At first glance, Trevor Saropian seemed completely unremarkable. He ran an office cleaning company.
Such businesses typically handled routine maintenance for large corporations—replacing light bulbs, removing dead plants, cleaning exterior glass panels, waxing floors.
But according to the FBI's investigation, this company was just a front.
Saropian was actually a black glove—a fixer who handled problems for the wealthy.
Contract killing was just one of his services. He also specialized in corporate espionage, kidnappings, extortion, and witness elimination.
If the 110th Special Investigations Unit veterans had become private investigators, operating in a legal gray area, then Saropian was fully immersed in the criminal underworld.
His death wasn't the real problem. The real problem was New Era Technologies.
This New York-based aerospace company focused on advanced technology research and development.
It wasn't as ambitious as SpaceX—that company wasn't even satisfied with the moon, constantly talking about colonizing Mars. But New Era was still a major player, boasting a thousand-strong research team.
The real headache?
New Era Technologies had deep ties to NASA and a military-industrial background.
While its New York headquarters focused on software development, its Denver facility in Colorado was a massive manufacturing plant. They produced radars, military drones, guided weapons, and other high-end military tech.
As veterans, Reacher and the others knew what it meant to mess with a military contractor.
Sure, New Era wasn't on the level of Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, or Raytheon, but any company supplying the military had powerful political backing.
"You knew something before we got here, didn't you?" Reacher narrowed his eyes at Jack.
"Knew what?" Jack looked confused.
Reacher gestured at him. "The disguise, the fake identity, the precautions—you seemed to know from the start that we were dealing with something big."
Jack had expected this question. He had already planned his response.
"The moment I found out Franz was your old teammate—and that he was tortured and thrown out of a helicopter—I knew this wasn't just a random murder."
Jack tapped his fingers on the table.
"Otherwise, why would I immediately charter a private jet from New York to Arkansas just to find you?"
Reacher considered this.
"And my disguise wasn't about being afraid of the enemy." Jack smirked.
"Back in Margrave, I wasn't even with the FBI yet. Did you think I was hiding back then because I was scared of the Kliner family?"
That made Reacher pause.
The others, however, were intrigued.
"What the hell happened in Margrave?" O'Donnell scratched at his stubble, clearly curious.
"Later," Reacher said, suddenly getting it. "You didn't want the FBI officially involved too soon—you wanted to keep the enemy off guard."
Jack shot him a proud teacher smile.
Then he pulled up a DHS report on his laptop.
"This is the latest intel on AM."
There were too many people in the room to waste time. He got straight to the point.
"DHS has been tracking this guy for years, but they don't know much. Just like what Sanchez and Orozco found—no known nationality, no photos. All they do know is that he's a white male in his forties with features resembling South Americans, Italians, Greeks, or Middle Easterners."
"So, basically… a ghost," Dixon muttered.
Jack's description wasn't random. People from those regions tended to have dark hair, dark eyes, and deep facial features.
And there were millions of men who fit that profile.
"Six years ago," Jack continued, "DHS busted a terrorist plot to acquire an experimental neurotoxin. Every single suspect was caught—except AM.
That's when this ghost first appeared on DHS's radar.
They recovered three audio recordings linked to him, but nothing else."
"In that case, AM wasn't the buyer—he was just a broker," Reacher noted.
"Exactly. He has no ideology. His only loyalty is to money—whoever pays the most gets his services."
Reacher skimmed through the report and frowned.
"They were using bearer bonds for transactions?"
Dixon's ears perked up.
Before joining Reacher's 110th Special Investigations Unit, she had been a military accountant. After leaving the service, she worked in financial forensics—similar to what Chris had done.
The difference?
Chris worked for cartels. Dixon worked for private clients and billionaires.
"Bearer bonds are often used for tax evasion and money laundering," she said. "But the U.S. stopped issuing them in the 1980s."
"Other countries still use them," Jack said, pulling up another file.
"AM used Luxembourg-issued bearer bonds in that case."
"This morning, I spoke to Joey—he's looking into it. He'll meet us in New York later with two DHS agents."
Jack was referring to Joey Reacher, Reacher's older brother.
Joey worked for the Secret Service, which was part of DHS. Most people thought the Secret Service just protected VIPs, but they also handled financial crimes and counterfeiting.
"So you think '650' and '100,000 each' refer to a weapons deal?" Nigeli finally pieced it together.
Jack spread his hands. "What else could it be?
We know we're dealing with a weapons broker tied to terrorists.
We know there's a military contractor involved.
We know three investigators got executed for digging too deep.
'650' is probably a weapon model. '100,000' is the unit price.
Which means we're looking at an illegal arms deal worth $65 million—currency unknown."
"Shit," O'Donnell muttered, rubbing his temples. "Now it all makes sense."
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