trashed.
He wouldn't just leave his dog to die.
Not who Swan was.
Maybe.
Or maybe he ran off so fast
because he knew three pissed-off soldiers
and a kaiju were coming for him.
Dog was collateral damage.
Okay, look,
we don't know what Swan's been up to since the 110th ended.
Right? I mean,
he could have money problems.
He could have been taking payoffs.
Would you believe it if somebody
told you I was taking payoffs?
No.
I'm just saying
maybe we don't know some people as well as we think we do.
There's no way the Tony Swan I recruited is a part of this.
End of story.
See the look on their faces when we whipped out our badges?
They looked like Ralph Terry
when Bill Mazeroski hit his game seven walk-off homer on him.
Oh.
Mazeroski? New rule, kid,
you can't reference shit from more than a decade
- before you were born. - Go, Bucs.
We're so close
to wrapping up this case I can taste it.
What do you think they're gonna give us…
Commendations, promotions?
I like the sound of that.
Pump the brakes, Major.
There's still a hell of a lot of work ahead.
More arrests to be made. Infrastructure to dismantle.
Whole networks of cargo planes, jeeps
and helicopters across three continents.
Just take the W, Gramps.
Don't sass your elders.
Yeah. Take it easy on him, guys. He hasn't had his nap yet.
Damn. Looks like we got some Ivory Soap over here, Reacher.
Meaning?
Meaning this shit's so pure it floats.
How pure?
Ninety-nine percent.
No wonder kids are getting hooked on this shit
left and right.
At ease, sports fans, don't get up.
I hear congratulations are in order.
That's quite the buy 'n bust.
Kilos of poison
and a handful of scumbag dealers off the streets
and ratting on their friends for us.
These are the small fish.
We'll catch the sharks soon enough.
What did I tell you when you started this thing?
This case is gonna be a monster.
Unleash the hounds.
Seems you did.
Speaking of monsters,
how's Hortense the Fourth?
20 months, already into his terrible twos.
Apparently, he's a prodigy.
Good work, everyone. Good work.
Talking about a prodigy,
you're about to hit your Bacardi milestone.
151 cases closed.
Don't add it to the stats sheets till it's done.
People in our profession
are sent overseas where we're shot at,
bombed, blasted from IEDs.
Then these assholes make more money selling this shit
than all our pensions combined.
It's fucked up.
All I'm saying.
How much is 48 bricks worth, anyway?
47. one's missing. There's 47,
not 48.
In an investigation, details matter.
Brick of heroin's a hell of a detail.
That's impossible. I counted 48 at point of sale.
Either you miscounted or they palmed one back to short you.
No, no, no. You do shit like that,
- you're not in the game for long. - I know
we loaded 48 bricks into Swan's ride.
Let's check your car.
Nothing.
Ah.
Mystery solved.
Must have fallen back there when I was driving and gotten stuck.
Guess the first round's on me tonight for that fuckup.
Losing a key of H,
I'd say that's worth two rounds.
What?
Nothing.
I'd actually forgotten about that,
but it doesn't support your argument.
Swan could have been stealing drugs
and just panicked and gave them back.
Maybe he regretted letting a chance at big money go by.
Maybe something like Little Wing came along
and he couldn't pass up that kind of opportunity again.
That's a lot of maybes.
My gut tells me he's a good man.
Your gut's never been wrong before?
You know what I think?
You want Swan to be innocent because
you hired him into the 110th,
and if he's involved in something like this,
you'd do something stupid like
blame yourself for our friends' deaths.
Which, like I said, would be stupid.
Let's just see what O'Donnell found.
- Mr. Mason? - Mm.
Dr. Elzogby.
So, I read your intake,
and upon first glance, I got to say,
got a few questions.
Look, I like a payday as much as the next guy,
but you're quite a handsome fella.
Now, I'm not here to tell you
how to live your life, but
are you really certain you want me to give you a new face?
In a manner of speaking.
Ah…
Don't struggle.
You're a doctor,
you know what's happening.
Your trachea is severed.
Blood is entering your lungs, you're drowning,
your brain is deprived of oxygen
and your nervous system's shutting down. So, by now,
you can barely see me
and now you can't hear me
and now…
…you're dead.
I'm just gonna go and have a word with your secretary.
Daniel Boyd, Senator Lavoy's legislative director.
Spoiled dipshit who's never lifted anything heavier
than a Grey Goose bottle in his life.
C-plus student who got into UVA and Georgetown Law
thanks to Mommy and Daddy's connections. Real party boy.
Two dismissed DWIs in college.
Second year of law school, gets caught with a sex worker.
Charges mysteriously disappeared.
Took his 2.3 GPA straight into private practice.
And now he drafts legislation that
decides the fate of the free world, telling his boss to vote
on whatever benefits the lobbyists who wooed him best.
So, he was born somewhere between third and home base
and never heard the word "consequence."
You gonna pull a few moves from your sleazy-adjacent playbook?
That's the general idea.
Boyd's gonna be in Boston tonight
for a fundraiser event at the Pops.
We'll set him up like a bowling pin.
Yeah.
Oh! You pick up the phone. I thought maybe
you couldn't answer because you broke your hand
when you drove the fucking car through the office building.
I didn't get hurt at all.
You think this is funny?
I told you no more cowboy shit.
The car belonged to one of their employees.
I was returning it.
Listen, wiseass, my boss
almost punched my ticket because of you.
Well, maybe that's a good thing 'cause members of my unit
are falling from the sky like raindrops and you haven't
- done shit. - Hey, hey.
I want everything you got on New Age.
- You understand? - Fine.
That's why I answered the phone this time.
I actually have a reason to talk to you.
I'm gonna send you their security team roster.
Run background checks, see what connections
- these guys have. - W…
Wait, wait, wait. What do you think…
I'm here to do your clerical work?
Yup.
We're busy heading off to Boston.
What's in Boston?
The symphony.
Goddamn it.
Before we head north, though,
Dixon and I should go talk to Marlo Burns,
step on her neck a little bit.
Address is online.
Right there is why I don't have a house.
Yeah, that's the reason.
So, while we do all the work, what are you guys gonna do?
Oh, we're gonna go score some drugs.
Howdy.
Oh, shit.
Five-O! Five-O!
Well, that's just rude.
This just ain't your week.
Find a new line of work, asshole.
She's got a kid.
House clear.
Affirmative.
Anything interesting?
I mean, just some expensive jewelry Marlo left behind.
Left behind?
- Think she bugged out? - She exited
out the back door without locking it,
clothes are all over, clearly packed in a hurry.
Closet and…
cabinets are open.
Well, she took her toothbrush and toothpaste.
Kidnappers don't care about oral hygiene.
Jane's a gamer.
Got good taste.
Uh, you might want to come and see this.
Who the hell goes on the lam
and leaves their cash stash behind?
Apparently, Marlo Burns.
So, to confirm,
you've reserved a Cadillac Escalade,
to be returned within three days' time to JFK Airport.
That's correct.
And to thank you for your loyalty,
we've upgraded you to a SiriusXM Platinum
listening experience, free of charge.
Wonderful.
Thank you for your business, Dr. Elzogby.
Have a wonderful drive.
Would you like this?
Do you know why I love comic books so much?
Oh.
Well, look at you.
Don't you feel more civilized now, Ms. Doolittle?
Wait, where are the clothes you were wearing?
Garbage.
Garbage, why?
I'm already carrying boots.
If I had any more clothes, pretty soon I'd need a suitcase.
I got a suitcase, I need a house to keep it in.
Then I need a car for the driveway.
Before you know it, I'm filling out all kinds of forms.
So, a spare shirt's just too much of an attachment for you?
Anyone ever diagnose you as a sociopath?
Diagnosed?
No.
So…
what do you make of Marlo Burns taking off
with just some clothes and leaving all that cash behind?
Not sure yet.
Well, she did take her toothbrush.
She could be your soul mate.
Shut up.
Not one word.
Holy shit.
That's two words. Another one,
and I'll shove this kitten heel right up your ass.
I'm just saying you look nice. You both look nice.
We look like the assholes on top of a wedding cake.
Here, I'll pay you back in a month when my pension lands.
Yeah, your pension won't cover that suit.
Or the hotel room. Or the plane ticket.
I'll pay you back in two months.
Okay.
Everyone ready?
Let's go listen to some boring-ass music.
Okay.
And, uh, close your mouth, boss.
You're catching flies.
Excuse me.
Thank you. Pardon me.
- Excuse me. - Of course.
Okay.
Oh, no, it's…
- Oh. - Apologies.
Not at all.
I'm-I'm sorry. I'm a little turned around.
I don't know if I have orchestra seats or floor box seats,
and I actually don't even know what that means.
- Okay, well… - Do you mind?
Let's just see what we got here.
Hmm, the mezzanine, that's where you are, but…
- Okay. - that just simply won't cut it.
You see, you want to be down here.
The sound, it just wraps around you
like a fleece.
How about I swap your ticket with my aide when he arrives?
Wouldn't he mind?
Well, not if he wants to keep his job.
Please, take a seat.
Thank you.
In the bag.
We go 13/14s.
8/13s.
Over seven months, six-day working weeks.
Maybe a time sheet clocking hours?
Maybe a ratings scale?
I don't know.
- Top you off? - Yeah.
Yes, ma'am.
And when you get the chance, could you bring me the bill?
This guy doesn't have any money.
Sure. Let me tally it up for you.
Great.
- It's a tally. - What?
Here. 13/14ths.
Something happened 13 times
when it was supposed to happen 14 times.
Uh, here, 11 out of 13. Eight out of 11.
Hey, bud, I just…
Okay, what did I tell you?
Hands are for helping, not hitting.
Apologize to your brother.
Share your Legos, okay?
I love you. To the moon and back.
Okay, bye for now.
Sorry, I don't know why I gave them
my burner number, uh…
Well, you look happy.
I did the math.
There were 2,197 total events, whatever they were.
But they only succeeded 1,547 times.
But that's not the interesting number.
Look how many times they didn't get
the outcome they wanted.
2,197 minus 1,547.
Six hundred and fifty. Holy shit.
Six fifty at 100K each.
It's all connected somehow.
So…
So… hands are for helping?
You have brass knuckles in your pocket.
I got a PAW Patrol Band-Aid and some playground sand, too.
Look, they call nonstop when I'm not there.
And when I am there, it's, you know,
7:00 a.m. weekend soccer games, teacher conferences,
scheduled sex with the wife.
I am no longer my own man.
And you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Not for $65 million.
You are a changed man, O'Donnell.
Yep. Maybe you should give it a go, huh?
Buy some land, start a family.
You'd be the scariest guy at PTA,
but you'd be a good dad.
- If I had land, I'd get four or five… - Four or five dogs.
You'd get four or five dogs, no woman?
Not even Dixon?
She's a friend.
Okay.
Whatever you say.
That was some dress, though.
Hell of a dress.
From Neagley. It's intermission.
Dixon and Boyd are leaving now.
There they are.
That's one hell of a dress.
My car's around the corner. Does that work?
I'll follow anywhere you lead, gorgeous.
- Well, let's go party. - Okay.
Look at her.
Boyd didn't stand a chance.
Neagley again.
- She says my guy's in place. - Mm.
Hey, this friend of yours.
He's gonna come through for us, yeah?
If he was in the Army,
I'd have asked him to join the 110th.
Come here. Mmm…
- Oh, you're all riled up. - Well, what can I say?
Classical music gets my motor running.
Yeah, well, drop it to second, Speed Racer.
- Let's have a little primer first. - Oh…
You're not messing around. All right.
- There we go. Ooh. Ooh. - Yeah. Yes.
Okay, hold this. Hold…
hold that.
I never know how thick or thin to make these things.
- Hey, allow me. - Thank you.
Mm. Uh…
Okay. Ladies first?
Oh, no, you did the work, you get the reward.
If you insist.
Ooh!
- Shit. - Shit.
- Just-just play it cool, just play it cool. - Shit.
Just play it cool.
Sir, you're gonna want
to put the drugs away and step out of the car.
- They're not my drugs. - Which drugs…
the ones on your mirror or up your nose?
You think I own a makeup mirror? They're all hers.
Not what she's saying, and she wasn't holding it.
And she already offered up blood and urine.
Do you want to offer up blood and urine?
Listen, Officer, I hate putting it this way, but…
do you know who I am?
I do, actually, Mr. Boyd.
And I know that woman in the car wasn't Mrs. Boyd.
And I have a special distaste for people
who don't appreciate the sanctity of marriage.
I also know you work for Senator Lavoy.
But when I ran your name in the system,
it set off bells and whistles at the local FBI office.
They sent a couple of their boys down here just to talk to you.
And it seems they don't care who your boss is.
Come on.
Special Agent Jack Margrave.
This is Special Agent Blake.
Lieutenant Oscar Finlay.
Yeah, I'm not talking without my lawyer.
You want to lawyer up?
- Fine. Call them. - I will.
And they'll have me out of here within the hour.
Hmm. You know…
…that's just gonna be too late.
Because by the time they get here,
we'll already have the story
of a senator's legislative director
in the wrong woman's car
with a snout full of booger sugar
on the front page of the Globe and the Herald.
You see,
this is not college or law school, son.
You're not some spoiled rich kid barely rocking a C-plus.
You're a Beltway man now.
Kind of guy that people
enjoy knocking down a peg or two.
So these charges,
they're not just gonna get swept under the rug.
We're not gonna let 'em.
- Want to know why? - Okay. Why?
'Cause we don't like you.
I don't even know
- why you're here. - We're here
'cause we want to know everything there is to know
about Little Wing.
- I should probably… - Yeah, you should.
Yeah. I'm gonna call Mr. Boyd's wife.
Eh, she's probably worried about him over in D.C.
Worried sick.
You know, happy wife, happy life, huh?
Okay. Fine.
- Hello? - Wrong number.
- Talk. - It's not that big of a deal.
Little Wing is just a code name.
- For what? - For a new technology
currently in development.
Some incredible anti-missile software
originally developed to protect commercial aircraft,
but a certain aeronautics company approached us.
Let me guess… New Age?
That's right. New Age.
They found the software could be tweaked.
It could be used in missiles and not just against them.
It could be scaled down and installed
in portable shoulder-fired surface-to-air weaponry.
The software allows missiles
to defeat all known countermeasures.
- How? - That's a question
for a nerd in a lab coat, man.
Okay? All I know is that missiles shot from the ground
completely bypass their target,
making pilots believe the threat has passed,
and then they recalibrate, turn around,
zero back in on the aircraft and reattack.
It's death from above and there is no way to avoid it.
You fire, you hit your target.
Period.
And what's Senator Lavoy's involvement?
Well, the project required an appropriation bill, all right?
You want to get one passed?
You're looking at years of bureaucratic bullshit
all thanks to some arcane laws on modifying civilian tech.
But Lavoy knew Little Wing would slingshot
our military into the future, so if we just sat on our hands,
waiting for it to go through the proper channels,
it would never happen.
So I'm assuming Lavoy didn't clear up the red tape
in the most reputable manner?
I helped bury the proposal in a thousand-page statute
while Lavoy shook hands and drummed up votes.
No one even knew it was in there.
And he did this out of the goodness of his heart?
To protect democracy?
No fat envelopes slipped inside newspapers on park benches?
Grow the fuck up, okay?
It's D.C. It's how shit gets done.
Besides, Lavoy knew Little Wing would save lives.
I mean…
everyone made fun of the Star Wars defense program,
but, hey, look at where we are now.
Everyone's trying to shoot projectiles out of the air.
Little Wing can knock anything out of the sky.
Anything? Like commercial aircraft?
You fire, you hit the target. You said so yourself.
Yeah, but it's our tech. We have it.
Nobody else can get their hands on it.
Nothing like you're thinking is going to happen.
New Age is incredibly secure. Both of their facilities
- implement state-of-the-art… - Both facilities?
- What do you mean? - New Age has two bases.
Software made in New York,
hardware at a manufacturing plant in Denver.
- What else can you tell us? - Nothing.
That's all I know. I swear.
Hey, Lavoy and me… we-we cut some corners,
we did some stuff we should not have done,
but it was all to get a defense bill passed,
protect the country.
How'd that work out?
Hey, excuse me.
So, are the drug charges getting dropped or what?
I don't know. I'm not a cop.
Heck of a surprise getting a call from you.
Hell of a surprise hearing you're wearing the badge again.
Lieutenant, no less.
Yeah, well, retirement didn't suit me.
Speaking of suits, see you're still sporting the tweed.
Reliable as ever, Finlay.
Speak for yourself.
What was it you told me when we first met…
trouble always seems to find you?
You kill a whole lot of people?
Here and there.
- You need my help? - Already gave it.
You still spinning that wedding ring?
Here and there. But feeling better every day.
- And the dog? - Jack eats too much.
Just like his namesake.
Today, boss.
Car's running, and if I don't get out
of this straitjacket soon, things are gonna get ugly.
Neagley?
Didn't recognize you. Looking good.
Mind your business, elbow patches.
Hey, you heard the lady.
If I don't have her in jeans in 20 minutes,
I'm done for.
See you around, Reacher.
See you around, Finlay.
So, Little Wing could be our next 9/11.
- What are our directives? - You and Dixon go to Denver.
The Little Wing software is useless
without the missile hardware, and that's where it's made.
Maybe you can gum up the works,
keep the missiles out of the wrong hands.
O'Donnell and I will head down to D.C.
Want to swing by Homeland, see what they know about A.M.
If taking out airplanes is his M.O.,
they might have some intel on him.
How do you figure we're gonna do that?
You think we're just gonna knock on the door
and say, "Can the DoD come out and play?"
My brother worked for Homeland.
His contacts can help us.
Oh, no shit. How's Joe doing these days?
He's dead.
I'm starving. We should eat.
Dibs on the bathroom.
I need to get changed.
Yeah? You gonna throw it in the garbage
like our sociopathic friend here?
Oh, why, you want to borrow it?
Oh, yeah. I got the ass for it.
Hate to ruin prom night,
but hand over your guns.
What makes you think we have guns?
We were told you'd be packing, Reacher.
They also tell you
you'd die tonight?
I'll die? That's funny.
No guns, so no noise.
They said you were smart.
I'm gonna cut you, gut you
and leave you…
Aah!
Everyone okay?
Yeah. It'll heal.
Never better.
Fucked up my shoes, but I'm fine.
- Yeah. - Before you ask if it's done,
it is, just not in the way you hoped for.
You're causing a very complex operation a lot of problems.
Sixty-five million dollars worth, Langston?
Assume that's who I'm talking to.
Head of security?
Head of this whole thing?
Maybe we've been approaching this the wrong way, Mr. Reacher.
Just Reacher.
Okay, Reacher. Why don't we make a deal?
I have the means to give you anything you could ask for.
What is it that you want?
I want to throw you out of a helicopter.