asked.
‘Right here,’ the guy said. He fiddled in his pocket and came
out with a bunch of small brass keys on a ring. Squatted down
in the limited space and opened a low cupboard. Took out three
boxes.
Fhese are the three I copied for Froelich,’ he said, on his
knees.
‘Some place where we can look at them?’
I’hey’re no different than the copies.’
‘Copying causes detail loss,’ Reacher said. ‘First rule, start
with the originals.’
‘OK,’ the guy said. ‘You can look at them right here, I guess.’
He stood up awkwardly and pushed and pulled some equipment
around on a bench and angled a small monitor outward
and switched on a standalone player. A blank grey square
appeared on the screen.
‘No remotes on these things,’ he said. You have to use the
buttons.’
He stacked the three tape boxes in the correct time
sequence.
‘Got chairs?’ Reacher asked.
The guy ducked out and came back dragging two typist’s
chairs. They tangled in the doorway and he had trouble fitting
them both in front of the narrow bench. Then he glanced
around like he was unhappy about leaving strangers alone in
his little domain.
‘I guess I’ll wait in the foyer,’ he said. ‘Call me when you’re
through.’
‘What’s your name?’ Neagley asked.
‘Nendick,’ the guy said, shyly.
‘OK, Nendick,’ she said. ‘We’ll be sure to call you.’
He left the room and Reacher put the third tape in the
machine.
“You know what?’ Neagley said. Fhat guy didn’t sneak a peek
at my ass.’
‘Didn’t he?’
‘Guys usually do when I’m wearing these pants.’
‘Do they?’
99
‘Usually.’
Reacher kept his gaze firmly on the blank video screen.
‘Maybe he’s gay,’ he said.
‘He was wearing a wedding band.’
q’hen maybe he tries hard to avoid inappropriate feelings. Or
maybe he’s tired.’
‘Or maybe I’m getting old,’ she said.
He hit fast rewind. The motor whirred.
I’hird tape,’ he said. q’hursday morning. We’ll do this backward.’
The player spooled fast. He watched the counter and hit play
and the picture came up with an empty office with the timecode
burned in over it showing the relevant Thursday’s date and the
time at seven fifty-five a.m. He hit forward scan and then froze
the picture when the secretary entered the frame at exactly
eight o’clock in the morning. He settled in his chair and hit play
and the secretary walked into the square area and took off her
coat and hung it on the rack. Walked within three feet of
Stuyvesant’s door and bent down behind her desk.
‘Stowing her purse,’ Neagley said. ‘On the floor in the foot
well.’
The secretary was a woman of maybe sixty. For a moment
she was face on to the camera. She vcas a matronly figure.
Stern, but kindly. She sat down heavily and hitched her chair in
and opened a book on the desk.
‘Checking the diary,’ Neagley said.
The secretary stayed firmly in her chair, busy with the diary.
Then she started in on a tall stack of memos. She filed some of
them in a drawer and used her rubber stamp on others and
moved them right to left across her desk.
‘You ever see so much paperwork?’ Reacher said. ‘Worse than
the army.’
The secretary broke off from her memo stack twice, to
answer the phone. But she didn’t move from her chair. Reacher
fast-forwarded until Stuyvesant himself swept into view at ten
past eight. He was wearing a dark raincoat, maybe black or
charcoal. He was carrying a slim briefcase. He took off his coat
and hung it on the rack. Advanced into the square area and the
secretary’s head moved as if she was speaking to him. He set
100
his briefcase on her desk at an exact angle and adjusted its
position. Bent to confer with her. Nodded once and straightened
up and stepped to his door without his briefcase and
disappeared into his office. The timer ticked off four seconds.
Then he was back out in the doorway, calling to his secretary.
‘He found it,’ Reacher said.
¢Fhe briefcase thing is weird,’ Neagley said. ‘Why would he
leave it?’
‘Maybe he had an early meeting,’ Reacher said. ‘Maybe he