Better off Dead

Chapter 45

The small roads led me through scrub and desert for forty minutes, then I merged onto the highway. Traffic was light. I let the truck settle down to a steady fifty-five. I checked the mirrors. I checked the sky. No one was following. Nothing was watching. After twenty minutes I came to a truck stop. I pulled in. Topped off the truck’s tank. Then headed into the little store to pay. I filled a to-go cup with coffee. Hot, this time. With no milk. And I asked the clerk for change for the pay phone. The guy looked like I’d asked for a date with his mother. He must have been in his early twenties. I guess it wasn’t a request he heard very often. Maybe it was a request he’d never heard at all.

There were two pay phones. Both were outside, attached to the end wall of the building. They were covered with matching, curved canopies made out of translucent plastic. Maybe for protection from the weather. Maybe for privacy. Either way, I wasn’t too concerned. It wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t raining. And there was no one around to overhear anything I said.

I ducked under the nearer canopy. The wall beneath it was plastered with business-card-sized pieces of paper and cardboard. Adverts for escort services, mainly. Some were subtle. But most, not so much. I ignored them, picked up the handset, and dialed Wallwork’s number. Nothing happened. The phone was dead. So I tried the second one. I was in luck this time. It had a dial tone. I tapped the digits in again and Wallwork answered on the second ring.

“Sorry, Reacher,” he said. “The map of the drainage system? I’ve tried, but there’s nothing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “The research phase is over.”

I brought him up to speed with how I came to have the truck. Its cargo. And my destination for the night.

“My ETA is around 2100, local,” I said. “Can you meet me there?”

Wallwork was silent for a moment. “It won’t be easy. I’ll have to pull some strings. But to secure the device? Sure. I’ll find a way.”

“You’ll fly out?”

“I’ll have to. I’m in the middle of Tennessee. Too far to drive to Texas in time.”

“OK. When you land, make sure the chopper doesn’t leave right away. And tell the pilot to refuel. Fill the tanks to the brim.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to need a ride someplace.”

“Can’t do that, Reacher. You’re a civilian. The Bureau’s not a taxi service.”

“I don’t need a taxi. I need to get to Fenton before Dendoncker kills her.”

Wallwork went silent again.

“And I need to get Dendoncker. I’m the only one who can. Unless you’d rather he walks?”

“There might be a way,” Wallwork said, after a long moment. “On one condition. When you get Dendoncker, you hand him over to me. Alive.”

“Understood. Now, two other things. You can’t move the truck until the morning. That’s critical. Fenton’s life depends on it. And there are some items I need you to bring for me. Five, altogether.”

Wallwork wrote down my list then hung up. I refilled my coffee, climbed into the truck, and got back on the road. The truck wasn’t fast. It wasn’t fancy. But it was surprisingly relaxing to drive. It just did what it was designed to do. Ate up the miles, hour after hour, no fuss, no drama. I rolled along, nice and steady. Arizona gave way to New Mexico. New Mexico gave way to Texas. The pavement stretched away in front of me. It seemed to go on forever. The sky above was vast. Mainly blue, with occasional smudges of wispy white clouds. An ocean of gray-green scrub extended all around. Sometimes flat. Sometimes rising up or falling away. Sometimes with jagged peaks on the horizon, never coming closer, never getting farther away.

I stopped for gas whenever the needle dropped below halfway. I kept an eye open for anyone who might take too much interest in me. No one did. And I called Fenton at random intervals. The same guy answered every time. And he followed the same routine when he brought the phone to her. His chair scraped back. He took five footsteps. He opened a door. He took eight footsteps. Then he unlocked Fenton’s door. I figured he had to be coming from the next room. The one at the end of the corridor. The only one I hadn’t seen the inside of. Yet.

I arrived at the hotel at 2105. It was the first in a line of four. It was identical to the others except for the sign announcing which chain it belonged to. The building was rectangular. It had two stories. Small windows. A flat roof. The office was at one end. A bunch of air-conditioning machines was clustered at the other, half-hidden behind a line of spindly bushes. There were parking spots all along one wall, with an overflow lot between the building and the next hotel. It was empty, so I took a space at the far end of the last row. I climbed out. Stretched. Made sure the truck was locked. And made my way back to reception.

A woman was sitting behind the counter. She didn’t notice me for a moment. She was too engrossed in a book she was reading. Her concentration didn’t break until the phone rang on the desk in front of her. It was a complicated-looking thing all covered with buttons and lights. She stretched out to pick up the receiver, then stopped when she realized I was standing there.

“They can call back.” She smiled at me. “Or leave a message. Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I help?”

“I have a reservation. Name of Reacher.”

The woman woke her computer and tapped on some keys. “Here we are. Already paid for. An online booking. Just the one night?”

I nodded.

“Could I see some ID, please?”

I handed her my passport.

She flicked through to the information page, then narrowed her eyes. “This is expired, sir.”

“Correct. No good for international travel. But still valid for identification.”

“I’m not sure…”

I pointed to her computer. “Go online if you don’t believe me. Check with the federal government.”

She paused with one hand hovering above the keyboard. She didn’t believe me. That was obvious. I guess she was weighing the consequences of proving me wrong. The paperwork involved with issuing a refund. Explaining to her bosses why she’d turned away a customer. The impact on occupancy statistics. “No need, Mr. Reacher. I’m sure you’re right.” She passed the passport back to me. “How many room keys will you be needing?”

“Just one.”

The woman opened a drawer and took out a piece of plastic the size of a credit card. She fed it into a machine on her desk and tapped some more computer keys. A little light turned from red to green. She retrieved the card and handed it to me. “Room 222. Would you like me to write that down for you?”

“No need.”

“OK, then. The breakfast bar’s in the lobby and it’s open from six until eight. Any questions, dial zero on your room phone. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, and visit again soon.”

The woman went back to her book. I went back to the truck. I sat on the rear fender, leaned my head against the tailgate, closed my eyes, and felt the cool evening breeze on my face. Ten minutes ticked past. Fifteen. Then I heard a vehicle approaching. More than one. I looked up and saw a line of silver sedans. Five of them. All identical. Chrysler 300s. The lead car swooped into the parking lot. The others followed, then fanned out and stopped in a row in front of me. The guy who was driving the nearest car climbed out. It was Wallwork. He hurried across, passed me a white plastic sack, then shook my hand.

“Reacher. Good to see you.” He nodded toward the truck. “The device. It’s in there?”

“As promised.”

“Excellent work.” Wallwork gave a thumbs-up to the guys in the car next to his. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

I unlocked the door, took out the backpack, and handed the key to Wallwork. “I’ve left a suitcase in there. It’s Fenton’s. Look after it until tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Wallwork took me by the elbow and led me away from the other vehicles. “Listen.” He lowered his voice. “I think we trust each other, so I’m going to be totally honest with you. After we spoke I called my old supervisor. The one who’s at TEDAC now. He’s on his way out here. We’re going to secure the area, and he’s going to examine the device. In situ. I know I said we wouldn’t move it until tomorrow. But unless he’s certain there’s no risk to the public, I’m going to have to break that promise.”

I said nothing.

“Think about it, Reacher. What if the device explodes? If it spews toxic gas into the atmosphere? If it’s radioactive? We have those risks on one hand. And a woman who put herself in harm’s way on the other. A woman you might not even be able to save, whenever we move the truck.”