them. He was such a big guy, it made for a tight fit. He pointed
beyond the old building.
“Drive north,” he said, ‘about a mile.”
The road led them straight out of town and then wound upward through
some steep bends. The employer pointed to a place.
“In there,” he said, ‘all the way in back, OK?”
He strolled quietly away and the two guys unloaded their truck. Drove
it back south and heaved the old pine boards in. Followed the winding
bends again and unloaded. They carried the boards inside and stacked
them neatly. All the way in back of the dark space. Then the employer
stepped out of the shadows. He had been waiting for them. He had
something in his hand.
“We’re all done,” the first guy said.
The employer nodded.
“You sure are,” he said.
His hand came up. He was holding a gun. A dull black automatic. He
shot the first guy in the head. The crash of the bullet was deafening.
Blood and bone and brain sprayed everywhere. The second guy froze in
terror. Then he ran. He launched himself sideways in a desperate
sprint for cover. The employer smiled. He liked it when they ran. He
dropped his huge arm to a shallow angle. Fired and put a bullet
through the back of the guy’s knee. Smiled again. Now it was better.
He liked it when they ran, but he liked it better when they were
squirming on the floor. He stood and listened to the guy’s yelping for
a long moment. Then he strolled quietly over and took careful aim. Put
a bullet through the other knee. He watched for a while, then he tired
of the game. Shrugged and put a final bullet through the guy’s head.
Then he laid the gun on the ground and rolled the two bodies over and
over until they were stacked neatly in line with the old floorboards.
THREE
THEY HAD BEEN ON THE ROAD AN HOUR AND THIRTY-THREE minutes. Some urban
crawling, then an acceleration to a steady cruise. Maybe sixty miles
covered. But in the noisy darkness inside the panel truck Reacher had
no idea which direction those sixty miles were taking him.
He was handcuffed to the young woman with the bad leg and within the
first few minutes of their forced acquaintance they had worked out how
to get as comfortable as they were ever going to get. They had crabbed
around inside the truck until they were sitting sideways on the floor,
legs straight out, propped against the big wheel well on the right,
braced against the motion. The woman sat against the rear side and
Reacher sat on the forward side. Their cuffed wrists lay together on
the flat top of the metal bulge like they were lovers idling their time
away in a cafe.
At first they hadn’t spoken. They’d just sat for a long time in
stunned silence. The immediate problem was the heat. It was the
middle of the last day of June in the Midwest. They were shut into an
enclosed metal space. There was no ventilation. Reacher figured the
rush of air over the outside of the truck’s body must be cooling it to
an extent, but nowhere near enough. He just sat there in the gloom and
used the hot dead time thinking and planning like he was trained to do.
Staying calm, staying relaxed, staying ready, not burning his energy
away with useless speculation. Assessing and evaluating. The three
guys had shown a measure of efficiency. No great talent, no real
finesse, but no significant mistakes. The jumpy guy with the second
Clock was the weakest component of the team, but the leader had covered
for him pretty well. An efficient threesome. Not at all the worst
he’d ever seen. But, at that point, he wasn’t worrying. He’d been in
worse situations and survived them. Much worse situations, and more
than once. So he wasn’t worrying yet.
Then he noticed something. He noticed that the woman wasn’t worrying
yet either. She was calm too. She was just sitting there, swaying,
cuffed to his wrist, thinking and planning like maybe she was trained