“Walk due west a hundred yards,” he said. Then north another hundred.
You’ll know what to do when you get there.”
Holly looked at Reacher. He looked back and nodded. They strolled
together into the trees, heading west.
Thirty yards into the woods, as soon as they were out of sight, Holly
stopped. She planted her crutch and waited for Reacher to turn and
rejoin her.
“Borken,” she said. “I know who he is. I’ve seen his name in our
files. They tagged him for a robbery, northern California somewhere.
Twenty million dollars in bearer bonds. Armored car driver was killed.
Sacramento office investigated, but they couldn’t make it stick.”
Reacher nodded.
“He did it,” he said. That’s for damn sure. Fowler admitted it. Says
they’ve got twenty million in the Caymans. Captured from the enemy.”
Holly grimaced.
“It explains the mole in Chicago,” she said. “Borken can afford a
pretty handsome bribe with twenty million bucks in the bank, right?”
Reacher nodded again, slowly.
“Anybody you know would take a bribe?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“They all bitch about the salary,” she said.
He shook his head.
“No,” he said. Think of somebody who doesn’t bitch about it. Whoever’s
got Borken’s bearer bonds behind him isn’t worried about money
anymore.”
She shrugged again.
“Some of them don’t grumble,” she said. “Some of them just put up with
it. Like me, for instance. But I guess I’m different.”
He looked at her. Walked on.
“You’re different,” he repeated. That’s for damn sure.”
He said it vaguely, thinking about it. They walked on for ten yards.
He was walking slower than his normal pace and she was limping at his
side. He was lost in thought. He was hearing Borken’s high voice
claiming: she’s more than his daughter. He was hearing her own
exasperated voice asking: why the hell does everybody assume everything
that ever happens to me is because of who my damn father is? Then he
stopped walking again and looked straight at her.
“Who are you, Holly?” he asked.
“You know who I am,” she said.
He shook his head again.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “At first I thought you were just some woman.
Then you were some woman called Holly Johnson. Then you were an FBI
agent. Then you were General Johnson’s daughter. Then Borken told me
you’re even more than that. She’s more than his daughter, he said.
That stunt you pulled, he was shirting himself. You’re some kind of a
triple-A gold-plated hostage, Holly. So who the hell else are you?”
She looked at him. Sighed.
“Long story,” she said. “Started twenty-eight years ago. My father
was made a White House Fellow. Seconded to Washington. They used to
do that, with the fast-track guys. He got friendly with another guy.
Political analyst, aiming to be a Congressman. My mother was pregnant
with me, his wife was pregnant, he asked my parents to be godparents,
my father asked them to be godparents. So this other guy stood up at
my christening.”
“And?” Reacher said.
The guy got into a career,” Holly said. “He’s still in Washington. You
probably voted for him. He’s the president.”
Reacher walked on in a daze. Kept glancing at Holly, gamely matching
him stride for stride. A hundred yards west of the punishment hut,
there was an outcrop of rock, bare of trees. Reacher and Holly turned
there and walked north, into the breeze.
“Where are we going?” Holly said. Her voice had an edge of worry.
Reacher stopped suddenly. He knew where they were going. The answer
was on the breeze. He went cold. His skin crawled. He stared down at
the implements in his hands like he’d never seen such things before.
“You stay here,” he said.
She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I’m coming with you, wherever it is.”
“Please, Holly,” he said. “Stay here, will you?”
She looked surprised by his voice, but she carried on shaking her
head.
“I’m coming with you,” she said again.
He gave her a bleak look and they walked on north. He forced himself
onward, toward it. Fifty yards. Each step required a conscious effort
of will. Sixty yards. He wanted to turn and run. Just run and never
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