The aide shrugged and McGrath slipped the dynamite report back into the
pile. Webster looked around and slapped both palms lightly on the
tabletop.
“I’m going back to DC,” he said. “Got to get a position.”
Johnson shrugged his shoulders. He knew nothing could start without a
trip back to DC to get a position. Webster turned to McGrath.
“You three move up to Butte,” he said. “Get settled in the office
there. If this guy Jackson calls, put him on maximum alert.”
“We can chopper you up there,” the aide said.
“And we need surveillance,” Webster said. “Can you get the air force
to put some camera planes over Yorke?”
Johnson nodded.
They’ll be there,” he said. Twenty-four hours a day. We’ll give you a
live video feed into Butte. A rat farts, you’ll see it.”
“No intervention,” Webster said. “Not yet.”
TWENTY-NINE
SHE HEARD FOOTSTEPS IN THE CORRIDOR AT THE EXACT MOMENT the sixth bolt
came free. A light tread. Not Jackson. Not a man treading carefully.
A woman, walking normally. The steps halted outside her door. There
was a pause. She rested the long tube back on the frame. A key went
into the lock. She pulled the mattress back into place. Dragged the
blanket over it. Another pause. The door opened.
A woman came into the room. She looked like all of them looked, white,
lean, long straight hair, strong plain face, no make-up, no adornment,
red hands. She was carrying a tray, with a white cloth mounded up over
it. No weapon.
“Lunch,” she said.
Holly nodded. Her heart was pounding. The woman was standing there,
the tray in her hands, looking around the room, staring hard at the new
pine walls.
“Where do you want this?” she asked. “On the bed?”
Holly shook her head.
“On the floor,” she said.
The woman bent and placed the tray on the floor.
“Guess you could use a table,” she said. “And a chair.”
Holly glanced down at the flatware and thought: tools.
9.9.7
“You want me to get them to bring you a chair?” the woman asked.
“No,” Holly said.
“Well, I could use one,” the woman said. “I’ve got to wait and watch
you eat. Make sure you don’t steal the silverware.”
Holly nodded vaguely and circled around the woman. Glanced at the open
door. The woman followed her gaze and grinned.
“Nowhere to run,” she said. “We’re a long way from anywhere, and
there’s some difficult terrain in the way. North, you’d reach Canada
in a couple of weeks, if you found enough roots and berries and bugs to
eat. West, you’d have to swim the river. East, you’d get lost in the
forest or eaten by a bear, and even if you didn’t, you’re still a month
away from Montana. South, we’d shoot you. The border is crawling with
guards. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
The road is blocked?” Holly asked.
The woman smiled.
“We blew the bridge,” she said. There is no road, not anymore.”
“When?” Holly asked her. “We drove in.”
“Just now,” the woman said. “You didn’t hear it? I guess you
wouldn’t, not with these walls.”
“So how does Readier get sent out?” Holly asked. “He’s supposed to be
carrying some sort of a message.”
The woman smiled again.
That plan has changed,” she said. “Mission canceled. He’s not
going.”
“Why not?” Holly asked.
The woman looked straight at her.
“We found out what happened to Peter Bell,” she said.
Holly went quiet.
“Readier killed him,” the woman said. “Suffocated him. In North
Dakota. We were just informed. But I expect you know all about it,
right?”
Holly stared at her. She thought: Reacher’s in big trouble. She saw
him, handcuffed and alone somewhere.
“How did you find out?” she asked quietly.
The woman shrugged.
“We have a lot of friends,” she said.
Holly kept on staring at her. She thought: the mole. They know we
were in North Dakota. Takes a map and a ruler to figure out where we
are now. She saw computer keyboards clicking and Jackson’s name
scrolling up on a dozen screens.
“What’s going to happen to Readier?” she asked.
“A life for a life,” the woman said. That’s the rule here. Same for