walked him away.
‘I didn’t even know her name,’ Reacher said.
‘It was Mary Ellen,’ Stuyvesant told him.
The paramedics fussed around for a moment. Then they
went quiet and gave it up and covered her with a sheet. Left
her there for the medical examiners and the crime scene investigators. Reacher stumbled,and sat down again, with his
back to the wall, his hands on his knees, his head in his hands.
His clothes were soaked with blood. Neagley sat down next to
him, an inch away. Stuyvesant squatted in front of them both.
‘What’s happening?’ Reacher asked.
They’re locking the city down,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘Roads,
bridges, the airports. Bannon’s in charge of it. He’s got all his
people out, and Metro cops, U.S. Marshals, cops from Virginia,
State troopers. Plus some of our people. We’ll get them.’
ey’ll use the railroad,’ Reacher said. ‘We’re right next to
Union Station.’
Stuyvesant nodded, q’hey’re searching every tfain,’ he said.
‘We’ll get them.’
‘Was Armstrong OK?’
271
‘Completely unharmed. Froelich did her duty.’
There was a long silence. Reacher looked up.
‘What happened on the roof?’ he asked. ‘Where was Crosetti?’
Stuyvesant looked away.
‘Crosetti was decoyed somehow,’ he said. ‘He’s in the stairwell.
He’s dead too. Shot in the head. With the same silenced
rifle, probably.’
Another long silence.
‘Where was Crosetti from?’ Reacher asked.
‘New York, I think,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘Maybe Jersey. Somewhere
up there.’
qhat’s no good. Where was Froelich from?’
‘She was a Wyoming girl.’
Reacher nodded, qhat’ll do,’ he said. ‘Where’s Armstrong
now?’
‘Can’t tell you that,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘Procedure.’
Reacher raised his hand and looked at his palm. It was rimed
with blood. All the lines and scars were outlined in red.
l’ell me,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll break your neck.’
Stuyvesant said nothing.
‘Where is he?’ Reacher repeated.
if’he White House,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘In a secure room. It’s
procedure.’
‘I need to go talk to him.’
‘Now?’
‘Right now.’
‘You can’t.’
Reacher looked away, beyond the fallen tables. ‘I can.’
‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘So try to stop me.’
Stuyvesant was quiet for a long moment.
‘Let me call him first,’ he said.
He stood up awkwardly and walked away.
‘You OK?’ Neagley asked.
‘It’s like Joe all over again,’ Reacher said. ‘Like Molly Beth
Gordon.’
‘Nothing you could have done.’
‘Did you see it?’
Neagley nodded.
272
‘She took a bullet for him,’ Reacher said. ‘She told me that
was just a figure of speech.’
‘Instinct,’ Neagley said. ‘And she was unlucky. Must have
missed her vest by half an inch. Subsonic bullet, it would
have bounced right off.’
‘Did you see the shooter?’
Neagley shook her head. ‘I was facing front. Did you?’
‘A glimpse,’ Reacher said. ‘One man.’
‘Hell of a thing,’ Neagley said.
Reacher nodded and wiped his palms on his pants, front and
back. Then he ran his hands through his hair. ‘If I wrote
insurance I wouldn’t touch any of Joe’s old friends. I’d tell them
to commit suicide and save the bad guys the trouble.’
‘So what now?’
He shrugged. ‘You should go home to Chicago.’
`you?’
‘I’m going to stick around.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
I’he FBI will get them.’
‘Not if I get them first,’ Reacher said.
“You made up your mind?’
‘I held her while she bled to death. I’m not going to just walk
away.’
hen I’ll stick around, too.’
‘I’ll be OK on my own.’
‘I know you will,’ Neagley said. ‘But you’ll be better with
me.’
Reacher nodded.
‘What did she say to you?’ Neagley asked.
‘She said nothing to me. She thought I was Joe.’
He saw Stuyvesant picking his way back through the yard.
Hauled himself upright with both hands against the wall.
‘Armstrong will see us,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘You want to change
first?’
Reacher looked down at his clothes. They .were soaked with
Froelich’s blood in big irregular patches. It was cooling and
drying and blackening.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to change first.’
273
They used the Suburban that Stuyvesant had arrived in. It
was still Thanksgiving Day and D.C. was still quiet. They saw
almost no civilian activity. Almost everything out and moving
was law enforcement. There was a double ring of hasty police
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