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The cheerful little gathering didn't last long before the secretary, Yulian Williams—the plump Black woman—peeked in from the doorway, covering the receiver of her phone. "Boss, there's someone at the front desk asking for you. He didn't say what it's about. He calls himself Jack Reacher."
Brian Mills immediately dropped his smile, his expression sharpening with alertness. Mark Casey followed just a beat slower, his hand drifting to a position where he could draw his gun quickly.
Charlize Theron, though not inexperienced, had never witnessed special operations veterans snap into seriousness at such close range.
For someone currently honing her acting skills, the atmosphere hit her like a physical force. It felt as though her throat was being constricted, her heart pounding painfully against her chest.
Henry placed a hand over hers, steadying her. The flush on her face gradually faded. Then he said to his two reliable old friends, "No need to worry. This shouldn't be from that side. It's something else."
He turned toward the door. "Yulian, have Mr. Jack Reacher come up directly. No need for registration. I'll meet him."
"Got it, boss." The secretary withdrew, muttering something to the receptionist outside.
Though no weapons were drawn, Brian and the others began tidying up the table, making the office look presentable.
Brian asked, "Henry, do you know this Jack Reacher?"
"No," Henry replied. "But people from the Continental don't walk in through the front door like this. So I'm guessing he's from Stark's side."
At that name, Brian knew better than to ask further. Though he couldn't help wondering—did "Stark" mean Stark Industries, or Tony Stark himself?
Their acceptance of this security job had the tacit approval of their organization. Officially, they weren't allowed to operate domestically—but as long as nothing was exposed, no one could fault them.
In fact, Brian and his team had an additional covert task: to investigate Stark Pictures, Stark Industries, and Henry Brown.
It was a vague directive—suggesting even their superiors didn't know exactly what to look for. Likely just intelligence gathering, not worth risking exposure.
But what the CIA didn't know was that Brian and his team had long decided to keep Henry's secrets.
After all, a man who could withstand bullets—and even hold up a plane—was a valuable ally in a life-or-death situation. Compared to that, whatever reward they might get for reporting him wasn't worth much.
As long as Henry showed no signs of treason, they would keep quiet. Their reports would stick to trivial details—things not even worth printing in newspapers.
So the CIA was destined to gain nothing.
Henry, of course, had considered the presence of the CIA behind them. But he chose to trust the character of these four men.
And even in the worst case—if the CIA already knew—then at most he'd only need to rely on abilities he had already revealed.
As long as Brian Mills remained on his side, most of his current troubles could be handled.
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For now, however, Henry's attention was on the man calling himself Jack Reacher.
Though the man was still in the elevator, Henry had already seen him through X-ray vision.
A massive figure, built like a bear, with short, neat hair and an unexpectedly sharp presence. Compared to Brian, he carried a completely different aura.
Brian and his team only displayed their military edge when focused. But Jack Reacher didn't feel like a typical soldier.
If someone said he was a professional wrestler, no one would doubt it.
And yet… there was something else.
A kind of weariness.
Like a lone wolf that had wandered the wilderness too long—ragged, but still deadly. No one would doubt its ability to tear into prey when the opportunity arose.
Is it really the person I'm thinking of?
Ding.
The elevator doors opened. In the sudden quiet, the sound felt unusually loud.
The man who stepped out made the secretary outside gasp softly—his presence hitting some instinctive nerve as she visibly flinched.
"Hello. I'm Jack Reacher. Is this Mr. Henry Brown's office?"
The secretary quickly composed herself. "Yes. Mr. Brown is expecting you inside." Though her voice betrayed a slight tremor.
The man didn't seem to notice. He knocked and entered.
Henry stood by his desk, extending a hand. "Hello, I'm Henry Brown. And you are?"
After a brief hesitation, the man shook his hand. "Jack Reacher. Lieutenant, U.S. Army Military Police Special Investigations Unit.
"Under orders, I'm to assist Mr. Tony Stark in an investigation. But I couldn't find him in New York. Instead, his secretary handed me a ticket to Los Angeles.
"She told me I'd get the information I need—and any necessary assistance—from the CEO of Stark Pictures. I hope this isn't some favor you pulled to drag me into personal business."
The warning was clear—Reacher already had some idea about Henry's current troubles.
At the same time, his gaze flicked toward Brian and Mark. The moment they heard "Military Police," their subtle discomfort was impossible to miss.
Henry stepped in smoothly. "They're my security team. Former Army Special Forces—retired. Not under your jurisdiction anymore.
"As for your assignment, I do know about it. I'll explain everything and provide the assistance you need. But I assure you—this isn't my personal matter."
Having set the tone, Henry didn't immediately continue. Instead, he turned to his own people.
"Sweetheart, what I'm about to discuss concerns Tony's private affairs. Without his permission, I can't share details.
"Why don't you head to the supermarket and pick out what you'd like for dinner? I'll cook when I get back."
"Alright, no problem." Having been trained by Katharine Hepburn herself, Charlize had developed a strong sense of boundaries. She didn't hesitate.
Brian also took the hint. "Charlize, do you have a car? I can give you a ride."
Mark stood up as well.
Of course, they were curious about anything involving Tony Stark—whether or not they'd report it to the CIA. But it was obvious Henry wouldn't discuss it in front of outsiders.
Better to leave on their own terms.
Charlize smiled. "That would be great. I was just thinking I'd have to take a cab."
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