phone shut. There was panic in her eyes.
‘What?’ Reacher asked.
‘We got another one,’ she said. ff’en minutes ago. And it’s
worse.’
110
SIX
I
T WAS WAITING FOR THEM IN THE CENTRE OF THE LONG TABLE IN THE conference room. A small crowd of people had gathered
around it. The halogen spots in the ceiling lit it perfectly.
There was a brown nine-by-twelve envelope with a metal
closure and a torn flap. And a single sheet of white letter-size
paper. On it were printed ten words: The day upon which
Armstrong will die is fast approaching. The message was split
into two lines, exactly centred between the margins and set
slightly above the middle of the paper. There was nothing else
visible. People stared at it in silence. The guy in the suit from
the reception desk pushed backward through the crowd and
spoke to Froelich.
‘I handled the envelope,’ he said. ‘I didn’t touch the letter.
Just spilled it out.’
‘How did it arrive?’ she asked.
I’he garage guard took a bathroom break. Came back
and found it on the ledge inside his booth. He brought it
straight up to me. So I guess his prints are .on the envelope tOO.’
‘When, exactly?’
‘Half-hour ago.’
111
‘How does the garage guard work his breaks?’ Reacher
asked.
The room went quiet. People turned towards the new voice.
The desk guy started in with a fierce who-the-hell-are-you look.
But then he saw Froelich’s face and shrugged and answered
obediently.
‘He locks the barrier down,’ he said. qhat’s how. Runs to the
bathroom, runs back. Maybe two or three times a shift. He’s
down there eight hours at a stretch.’
Froelich nodded. ‘Nobody’s blaming him. Anybody call a
forensic team yet?’
‘We waited for you.’
‘OK, leave it on the table, nobody touch it, and seal this room
tight.’
‘Is there a camera in the garage?’ Reacher asked.
‘Yes, there is.’
‘So get Nendick to bring us tonight’s tape, right now.’
Neagley craned over the table. ‘Rather florid wording, don’t
you think? And “fast” definitely takes the prediction defence
away, I would say. Turns the whole thing into an overt threat.’
Froelich nodded. ‘You got that right,’ she said slowly. ‘If this
is somebody’s idea of a game or a joke, it just turned very
serious very suddenly.’
She said it loud and clear and Reacher caught her purpose
fast enough to watch the faces in the room. There was
absolutely no reaction on any of them. Froelich checked her
watch.
‘Armstrong’s in the air,’ she said. ‘On his way home.’
Then she was quiet for a beat.
‘Call out an extra team,’ she said. ‘Half to Andrews, half to
Armstrong’s house. And put an extra vehicle in the convoy. And
take an indirect route back.’
There was a split second of hesitation and then people started
moving with the practised efficiency of an elite team readying
itself for action. Reacher watched them carefully, and he liked
what he saw. Then he and Neagley followed Froelich back to
her office. She called an FBI number and asked for a forensics
team, urgent. Listened to the reply and hung up.
‘Not that there’s much doubt about what they’ll find,’ she
112
said, to nobody in particular. Then Nendick knocked and came
in, carrying two video tapes.
Fwo cameras,’ he said. ‘One is inside the booth, high up,
looking down and sideways, supposed to ID individual drivers
in their cars. The other is outside, looking straight up the alley,
supposed to pick up approaching vehicles.’
He put both cassettes on the desk and went back out.
Froelich picked up the first tape and scooted her chair over to
her television set. Put the tape in and pressed play. It was the
sideways view from inside the booth. The angle was high, but it
was about right to catch a driver framed in a car window. She
wound back thirty-five minutes. Pressed play again. The guard
was shown sitting on his stool with the back of his left shoulder
in shot. Doing nothing. She fast-wound forward until he stood
up. He touched a couple of buttons and disappeared. Nothing
happened for thirty seconds. Then an arm snaked into view