The general’s aide walked him back to the roadblock. There was silence
in the command vehicle. McGrath and Brogan and Milosevic studied the
map.
“We can’t get through, they can’t get through,” McGrath said. “We’ve
got them bottled up. We need to start exploiting that.”
“How?” Webster said.
“Control them,” McGrath said. “We already control their road. We can
control their power and their telephone line, too. The lines more or
less follow the road. Separate spurs up out of Kalispell. We should
cut the phone line so it terminates right here, in this vehicle. Then
they can’t communicate with anybody except us. Then we tell them we
control their power. Threaten to cut it off if they don’t
negotiate.”
“You want a negotiation?” Johnson asked.
“I want a stalling tactic,” McGrath said. “Until the White House
loosens up.”
Webster nodded.
“OK, do it,” he said. “Call the phone company and get the line run in
here.”
“I already did,” McGrath said. “They’ll do it first thing in the
morning.”
Webster yawned. Checked his watch. Gestured to Milosevic and
Brogan.
“We should get a sleeping rota going,” he said. “You two turn in
first. We’ll sleep two shifts, call it four hours at a time.”
Milosevic and Brogan nodded. Looked happy enough about it.
“See you later,” McGrath said. “Sleep tight.”
They left the trailer and closed the door quietly. Johnson was still
fiddling with the map. Twisting it and turning it on the table.
“Can’t they do the phone thing faster?” he asked. “Like tonight?”
Webster thought about it and nodded. He knew fifty per cent of any
battle is keeping the command structure harmonious.
“Call them again, Mack,” he said. “Tell them we need it now.”
McGrath called them again. He used the phone at his elbow. Had a
short conversation which ended with a chuckle.
“They’re sending the emergency linemen,” he said. “Should be done in a
couple of hours. But we’ll get an invoice for it. I told them to send
it to the Hoover Building. The guy asked me where that was.”
He got up and waited in the doorway. Johnson and Webster stayed at the
table. They huddled together over their map. They looked at the
southern ravine. It had been formed a million years ago when the earth
shattered under the weight of a billion tons of ice. They assumed it
was accurately represented on paper.
THIRTY-SIX
REACHER WOKE UP EXACTLY TWO MINUTES BEFORE TEN O’CLOCK. He did it in
his normal way, which was to come round quickly, motionless, no change
in his breathing. He felt his arm curled under his head and opened his
eyes the smallest fraction possible. The other side of the punishment
hut, Joseph Ray was still sitting against the door. The Clock was on
the floor beside him. He was checking his watch.
Reacher counted off ninety seconds in his head. Ray was glancing
between the roof of the hut and his watch. Then he looked across at
Reacher. Reacher snapped upright in one fluid movement. Pressed his
palm against his ear like he was listening to a secret communication.
Ray’s eyes were wide. Reacher nodded and stood up.
“OK,” he said. “Open the door, Joe.”
Ray took out the key from his pocket. Unlocked the door. It swung
open.
“You want to take the Clock?” Ray asked.
He held the gun out, butt first. Anxiety in his eyes. Reacher smiled.
He had expected nothing less. Ray was dumb, but not that dumb. He had
been given two and a half hours to scope it out. This was a final
test. If he took the gun, he was bullshitting. He was certain it was
unloaded and the clip was in Ray’s pocket.
“Don’t need it,” Reacher said. “We’ve got the whole place covered. I
got weapons at my disposal more powerful than a nine-millimeter,
believe me, Joe.”
Ray nodded and straightened up.
“Don’t forget the laser beams,” Reacher said. “You step out of this
hut, you’re a dead man. Nothing I can do about that right now. Vous
comprenez, mon ami?”
Ray nodded again. Reacher slipped out into the night. Ray swung the
door closed. Reacher backtracked silently and waited around the corner