in soap suds.
“You fix watches?’ he asked.
‘What have you got?’ the old guy said. He had an accent.
Russian, probably.
‘A question,’ Reacher said.
‘I thought you had a watch to fix. That was my business,
originally. Before quartz.’
‘My watch is fine,’ Reacher said. ‘Sorry.’
He pulled back his cuff to check the time. Quarter past
eleven.
‘Let me see that,’ the old guy said.
Reacher extended his wrist.
‘Bulova,’ the old guy said. ‘American military issue before
the Gulf War. A good watch. You buy it from a soldier?’
‘No, I was a soldier.’
The old guy nodded. ‘So was I. In the Red Army. What’s the
question?’
261
‘You ever heard of squalene?’
‘It’s a lubricant.’
‘You use it?’
‘Time to time. I don’t fix so many watches now. Not since
quartz.’
‘Where do you get it?’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘I’m asking a question.’
‘You want to know where I get my squalene?’
q’hat’s what questions are for. They seek to elicit information.’
The old guy smiled. ‘I carry it around with me.’
‘Where?’
‘You’re looking at it.’
‘Am I?’
The old guy nodded. ‘And I’m looking at yours.’
‘My what?’
‘Your supply of squalene.’
‘I haven’t got any squalene,’ Reacher said. ‘It comes from
sharks’ livers. Long time since I was next to a shark.’
The old man shook his head. ‘You see, the Soviet system was
very frequently criticized, and believe me I’ve always been
happy to tell the truth about it. But at least we had education.
Especially in the natural sciences.’
‘C-thirty-H-fifty,’ Reacher said. ‘It’s an acyclic hydrocarbon.
Which when hydrogenated becomes squalane with an a.’
‘You understand any of that?’
‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘Not really.’
‘Squalene is an oil,’ the old guy said. ‘It occurs naturally in
only two places in the known biosphere. One is inside a shark’s
liver. The other is as a sebaceous product on the skin around
the human nose.’
Reacher touched his nose. ‘Same stuff? Sharks’ livers and
people’s noses?’
The old guy nodded, ‘Identical molecular structure. So if I
need squalene to lubricate a watch, I just dab some off on my
fingertip. Like this.’
He wiped his wet hand on his trouser leg and extended a
finger and rubbed it down where his nose joined his face. Then
he held up the fingertip for inspection.
262
‘Put that on the gear wheel and you’re OK,’ he said.
‘I see,’ Reacher said.
‘You want to sell the Bulova?’
Reacher shook his head. ‘Sentimental value,’ he said.
‘From the army?’ the old guy said. ‘You’re nekulturniy.’ He turned back to his task and Reacher walked on.
‘Happy Thanksgiving,’ he called. There was no reply.
He met Neagley a block from the shelter. She was walking
in from the opposite direction. She turned round and walked
back with him, keeping her customary distance from his
shoulder.
‘Beautiful day,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘How would you do it?’
‘I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Not here. Not in Washington D.C.
This is their back yard. I’d wait for a better chance someplace
else.’
The too,’ she said. ‘But they missed in Bismarck. Wall
Street in ten days is no good to them. Then they’re deep into
December, and the next thing is more holidays and then the
Inauguration. So they’re running out of opportunities. And we
know they’re right here in town.’
Reacher said nothing. They walked past Bannon. He was
sitting in his car.
They arrived back at the shelter at noon exactly. Stuyvesant
was standing near the entrance. He nodded a cautious greeting.
Inside the yard everything was ready. The serving tables were
lined up. They were draped with pure white cloths that hung
down to the floor. They were loaded with food warmers laid out
in a line. There were ladles and long-handled spoons nearly
arrayed. The kitchen window opened directly into the pen
behind the tables. The shelter hall itself was set up for dining.
There were police sawhorses arranged so that the crowd would
be funnelled down the left edge of the yard. Then there was a
right turn across the face of the serving ar.ea. Then another