‘Now listen,’ I said. ‘Listen carefully. You never saw us. We
weren’t here. We never came. You waited for hours, but we
didn’t show. You came back out and some thief had boosted
your car in the night. That’s what happened, OK?’
He tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out
right.
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘It’s pretty weak and it makes you look
real stupid. But how good does it make you look that you let us
escape? That you didn’t handcuff us like you were ordered to?’
He said nothing.
‘That’s your story,’ I said. “We didn’t show, and your car was
stolen. Stick to it or I’ll put it about that it was the lieutenant
who took you down. A ninety-pound girl. One against three.
People will love that. They’ll go nuts for it. And you know how
rumours can follow you around for ever.’
He said nothing.
‘Your choice,’ I said.
He shrugged. Said nothing.
‘I apologize,’ I said. ‘Sincerely.’
We left them there and grabbed our bags and ran to their car.
Summer unlocked it and we slid in and she fired it up. Put it in
gear and moved away from the kerb.
‘Go slow,’ I said.
I waited until we were alongside the bus shelter and then
wound the window down and tossed the Berettas out on the
sidewalk. Their cover story wouldn’t hold up if they lost their
weapons as well as their car. The three guns landed near the
three guys and they all got up on their hands and knees and
started to crawl towards them.
‘Now go,’I said.
Summer hit the gas hard and the tyres lit up and about a
second later we were well outside handgun range. She kept her
328
foot down and we left the airport doing about ninety miles an
hour.
‘You OK?’ I said.
‘So far,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry I had to shove you.’
‘We should have just run,’ she said. ‘We could have lost them
in the terminal.’
‘We needed a car,’ I said. ‘I’m sick of taking the bus.’
‘But now we’re way out of line.’
‘That’s for sure,’ I said.
I checked my watch. It was close to three in the morning. We
were heading south from Dulles. Going nowhere, fast. In the
dark. We needed a destination.
‘You know my phone number at Bird?’ I said.
‘Sure,’ Summer said.
‘OK, pull over at the next place with a phone.’
She spotted an all-night gas station about five miles later. It
was all lit up on the horizon. We pulled in and checked it out.
There was a miniature grocery store behind the pumps but it
was closed. At night you had to pay for your gas through a
bulletproof window. There was a pay phone outside next to the
air hose. It was in an aluminum box mounted on the wall. The
box had phone shapes drilled into the sides. Summer dialled
my Fort Bird office number and handed me the receiver. I
heard one cycle of ring tone and then my sergeant answered.
The night-duty woman. The one with the baby son.
‘This is Reacher,’ I said.
‘You’re in deep shit,’ she said.
‘And that’s the good news,’ I said.
‘What’s the bad news?’
‘You’re going to join me right there in it. What kind of
babysitting arrangements have you got?’
‘My neighbour’s girl stays. From the trailer next door.’
‘Can she stay an hour longer?’
‘Why?’
‘I want you to meet me. I want you to bring me some stuff.’
‘It’ll cost you.’
‘How much?’
329
‘Two dollars an hour. For the babysitter.’
‘I haven’t got two dollars. That’s something I want you to
bring. Money.’
‘You want me to give you money?’
‘A loan,’ I said. ‘Couple of days.’
‘How much?’ Whatever you’ve got.’
“When and where?’
‘When you get off. At six. At the diner near the strip club.’
“What do you need me to bring?’
‘Phone records,’ I said. ‘All calls made out of Fort Bird
starting from midnight on New Year’s Eve until maybe the third
of January. And an army phone book. I need to speak to
Sanchez and Franz and all kinds of other people. And I need