The guy glanced to his right but he didn’t speak.
Reacher said, “The cavalry isn’t coming. Think about it. How many lanes are open?”
“One.”
“What just drove that way?”
“The truck you stole.”
“Correct. So it’s going to meet the pilot vehicle, head-on. The person driving it is stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. No way is she going to back up again. It’s going to take hours to sort that mess out.”
The guy glanced to his left.
“No one can get through that way, either. We covered all the bases. It’s just you and me. And you have a decision to make.”
The guy was silent for another moment, then he said, “What do you want to know?”
“Has Brockman got anyone else looking for me between here and Winson?”
“How would I know? Brockman doesn’t share his plans with me.”
“Brockman’s a smart man, I guess. Relatively speaking. So what did he share?”
“A picture of you. An old one. A description of the truck you stole. And its license plate.”
“What were your orders?”
“To stop you from getting to Winson.”
“Why doesn’t Brockman want me to get to Winson?”
“He didn’t say.”
“What’s happening there in the next couple of days?”
“Nothing special. Some con’s getting released tomorrow. There’ll be speeches. Some celebrating. It happens a few times every year. The shine’s wearing off, to be honest. People are getting used to it now.”
“What else?”
The guy shrugged. “Nothing.”
“OK. You did the right thing. Start it up. You can go now.”
The guy paused for a moment, frozen. Then his hand shot out. He grabbed the key. Turned it, and the heavy old motor spluttered into life.
“One other thing before you get on your way,” Reacher said. “See that trailer, over on the far shoulder?”
The guy nodded.
Reacher said, “Pull up next to it for a moment.”
The guy shifted into Drive, released the brake, looped around to the opposite shoulder, and eased to a stop.
Reacher said, “Get out for a moment. There’s something I need you to do. You can leave the engine running.”
The guy opened his door and climbed down. Reacher did the same and led the way around to the passenger side.
Reacher said, “See the net that’s holding down all the junk? Peel back one corner.”
The guy fiddled with the nearest cleat and released part of the net.
Reacher said, “Pull out some of those branches at the top. And the bushes. Clear some space.”
The guy grabbed a few of the bigger pieces and dumped them on the ground.
Reacher said, “Good. Now get your buddy out of the car. Put him in the space you made.”
The guy said, “Put him in the trailer?”
“Right. We have to make this look realistic. Brockman won’t believe you escaped otherwise. He’ll think you helped me. That’s not what you want to happen. Believe me.”
The guy was still for a moment. His mouth was gaping slightly. Then he shrugged and opened the passenger door. He pushed his buddy back in the seat. His head lolled to the side. The guy grabbed his wrists. Hauled him out. Swung him onto his shoulder. Maneuvered him to the end of the trailer. Set him down on the spoil from the construction work. Then he took hold of the net and started to pull it back into place.
“Wait,” Reacher said. “I need to borrow your phone for a second.”
The guy shrugged, then took his phone out of his pocket, entered a code to unlock its screen, and held it out. Reacher took it and set it on the ground.
He said, “One more question. The guys Brockman sent to the Greyhound station had to watch out for me on every bus that arrived. All kinds of people would have been milling around. Places like that get pretty chaotic. That’s a tall order. The guys at the truck stop had to keep an eye on hundreds of people, coming and going. That’s a real challenge. The guys at the intersection didn’t know if I would be hitching a ride or already in a car, speeding past. That’s like two tasks in one, and neither of them is easy. But you? All you had to do was look through a window. Why do you think you were chosen for that particular job?”
“No idea.”
“No?”
Reacher punched the guy in the solar plexus. That doubled him over forward. Then Reacher drove his knee up into the guy’s face. That stood him up again, unconscious, with his arms flailing helplessly at his sides. Reacher shoved the guy’s chest and folded him back the other way. He was left with his torso lying on top of the trailer. Reacher grabbed his ankles, lifted, twisted, and dropped him next to his buddy. He threw the branches back in to cover them. Fixed the net in place. Then he picked up the guy’s phone and dialed the number for the hire company.
A woman answered after three rings. “Reed Plant Partners. How can I help you?”
Reacher said, “I’m with the crew doing construction out on US 87. We have one of your trailers. Could you confirm when it’s scheduled for return?”
Computer keys rattled then the woman’s voice came back on the line. “You have it booked through the end of next month.”
“Can we return it early?”
“It’s a fixed-term contract. There are no refunds for early returns.”
“We’re not looking for a refund. We just need it off-site.”
“Understood. You can bring it back whenever you like. You just have to pay until the date you signed up for.”
“Could you send someone to collect it?”
“There’d be an extra charge.”
“That’s fine.”
“I could get someone out on Monday.”
“How about this afternoon?”
“All our guys are busy today.”
“Look, I’m in a bind here. My boss really wants that trailer gone. If there’s any way you could swing it, I’d be grateful.”
The woman didn’t respond.
Reacher said, “If there’s an extra-extra charge, that would be fine, too. As in the kind that doesn’t show up on an invoice.”
The woman was silent for a moment longer, then she said, “It’ll cost you a hundred bucks. Cash. Have it ready.”
Chapter 31
Patience is a virtue, Reacher’s father used to say. If he was right, then the drivers heading away from Winson that afternoon must have been a really despicable bunch.
Hannah’s job had been to block the single lane stretch of road in the construction zone. She had done it well. She had steered hard right onto the shoulder, reversed toward the line of cones, then swung back and forward four times until the truck was pretty much perpendicular. Her positioning was perfect. The truck’s nose was covering three-quarters of the shoulder. She hadn’t left enough space for anyone to squeeze around the rear. And she’d picked the ideal spot. A giant machine for tearing up the pavement was parked on the other side, so there was no future in anyone trying to move the cones.
Hannah had been stationary for two minutes when the next convoy came into view. The pilot led it closer. And closer. And he didn’t slow down. Hannah panicked for a moment. She thought the guy wasn’t going to stop. She had a vision of the vehicles plowing into the side of the truck. One after another. Blow after blow. The truck rolling over. Her getting crushed. Or burned alive. Or both.
The pilot must not have been concentrating. He had driven up and down that stretch of road hundreds of times since the construction project started. He had never come across any kind of obstruction. He had never expected to. So he noticed the truck late. But in time. Just. He threw all his weight on the brake. His wheels locked. His tires slid on the gravel. But he stopped with maybe a yard to spare.