from memory and gave his password and arranged for five
hundred bucks to be wired to Western Union in Atlantic City by
close of business. Then he went to his room and bit off all the
tags and put his new clothes on. Transferred all his pocket junk
across and threw his summer gear in the trash and looked
himself over in the long mirror behind the closet door. Grow a
beard and get some sunglasses and I could walk all the way to the
North Pole, he thought.
23
Froelich heard about the proposed wire transfer eleven minutes
later. Closed her eyes for a second and clenched her hands in
triumph and then reached behind her and pulled a map of the
eastern seaboard off a shelf. Maybe three hours if the tra)c
co-operates. I might just make it. She grabbed her jacket and her
purse and ran down to the garage.
Reacher wasted an hour in his room and then went out to test
the insulating properties of his new coat. Field trial, they used
to call it, way back when. He headed east towards the ocean,
into the wind. Felt rather than saw somebody behind him. Just
a characteristic little burr down in the small of his back. He
slowed up and used a store window for a mirror. Caught a
glimpse of movement fifty yards back. Too far away for details.
He walked on. The coat was pretty good, but he should have
bought a hat to go with it. That was clear. The same buddy with
the opinion on coats used to claim that half of total heat loss
was through the top of the head, and that was certainly how it
felt. The cold was blowing through his hair and making his eyes
water. A military-issue watch cap would have been valuable, in
November on the Jersey shore. He made a mental note to keep
an eye out for surplus stores on his way back from the Western
Union office. In his experience they often inhabited the same
neighbourhoods.
He reached the boardwalk and walked south, with the same
itch still there in the small of his back. He turned suddenly and
saw nothing. Walked back north to where he had started. The
boards under his feet were in good shape. There was a notice
claiming they were made from some special hardwood, the
hardest timber the world’s forests had to offer. The feeling was
still there in the small of his back. He turned and led his
invisible shadows out onto the Central Pier. It was the original
structure, preserved, l looked like he guessed it must have way
back when it was built. It was deserted, which was no surprise
considering the weather, and added to the feeling of unreality.
It was like an architectural photograph from a history book. But
some of the little antique booths were open and selling things,
including one selling modern coffee in Styrofoam cups. He
24
bought a twenty-ounce black regular, which took all his remaining
cash, but warmed him through. He walked to the end of the
pier as he drank it. Dropped the cup in the trash and stood and
watched the grey ocean for a spell. Then he turned back
and headed for the shore and saw two men walking towards
him.
They were useful-sized guys, short but wide, dressed pretty
much alike in blue pea coats and grey denim pants. They
both had hats. Little knitted watch caps made from grey wool,
jammed down over meaty heads. Clearlythey knew how to
dress for the climate. They had their hands in their pockets,
so he couldn’t tell whether they had gloves to match. Their
pockets were high on their coats, so their elbows were forced
outward. They both wore heavy boots, the sort of things a
steelworker or a stevedore might choose. They were both
a little bow-legged, or maybe they were just attempting an
intimidating swagger. They both had a little scar tissue around
their brows. They looked like fairground scufflers or dockyard
bruisers from fifty years ago. Reacher glanced back and saw
nobody behind him, all the way to Ireland. So he just stopped