hit him in the centre of his face.
The basic H&K MP5 has a lot of advantages, including
extreme reliability and extreme accuracy. The silenced version
works even better because the weight of the integral
suppressor mitigates the natural tendency that any sub-machine
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gun has towards muzzle climb during operation. Its sole drawback
is the vigour with which it spits out its empty cartridge
cases. They come out of the side almost as fast as the bullets
come out of the front. They travel a long way. Not really a
problem in its intended arenas of operation, which are confined
to the necessary operations of the world’s elite military and
paramilitary units. But it was a problem in this situation. It
meant the shooter had to leave six empty shell cases behind as
he stuffed the gun under his coat and stepped over Armstrong’s
body and walked out of the small courtyard and away to his
vehicle.
By six forty there were almost seven hundred guests in the
hotel lobby. They formed a long loose line from the street door
to the coat check to the ballroom entrance. There was loud
excited conversation in the air, and the heady stink of mingling
perfumes. There were new dresses and white tuxedos and
dark suits and bright ties. There were clutch purses and small
cameras in leather cases. Patent shoes and high heels and the
flash of diamonds. Fresh perms and bare shoulders and a lot of
animation.
Reacher watched it all, leaning on a pillar near the elevators.
He could see three agents through the glass on the street. Two at
the door, operating a metal detector. They had its sensitivity set
high, because it was beeping at every fourth or fifth guest. The
agents were searching purses and patting down pockets. They
were smiling conspiratorially as they did so. Nobody minded.
There were eight agents roaming the lobby, faces straight, eyes
always moving. There were three agents at the ballroom door.
They were checking ID and inspecting invitations. Their metal
detector was just as sensitive. Some people were searched for a
second time. There was already music in the ballroom, audible in
waves as the crowd noise peaked and died.
Neagley was triangulated across the lobby on the second step
of the mezzanine staircase. Her gaze moved like radar, back
and forth across the sea of people. Every third sweep she would
lock eyes with Reacher and give a tiny shake of her head.
Reacher could see Froelich moving randomly. She looked
good. Her black suit was elegant enough for evening, but she
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wouldn’t be mistaken for a guest. She was full of authority.
Time to time she would talk to one of her agents face to face.
Other times she would talk to her wrist. He got to the point
where he could tell exactly when she was hearing messages in
her earpiece. Her movements lost a little focus as she concentrated
on what she was being told.
By seven o’clock most of the guests were safely in the ballroom.
There was a small gaggle of latecomers lining up for the
first metal detector and a corresponding number waiting at the
ballroom door. Guests who had bought an Overnight package at
the hotel were drifting out of the elevators in couples or foursomes.
Neagley was now isolated on the mezzanine staircase.
Froelich had sent her agents into the ballroom one by one as
the lobby crowd thinned out. They joined the eight already in
there. She wanted all sixteen prowling around by the time the
action started. Plus the three on the personal detail, and three
on the ballroom door, and two on the street door. Plus cops in
the kitchen, cops in the loading bay, cops on all seventeen
floors, cops on the street.
‘How much is all this costing?’ Reacher asked her.
‘You don’t want to know,’ she said. ‘You really don’t.’
Neagley came down off the staircase and joined them by the
pillar. ‘Is he here yet?’ she asked.
Froelich shook her head. ‘We’re compressing his exposure
time. He’s arriving late and leaving early.’
Then she stiffened and listened to her earpiece. Put her
finger on it to cut out the background noise. She raised