three American men with fair hair and blue eyes, somewhere in
their middle forties, that was all. But therefore, they were alike
in another way. If you sliced and diced the human population of
the world, you’d use up quite a few distinct divisions before you
got round to separating the three of them out. Male or female,
black or white, Asian or Caucasian or Mongoloid, tall or short,
thin or fat or medium, young or old or middle-aged, dark or
fair, blue eyes or brown eyes. You would have to make all
those separate distinctions before you could say the three
Armstrongs looked different from one another.
‘What do you think?’ Bannon asked.
‘Close enough to make the point,’ Reacher said.
‘We agree,’ Bannon said. Fwo widows and five fatherless
children between them. This is fun, isn’t it?’
Nobody replied to that.
‘You got anything else for us?’ Stuyvesant asked.
‘We’re working hard,’ Bannon said. ‘We’re running the
thumbprint again. We’re trying every database in the known
world. But we’re not optimistic. We canvassed Nendick’s neigh
bours. They didn’t get many visitors to the house. Seems like
they socialized as a couple, mostly in a bar about ten miles from
their place, out towards Dulles. It’s a cop bar. Seems like
Nendick trades on his employment status. We’re trying to trace
anybody he was seen talking to more than the average.’
‘What about two weeks ago?’ Stuyvesant said. ‘When the wife
got taken away? Must have been some kind of commotion.’
Bannon shook his head. Fhere’s a fairly high daytime
population in his street. Soccer morns all around. But it’s a dry
hole. Nobody remembers anything. It could have happened at
night, of course.’
‘No, I think Nendick delivered her somewhere,’ Reacher said.
‘I think they made him do it. Like a refinement of the torture.
To underline his responsibility. To put an edge onthe fear.’
‘Possible,’ Bannon said. ‘He’s afraid, that’s for damn sure.’
Reacher nodded. ‘I think these guys are real good at the cruel
227
psychological nuances. I think that’s why some of the messages
came here direct. Nothing worse for Armstrong than to hear
from the people paid to protect him that he’s in big trouble.’
‘Except he’s not hearing from them,’ Neagley said.
Bannon made no comment on that. Stuyvesant paused a
second.
‘Anything else?’ he said.
‘We’ve concluded you won’t get any more messages,’ Bannon
said. q’hey’ll strike at a time and place of their own choosing,
and obviously they won’t tip you off as to where and when.
Conversely if they try and fail, they won’t want you to have
known about it ahead of time, otherwise they’d look ineffective.’
‘Any feeling about where and when?’
‘We’ll talk about that tomorrow morning. We’re working on a
theory right now. I assume you’ll all be here tomorrow morn
ing?’
‘Why wouldn’t we be?’
‘It’s Thanksgiving Day.’
‘Armstrong’s working, so we’re working.’
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Being a nice guy at a homeless shelter.’
‘Is that wise?’
Stuyvesant just shrugged.
‘No choice,’ Froelich said. ‘It’s in the Constitution that
politicians have to serve turkey dinners on Thanksgiving Day in
the worst part of town they can find.’
‘Well, wait until we talk tomorrow morning,’ Bannon said.
‘Maybe you’ll want to change his mind. Or amend the Con
stitution.’
Then he stood up and walked round the table and collected
the photographs again, as if they were precious to him.
Froelich dropped Neagley at the hotel and then drove Reacher
home with her. She wa quiet all the way. Conspicuously and
aggressively silent. He stood it until they reached the bridge
over the river and then he gave in.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Got to be something,’ he said.
228
She didn’t answer. Just drove on and parked as near her place
as she could get, which was two streets away. The neighbour
hood was quiet. It was late at night before a holiday. People
were inside, cosy and relaxed. She shut off the engine, but
didn’t get out of the car. Just sat there, looking straight ahead
through the windshield, saying nothing.
‘What?’ he asked again.
‘I don’t think I can stand it,’ she said.