began to wish they hadn’t bothered to schedule the follow-up
event. It really wasn’t necessary.
Froelich watched the faces. She watched the perimeters. She
watched the crowd, straining to sense any alteration in the herd
behaviour that might indicate tension or uneasiness or sudden
panic. She saw nothing. Saw no sign of Reacher, either.
Armstrong stayed thirty minutes longer than anticipated,
because the weak fall sun bathed the field in gold, and there
was no breeze, and he was having a good time, and there was
nothing scheduled for the evening except a quiet dinner with
key members of the state legislature. So his wife was escorted
home and his personal detail herded him back towards the cars
and drove him north into the city of Bismarck itself. There was
a hotel adjacent to the restaurant and Froelich had arranged
rooms for the dead time before the meal. Armstrong napped
for an hour and then showered and dressed. The meal was
going well when his chief of staff fielded a call. The outgoing
President and Vice President were formally summoning the
President-elect and the Vice President-elect to a one-day
transition conference at the Naval Support Facility in Thurmont,
starting early the next morning. It was a conventional invitation,
because inevitably there was business to discuss. And it
was delivered in the traditional way, last-minute and pompous,
because the lame ducks wanted to push the world around one
last time. But Froelich was delighted, because the unofficial
name for the Naval Support Facility in Thurmont is Camp
David, and there is no safer place in the world than that
particular wooded clearing in the Maryland mountains. She
decided they should all fly back to Andrews immediately and
take Marine helicopters straight out to the compound. If they
spent all night and all day there She would be able to relax
completely for twenty-four hours.
48
But late on the Sunday morning a navy steward found her at
breakfast in the mess hall and plugged a telephone into a
baseboard socket near her chair. Nobody uses cordless or
cellular phones at Camp David. Too vulnerable to electronic
eavesdropping.
‘Call transferred from your main office, ma’am,’ the steward
said.
There was empty silence for a second, and then a voice.
‘We should get together,’ Reacher said.
‘Why?’
‘Can’t tell you on the phone.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Here and there.’
‘Where are you now?’
In a room at the hotel you used for the reception Thursday.’
‘You got something urgent for me?’
‘A conclusion.’
‘Already? It’s only been five days. You said ten.’
‘Five was enough.’
Froelich cupped the phone. ‘What’s the conclusion?’ Then
she found herself holding her breath.
‘It’s impossible,’ Reacher said.
She breathed out and smiled, if’old you so.’
‘No, your job is impossible. You need to talk to me urgently.
You should get over here, right now.’
49
THREE
S
HE DROVE BACK TO D.C. IN HER SUBURBAN AND ARGUED WITH herself the whole way. If the news is really bad, when do I
involve Stuyvesant? Now? Later? In the end she pulled
over on Dupont Circle and called him at home and asked him
the question direct.
‘I’ll get involved when I need to,’ he said. ‘Who did you use?’
‘Joe Reacher’s brother.’
‘Our Joe Reacher? I didn’t know he had a brother.’
‘Well, he did.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Just like Joe, maybe a little rougher.’
‘Older or younger?’
‘Both,’ Froelich said. ‘He started out younger, and now he’s
older.’
Stuyvesant went quiet for a moment.
‘Is he as smart as Joe?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Froelich said.
Stuyvesant went quiet again. ‘So call me when you need
to. But sooner rather than later, OK? And don’t say anything to
anybody else.’
She ended the call and threaded back into the Sunday traffic
50
and drove the last mile and parked outside the hotel. The desk
was expecting her and sent her straight up to 1201, twelfth
floor. She followed a waiter through the door. He was carrying
a tray with a pot of coffee and two upside-down cups on saucers.
No milk, no sugar, no spoons, and a single pink rose in a
narrow china vase. The room was standard-issue city hotel. Two