THE HARD WAY
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LeeChild Lee Child GONE TOMORROW
LeeChild
Lee Child
Lee Child
Lee Child
Lee Child
Lee Child
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First published in Great Britain in 2003 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers
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Copyright © Lee Child 2003
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ForJaneandtheshorebirds
ONE
Thecopclimbedoutofhiscarexactlyfour minutesbefore hegotshot.Hemovedlike he knewhisfateinadvance. Hepushed the door againsttheresistanceofastiffhingeand swivelledslowlyonthewornvinylseatand plantedbothfeetflatontheroad.Thenhe graspedthedoorframewithbothhandsand heavedhimselfupandout.Hestoodinthecold clearairforasecondandthenturnedandpushed thedoorshutagainbehindhim.Heldstillfor asecond longer.Then he stepped forward and leanedagainstthesideofthehoodupnearthe headlight.
Thecarwasaseven-year-oldChevyCaprice.It wasblackandhadnopolicemarkings.Butit hadthreeradioantennasandplainchromehubs. MostcopsyoutalktosweartheCapricewas thebestpolicevehicleeverbuilt.Thisguylooked likeheagreedwiththem.Helookedlikea veteranplain-clothesdetectivewiththewholeof themotorpoolathisdisposal.Likehedrovethe ancientChevybecausehewantedto.Likehe wasn’tinterestedinthenewFords.Icouldsee
thatkindofstubbornold-timerpersonalityinthe wayheheldhimself.Hewaswideandbulkyina plaindarksuitmadefromsomekindofheavy wool.Hewastallbutstooped.Anoldman.He turnedhisheadandlookednorthandsouthalong theroadandthencranedhisthicknecktoglance backoverhisshoulderatthecollegegate.Hewas thirtyyardsawayfromme.
Thecollegegateitselfwaspurelyaceremonial thing.Twotallbrickpillarsjustroseupfroma longexpanseoftendedlawnbehindthesidewalk. Connectingthepillarswasahighdoublegate madefromironbarsbentandfoldedandtwisted intofancyshapes.Itwasshinyblack.Itlooked likeithadjustbeenrepainted.Itwasprobably repaintedaftereverywinter.Ithadnosecurity function.Anybodywhowantedtoavoiditcould drivestraightacrossthelawn.Itwaswideopen, anyway.Therewasadrivewaybehinditwith littleknee-highironpostsseteightfeetbackon either side. Theyhadlatches. Eachhalfofthe gatewaslatchedintooneofthem.Wideopen. Thedrivewayledondowntoahuddleofmellow brickbuildingsaboutahundredyardsaway.The buildingshadsteepmossyroofsandwereoverhungbytrees.Thedrivewaywaslinedwithtrees. Thesidewalk waslined withtrees.There were treeseverywhere.Theirleaveswerejustabout comingin.Theyweretinyandcurledandbright green.Sixmonthsfromnowtheywouldbebig andredandgoldenandphotographerswouldbe swarmingallovertheplacetakingpicturesof themforthecollegebrochure.
Twentyyardsbeyondthecopandhiscarand
thegatewasapick-uptruckparkedontheother sideoftheroad.Itwastightagainstthekerb.It wasfacingtowardsme,fiftyyardsaway.Itlooked alittleoutofplace.Itwasfadedredandhadabig bullbaronthefront.Thebarwasdullblackand lookedlikeithadbeenbentandstraighteneda coupleoftimes.Thereweretwomeninthecab. Theywereyoung,tall,clean-cut,fair-haired.They werejustsittingthere,completelystill,gazing forward,lookingatnothinginparticular.They weren’tlookingatthecop.Theyweren’tlooking atme.
Iwassetuptothesouth.Ihadananonymous brownpanelvanparkedoutsideamusicstore. Thestorewasthekindofplaceyoufindneara collegegate.IthadusedCDsinracksoutonthe sidewalkandpostersinthewindowsbehindthem advertisingbandspeoplehaveneverheardof.I hadthevan’sreardoorsopen.Therewereboxes stackedinside.Ihadasheafofpaperworkinmy hands.Iwaswearingacoat,becauseitwasacold Aprilmorning.Iwaswearinggloves,becausethe boxesinthevanhadloosestapleswheretheyhad beentornopen.Iwaswearingagun,becauseI oftendo.Itwaswedgedinmypants,attheback, underthecoat.ItwasaColtAnaconda,whichis ahugestainlesssteelrevolverchamberedforthe .44Magnumcartridge.Itwasthirteenandahalf incheslongandweighedalmostfourpounds.Not myfirstchoiceofweapon.Itwashardandheavy andcoldandIwasawareofitallthetime.
Ipausedinthemiddleofthesidewalkand lookedupfrommypapersandheardthedistant pick-up’senginestart.Itdidn’tgoanywhere.It
stayedwhereitwas,justidling.Whiteexhaust pooledarounditsrearwheels.Theairwascold.It wasearlyandthestreetwasdeserted.Istepped behindmyvanandglanceddownthesideofthe musicstoretowardsthecollegebuildings.Sawa blackLincolnTownCarwaitingoutsideoneof them.Thereweretwoguysstandingnexttoit. Iwasahundredyardsawaybutneitherone ofthemlookedlikealimodriver.Limodrivers don’tcomeinpairsandtheydon’tlookyoung andheavyandtheydon’tacttenseandwary. Theseguyslookedexactlylikebodyguards.
ThebuildingtheLincolnwaswaitingoutside lookedlikesomekindofsmalldormitory.Ithad Greeklettersoverabigwoodendoor.Iwatched andthebigwoodendooropenedupandayoung thinguysteppedout.Helookedlikeastudent. Hehadlongmessyhairandwasdressedlikea homelesspersonbutcarrieda bag thatlooked likeshinyexpensiveleather.Oneofthebodyguardsstoodpointwhiletheotherheldthecar doorandtheyoungthinguytossedhisbagonto thebackseatandslidrightinafterit.Hepulled thedoorshutbehindhimself.Ihearditslam, faintandmuffledfromahundredyardsaway. Thebodyguardsglancedaroundforasecond andthengotinthefronttogetherandamoment laterthecarmovedaway.Thirtyyardsbehindit acollegesecurityvehiclesnuffledslowlyinthe samedirection,notlikeitwasintendingtomake upaconvoybutlikeitjusthappenedtobethere anyway.Thereweretworent-a-copsinit.They wereslumpeddownlowintheirseatsandthey lookedaimlessandbored.
Itookmyglovesoffandtossedthemintothe backofmyvan.Steppedoutintotheroadwhere myviewwasbetter.IsawtheLincolncomeup thedrivewayatamoderatespeed.Itwasblack andshinyandimmaculate.Ithadplentyof chromeonit.Plentyofwax.Thecollegecops werewaybehindit.Itpausedattheceremonial gateandturnedleftandcamesouthtowardsthe blackpoliceCaprice.Towardsme.
What happenednext occupied eightseconds, butitfeltliketheblinkofaneye.
Thefadedredpick-upmovedoffthekerb twentyyardsback.Itacceleratedhard.Itcaught upwiththeLincolnandpulledoutandpassed it exactlylevelwiththecop’s Caprice.Itcame withinafootofthecop’sknees.Thenit acceleratedagainandpulledalittlewayahead anditsdriverswungthewheelhardandthe cornerofthebullbarsmashedsquareintothe Lincoln’s frontfender.Thepick-updriverkept thewheelturnedandhisfootharddownand forcedtheLincolnofftheroadontotheshoulder. ThegrasstoreupandtheLincolnslowed radicallyandthenhitatreehead-on.Therewas the boom ofmetalcavingandtearingandheadlightglassshatteringandtherewasabigcloudof steamandthetree’stinygreenleavesshookand quiverednoisilyinthestillmorningair.
Thenthetwoguysinthepick-upcameout shooting.Theyhadblackmachinepistolsand werefiringthemattheLincoln.Thesoundwas deafeningandIcouldseearcsofspentbrass rainingdownontheblacktop.Thentheguys werepullingattheLincoln’sdoors.Haulingthem
open.Oneofthemleanedintothebackand starteddraggingthethinkidout.Theotherwas stillfiringhisgunintothefront.Thenhereached intohispocketleft-handedandcameoutwith somekindofgrenade.Tosseditinsidethe Lincolnandslammedthedoorsandgrabbedhis buddyandthekidbytheshouldersandturned themawayandhauledthemdownintoacrouch. Therewasaloudbrightexplosioninsidethe Lincoln.Allsixwindowsshattered.Iwasmore thantwentyyardsawayandfelteverybitof theconcussion.Pebblesofglassbleweverywhere. Theymade rainbowsin the sun.Thentheguy whohadtossedthe grenadescrambledupand sprintedforthepassengersideofthepick-up andtheotherstraight-armedthekidinsidethe cabandcrowded rightinafterhim.Thedoors slammedshutandIsawthekidtrappedinthere onthecentreseat.Isawterrorinhisface.Itwas whitewithshockandthroughthedirtywindshieldIsawhismouthopeninginasilentscream. Isawthedriverworkingthegearsandheardthe engineroaringandthetyressquealingandthen thetruckwascomingdirectlytowardsme.
ItwasaToyota.Icouldsee toyota onthegrille behindthebullbar.Itrodehighonitssuspension andIcouldseeabigblackdifferentialatthe front.Itwasthesizeofasoccerball.Four-wheel drive.Bigfattyres.Dentsandfadedpaintthat hadn’tbeenwashedsinceitleftthefactory.Itwas comingstraightatme.
Ihadlessthanasecondtodecide. Iflippedthetailofmycoatandpulledout theColt.Aimedverycarefullyandfiredonceat
theToyota’sgrille.Thebiggunflashedand roaredandkickedinmyhand.Thehuge.44slug shatteredtheradiator.Ifiredagainattheleft fronttyre.Blewitoutinaspectacularexplosion ofblackrubberdebris.Yardsofblowntread whippedthroughtheair.Thetruckslewedand stoppedwiththedriver’ssidefacingme.Ten yardsaway.Iduckedbehindthebackofmy vanandslammedthereardoorsandcameout onthesidewalkandfiredagainattheleftrear tyre.Sameresult.Rubbereverywhere.Thetruck crasheddownonitsleft-siderimsatasteep angle.Thedriveropenedhisdoorandspilledout ontheblacktopandscrambledupononeknee. Hehadhisguninthewronghand.Hejuggledit acrossandIwaiteduntilIwasfairlysurehe wasgoingtopointitatme.ThenIusedmyleft handtocradlemyrightforearmagainsttheColt’s four-poundweightandaimedcarefullyatcentre masslikeIhadbeentaughtalongtimeagoand pulledthetrigger.Theguy’schestseemedto explodeinahugecloudofblood.Theskinny kidwasrigidinsidethecab.Juststaringinshock andhorror.Butthesecondguywasoutofthe cabandscramblingaroundthefrontofthehood towardsme.Hisgunwascomingroundatme.I swivelledleftandpausedabeatandcradledmy forearm.Aimedathischest.Fired.Sameresult. Hewentdownonhisbackbehindthefenderina cloudofredvapour.
Nowtheskinnykidwasmovinginthecab.I ranforhimandpulledhimoutrightoverthefirst guy’sbody.Ranhimbacktomyvan.Hewaslimp withshockandconfusion.Ishovedhimintothe
passengerseatandslammedthedooronhimand spunroundandheadedforthedriver’sside.In thecornerofmyeyeIsawathirdguycoming straightforme.Reachingintohisjacket.Some tallheavyguy.Darkclothes.Ibracedmyarmand firedandsawthebigredexplosioninhischestat exactlythesamesplitsecondIrealizeditwasthe oldcopfromtheCapriceandhehadbeenreachingintohispocketforhisbadge.Thebadgewasa goldshieldinawornleatherholderanditflewup outofhishandandtumbledendoverendand landedhardagainstthekerbrightinfrontofmy van.
Timestoodstill.
Istaredatthecop.Hewasonhisbackinthe gutter.Hiswholechestwasamessofred.Itwas alloverhim.Therewasnowellingorpumping. Nosignofaheartbeat.Therewasabigragged holeinhisshirt.Hewascompletelystill.Hishead wasturnedandhischeekwashardagainstthe blacktop.HisarmswereflungoutandIcouldsee paleveinsinhishands.Iwasawareoftheblacknessoftheroadandthevividgreenofthegrass andthebrightblueofthesky.Icouldhear thethrillofthebreezeinthenewleavesoverthe gunshotsstillroaringinmyears.Isawtheskinny kid staringoutthrough myvan’swindshieldat thedowned cop andthen staring at me. I saw thecollegesecuritycruisercomingleftoutofthe gate.Itwasmovingslowerthanitshouldhave been.Dozensofshotshadbeenfired.Maybethey wereworriedaboutwheretheirjurisdiction beganandwhereitended.Maybetheywerejust scared.Isawtheirpalepinkfacesbehindtheir
windshield.Theywereturnedinmydirection. Theircarwasdoingmaybefifteenmilesanhour. Itwascrawlingstraightatme.Iglancedatthe goldshieldinthegutter.Themetalwasworn smoothbyalifetimeofuse.Iglancedatmyvan. Stoodcompletelystill.OnethingIlearnedalong timeagoisthatit’seasyenoughtoshootaman. Butthere’sabsolutelynowaytounshootone.
Iheardthecollegecarrollingslowlytowards me.Hearditstyrescrushinggritontheblacktop. Everythingelsewassilence.Thentimerestarted andavoiceinmyheadscreamed gogogo andI ranforit.Iscrambledintothevanandthrewthe gundownonthemiddleseatandfiredupthe engineandpulledaU-turnsohardwecame upontwowheels.Theskinnykidwasthrown allovertheplace.Igotthewheelstraightand stampedonthegasandtookoffsouth.Ihada limitedviewinthemirrorbutIsawthecollege copslightuptheirroofbarandcomerightafter me.Thekidnextto me was totallysilent.His mouthwashangingopen.Hewasconcentrating onstayinginhisseat.Iwasconcentratingon accelerating as hard as Icould.Trafficwas mercifullylight.ItwasasleepyNewEngland town,earlyinthemorning.Igotthevanwound uptoaboutseventymilesanhourandtightened myhandsonthewheeluntilmyknucklesshowed whiteand juststaredatthe road ahead, like I didn’twanttoseewhatwasbehindme.
‘Howfarbackarethey?’Iaskedthekid. Hedidn’trespond.Hewasslackwithshock andcrunchedupinthecornerofhisseat,asfar awayfrommeashecouldget.Hewasstaringat
theroof.Hehadhisrighthandbracedagainstthe door.Paleskin,longfingers.
‘Howfarback?’Iaskedagain.Theenginewas roaringloud.
‘Youkilledacop,’hesaid.‘Thatoldguywasa cop,youknow.’
‘Iknow.’
‘Youshothim.’
‘Accident,’ Isaid. ‘How farbackarethe others?’
‘Hewasshowingyouhisbadge.’
‘Howfarbackaretheothers?’
Hestirredhimselfandturnedroundand duckedhisheadalittlesohecouldlineupthe viewoutofthesmallrearwindows.
‘Hundredfeet,’hesaid.Hesoundedvagueand scared.‘Realclose.Oneofthemishangingout thewindowwithagun.’
RightoncueIheardthedistantpopofa handgunovertheroaroftheengineandthe whineofthetyres.IpickeduptheColtfromthe seatbesideme.Droppeditagain.Itwasempty.I hadfiredsixtimesalready.Aradiator,twotyres, twoguys.Andonecop.
‘Glovecompartment,’Isaid.
‘Youshouldstop,’hesaid.‘Explaintothem. Youwerehelpingme.Itwasamistake.’He wasn’tlookingatme.Hewasstaringoutofthe backwindows.
‘Ishotacop,’Isaid.Ikeptmyvoicecompletely neutral.‘That’salltheyknow.That’sallthey wanttoknow.Theyaren’tgoingtocareabout howorwhy.’
Thekidsaidnothing. 18
‘Glovecompartment,’Isaidagain. Heturnedagainandfumbledthelidopen. TherewasanotherAnacondainthere.Identical. Shinystainlesssteel,fullyloaded.Itookitfrom the kid. Wound my windowall thewaydown. Coldairrushedinlikeagale.Itcarriedthesound ofahandgunfiringrightbehindus,fastand steady.
‘Shit,’Isaid.
Thekidsaidnothing.Theshotskeptcoming, loudanddullandpercussive. Howwerethey missing?
‘Getdownonthefloor,’Isaid.
Islidsidewaysuntilmyleftshoulderwas jammedhardagainstthedoorframeandcraned myrightarmallthewayrounduntilthenewgun wasoutofthewindowandpointingbackward.I firedonceandthekidstaredatmeinhorrorand thenslidforwardandcroucheddowninthespace betweenthefrontedgeofhisseatandthedash withhisarmswrappedaroundhishead.Asecond latertherearwindowtenfeetbehindwherehis headhadbeenexploded.
‘Shit,’Isaidagain.Steeredforthesideofthe roadtoimprovemyangle.Firedbehindusagain.
‘Ineedyoutowatch,’Isaid.‘Staydownasfar asyoucan.’
Thekiddidn’tmove.
‘Getup,’Isaid.‘ Now.Ineedyoutowatch.’ Heraisedhimselfalittleandtwistedround untilhis headwas justhighenoughtoseeout theback.Isaw himregistertheshatteredrear window.Sawhimrealizethathisheadhadbeen rightinlinewithit.
‘I’mgoingtoslowdownalittle,’Isaid.‘Going topullinsothey’llpullouttopassme.’
‘Don’tdoit,’thekidsaid.‘Youcanstillputthis right.’
I ignored him. Droppedthespeedtomaybe fiftyandpulledrightandthecollegecarinstinctivelydriftedlefttocomeuponmyflank.Ifired mylastthreechambersatitanditswindshield shatteredanditslewedallthewayacrossthe roadlikemaybethedriverwashitoratyre hadgone.Itploughednose-firstintotheopposite shoulderandsmashedthroughalineofplanted shrubsandthenitwaslosttosight.Idroppedthe emptygunontheseatbesidemeandwoundthe windowupandacceleratedhard.Thekidsaid nothing.Juststaredintotherearofthevan.The brokenwindowbacktherewasmakingaweird moaningsoundastheairsuckedoutthroughit.
‘OK,’Isaid.Iwasoutofbreath.‘Nowwe’re goodtogo.’
Thekidturnedtofaceme.
‘Areyoucrazy?’hesaid.
‘Youknowwhathappenstopeoplewhoshoot cops?’Isaidback.
Hehadnoreplytothat.Wedroveonin silenceformaybethirtywholeseconds,more thanhalfamile,blinkingandpantingandstaring straightaheadthroughthewindshieldlikewe weremesmerized.Theinsideofthevanstankof gunpowder.
‘Itwasanaccident,’Isaid.‘Ican’tbringhim back.Sogetoverit.’
‘Who are you?’heasked. ‘No,whoare you ?’Iaskedback.
Hewentquiet.Hewasbreathinghard.I checkedthemirror.Theroadwascompletely emptybehindus.Completelyemptyaheadofus. Wewerewayoutinopencountry. Maybeten minutesfromahighwaycloverleaf.
‘I’matarget,’hesaid.‘Forabduction.’ Itwasanoddwordtouse.
‘Theyweretryingtokidnapme,’hesaid. ‘Youthink?’
Henodded.‘It’shappenedbefore.’ ‘Why?’
‘Money,’thekidsaid.‘Whyelse?’ ‘Yourich?’
‘Myfatheris.’ ‘Whoishe?’ ‘Justaguy.’
‘Butarichguy,’Isaid. ‘He’sarugimporter.’
‘Rugs?’Isaid.‘What,likecarpets?’ ‘Orientalrugs.’
‘YoucangetrichimportingOrientalrugs?’ ‘Very,’thekidsaid.
‘Yougotaname?’
‘Richard,’hesaid.‘RichardBeck.’ Icheckedthemirroragain.Theroadwasstill emptybehind.Stillemptyahead.Islowedalittle andsteadiedthevaninthecentreofmylaneand triedtodriveonlikeanormalperson.
‘Sowhowerethoseguys?’Iasked. RichardBeckshookhishead.‘Ihavenoidea.’ ‘Theyknewwhereyouweregoingtobe.And when.’
‘Iwasgoinghomeformymother’sbirthday. It’stomorrow.’
‘Whowouldknowthat?’
‘I’mnotsure.Anybodywhoknowsmyfamily. Anybodyintherugcommunity,Iguess.We’re wellknown.’
‘There’sacommunity?’Isaid.‘Rugs?’ ‘Weallcompete,’hesaid.‘Samesources,same market.Weallknoweachother.’
Isaidnothing.Justdroveon,sixtymilesan hour.
‘You gotaname?’heaskedme. ‘No,’Isaid.
Henodded,likeheunderstood. Smartboy . ‘Whatareyougoingtodo?’heasked.
‘I’mgoingtoletyououtnearthehighway,’I said.‘Youcanhitcharideorcallacabandthen youcanforgetallaboutme.’
Hewentveryquiet.
‘Ican’ttakeyoutothecops,’Isaid.‘That’sjust notpossible.Youunderstandthat,right?Ikilled one.Maybethree.Yousawmedoit.’
He stayedquiet. Decision time.The highway wassixminutesahead.
‘They’llthrowawaythekey,’Isaid.‘Iscrewed up,itwasanaccident,buttheyaren’tgoingto listen.Theyneverdo.Sodon’taskmetogo anywherenear anybody .Notasawitness,notas nothing.I’moutofherelikeIdon’texist.We absolutelyclearonthat?’
Hedidn’tspeak.
‘Anddon’tgivethemadescription,’Isaid. ‘Tellthemyoudon’trememberme.Tellthem youwereinshock.OrI’llfindyouandI’llkill you.’
Hedidn’tanswer.
‘I’llletyououtsomewhere,’Isaid.‘Likeyou neversawme.’XX
Hemoved. Turnedsideways onhisseatand lookedstraightatme.
‘Takemehome,’hesaid.‘Alltheway.We’ll giveyoumoney.Helpyouout.We’llhideyou,if youwant.Myfolkswillbegrateful.Imean, I’m grateful.Believeme.Yousavedmyass.Thecop thing,itwasanaccident,right?Justanaccident. Yougotunlucky.Itwasapressuresituation.Ican understandthat.We’llkeepitquiet.’
‘Idon’tneedyourhelp,’Isaid.‘Ijustneedto getridofyou.’
‘ButIneedtogethome,’ hesaid.‘We’d be helpingeachother.’
Thehighwaywasfourminutesahead. ‘Where’shome?’Iasked.
‘Abbot,’hesaid. ‘Abbotwhat?’
‘Abbot,Maine,’hesaid.‘Onthecoast. BetweenKennebunkportandPortland.’ ‘We’reheadinginthewrongdirection.’ ‘Youcanturnnorthonthehighway.’
‘It’sgottobetwohundredmiles,minimum.’ ‘We’llgiveyoumoney.We’llmakeitworth yourwhile.’
‘IcouldletyououtnearBoston,’Isaid.‘Gotto beabustoPortland.’
Heshookhishead,violently,likeaseizure.
‘Noway,’hesaid.‘Ican’ttakethebus.Ican’t bealone.Notnow.Ineedprotection.Thoseguys mightstillbeoutthere.’
‘Thoseguysaredead,’Isaid.‘Likethedamn cop.’
‘Theymighthaveassociates.’
Itwasanotheroddwordtouse.Helooked smallandthinandscared.Therewasapulse jumpinginhisneck.Heusedbothhandstopull hishairawayfromhisheadandturnedtowards thewindshieldtoletmeseehisleftear.Itwasn’t there.Therewasjustahardknobofscartissue.It lookedlikeasmallpieceofuncookedpasta.Like arawtortellinifloret.
‘Theycutitoffandmailedit,’hesaid.‘Thefirst time.’
‘When?’ ‘Iwasfifteen.’
‘Yourdaddidn’tpayup?’
‘Notquicklyenough.’
Isaidnothing.RichardBeckjustsatthere, showingmehisscar,shockedandscaredand breathinglikeamachine.
‘YouOK?’Iasked.
‘Takemehome,’hesaid.Likehewaspleading. ‘Ican’tbealonenow.’
Thehighwaywastwominutesahead.
‘Please,’hesaid.‘Helpme.’
‘Shit,’Isaid,forthethirdtime.
‘Please.Wecanhelpeachother.Youneed tohideout.’
‘Wecan’tkeepthisvan,’Isaid.‘Wehaveto assumethedescriptionisontheairalloverthe state.’
Hestaredatme,fullofhope.Thehighwaywas oneminuteahead.
‘We’llhavetofindacar,’Isaid.
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere.Therearecarsallovertheplace.’
Therewasabigsprawlingout-of-town shoppingmallnestledsouthandwestofthehighwayinterchange.Icouldalreadyseeitinthe distance.Thereweregianttanbuildingswithno windowsandbrightneonsigns.Thereweregiant parkinglotsabouthalffilledwithcars.Ipulledin anddroveonceroundthewholeplace.Itwasas bigasatown.Therewerepeopleeverywhere. Theymademenervous.Icameroundagainand headedinpastalineoftrashcontainerstothe rearofabigdepartmentstore.
‘Wherearewegoing?’Richardasked. ‘Staffparking,’Isaid.‘Customers areinand outalldaylong.Unpredictable.Butstorepeople areintherefortheduration.Safer.’
Helookedatmelikehedidn’tunderstand.I headedfor a lineofeight cars parkedhead-on againstablankwall.Therewasanemptyslotnext toadull-colouredNissanMaximaaboutthree yearsold.Itwoulddo.Itwasaprettyanonymous vehicle.Thelotwasabackwater,quietandprivate. Ipulledbeyondtheemptyslotandbackedupinto it.Putthevan’sreardoorstightagainstthewall.
‘Gottohidethebustedwindow,’Isaid.
Thekidsaidnothing.IputbothemptyColts intomycoatpocketsandslidout.Triedthe Maxima’sdoors.
‘Findmesomewire,’Isaid.‘Likeheavy electricalcableoracoathanger.’
‘You’regoingtostealthiscar?’
Inodded.Saidnothing. ‘Isthatsmart?’
‘You’dthinksoifitwasyouwho’daccidentally shotacop.’
Thekidlookedblankforasecondandthen cametoandscoutedaround.Iemptiedthe Anacondasandtossedthetwelvespentshell casesintoagarbagecontainer.Thekidcameback withathree-footlengthofelectricalwirefroma trashpile.Istrippedtheinsulationwithmyteeth andmadealittlehookintheendandshovedit pasttherubbersealingstriproundtheMaxima’s window.
‘You’rethelookout,’Isaid.
HesteppedawayandscannedthelotandIfed thewiredowninsidethecarandjiggleditaround andjiggledthedoorhandleuntilitpoppedopen. Itossedthewirebackinthetrashandbentdown underthesteeringcolumnandpulledoffthe plasticshroud.Sortedthroughthewiresin thereuntilIfoundthetwoIneededandtouched themtogether.Thestartermotorwhinedandthe engineturnedoverandcaughtandransteadily. Thekidlookedsuitablyimpressed.
‘Misspentyouth,’Isaid. ‘Isthissmart?’heaskedagain.
Inodded.‘Smartaswecanget.Itwon’tbe misseduntilsixtonight,maybeeight.Whenever thestorecloses.You’llbehomelongbefore then.’
Hepausedwithhishandonthepassengerdoor andthenkindofshookhimselfandducked inside.Irackedthedriver’sseatbackand adjustedthemirrorandbackedoutoftheslot. Tookiteasythroughthemalllot.Therewasa copcarcrawlingaroundaboutahundredyards away.IparkedagaininthefirstplaceIsawand sattherewiththeenginerunninguntilthecop
movedaway.ThenIhustledfortheexitand aroundthecloverleafandtwominuteslaterwe wereheadingnorthonawidesmoothhighwayat arespectablesixtymilesanhour.Thecarsmelled stronglyofperfumeandthereweretwoboxes oftissuesinit.Therewassomekindoffurry bearstuckontherearwindowwithclearplastic suckerswhereitspawsshouldhavebeen.There wasaLittleLeaguegloveonthebackseatandI couldhearanaluminiumbatrattlingaroundin thetrunk.
‘Mom’staxi,’Isaid. Thekiddidn’tanswer.
‘Don’tworry,’Isaid.‘She’sprobablyinsured. Probablyasolidcitizen.’
‘Don’tyoufeelbad?’hesaid.‘Aboutthecop?’ Iglancedathim.Hewasthinandpaleand crunchedupagainasfarfrommeashecouldget. Hishandwasrestingagainstthedoor.Hislong fingersmadehimlookalittlelikeamusician.I thinkhewantedtolikeme,butIdidn’tneedhim to.
‘Shithappens,’Isaid.‘Noneedtogetall workedupaboutit.’
‘Whatthehellkindofansweristhat?’ ‘Theonlykind.Itwasminorcollateraldamage. Meansnothingunlessitcomesbacktobiteus. Bottomline,wecan’tchangeit,sowemoveon.’ Hesaidnothing.
‘Anyway,itwasyourdad’sfault,’Isaid. ‘Forbeingrichandhavingason?’ ‘Forhiringlousybodyguards.’ Helookedaway.Saidnothing. ‘They were bodyguards,right?’
Henodded.Saidnothing.
‘Sodon’t you feelbad?’Iasked.‘Aboutthem?’ ‘Alittle,’hesaid.‘Iguess.Ididn’tknowthem well.’
‘Theywereuseless,’Isaid. ‘Ithappenedsofast.’
‘Thebadguyswerewaitingrightthere,’Isaid. ‘Arattyoldpick-uplikethatjusthangingaround inaprissylittlecollegetown?Whatkindofbodyguardsdon’tnoticeathinglikethat?Theynever heardofthreatassessment?’
‘Yousayingyounoticed?’ Inodded.‘Inoticed.’
‘Notbadforavandriver.’
‘Iwasinthearmy.Iwasamilitarycop. Iunderstandbodyguarding.AndIunderstand collateraldamage.’
Thekidnodded,uncertainly.
‘Yougotanameyet?’heasked.
‘Depends,’Isaid.‘Ineedtounderstandyour pointofview.Icouldbeinallkindsoftrouble. AtleastonecopisdeadandnowIjuststolea car.’
Hewentquiet.Imatchedhim,mileformile. Gavehimtimetothink.Wewerealmostoutof Massachusetts.
‘Myfamilyappreciatesloyalty,’hesaid. ‘Youdidtheirsonaservice.Andyoudid them a service.Savedthemsomemoney,atleast.They’ll showtheirgratitude.I’msurethelastthingthey’ll doisratyouout.’
‘Youneedtocallthem?’
Heshookhishead.‘They’reexpectingme.As longasIshowupthere’snoneedtocallthem.’
‘Thecopswillcallthem.Theythinkyou’rein bigtrouble.’
‘Theydon’thavethenumber.Nobodydoes.’ ‘Thecollegemusthaveyouraddress.Theycan findyournumber.’
Heshookhisheadagain.‘Thecollegedoesn’t havetheaddress.Nobodydoes.We’reverycareful aboutstufflikethat.’
Ishruggedandkeptquietanddroveanother mile.
‘Sowhataboutyou?’Isaid.‘Yougoingtorat meout?’
Isawhimtouchhisrightear.Theonethat wasstillthere.Itwasclearlyacompletelysubconsciousgesture.
‘Yousavedmyass,’hesaid.‘I’mnotgoingto ratyouout.’
‘OK,’Isaid.‘MynameisReacher.’
Wespentafewminutescuttingacrossatiny cornerofVermontandthenstruckoutnorthand eastacrossNewHampshire.Settledinforthe long,longdrive.Theadrenalindrainedawayand thekidgotoverhisstateofshockandweboth endedupalittledownandsleepy.Icrackedthe windowtogetsomeairinandsomeperfume out.Itmadethecarnoisybutitkeptmeawake. Wetalkedalittle.RichardBecktoldmehewas twentyyearsold.Hewasinhisjunioryear.He wasmajoringinsomekindofcontemporaryart expressionthingthatsoundedalotlikefinger paintingtome.Hewasn’tgoodatrelationships. Hewasanonlychild.Therewasalotofambivalenceabouthisfamily.Theywereclearlysome
kindoftightclose-knitclanandhalfofhim wantedoutandtheotherhalfneededtobein. Hewasclearlyverytraumatizedbytheprevious kidnap.Itmademewonderwhethersomething hadbeendonetohim,apartfromtheearthing. Maybesomethingmuchworse.
Itoldhimaboutthearmy.Ilaiditonpretty thickaboutmybodyguardingqualifications.I wantedhimtofeelhewasingoodhands,atleast temporarily.Idrovefastandsteady.TheMaxima hadjustbeenfilled.Wedidn’tneedtostopfor gas.Hedidn’twantlunch.Istoppedonceto useamen’sroom.LefttheenginerunningsoI wouldn’thavetofiddlewiththeignitionwires again.Camebacktothecarandfoundhiminert insideit.Wegotbackontheroadandpassedby ConcordinNewHampshireandheadedtowards PortlandinMaine.Timepassed.Hegotmore relaxedthecloserwegottohome.Buthegot quieter,too.Ambivalence.
Wecrossedthestatelineandthenabout twentymilesshortofPortlandhesquirmedround andcheckedtheviewoutofthebackvery carefullyandtoldmetotakethenextexit.We turnedontoanarrowroadheadingdueeast towardstheAtlantic.ItpassedunderI-95and thenranmorethanfifteenmilesacrossgranite headlandstothesea.Itwasthekindoflandscape thatwouldhavelookedgreatinsummer.Butit wasstillcoldandraw.Thereweretreesstunted bysaltwindsandexposedrockoutcropswhere galesandstormtideshadscouredthedirtaway. Theroadtwistedandturnedlikeitwastryingto fightitswayasfareastasitcouldget.Iglimpsed
theoceanahead.Itwasasgreyasiron.We pushedonpastinletstotheleftandright.Isaw smallbeachesmadeofgrittysand.Thentheroad curvedleftandimmediatelyrightandroseup ontoaheadlandshapedlikethepalmofahand. Thepalmnarrowedabruptlyintoasinglefinger juttingdirectlyouttosea.Itwasarockpeninsula maybeahundredyardswideandhalfamilelong. Icouldfeelthewindbuffetingthecar.Idroveout ontothepeninsula andsaw alineofbentand stuntedevergreentreesthatweretryingtohidea highgranitewallbutweren’tquitetallenoughor thickenoughtosucceed.Thewallwasmaybe eightfeettall.Itwastoppedwithbigcoilsof razorwire.Ithadsecuritylightsmountedat intervals.Itranlaterallyallthewayacrossthe hundred-yardwidthofthefinger.Itcanteddown suddenlyattheendsandranallthewayintothe sea,whereitsmassivefoundationswerebuilton hugestoneblocks.Theblocksweremossywith seaweed.Therewasanirongatesetinthewall, deadcentre.Itwasclosed.
‘Thisisit,’RichardBecksaid.‘ThisiswhereI live.’
Theroadledstraighttothegate.Behindthe gateitchangedtoalongstraightdriveway.Atthe endofthedrivewaywasagreystone house.I couldseeitthereattheendofthefinger,right outintheocean.Justinsidethegatewasaonestoreylodge.Samedesignandsamestoneasthe house,butmuchsmallerandlower.Itsharedits foundationswiththewall.Islowedandstopped thecarinfrontofthegate.
‘Honkthehorn,’RichardBecksaid.
The Maximahad alittle bugleshapeonthe airbaglid.Ipressedonitwithonefingerandthe hornbeepedpolitely.Isawasurveillancecamera onthegateposttiltandpan.Itwaslikealittle glasseyelookingatme.Therewasalongpause andthelodgedooropened.Aguyinadarksuit steppedout.Clearly the suitcamefrom a bigand-tallstoreandwasprobablythelargestsizeit hadeverofferedbutevensoitwasverytightin theshouldersandshortinthearmsforitsowner. Hewaswaybiggerthanme,whichputhimfirmly inthefreakcategory.Hewasagiant.Hewalked upclosetohissideofthegateandstaredout.He spentalongtimelookingatmeandashorttime lookingatthekid.Thenheunlockedthegateand pulleditopen.
‘Drivestraightuptothehouse,’Richardsaid. ‘Don’tstophere.Idon’tlikethatguyverymuch.’ Idrovethroughthe gate.Didn’tstop. But I droveslowandlookedaround.Thefirstthing youdogoingintoaplaceistolookforyourway out.Thewallranallthewayintoroughwateron bothsides.Itwastoohightojumpandtherazor wirealongthetopmadeitimpossibletoclimb. Therewasaclearedareamaybethirtyyardsdeep behindit. Likenoman’sland.Ora minefield. Thesecuritylightsweresettocoverallofit. Therewasnowayoutexceptthroughthegate. Thegiantwasclosingitbehindus.Icouldseehim inthemirror.
Itwasalongdriveuptothehouse.Greyocean onthreesides.Thehousewasabigoldpile. Maybesomeseacaptain’splacefromwayback whenkillingwhalesmadepeoplerespectable
fortunes.Itwasallstone,withintricatebeadings and cornicesand folds. All thenorth-facing surfaceswerecoveredingreylichens.Therest wasspottedwithgreen.Itwasthreestoreys high.Ithadadozenchimneys.Therooflinewas complex.Thereweregablesallovertheplace with shortguttersanddozensoffatironpipes todraintherainwateraway.Thefrontdoor wasoakandwasbandedandstuddedwithiron. Thedrivewaywidenedintoacarriagecircle.I followeditroundcounterclockwiseandstopped rightinfrontofthedoor.Thedooropenedand anotherguyinadarksuitsteppedout.Hewas aboutmysize,whichmadehimalotsmallerthan theguyinthelodge.ButIdidn’tlikehimany better.Hehadastonefaceandblankeyes.He openedtheMaxima’spassengerdoorlikehehad beenexpectingtoseeit,whichIguessedhewas, becausethebigguyinthelodgemusthavecalled ahead.
‘Wouldyouwaithere?’Richardaskedme. Heslippedoutofthecarandwalkedawayinto thegloominsidethehouseandtheguyinthesuit closedtheoakdoorfromtheoutsideandtookup stationrightinfrontofit.Hewasn’tlookingat mebutIknewIwassomewhereinhisperipheral vision.Ibrokethewireconnectionunderthe steeringcolumnandturnedthemotoroffand waited.
Itwasareasonablylongwait,probablycloseto fortyminutes.Withouttheenginerunningthecar grewcold.Itrockedgentlyintheseabreeze eddyingroundthehouse.Istaredstraightahead throughthewindshield.Iwasfacingnortheast
andtheairwaswhippedandclear.Icouldseethe coastlinecurvinginfromtheleft.Icouldseea faintbrownsmudgeintheairabouttwentymiles away.Probablypollutioncomingupoutof Portland.Thecityitselfwashiddenbehinda headland.
Thentheoakdooropenedagainandtheguard steppedsmartlyasideandawomancameout. ShewasRichardBeck’smother.Nodoubtabout that.Nodoubtatall.Shehadthesameslight buildandthesamepaleface.Thesamelong fingers.Shewaswearingjeansandaheavyfisherman’ssweater.Shehadwindblownhairand wasmaybefiftyyearsold.Shelookedtiredand strained.Shestoppedaboutsixfeetfromthecar, likeshewasgivingmetheopportunitytorealize itwouldbemorepoliteifIgotoutandmether halfway.SoIopenedthedoorandslidout.Iwas stiffandcramped.Isteppedforwardandsheput outherhand.Itookit.Itwasicecoldandfullof bonesandtendons.
‘Mysontoldmewhathappened,’shesaid.Her voicewaslowandsoundedalittlehusky,like maybeshesmokedalotorhadbeencryinghard. ‘Ican’tbegintoexpresshowgratefulIamthat youhelpedhim.’
‘IsheOK?’Iasked.
Shemadeaface,likeshewasn’tsure.‘He’s lyingdownnow.’
Inodded.Letgoofherhand.Itfellbacktoher side.Therewasashortawkwardsilence.
‘I’mElizabethBeck,’shesaid. ‘JackReacher,’Isaid.
‘Mysonexplainedyourpredicament,’shesaid.
Itwasaniceneutralword.Isaidnothingin reply.
‘Myhusbandwillbehometonight,’shesaid. ‘He’llknowwhattodo.’
Inodded.Therewasanotherawkwardpause.I waited.
‘Wouldyouliketocomein?’sheasked.
Sheturnedandwalkedbackintothehallway.I followedher.Ipassedthroughthedoorandit beeped.Ilookedagainandsawthatametal detectorhadbeeninstalledtightagainstthe insidejamb.
‘Wouldyoumind?’ElizabethBeckasked. Shemadeasortofsheepishapologeticgesture towardsmeandthentowardsthebiguglyguyin thesuit.Hesteppedupandmadereadytopatme down.
‘Twoguns,’Isaid.‘Empty.Inmycoatpockets.’ Hepulledthemoutwiththekindofeasy practisedmovesthatsuggestedhehadpatted plentyofpeopledownbefore.Helaidthemona sidetableandsquattedandranhishandsupmy legs,andthenstoodandwentovermyarms,my waist,mychest,myback.Hewasverythorough, andnotverygentle.
‘I’msorry,’ElizabethBecksaid.
Theguyinthesuitstoodbackandtherewas anotherawkwardsilence.
‘Doyouneedanything?’ElizabethBeckasked. IcouldthinkofalotofthingsIneeded.ButI justshookmyhead.
‘I’mkindoftired,’Isaid.‘Longday.Ireally needanap.’
She smiled briefly,likeshewaspleased,like
havingherownpersonalcop-killerasleepsomewherewouldrelieveherofasocialpressure.
‘Ofcourse,’shesaid.‘Dukewillshowyoutoa room.’
Shelookedatmeforasecondlonger.Underneaththestrainandthepallorshewasahandsome woman.Shehadfinebonesandgoodskin.Thirty yearsagoshemusthavebeenfightingthemoff withastick.Sheturnedawayanddisappeared intothedepthsofthehouse.Iturnedtotheguyin thesuit.IassumedhewasDuke.
‘WhendoIgetthegunsback?’Iasked. Hedidn’tanswer.Justpointedmetothestaircaseandfollowedmeup.Pointedtothenext staircaseandwecameoutonthethirdfloor.He ledmetoadoorandpusheditopen.Iwentin andfoundaplainsquareroompanelledwithoak. Therewasheavyoldfurnitureinit.Abed,an armoire,atable,achair.TherewasanOriental carpeton thefloor.It lookedthinandthreadbare.Maybeitwasapricelessolditem.Duke pushedpastmeandwalkedacrossitandshowed mewherethebathroomwas.Hewasactinglikea bellboyinahotel.Hepushedpastmeagainand headedbacktothedoor.
‘Dinner’sateight,’hesaid.Nothingmore.
Hesteppedoutandclosedthedoor.Ididn’t hearasoundbutwhenIcheckedIfounditwas lockedfromtheoutside.Therewasnokeyhole ontheinside.Isteppedtothewindowandlooked outattheview.Iwasatthebackofthehouseand allIcouldseewasocean.Iwasfacingdueeast andtherewasnothingbetweenmeandEurope.I looked down.Fiftyfeetbelow wererockswith
wavesfoamingallaroundthem.Thetidelooked likeitwascomingin.
Isteppedbacktothedoorandputmyear againstitandlistenedhard.Heard nothing. Iscannedtheceilingandthecornicesandthe furniture,verycarefully,inchbyinch.Nothing there.Nocameras.Ididn’tcareaboutmicrophones.Iwasn’tgoingtomakeanynoise.Isat onthebedandtookmyrightshoeoff.Flipped itoverandusedmyfingernailstopullapinout oftheheel.Swivelledtheheelrubberlikealittle doorandturnedtheshoetherightwayup andshookit.Asmallblackplasticrectangle felloutonthebedandbouncedonce.Itwas awirelesse-maildevice.Nothingfancy.Itwas justa commercialproduct, butithad been reprogrammedtosendonlytooneaddress.Itwas aboutthe size ofalargepager.It had asmall crampedkeyboardwithtinykeys.Iswitchedthe poweronandtypedashortmessage.ThenI pressed sendnow.
Themessagesaid: I’min .
TWO
TruthisbythatpointIhadbeen in foreleven wholedays,sinceadampshinySaturdaynightin thecityofBostonwhenIsawadeadmanwalk acrossasidewalkandgetintoacar.Itwasn’ta delusion.Itwasn’tanuncannyresemblance.It wasn’tadoubleoratwinorabrotheroracousin. Itwasamanwhohaddiedadecadeago.There wasnodoubtaboutit.Notrickofthelight.He lookedolderbytheappropriatenumberofyears andwascarryingthescarsofthewoundsthathad killedhim.
IwaswalkingonHuntingtonAvenuewitha miletogotoabarIhadheardabout.Itwaslate. SymphonyHallwasjustlettingout.Iwastoo stubborntocrossthestreetandavoidthecrowd. Ijustthreadedmywaythroughit.Therewas amassofwell-dressedfragrantpeople,mostof themold.Thereweredouble-parkedcarsand taxisatthekerb.Theirengineswererunning andtheirwindshieldwiperswerethumping backandforthatirregularintervals.Isawtheguy stepoutofthefoyerdoorsonmyleft.Hewas wearingaheavycashmereovercoatandcarrying
glovesandascarf.Hewasbareheaded.Hewas aboutfifty.Wealmostcollided.Istopped.He stopped.Helookedrightatme.Wegotintoone ofthosecrowded-sidewalkthingswhereweboth hesitatedandthenbothstartedmovingandthen bothstoppedagain.AtfirstIthoughthedidn’t recognizeme.Thentherewasa shadowinhis face.Nothingdefinitive.Iheldbackandhe walkedacrossinfrontofmeandclimbedintothe rearseatofablackCadillacDeVillewaitingat thekerb.Istoodthereandwatchedasthedriver easedoutintothetrafficandpulledaway.Iheard thehissofthetyresonthewetpavement.
Igottheplatenumber.Iwasn’tpanicking. Iwasn’tquestioninganything.Iwasreadyto believetheevidenceofmyowneyes.Tenyearsof historywasoverturnedinasecond. Theguywas alive.Whichgavemeahugeproblem.
Thatwasdayone.Iforgotallaboutthebar.I wentstraightbacktomyhotelandstartedcalling half-forgottennumbersfrommyMilitaryPolice days.IneededsomebodyIknewandtrusted, butIhadbeenoutforsixyearsbythenandit waslateonaSaturdaynightsotheoddswere againstme.IntheendIsettledforsomebodywho claimedhehadheardofme,whichmightor mightnothavemadeadifferencetotheeventual outcome.HewasawarrantofficernamedPowell.
‘Ineedyoutotraceacivilianplate,’Itoldhim. ‘Purelyasafavour.’
HeknewwhoIwas,sohedidn’tgivemeany griefaboutnotbeingabletodoitforme.Igave himthedetails.ToldhimIwasprettysureitwas aprivateregistration,notaliverycar.Hetook
mynumberandpromisedtocallmebackinthe morning,whichwouldbedaytwo.
Hedidn’tcallmeback.Hesoldmeoutinstead.I thinkinthecircumstancesanybodywouldhave. DaytwowasaSundayandIwasupearly.Ihad roomserviceforbreakfastandsatwaitingforthe call.Igotaknockonthedoorinstead.Justafter teno’clock.Iputmyeyetothepeepholeandsaw twopeoplestandingclosetogethersotheywould showupwellinthelens.Oneman,onewoman. Darkjackets.Noovercoats.Themanwascarrying abriefcase.Theyeachhadsomekindofofficial IDhelduphighandtiltedsoitwouldcatchthe hallwaylight.
‘Federalagents,’themancalled,justloud enoughformetohearhimthroughthedoor. Inasituationlikethatitdoesn’tworkto pretendyou’renotin.I’dbeentheguysinthe hallway oftenenough.Oneofthem staysright thereandtheothergoesdowntogetamanager withapasskey.SoIjustopenedupandstood backtoletthemin.
Theywerewaryforamoment.Theyrelaxedas soonastheysawIwasn’tarmedanddidn’tlook likeamaniac.TheyhandedovertheirIDsand shuffledaroundpolitelywhileIdecipheredthem. Atthetoptheysaid: UnitedStatesDepartmentof Justice .Atthebottomtheysaid: DrugEnforcementAdministration.Inthemiddlewereallkinds ofsealsandsignaturesandwatermarks.There werephotographsandtypednames.Themanwas listedasStevenEliot,one l liketheoldpoet. Aprilisthecruellestmonth .Thatwasfordamn
sure.Thephotographwasaprettygoodlikeness. StevenEliotlookedsomewherebetweenthirty andfortyandwasthicksetanddarkandalittle baldandhadasmilethatlookedfriendlyinthe pictureandeven betterinperson. The woman waslistedasSusanDuffy.SusanDuffywasalittle youngerthanStevenEliot.Shewasalittletaller thanhim,too.Shewaspaleandslenderandvery attractiveandhadchangedherhairsinceher photographwastaken.
‘Goahead,’Isaid.‘Searchtheroom.It’salong timesinceIhadanythingworthhidingfromyou guys.’
IhandedbacktheirIDsandtheyputthem awayintheirinsidepocketsandmadesurethey movedtheirjacketsenoughtoletmeseetheir weapons.Theyhadtheminneatshoulderrigs.I recognizedtheribbedgripofaGlock17under Eliot’sarmpit.Duffyhada19,whichisthesame thingonlyalittlesmaller.Itwassnugagainsther rightbreast.Shemusthavebeenleft-handed. ‘Wedon’twanttosearchtheroom,’shesaid. ‘Wewanttotalkaboutalicenceplate,’Eliot said.
‘Idon’townacar,’Isaid. Wewereallstillstandinginaneatlittle trianglejustinsidethedoor.Eliotstillhadthe briefcaseinhishand.Iwastryingtofigureout whowastheboss.Maybeneitheroneofthem. Maybetheywereequals.Andfairlysenior.They werewelldressedbutlookedalittletired.Maybe theyhadworkedmostofthenightandflownin fromsomewhere.FromWashingtonD.C.,maybe. ‘Canwesitdown?’Duffyasked.
‘Sure,’Isaid.Buta cheaphotelroom made thatawkward.Therewasonlyonechair.Itwas shovedunderasmalldeskcrammedbetweena wallandthecabinetthatheldthetelevisionset. Duffypulleditoutandturneditroundsoitfaced thebed.Isatonthebed,upnearthepillows. Eliotperchedonthefootofthebedandlaid hisbriefcasedownonit.Hewasstillgivingme thefriendlysmileandIcouldn’tfindanything phoneyaboutit.Duffylookedgreatonthechair. Theseatheightwasexactlyrightforher.Her skirtwasshortandshewaswearingdarknylons thatwentlightwhereherkneesbent.
‘You’reReacher,right?’Eliotasked.
ItookmyeyesoffDuffy’slegsandnodded.I feltIcouldcountonthemtoknowthatmuch.
‘Thisroomisregisteredtosomebodycalled Calhoun,’Eliotsaid.‘Paidforwithcash,one nightonly.’
‘Habit,’Isaid.
‘Youleavingtoday?’
‘Itakeitonedayatatime.’
‘Who’sCalhoun?’
‘JohnQuincyAdams’svicepresident,’Isaid. ‘Itseemedappropriateforthislocation.Iused upthepresidentslongago.NowI’mdoingvice presidents.Calhounwasunusual.Heresignedto runfortheSenate.’
‘Didhegetin?’
‘Idon’tknow.’
‘Whythephoneyname?’ ‘Habit,’Isaidagain.
SusanDuffywas lookingstraightatme.Not likeIwasnuts.Likeshewasinterestedinme.She
probablyfoundittobeavaluableinterrogation technique.BackwhenIinterrogatedpeopleIdid thesamething.Ninetypercentofaskingquestionsisaboutlisteningtoanswers.
‘WespoketoamilitarycopcalledPowell,’she said.‘Youaskedhimtotraceaplate.’ Hervoicewaslowandwarmandalittlehusky. Isaidnothing.
‘Wehavetrapsandflagsinthecomputers againstthatplate,’shesaid.‘Soonashisinquiry hitthewiresweknewallaboutit.Wecalledhim andaskedhimwhathisinterestwas.Hetoldus theinterestcamefromyou.’
‘Reluctantly,Ihope,’Isaid. Shesmiled.‘Herecoveredfastenoughtogive usafalsephonenumberforyou.Soyouneedn’t worryaboutoldunitloyalties.’
‘Butintheendhegaveyoutherightnumber.’ ‘Wethreatenedhim,’shesaid.
‘ThenMPshavechangedsincemyday,’I said.XX
‘It’simportanttous,’Eliotsaid.‘Hesawthat.’ ‘Sonowyou’reimportanttous,’Duffysaid. Ilookedaway.I’vebeenaroundtheblock moretimesthanIcaretocountbutthesoundof hervoicesayingthatstillgavemealittlethrill.I begantothinkmaybeshewastheboss.Anda hellofaninterrogator.
‘Amemberofthepubliccallsinaplate,’Eliot said.‘Whywouldhedothat?Maybehegotina fenderbenderwiththecartheplatewason. Maybeitwasahitandrun.Butwouldn’thegoto thecopsforthat?Andyoujusttoldusyoudon’t haveacaranyway.’
‘Somaybeyousawsomebody in thecar,’Duffy said.
Shelettherestofithang.Itwasaneatcatch22.Ifthepersoninthecarwasmyfriend,thenI wasprobablyherenemy.Ifthepersoninthecar wasmyenemy,thenshewasreadytobemy friend.
‘Youguyshadbreakfast?’Iasked. ‘Yes,’shesaid. ‘SohaveI,’Isaid.
‘Weknow,’shesaid.‘Roomservice,ashort stackofpancakeswithaneggontop,overeasy. Plusalargepotofcoffee,black.Itwasordered forsevenforty-fiveanddeliveredatsevenfortyfourandyoupaidcashandtippedthewaiter threebucks.’
‘DidIenjoyit?’ ‘Youateit.’
Eliot snappedthelocksonhisbriefcase and liftedthelid.Pulledoutastackofpapersecured witharubberband.Thepaperlookednew butthewritingonitwasblurred.Photocopiesof faxes,probablymadeduringthenight.
‘Yourservicerecord,’hesaid. Icouldseephotographsinhisbriefcase.Glossy black-and-whiteeight-by-tens.Somekindof surveillancesituation.
‘Youwerea military copfor thirteen years,’ Eliotsaid.‘Fast-trackpromotionallthewayfrom secondlieutenanttomajor.Citationsandmedals. Theylikedyou.Youweregood.Verygood.’
‘Thankyou.’
‘Morethanverygood,actually.Youweretheir specialgo-toguyonnumerousoccasions.’
‘IguessIwas.’
‘Buttheyletyougo.’
‘Iwasriffed,’Isaid.
‘Riffed?’Duffyrepeated.
‘RIF,reductioninforce.Theylovetomake acronymsoutofthings.TheColdWarended, militaryspendinggotcut,thearmygotsmaller. Sotheydidn’tneedsomanyspecialgo-toguys.’
‘Thearmystillexists,’Eliotsaid.‘Theydidn’t chopeverybody.’
‘No.’
‘Sowhyyouinparticular?’
‘Youwouldn’tunderstand.’
Hedidn’tchallengeme.
‘Youcanhelpus,’Duffysaid.‘Whodidyousee inthecar?’
Ididn’tanswer.
‘Weretheredrugsinthearmy?’Eliotasked. Ismiled.
‘Armieslovedrugs,’Isaid.‘Theyalways have.Morphine,Benzedrine.TheGermanarmy inventedEcstasy.Itwasanappetitesuppressant. CIAinventedLSD,testeditontheU.S.Army. Armiesmarchontheirveins.’
‘Recreational?’
‘Averageageofarecruitiseighteen.Whatdo youthink?’
‘Wasitaproblem?’
‘Wedidn’tmakeitmuchofaproblem.Some gruntgoesonfurlough,smokesacoupleofjoints in hisgirlfriend’sbedroom,wedidn’tcare.We figuredwe’dratherseethemwithacoupleof bluntsthanacoupleofsix-packs.Outsideofour carewelikedthemdocileratherthanaggressive.’
DuffyglancedatEliotandEliotusedhis fingernailstoscrapethephotographsupoutof hiscase.Hehandedthemtome.Therewerefour ofthem.Allfourweregrainyandalittleblurred. AllfourshowedthesameCadillacDeVilleI hadseenthenightbefore.Irecognizeditbythe platenumber.Itwasinsomekindofparking garage.Thereweretwoguysstandingnexttothe trunk.Intwoofthepicturesthetrunklidwas down.Intwoofthemitwasup.Thetwoguys werelookingdownatsomethinginsidethetrunk. Nowayoftellingwhatitwas.Oneoftheguys wasaHispanicgangbanger.Theotherwasan oldermaninasuit.Ididn’tknowhim.
Duffymusthavebeenwatchingmyface.
‘Notthemanyousaw?’shesaid.
‘Ididn’tsayIsawanybody.’
‘TheHispanicguyisamajordealer,’Eliotsaid. ‘Actuallyhe’s the majordealerformostofLos AngelesCounty.Notprovable,ofcourse,but weknowallabouthim.Hisprofitsmustrunto millionsofdollarsaweek.Heliveslikean emperor.ButhecameallthewaytoPortland, Maine,tomeetwiththisotherguy.’
Itouchedoneofthephotographs.‘Thisis Portland,Maine?’
Duffynodded.‘Aparkinggarage,downtown. Aboutnineweeksago.Itookthepictures myself.’
‘Sowho’sthisotherguy?’
‘We’renotexactlysure.Wetracedthe Cadillac’splate,obviously.It’sregisteredtoa corporationcalledBizarreBazaar.Mainofficeis inPortland,Maine.Faraswecantellitstarted
outwaybackassomekindofhippy-dippy import-exporttraderwiththeMiddleEast.Now itspecializesinimportingOrientalrugs.Faras wecantelltheownerisaguycalledZachary Beck.We’reassumingthat’shimin thephotographs.’
‘Whichmakeshimhuge,’Eliotsaid.‘Ifthis guyfromLAispreparedtoflyallthewayback easttomeetwithhim,he’sgottobeacouple ofrungsuptheladder.Andanybodyacoupleof rungsabovethisLAguyisinthestratosphere, believeme. SoZacharyBeck’satopboy,andhe’s foolingwithus.Rugimporter,drugimporter. He’smakingjokes.’
‘I’msorry,’Isaid.‘Ineversawhimbefore.’
‘Don’tbesorry,’Duffysaid.Shehitched forwardonthechair.‘It’sbetterforusifheisn’t theguyyousaw.Wealreadyknowabouthim.It’s betterforusifyousawoneofhisassociates.We cantrytogettohimthatway.’
‘Youcan’tgettohimhead-on?’ Therewasashortsilence.Seemedtomethere wassomeembarrassmentinit.
‘We’vegotproblems,’Eliotsaid. ‘Soundslikeyou’vegotprobablecauseagainst theLAplayer.Andyou’vegotphotographsthat puthimsidebysidewiththisBeckguy.’
‘Thephotographsaretainted,’Duffysaid.‘I madeamistake.’
Moresilence.
‘Thegaragewasprivateproperty,’shesaid. ‘It’sunderanofficebuilding.Ididn’thavea warrant.FourthAmendmentmakesthepictures inadmissible.’
‘Can’tyoulie?Sayyouwereoutsidethe garage?’
‘Physicallayoutmakesthatimpossible.Defence counselwouldfigureitinaminuteandthecase wouldcollapse.’
‘Weneedtoknowwhoyousaw,’Eliotsaid. Ididn’tanswer.
‘Wereallyneedtoknow,’Duffysaid.Shesaid itinthekindofsoftvoicethatmakesmenwant tojumptallbuildings.Buttherewasnoartifice there.Nopretence.Shewasn’tawareofhow goodshewassounding. Shereallyneededto know .
‘Why?’Iasked.
‘BecauseIneedtoputthisright.’
‘Everybodymakesmistakes.’
‘WesentanagentafterBeck,’shesaid.‘Undercover.Awoman.Shedisappeared.’ Silence.
‘When?’Iasked.
‘Sevenweeksago.’
‘Youlookedforher?’
‘Wedon’tknowwheretolook.Wedon’tknow whereBeckgoes.Wedon’tevenknowwherehe lives.Hehasnoregisteredproperty.Hishouse mustbeownedbysomephantomcorporation. It’saneedleinahaystack.’
‘Haven’tyoutailedhim?’
‘We’vetried.Hehasbodyguardsanddrivers. They’retoogood.’
‘FortheDEA?’
‘Forus.We’reonourown.TheJusticeDepartmentdisownedtheoperationwhenIscrewedup.’
‘Eventhoughthere’sanagentmissing?’
‘Theydon’tknowthere’sanagentmissing.We putherinaftertheyclosedusdown.She’soffthe books.’
Istaredather.
‘Thiswholethingisoffthebooks,’shesaid. ‘Sohowareyouworkingit?’
‘I’mateamleader.Nobody’slookingovermy shoulderdaytoday.I’mpretendingI’mworking onsomethingelse.ButI’mnot.I’mworkingon this.’
‘Sonobodyknowsthiswomanismissing?’
‘Justmyteam,’shesaid.‘Sevenofus.Andnow you.’
Isaidnothing.
‘Wecamestraighthere,’shesaid.‘Weneeda break.WhyelsewouldweflyuphereonaSunday?’
Theroomwentquiet.Ilookedfromherto Eliotandbacktoher.Theyneededme.Ineeded them.AndIlikedthem.Ilikedthemalot.They werehonest,likeablepeople.Theywerelikethe bestofthepeopleIusedtoworkwith.
‘I’lltrade,’Isaid.‘Informationforinformation. We’llseehowwegetalong.Andthenwe’lltake itfromthere.’
‘Whatdoyouneed?’
ItoldherIneededten-year-oldhospitalrecords fromaplacecalledEurekainCalifornia.Itold herwhatkindofthingtolookfor.Itoldher IwouldstayinBostonuntilshegotbacktome.I toldhernottoputanythingonpaper.Thenthey leftandthatwasitfordaytwo.Nothinghappened ondaythree.Ordayfour.Ihungaround.Ifind
Bostonacceptableforacoupleofdays.It’swhatI calla48-town.Anythingmorethan48hours,and itstartstogettiresome. Ofcourse,mostplacesare likethatforme.I’marestlessperson.Sobythe startofdayfiveIwasgoingcrazy.Iwasreadyto assumetheyhadforgotten allaboutme. Iwas readytocallitquitsandgetbackontheroad. IwasthinkingaboutMiami.Itwouldbealot warmerdownthere.Butlateinthemorningthe phonerang.Itwashervoice.Itwasnicetohear.
‘We’reonourwayup,’shesaid.‘Meetyouby thatbigstatueofwhoeveritisonahorse,halfwayroundtheFreedomTrail,threeo’clock.’
Itwasn’taverypreciserendezvous,butIknew whatshemeant.ItwasaplaceintheNorthEnd, nearachurch.Itwasspringtimeandtoocoldto wanttogotherewithoutapurposebutIgot thereearlyanyway.Isatonabenchnextto anoldwomanfeedinghousesparrowsandrock doveswithtorn-upcrustsofbread.Shelooked atmeand movedtoanotherbench.The birds swarmedaroundherfeet,peckingatthegrit.A waterysunwasfightingraincloudsinthesky.It wasPaulRevereonthehorse.
DuffyandEliotshoweduprightontime.They werewearingblackraincoatsallcoveredinlittle loopsandbucklesandbelts.Theymightaswell havewornsignsroundtheirneckssaying Federal AgentsfromWashingtonD.C. Theysatdown, DuffyonmyleftandEliotonmyright.Ileaned backandtheyleanedforwardwiththeirelbows ontheirknees.
‘ParamedicsfishedaguyoutofthePacific surf,’Duffysaid.‘Tenyearsago,justsouthof
Eureka,California.Whitemale,aboutforty.He hadbeenshottwiceintheheadandoncein thechest.Small-calibre,probably.22s.Thenthey figurehewasthrownoffacliffintotheocean.’
‘Hewasalivewhentheyfishedhimout?’I asked,althoughIalreadyknewtheanswer.
‘Barely,’shesaid.‘Hehadabulletlodgednear hisheartandhisskullwasbroken.Plusonearm andbothlegsandhispelvis,fromthefall.Andhe washalfdrowned.Theyoperatedonhimfor fifteen straighthours.Hewasin intensivecare foramonthandinthehospitalrecuperatingfor anothersix.’
‘ID?’
‘Nothingonhim.He’sintherecordsasaJohn Doe.’
‘DidtheytrytoIDhim?’
‘Nofingerprintmatch,’shesaid.‘Nothingon anymissing-personslists.Nobodycametoclaim him.’
Inodded. Fingerprintcomputerstellyouwhat they’retoldtotellyou . ‘Whatthen?’Iasked.
‘Herecovered,’she said.‘Sixmonthshad passed.Theyweretryingtoworkoutwhattodo withhimwhenhesuddenlydischargedhimself. Theyneversawhimagain.’
‘Didhetellthemanythingaboutwhohewas?’
‘Theydiagnosedamnesia,certainlyaboutthe trauma,becausethat’salmostinevitable.They figuredhemightbegenuinelyblankabout the incidentandthepreviousdayortwo.Butthey figuredhemustbeabletorememberthingsfrom beforethat,andtheygotthestrongimpressionhe
waspretendingnotto.There’safairlyextensive casefile.Psychiatrists,everything.Theyinterviewedhimregularly.Hewasveryresolute. Neversaidawordabouthimself.’
‘Whatwashisphysicalconditionwhenheleft?’ ‘Prettyfair.Hehadvisiblescarsfromthe GSWs,that’saboutall.’
‘OK,’Isaid.Ileanedmyheadbackandlooked upatthesky.
‘Whowashe?’
‘Yourguess?’Isaid.
‘Small-calibreshotstotheheadandchest?’ Eliotsaid.‘Dumpedintheocean?Itwas organizedcrime.Anassassination.Somekindof hitmangottohim.’
Isaidnothing.Lookedupatthesky.
‘Whowashe?’Duffysaidagain.
Ikeptonlookingupattheskyanddragged myselftenyearsbackwardthroughtime,toa wholedifferentworld.
‘Youknowanythingabouttanks?’Iasked. ‘Militarytanks?Tracksandguns?Notreally.’
‘There’snothingtothem,’Isaid.‘Imean, youlikethemtobeabletomovefast,youwant somereliability,youdon’tobjecttosomefuel economy.ButifI’vegotatankandyou’vegot atank,what’stheonlythingIreallywantto know?’
‘What?’
‘CanIshootyoubeforeyoucanshootme? That’swhatIwanttoknow.Ifwe’reamileapart, canmygunreachyou?Orcanyourgunreach me?’
‘So?’
‘Ofcourse,physicsbeingphysics,thelikely answerisifIcanhityouatamile,thenyou canhitmeatamile.Soitcomesdowntoammunition.IfIstandoffanothertwohundredyards soyourshellbouncesoffmewithouthurting me,canIdevelopashellthatdoesn’tbounceoff you?That’swhattanksareallabout.The guy intheoceanwasanarmyintelligenceofficer whohadbeenblackmailinganarmyweapons specialist.’
‘Whywasheintheocean?’
‘DidyouwatchtheGulfWaronTV?’Iasked. ‘Idid,’Eliotsaid.
‘Forgetaboutthesmartbombs,’ I said.‘The realstaroftheshowwastheM1A1Abramsmain battletank.Itscoredaboutfourhundredandzip againsttheIraqis,whowereusingthebestanybodyeverhadtogivethem.Buthavingthewar onTVmeantthatwe’dshownourhandtothe wholeworld,sowebettergetonwithdreaming upsomenewstuffforthenexttimeround.Sowe gotonwithit.’
‘And?’Duffyasked.
‘Ifyouwantashelltoflyfartherandhitharder, youcanstuffmorepropellantintoit.Ormake itlighter.Orboth.Ofcourse,ifyou’restuffing morepropellantintoit,you’vegottodosomethingprettyradicalelsewheretomakeitlighter. Whichiswhattheydid.Theytooktheexplosive chargeoutofit.Whichsoundsweird,right?Like, what’sitgoingtodo?Go clang andbounce off?Buttheychangedtheshape.Theydreamed upthisthingthatlookslikeagiantlawn dart. Built-infinsandall.It’scastfromtungstenand
depleteduranium.Thedensestmetalsyoucan find.Itgoesrealfastandrealfar.Theycalledit thelong-rodpenetrator.’
Duffyglancedatmewithhereyelidslowand smiledandblushedallatthesametime.Ismiled back.
‘Theychangedthename,’Isaid.‘Nowit’s calledtheAPFSDS.Itoldyoutheylikeinitials. ArmourPiercingFinStabilizedDiscardingSabot. It’spoweredbyitsownlittlerocketmotor, basically.Ithitstheenemytankwithtremendous kineticenergy.Thekineticenergychangesto heatenergy,justliketheyteachyouinhighschoolphysics.Itmeltsitswaythroughinasplit secondandspraystheinsideoftheenemytank withajetofmoltenmetal,whichkillsthetankers andblowsupanythingexplosiveorflammable. It’saveryneattrick.Andeitherway,youshoot, youscore, becauseiftheenemyarmouristoo thickoryou’vefiredfromtoofaraway,thething juststickspartwayinlikeadartandspalls,which meansitfragmentstheinnerlayerofthearmour andthrowsscabsofscaldingmetalaroundinside likeahandgrenade.Theenemycrewcomeapart likefrogsinablender.Itwasabrilliantnew weapon.’
‘Whatabouttheguyintheocean?’
‘Hegottheblueprintsfromtheguyhewas blackmailing,’Isaid.‘Piecebypiece,overalong periodoftime.Wewerewatchinghim.Weknew exactlywhathewasdoing.Hewasaimingtosell themtoIraqiintelligence.TheIraqiswantedto leveltheplayingfieldforthenexttimeround. TheU.S.Armydidn’twantthattohappen.’
Eliotstaredatme.‘Sotheyhadtheguykilled?’
Ishookmyhead.‘WesentacoupleofMPs downtoarresthim.Standardoperatingprocedure,alllegalandaboveboard,believeme.But itwentwrong.Hegotaway.Hewasgoingto disappear.TheU.S.Army really didn’twantthat tohappen.’
‘So then theyhadhimkilled?’
Ilookedupattheskyagain.Didn’tanswer.
‘Thatwasn’tstandardprocedure,’Eliotsaid. ‘Wasit?’
Isaidnothing.
‘Itwasoffthebooks,’hesaid.‘Wasn’tit?’ Ididn’tanswer.
‘Buthedidn’tdie,’Duffysaid.‘Whatwashis name?’
‘Quinn,’Isaid.‘Turned outtobethe single worstguyIevermet.’
‘AndyousawhiminBeck’scaronSaturday?’ Inodded.‘Hewasbeingchauffeuredaway fromSymphonyHall.’
IgavethemallthedetailsIhad.ButasItalked weallknewtheinformationwasuseless.It wasinconceivablethatQuinnwouldbeusinghis previousidentity.SoallIhadtoofferwasa physicaldescriptionofaplain-lookingwhiteman aboutfiftyyearsoldwithtwo.22GSWscarson hisforehead.Betterthannothing,butitdidn’t reallygetthemanywhere.
‘Whydidn’thisprintsmatch?’Eliotasked. ‘Hewaserased,’Isaid.‘Likeheneverexisted.’ ‘Whydidn’thedie?’
‘Silenced.22,’Isaid.‘Ourstandardissue
weaponforcovertclosework.Butnotavery powerfulweapon.’
‘Ishestilldangerous?’
‘Nottothearmy,’Isaid.‘He’sancienthistory. Thisallwastenyearsago.TheAPFSDSwill beinthemuseumsoon.SowilltheAbrams tank.’XX
‘Sowhytrytotracehim?’
‘Becausedependingonexactlywhatheremembershecouldbedangeroustotheguywhowent totakehimout.’
Eliotnodded.Saidnothing.
‘Didhelookimportant?’Duffyasked.‘On Saturday?InBeck’scar?’
‘Helookedwealthy,’Isaid.‘Expensive cashmereovercoat,leathergloves,silkscarf.He lookedlikeaguywhowasaccustomedtobeing chauffeuredaround.Hejustjumpedrightin,like hediditallthetime.’
‘Didhegreetthedriver?’
‘Idon’tknow.’
‘Weneedtoplacehim,’shesaid.‘Weneed context.Howdidheact?HewasusingBeck’s car,butdidhelookentitled?Orlikesomebody wasdoinghimafavour?’
‘Helookedentitled,’Isaid.‘Likeheusesit everydayoftheweek.’
‘SoisheBeck’sequal?’
Ishrugged.‘HecouldbeBeck’sboss.’
‘Partneratbest,’Eliotsaid.‘OurLAguy wouldn’ttraveltomeetwithanunderling.’
‘Idon’t see Quinn as somebody’s partner,’ I said.
‘Whatwashelike?’
