Chapter 22

Reacher fixed Vidic's phone into a bracket on the truck's dashboard, the way he'd seen Knight attach hers in her car, earlier. The map was still displayed on its screen, but Reacher didn't pay it much attention. He had memorized the route before leaving the house, which wasn't difficult. The place he was heading was barely five miles away.

The farther Reacher got from the house, the narrower and twistier the roads became. The pavement got rougher. The dips and potholes were deeper and more frequent. The incline grew more aggressive and the trees on either side thinned out, exposing coarse, scrubby dirt beneath them. Reacher saw no houses or dwellings of any kind. He guessed it was no coincidence that the fancy developer from the seventies had invested his building dollars elsewhere.

Reacher kept going until he could see where the road dead-ended. Rough rocks rose on the left, and their profile was mirrored on the right by heaps of man-made spoil. Reacher cut the engine and coasted until the truck slowed to a stop. He climbed out, taking care not to slam his door. He could see a track winding its way through the spoil heaps. It was wide enough for SUVs and regular-sized trucks. Or larger ones, in skilled hands. And it would also be the perfect place for an ambush.

Reacher selected the spoil heap on the left of the track. Its incline was shallower. Easier to climb. He moved slowly, placing his feet deliberately and trying to dislodge as few stones as possible. He crept on up, steadily, until he made it to the top. It was domed, maybe twenty feet across. Reacher got down on his stomach and crawled forward until he could see down to the far side. There was a clearing. It was semicircular and covered with gravel. A metal door was set into the rock face beyond it, like the entrance to a mine. It was shiny and incongruous against the hulking gray slabs. And there were two vehicles. A panel van and a Land Rover. Reacher couldn't see if either was occupied due to his angle of view. He couldn't tell how big a space lay behind the metal door. And he had no idea if anyone was waiting there with hostile intent.

Going back down was harder, especially on the loose surface, so the descent took Reacher longer than he would have liked. Every second made the scant intel he had gathered increasingly worthless. He made it without causing a rockslide, which he figured was something, then he hurried back to Kane's truck. He knew the smart move would be to leave. The area could be booby-trapped. And if the mine was defended to even a minimal level he would be crazy to attempt an assault with the equipment at his disposal.

Reacher didn't like to take unnecessary risks. But neither did he like to change course or abandon an objective. The likelihood was that Paris was in the mine or one of the vehicles. It was only a matter of time before Vidic missed a contact. She would realize something was wrong, and run. Maybe they had a contingency plan already figured out for this kind of situation. Or maybe she would wing it. But either way, she wouldn't be there for long.

Reacher knew what he should do. But he also knew that an FBI agent had died trying to build a case against this woman and her buddies. He had three of them under wraps, but that wasn't good enough. There was no way he was about to let the fourth go free.

Reacher fired up the truck and took the track between the spoil heaps. He made the final bend and caught movement inside one of the parked vehicles. The Land Rover. A woman was behind the wheel. She was pale, with black hair, and there was a look of thunder on her face. Reacher pulled up in front of the two vehicles, parallel with the door to the mine, with the rock face to his right. That way if any shooting started he could bail out and put the engine block between himself and anyone with a gun.

Ten seconds crawled by. No shots were fired. The metal door to the mine remained closed. But the woman jumped down from the Land Rover. She took two steps toward the truck and stopped, hands on her hips, head tipped slightly to the side. Reacher climbed out, too. He left the engine running and circled around to face her.

The woman was wearing a sky-blue blouse over jeans and sneakers. She had a jacket styled like a man's blazer and a broad black purse was slung over her shoulder.

Reacher said, "Are you Paris?"

Paris snorted. "Like you don't know who I am. What am I supposed to think? You strayed in here by chance and pulled my name out of the air?"

"Is that a yes ?"

"If you like."

"Good. My name's—"

"I know who you are. Your name's Reacher. You're the guy who was with Gibson when he died. You beat up Fletcher in the kitchen at our house."

Reacher held up his hands. "The first was an accident. It had nothing to do with me. The second, what can I say? He cuffed me to a table. He had it coming."

"You don't get it. I'm not mad at you. Gibson was a snitch. I'm glad he's dead. I'd prefer it if someone had killed him. And Fletcher's a despicable turd. If I thought for one minute you didn't mean it when you kicked his ass, I would have shot you before your feet hit the ground. Now, what are you doing here? And why are you driving Kane's stupid truck?"

"Vidic sent me. We're working together. The thing with the safe. He didn't tell you?"

Paris waited a moment. "Go on."

"Something happened. An accident. Vidic is hurt. Pretty bad. He sent me to fetch you. To take you to him. He needs you."

"Seriously? Damn. You could have led with that. Come on, then. Let's get going."

Reacher nodded toward the passenger seat of Kane's truck and turned to get back in on his side.

Paris shook her head. "No. I'm not riding in that piece of garbage. I don't care how bad Ivan is hurt. We'll take my car."

Reacher shrugged. He continued to his door, leaned in, and killed the engine. Then he made his way around the hood and started toward the passenger side of the Land Rover.

Paris said, "No. You drive. I can't. This news about Ivan? I'm too upset."

Reacher changed course and made for her driver's door.

Paris said, "Thank you." She turned and took a step toward the back of the vehicle like she was going to loop around to the other side. But when she figured Reacher would be about to climb in she stopped. She spun around. She had a gun in her hand. A small one. A Walther PPK. She said, "On your—"

Reacher wasn't where she expected him to be. He hadn't paused to open the driver's door. He had kept on going, hard on her heels, and now he was right on top of her. He grabbed her right hand with his left and moved it aside so that the muzzle was almost touching the Land Rover's side window. He said, "Nice try. Now drop it."

Paris held on to the gun. She tried to pull it back in line with Reacher's head but her arm didn't move an inch.

Reacher said, "Think about what you're doing. You seem like an intelligent woman. The gun is metal. Your fingers aren't. What's going to happen when I start to squeeze?"

Paris pulled again, harder, twisting from the waist and using all her weight.

Reacher started to apply pressure. "Does a broken hand sound good to you? Because that's what you're going to have in about thirty seconds."

Paris held on. She tugged and heaved and pitched from side to side, then accepted the inevitable. She relaxed her grip and said, "Fine. Do whatever you want."

Reacher slipped the gun out of her fingers and stepped back. He said, "What I want is for you to get in the vehicle. We're going to where Vidic is. I wasn't joking about that. He is hurt."

Paris started moving around the back of the Land Rover. "If you say so. I still don't believe you."

"Turn around."

Paris stopped. "Why?"

"You're going to drive."

"I am? What kind of kidnapper are you?"

"A smart one. You'll be in the front. I'll be behind you. You won't have a seatbelt on. I will. See how that works?"

Paris let out a long, deep sigh. She said, "I get the picture. Come on, then. Let's get this over with. But I'm warning you. You better not be lying." She was silent for a moment like the full implication of her words was just dawning on her. "I mean, you better not be lying about him being alive. He better be OK when we get there. If he's dead and you know it and you—"

"I'm not lying. He is hurt but he's going to make it."

"Then let's go. We're wasting time."

"Tell me about this place first."

"What about it? It's a filthy hole in the ground that no one should spend a second more in than absolutely necessary. What more do you need to know?"

"Who found it?"

"Fletcher."

"What do you use it for?"

"Parties. Wedding receptions. What do you think we use it for?"

"Storage. Or hiding out. A place like this would be easy to fortify."

"Fortify? What kind of world do you live in? We use it to dump all the crap we steal but no one will buy. Fletcher thinks it's like a bank. I say it's like your mad auntie's basement. Or it would be if she had industrial-scale kleptomania and very poor decision-making skills."

"Sounds picturesque. Show me."

"Now?"

"You want to come back later?"

"What about Ivan? We shouldn't keep him waiting, right?"

"Another minute or two won't kill him."

"Don't use that word. Kill . And there's no point going in. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"See that van? We spent basically all morning loading it with everything that wasn't a complete turkey. It's ready to burst. And before you ask, I don't have the key. Kane took it. They left me here to make sure no one else stole it but they didn't trust me not to take it myself. I have the best co-workers, right?"

"Why pack it up?"

"We're leaving."

"All of you?"

"Obviously."

"But not all together."

"How…? Oh. Ivan? How much did he tell you?"

"He said you and he were going your own way. Ditching the others. Starting over."

"That's correct. It was supposed to be a secret. But we weren't being disloyal. Not really. You don't know how bad things had gotten. The early days were golden. Then Fletcher showed up. He was OK once. I guess. But after Kane arrived? Forget it. Unbearable. The pair of them, together? Talk about a toxic environment. And Gibson was OK, looking back. Which is ironic, given that he wanted to put us all in jail."

"And Bowery?"

"He was with us. Or I thought he was. He's gone now. I have no idea where."

"Vidic?"

"What can I say? Things changed when he joined. He has a different way of thinking. I felt like I was trapped by the status quo. I was sleepwalking over a cliff. He sensed that. Showed me that I have a choice."

"When did he join?"

"When I was at my lowest ebb. Kane had just killed a guard on a job. It was completely unnecessary."

"OK. So the mine. Show me."

"We call it the cave. And it's empty now, like I said."

"You put the safe in the van? I heard it was too heavy to lift."

Paris looked at the ground. "I had nothing to do with that whole scheme. It was Ivan's idea. I told him he was overcomplicating things. But two million dollars? Split two ways? You can see the appeal."

"Actually, no. I can't."

"Really? What are you? A monk?"

Reacher said nothing.

"Look, don't be mad at Ivan. He really thought it was a win-win. You were obsessed with getting Fletcher and Kane. He was happy to give them to you. For obvious reasons. Who wouldn't be? And with them gone there was no point in the money sitting in the safe, rotting away. Someone had to benefit from it. You can see that, right?"

"So after I moved the safe for him he was going to give me Fletcher's whereabouts?"

"That's what he told me. I know it sounds fishy now with the timing and everything but circumstances change. Situations are fluid. And the two of you are good now, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be helping him. You wouldn't have come here for me. And speaking of him and me, we should go. He's hurt. I need to see him."

"We'll go. After I see the inside of the cave."

—

Reacher hadn't expected to find much in the cave but he couldn't leave without confirming what was there. The years had taught him to never take shortcuts. To turn over every rock. So he checked out the safe. Inspected the ratty old furniture. Poked through the boxes of weird metals that had been left behind. Sifted through the trash. Checked the floor and the walls for hidden compartments. Searched for concealed exits. And in the end Paris's claims had been basically borne out. The place had been stripped. Nothing of value was left. It was essentially abandoned. But Reacher didn't feel like he'd wasted his time. Two things had become clear. Fletcher and his guys were smart operators, to have found and used a place like that. And the effort it took to keep them off the street would definitely be worthwhile.

—

Reacher decided not to sit behind Paris while she drove. She seemed sold on the need to get to Vidic as quickly as possible. He collected Vidic's phone from Kane's truck and climbed into the Land Rover's passenger seat. Paris fired up the engine and stamped on the gas. The big SUV pitched and wallowed around the bends between the spoil piles. Reacher thought it felt more like a boat than a car. Then it rattled over the blacktop and bounced and swayed through the potholes until they reached the wider sections of road. Progress was calmer after that. Not exactly poised, but there was less danger of being shaken to death.

Paris found the Russians' house and pulled straight through the open gate. She stopped alongside Knight's Toyota. Reacher was happy to see it. Paris switched off the engine and jumped out. She rushed to the keypad and entered the code. She pulled open the front door and scampered inside. Reacher followed. He caught the door before it swung all the way closed. Stepped into the hallway and called to Knight to let her know they'd arrived. Then he figured he'd catch up with Paris, presumably in the bedroom Vidic was in, and offer her a choice. Conscious or unconscious. Because she was getting tied up, either way.

Reacher made it to the bottom of the stairs, then stopped. Something was bothering him. Knight hadn't answered. She hadn't come out to greet him or check who had arrived. A picture formed in his head. He saw her standing over Kane's body. His corpse. A knife in her hand, or a gun. Too immersed in the situation to react. He hurried to the kitchen. Knocked on the door in case she was in some kind of rapture. Pushed it open. Went inside. And saw only Kane. Tied up, on the floor, just as he'd left him. He checked for a pulse, to be sure. There was no doubt. Kane was still alive, and Knight wasn't anywhere near him.

Reacher stepped back into the hallway at the same time Paris came running down the stairs. He moved to block her path to the front door but she didn't seem to notice. She dodged into the kitchen. Came back out. Made for the dining room. The living room. Then she spotted Reacher and marched right up to him. She said, "What kind of bullshit stunt is this? Is Ivan in on it? It was his idea, right? He thought it would be funny to scare the daylights out of me. Well, it's not funny. Not one little bit. Where is he? Tell me. Right now. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

Reacher held up his hands. He said, "Slow down. What stunt? Vidic is upstairs. First bedroom on the right. It wasn't exactly an accident, but he did get knocked out. You get the gist."

"He's not there. That room's empty. I found Fletcher. I found Kane. No one else."

Reacher paused. "You didn't come across a woman? Same height as you? Same kind of age? Brown hair, tied back?"

"No. Where's Ivan?"

Reacher said, "Go upstairs. Now. I need to see that room."