president out of eighteen since you guys took over. Six per cent
failure rate. That’s not too bad.’
‘Ninety-four, ninety-five,’ she said. ‘Whatever, I guess he was
right.’
‘Joe was right about a lot of things, the way I recall it.’
‘But we’ve never lost a vice president,’ she said. ‘Not yet.’ She put the files under one arm and stacked the photographs
on the credenza and butted them around with her fingertips
until they were neatly piled. Picked them up and put them in
her bag. Then she glanced at each of the four walls in turn, as
if she was memorizing their exact details. A distracted little
gesture. She nodded at nothing in particular and headed for the
door.
‘Got to go,’ she said.
She walked out of the room and the door sucked shut behind
her. There was silence for a spell. Then Neagley stood up
straight at the end of one of the beds and clamped the cuffs of
her sweatshirt in her palms and stretched her arms high above
her head. She tilted her head back and yawned. Her hair
cascaded over her shoulders. The hem of her shirt rode up and
Reacher saw hard muscle above the waistband of her jeans. It
was ridged like a turtle’s back.
‘You still look good,’ he said.
‘So do you, in black.’
‘Feels like a uniform,’ he said. ‘Five years since I last wore one.’
Neagley finished stretching. Smoothed her hair and pulled
the hem of her shirt back down into place.
‘Are we done here?’ she asked.
65
ff’ired?’
‘Exhausted. We worked our butts off, ruining that poor
woman’s day.’
‘What did you think of her?’
‘I liked her. And like I told her, I think she’s got an impossible
job. And all in all, I think she’s pretty good at it. I doubt if anybody else could do it better. And I think she kind of knows
that too, but it’s burning her up that she’s forced to settle for
ninety-five per cent instead of a hundred.’
‘I agree.’
‘Who’s this guy Joe she was talking about?’
‘An old boyfriend.’
‘You knew him?’
‘My brother. She dated him.’
‘When?’
q’hey broke up six years ago.’
‘what’s he like?’
Reacher glanced at the floor. Didn’t correct the is to a was. ‘Like a civilized version of me,’ he said.
‘So maybe she’ll want to date you, too. Civilized can be an
overrated virtue. And collecting the complete set is always fun
for a girl.’
Reacher said nothing. The room went quiet.
‘I guess I’ll head home,’ Neagley said. ‘Back to Chicago. Back
to the real world. But I got to say, it was a pleasure working
with you again.’
‘Liar.’
‘No, really, I mean it.’
‘So stick around. A buck gets ten she’ll be back inside an
hour.’
Neagley smiled. ‘what, to ask you out?’
Reacher shook his head. ‘No, to tell us what her real problem
is.’
66
FOUR
F
ROELICH WALKED ACROSS THE SIDEWALK TO HER SUBURBAN. Spilled the files onto the passenger seat. Started the
engine and kept her foot hard on the brake. Pulled her
phone from her bag and flipped it open. Entered Stuyvesant’s
home number digit by digit and then paused with her finger
resting on the call button. The phone waited patiently with the
number displayed on the tiny green screen. She looked ahead
through the windshield, fighting, with herself. She looked down
at the phone. Back out at the street. Her finger rested on the
button. Then she flipped the phone shut and dropped it on top
of the files. Pulled the transmission lever into drive and took off
from the kerb with a loud chirp from all four tyres. Hung a left
and a right and headed for her office.
The room service guy came back to collect the coffee tray.
Reacher took his jacket off and hung it in the closet. Pulled the
T-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.
‘Did you vote in the election?’ Neagley asked him.
He shook his head. ‘I’m not registered anywhere: Did you?’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I always vote.’
‘Did you vote for Armstrong?’
67
‘Nobody votes for vice president. Except his family, maybe.’