invisible bubble. There was radio communication with the
building while he was still a mile away. There was a second
call when he reached the garage. His progress into the elevator
was reported. One of his personal detail entered the reception
area and announced an all-clear. The other two brought Armstrong
inside. The procedure was repeated at the conference
room door. The first agent came in, glanced around, spoke
into his cuff, and Armstrong leapfrogged past him into the
room.
He had changed into casual clothes that didn’t suit him. He
was in corduroy pants and a patterned sweater and a suede
jacket. All the colours matched and all the fabrics were stiff and
new. It was the first false note Reacher had seen from him.
It was like he had asked himself what would a vice president
wear? instead of just grabbing whatever was at the front of his
closet. He nodded sombre greetings all round and moved
towards the table. Didn’t speak to anybody. He seemed
awkward. The silence grew. It reached the point where it was
embarrassing.
‘How’s your wife, sir?’ the sharpshooter asked.
It was the perfect political question, Reacher thought. It was
an invitation to talk about somebody else’s feelings, which was
always easier than talking about your own. It was collegial, in
that it said we all are on the inside here, so let’s talk about
somebody who isn’t. And it said here’s your chance to thank us for
saving her ass, and yours.
‘She’s very shaken,’ Armstrong said. ‘It was a terrible thing.
She wants you to know how sorry she is. She’s been giving me
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a hard time, actually. She says it’s wrong of me to be putting
you people at risk.’
It was the perfect political answer, Reacher thought. It invited
only one reply: just doing our job, sir.
‘It’s our job, sir,’ Stuyvesant said. ‘If it wasn’t you, it would be
somebody else.’
i’hank you,’ Armstrong said. ‘For being so gracious. And
thank you for performing so superbly well today. From both of
us. From the bottom of our hearts. I’m not a superstitious guy,
but I kind of feel I owe you now. Like I won’t be free of an
obligation until I’ve done something for you. So don’t hesitate to
ask me. Anything at all, formal or informal, collective or individ
ual. I’m your friend for life.’
Nobody spoke.
I’ell me about Crosetti,’ Armstrong said. ‘Did he have
family?’
The sharpshooter nodded. ‘A wife and a son,’ he said. l’he
boy is eight, I think.’
Armstrong looked away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.
Silence in the room.
‘Is there anything I can do for them?’ Armstrong asked.
°They’ll be looked after,’ Stuyvesant said.
‘Froelich had parents in Wyoming,’ Armstrong said. “l’hat’s
all. She wasn’t married. No brothers or sisters. I spoke with her
folks earlier today. After I saw you at the White House. I felt I
ought to offer my condolences personally. And I felt I should
clear my statement with them, you know, before I spoke to the
television people. I felt I couldn’t misrepresent the situation
without their permission, just for the sake of a decoy scheme.
But they liked the idea of a memorial service on Sunday. So
much so that they’re going to go ahead with it, in fact. So there
will be a service, after all.’
Nobody spoke. Armstrong picked a spot on the wall, and
looked hard at it.
‘I want to attend it,’ he said. ‘In fact, I’m going to attend it.’
‘I can’t permit that,’ Stuyvesant said.
Armstrong said nothing.
‘I mean, I advise against it,’ Stuyvesant said.
‘She was killed because of me. I want to attend her service.
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It’s the least I can do. I want to speak there, actually. I guess I
should talk to her folks again.’
‘I’m sure they’d be honoured, but there are security issues.’
‘I respect your judgement, of course,’ Armstrong said. ‘But it
isn’t negotiable. I’ll go on my own, if I have to. I might prefer to
go on my own.’
qhat isn’t possible,’ Stuyvesant said.
Armstrong nodded. ‘So find three agents who want to be
there with me. And only three. We can’t turn it into a circus.