He stepped out of the car and across to the chopper’s ramp and ran up into the dark. The door whirred shut behind him and the engine noise built to a roar. He felt the machine come off the ground and two pairs of hands grabbed him and pushed him into his seat. He buckled his harness and a headset was thrust at him. He put it on and the intercom craclde started at the same time as the interior lights came on. He saw he was sitting in a canvas chair between two Marine ioadmasters.
“We’re going to the Coast Guard heliport in Brooklyn,” the pilot called
funsuriA (filing 109
through. “Close as we can get without filing a flight plan, and filing a flight plan ain’t exactly on the agenda today, OK?”
Reacher thumbed his mike. “Suits me, guys. And thanks.”
“Colonel must owe you big,” the pilot said.
“No, he just likes me,” Reacher said.
The guy laughed and the helicopter swung in the air and settled to a bellowing cruise.
‘etv
ew/t
s/
/ 40 Coast Guard heliport in Brooklyn is situated on the eastern edge of Floyd Bennett Field, facing an island in Jamaica Bay called Ruffle Bar, exactly sixty air miles north and east from McGuire. The Marine pilot kept his foot on the loud pedal all the way and made the trip in thirty-seven minutes. He touched down in a circle with a giant letter H painted inside it and dropped the engines down to idle.
“You’ve got four hours,” he said. “Any longer than that, we’re out of here and you’re on your own, OK?”
“OK,” Readier said. He unstrapped himself and slipped the headset off and followed the ramp down as it opened. There was a dark blue sedan with Navy markings waiting on the tarmac with its motor running and its front passenger door open.
“You Readier?” the driver yelled.
Readier nodded and slid in alongside him. The guy stamped on the gas.
“I’m Navy Reserve,” he said. “We’re helping the colonel out. A little inter-service cooperation.”
“I appreciate it,” Reacher said,
“Don’t think twice,” the guy said. “So where we headed?”
“Manhattan. Aim for Chinatown. You know where that is?”
“Do I? I eat there three times a week.”
He took Flatbush Avenue and the Manhattan Bridge. Traffic was light, but ground transportation still seemed awful slow, after the Lear and the helicopter. It was thirty minutes before Reacher was anywhere near where he wanted to be.
ifu/f/U/M (filing ill
A whole eighth of his available time gone. The guy came off the bridge approach and stopped short on a hydrant.
“I’ll be waiting right here,” he said. “Facing the other direction, exactly three hours from now. So don’t be late, OK?”
Reacher nodded.
“I won’t,” he said.
He slid out of the car and slapped twice on the roof. Crossed the street and headed south. It was cold in New York, and damp, but it wasn’t actually raining. There was no sun visible. Just a vague sullen light in the sky where the sun ought to have been. He stopped walking and stood still for a moment. He was twenty minutes from Jodie’s office. He started walking again. It was twenty minutes he didn’t have. First things first. That was his rule. And maybe they’d be watching her place. No way could he be seen in New York today. He shook his head and walked on. Forced himself to concentrate. Glanced at his watch. It was late morning and he started worrying he was too early. On the other hand, he might be timing it just right. There was no way of telling. He had no experience.
After five minutes, he stopped walking again. If any street was going to do it for him, this was the one. It was lined on both sides with Chinese restaurants, crowded together, bright gaudy facades in reds and yellows. There was a forest of signs in Oriental script. Pagoda shapes everywhere. The sidewalks were crowded. Delivery trucks double-parked tight against cars. Crates of vegetables and drums of oil piled on the curbs. He walked the length of the street twice, up and down, carefully inspecting the terrain, learning it. Looking at the alleys. Then he touched the gun in his pocket and set off strolling again, looking for his targets. They would be around somewhere. If he wasn’t too early. He leaned on a wall and watched. They would be in a pair. Two of them, together. He watched for a long time. There were plenty of people in pairs, but they weren’t the right people. They weren’t them. None of them. He was too early.