Better off Dead

Chapter 42

My mother was French. I was born in Germany. I’ve lived on bases in dozens of countries. I’ve listened to people speak all kinds of languages. Some sound familiar. Some I can make sense of pretty easily. Others, not so much.

The words I heard come out of Dendoncker’s mouth sounded just like they were English. Only I knew they meant something else altogether. Something I could understand with no trouble at all. He wanted me to do his dirty work. To plant the device for him. He would keep Fenton alive until it was in place. Then he would kill her. And me. Maybe the truck he’d supply was booby-trapped. Maybe he’d have someone lying in wait with a sniper rifle. But one way or another there was no scenario in which he could let Fenton or me survive.

I understood Dendoncker’s words when he laid out his plan. I was sure I did. But whether he understood mine when I agreed was a whole other question. One he wasn’t going to like the answer to.

The demonstration was over. Terms were agreed. The wind was picking up. It was tugging at our clothes. The desert night was growing chilly. There was no reason to stay outside so we headed back into the building. We trooped along in the same order as before. But two things were different this time. The first was that Mansour wasn’t wheeling a bomb in front of him. He just left its spent remains outside in the parking lot, still shrouded in the last traces of smoke. The second came when we reached the far end of the glass corridor. We passed through the double doors and Mansour turned left. Dendoncker went to the right and headed for his office. I stopped and stood still. The guy with the Uzi almost clattered into me.

“This way, asshole.” Mansour stopped outside the first door he reached and worked its lock.

I let a moment tick past then moved up alongside him. The guy with the Uzi trailed along behind.

“In.” Mansour pushed the door open.

I stepped through and he shoved me in the back. Hard. His fingers were spread. His hand landed square between my shoulder blades. He put his full weight into it, like he was trying to launch me through the back wall. A little payback for earlier, I guessed. Probably hoping I’d at least end up flat on my face and look stupid in front of the guy with the Uzi. In which case he must have been disappointed. Because I saw him move. He was reflected in the glass. So I planted my foot. Leaned back into the pressure. And barely broke my stride.

The room was just like Dendoncker’s office and the workshop, only it was laid out the opposite way around. The bathrooms were on the left and the chalkboard was on the right. There was only one piece of furniture. An army cot. It was in the dead center of the room. It was bolted to the floor. And Fenton was sitting on it. She grabbed her crutch, stood up, and took one step in my direction.

The door slammed behind me. Footsteps stomped away down the corridor. Thirty seconds later they stomped back again. The door opened and a mattress came sailing in through the gap. I stepped to the side to avoid it landing on me. It was thin with cream and olive-green stripes. And it had more than its share of marks and stains. It was probably the one from the bed in the workshop. Minus its sheets and blanket. And pillows.

“Sleep well, assholes.” Mansour slammed the door again. I heard the key turn. And this time two sets of footsteps clattered away into the distance.

Fenton hustled around the crumpled mattress, closed the gap between us, and threw her free arm around me. She pulled me close and pressed her head against my chest.

She said, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Then she let go and took a step back. “You shouldn’t have come. You know that, right? What were you thinking?”

“I’m like the proverbial bad penny. You can’t get rid of me.”

“This isn’t funny. Now we’re both in trouble. Deep trouble. Honestly, there might be no way out of this. For either of us.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to work out fine. Give it three days, and we’ll be home and dry.”

Fenton held up her free hand, then pointed to her ear, then made a circular gesture indicating the room in general. “All I can I say is thank you. And I’m sorry I got you involved in all this.”

“Don’t mention it.” I picked up the mattress and set it on the floor about six feet away from the bed. “And seriously, don’t worry.” I copied her someone might be listening signal. “I’ve made an arrangement with Dendoncker. I do something for him, and he lets us both go.”

“Oh.” Fenton rolled her eyes. “Good. That’s reassuring.”

I used the bathroom and when I came out I saw that Fenton had moved her mattress off her bed frame and laid it on the floor next to mine. She’d spread her sheet out so that it covered about half of each side, and had given us one pillow each. “Want to get the light?” she said.

I hit the switch and made my way slowly through the darkness until my foot found the side of my mattress. I lay down and put my head on the pillow but didn’t take off my shoes. I wanted to be ready for whatever might be in store before morning. I didn’t trust Dendoncker one inch. And I could easily imagine Mansour and his buddies hatching some dumb scheme with me in their crosshairs.

A moment later Fenton sat down. I heard her crutch rattle against the floor. I felt her stretch out. She was still for a moment, then she wriggled across onto my half of the makeshift bed. She snuggled in close. Her breath was warm on my neck. Then she was twisted like she was having some sort of convulsion. Something landed on my head. It was rough against my cheek. And it stank. Like a mixture of diesel fuel and mildew. It was her blanket. Judging by the weight, she’d folded it multiple times. To muffle the sound.

She whispered, “Where are we?”

“You don’t know?” I whispered back.

“They threw a hood over my head. Made me go down a ladder. Felt like maybe through a tunnel. There were stairs at the far end.”

“We’re in Mexico. The tunnel is actually a drain. It goes right under the border.”

“How did you know?”

“I’m good at finding people, remember?”

“You said you were good at catching people. Seems to me we’re the ones who’ve been caught.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a temporary situation.”

“Why did you come?”

“I heard you were in trouble. Figured you’d do the same for me.”

“You came to help?”

“And to deal with Dendoncker.”

Fenton sighed. “It’s just, I was hoping…No. Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

“About what?”

“I was hoping you were bringing news. About Michael. That he was alive.”

I said nothing.

“So,” Fenton said after a moment. “What happens next?”

“Dendoncker lets me go in the morning. I come back for you.”

“Think he’ll let me live long enough?”

“I guarantee he will.”

“Why would he?”

“He thinks he has to. In order to get what he wants.”

“Just what kind of deal did you make?”

“One that won’t turn out the way he thinks it will.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going to cheat.”

Fenton didn’t reply. She rested her head on my shoulder but I knew she wasn’t about to sleep. I could feel the tension in her.

“Reacher?” She lifted her head. “Will you really come back?”

“Count on it.”

“I have no right to ask, but when you do, will you help me with one more thing?”

“What?”

“Michael’s body. Help me find it. I want to take him home. Give him a proper funeral.”

I didn’t answer right away. It was an understandable request. I didn’t see how I could say no. But the body could be anywhere. Buried in the sand. Burned beyond recognition. Blown to pieces. I didn’t want to commit to a never-ending, hopeless quest.

“Don’t worry.” It was like she’d read my mind. “I know where it will be. The guy at The Tree said, ‘the usual place.’ I know where that is.”

It was getting stuffy under the blanket. Fenton raised her arm to push it away, but I stopped her.

I whispered, “Wait. I have a question for you. About Michael. Is it true that he liked puzzles? Cryptic clues?”

“I guess. I never paid much attention to that kind of thing. I’m too literal. Too analytical. It’s the one thing we don’t have in common. Take crosswords, for example. Michael loved them. I hate them. I’m too pedantic. I can always give you ten reasons why the answers don’t make sense. They drive me crazy.”

Fenton didn’t wait for me to ask her anything else. She just flung the blanket aside. We lay still, side by side, breathing the slightly fresher air. Then she put her head on my shoulder. Rolled onto her side. Stretched her left arm out across my chest. And she was still again, except for a little shiver that ran down her spine. I brought my arm up and cupped her shoulder in my hand. She snuggled her face into my neck. Her hair smelled of lavender. All of a sudden I didn’t care about the lumpy pillow. Or the paper-thin mattress. Or the hard floor beneath it. Spending the night there with Fenton was an upgrade on the morgue and the dismembered guy. That was for sure. Though I would have been even happier if we were somewhere else altogether.

“Reacher?” Fenton’s voice was even quieter than before. “Will this really turn out all right?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “For us.”