Child, Lee – Without Fail

from the extreme right edge of the picture. Just an arm, in a

heavy soft sleeve. A tweed overcoat, maybe. The hand on the

end of it was gloved in leather. There was an envelope in the

hand. It was pushed through the half-closed sliding window and

dropped onto the ledge. Then the arm disappeared.

‘He knew about the camera,’ Froelich said.

‘Clearly,’ Neagley said. ‘He was a yard shy of the booth,

stretching out.’

‘But did he know about the other camera?’ Reacher asked.

Froelich ejected the first tape and inserted the second.

Wound backward thirty-five minutes. Pressed play. The view

was straight up the alley. The quality was poor. There were

pools of light from outdoor spotlights and the contrast with

areas of darkness was vivid. The shadows lacked detail. The

angle was high and tight. The top of the picture cut off well

before the street end of the alley. The bottom of the shot

stopped maybe six feet in front of the booth. But the width was

good. Very good. Both walls of the alley were clearly in view.

There was no way of approaching the garage entrance without

passing through the camera’s field of vision.

The tape ran. Nothing happened. They watched the fimecode

counter until it reached a point twenty seconds before the arm

had appeared. Then they watched the screen. A figure appeared

113

at the top. Definitely male. No doubt about it. There was no

mistaking the shoulders or the walk. He was wearing a heavy

tweed overcoat, maybe grey or dark brown. Dark pants, heavy

shoes, a muffler round his neck. And a hat on his head. A

wide-brimmed hat, dark in colour, tilted way down in front.

He walked with his chin tucked down. The video picked up

a perfect view of the crown of his hat, all the way down the

alley.

‘He knew about the second camera,’ Reacher said.

The tape ran on. The guy walked fast, but purposefully, not

hurrying, not running, not out of control. He had the envelope

in his right hand, holding it flat against his body. He disappeared

out of the bottom of the shot and reappeared three

seconds later. Without the envelope. He walked at the same

purposeful pace all the way back up the alley and out of shot at

the top of the screen.

Froelich froze the tape. ‘Description?’

‘Impossible,’ Neagley said. ‘Male, a little short and squat.

Right-handed, probably. No visible limp. Apart from that we

don’t know diddly. We saw nothing.’

‘Maybe not too squat,’ Reacher said. q’he angle foreshortens

things a little.’

‘He had inside knowledge,’ Froelich said. ‘He knew about the cameras and the bathroom breaks. So he’s one of us.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Reacher said. ‘He could be an outsider who

staked you out. The exterior camera must be visible if you’re

looking for it. And he could assume the interior camera. Most

places have them. And a couple of nights’ surveillance would

teach him the bathroom break procedure. But you know what?

Insider or outsider, we drove right past him. We must have.

When we went out to see the cleaners. Because even if he’s an

insider, he needed to time the bathroom break exactly right. So

he needed to be watching. He must have been across the street for a couple of hours looking down the alley. Maybe with

binoculars.’

The office went quiet.

‘I didn’t see anybody,’ Froelich said.

The neither,’ Neagley said.

‘I had my eyes closed,’ Reacher said.

114

‘We wouldn’t have seen him,’ Froelich said. ‘He hears a

vehicle coming up the ramp, he ducks out of sight, surely.’

‘I guess so,’ Reacher said. ‘But we were real close to him,

temporarily.’

‘Shit,’ Froelich said.

‘Yeah, shit,’ Neagley echoed.

‘So what do we do?’ Froelich asked.

‘Nothing,’ Reacher said. ‘Nothing we can do. This was more

than forty minutes ago. If he’s an insider, he’s back home by

now. Maybe tucked up in bed. If he’s an outsider, he’s already

on 1-95 or something, west or north or south, maybe thirty

miles away. We can’t call the troopers in four states and ask

them to look for a right-handed man in a car who doesn’t limp,

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