He glanced at the river and the hundred faces in front of him became a hundred faces of Leon Garber. A short, squat, tough man. A wide smile he always used whether he was happy or annoyed or in danger. A brave man, physically and mentally. A great leader. Honest as the day is long, fair, perceptive. Reacher’s role model during his vital formative years. His mentor and his sponsor. His protector. He had gone way out on a limb and promoted him twice in an eighteen-month span which made Reacher the youngest peacetime major anybody could remember. Then he had spread his blunt hands wide and smiled and disclaimed any credit for his ensuing successes.
‘I’m very sorry, Jodie,’ he said again.
She nodded silently.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I can’t take it in. I saw him less than a year ago. He was in good shape then. He got sick?’
She nodded again, still silent.
‘But he was always so tough,’ he said.
She nodded, sadly. ‘He was, wasn’t he? Always so tough.’
‘And not old,’ he said.
‘Sixty-four,’
‘So what happened?’
‘His heart,’ she said. ‘It got him in the end. Remember how he always liked to pretend he didn’t have one?’
Reacher shook his head. ‘Biggest heart you ever saw.’
‘I found that out,’ she said. ‘When Mom died, we were best friends for ten years. I loved him.’
‘I loved him too,’ Reacher said. ‘Like he was my dad, not yours.’
She nodded again. ‘He still talked about you all the time.’
Reacher looked away. Stared out at the unfocused shape of the West Point buildings, grey in the haze. He was numb. He was in that age zone where people he knew died. His father was dead, his mother was dead, his brother was dead. Now the nearest thing to a substitute relative was dead, too.
‘He had a heart attack six months ago,’ Jodie said. Her eyes clouded and she hooked her long straight hair behind her ear. ‘He sort of recovered for a spell, looked pretty good, but really he was failing fast. They were considering a bypass, but he took a turn for the worse and went down too quickly. He wouldn’t have survived the surgery.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ he said, for the third time.
She turned alongside him and threaded her arm through his.
‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘He was always a very contented guy. Better for him to go fast. I couldn’t see him being happy lingering on.’
Reacher had a flash in his mind of the old Garber, bustling and raging, a fireball of energy, and he understood how desperate it would have made him to become an invalid. Understood too how that overloaded old heart had finally given up the struggle. He nodded, unhappily.
‘Come and meet some people,’ Jodie said. ‘Maybe you know some of them.’
‘I’m not dressed for this,’ he said. ‘I feel bad. I should go.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘You think Dad would care?’
He saw Garber in his old creased khaki and his battered hat. He was the worst-dressed officer in the US Army, all thirteen years Reacher had served under him. He smiled, briefly.
‘I guess he wouldn’t mind,’ he said.
She walked him on to the lawn. There were maybe six people out of the hundred he recognized. A couple of the guys in uniform were familiar. A handful in suits were men he’d worked with here and there in another lifetime. He shook hands with dozens of people and tried to listen to the names, but they went in one ear and out the other. Then the quiet chatter and the eating and the drinking started up again, the crowd closed around him, and the sensation of his untidy arrival was smoothed over and forgotten. Jodie still had hold of his arm. Her hand was cool on his skin.
‘I’m looking for somebody,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m here, really.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Mrs Jacob, right?’
He nodded.
‘Is she here?’ he asked.
I’m Mrs Jacob,’ she said.
The two guys in the black Tahoe backed it out of the line of cars, out from under the power lines so the car phone would work without interference. The driver dialled a number and the ring tone filled the quiet vehicle. Then the call was answered sixty miles south and eighty-eight floors up.