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“We don’t have a crowbar.”

“I had a big breakfast.”

Turner didn’t answer. Reacher finished his third mug of coffee. Easy enough, he thought. Two against three, an element of surprise. They had Glocks and suppressors of their own. From the two guys the previous evening. The rabbit punches. Spoils of war. They were right there, in Turner’s shoulder bag, which was hooked over her chair. Getting the phone back would be a minor technical challenge, like all such maneuvers, but not brain surgery.

He said, “How long should we wait?”

“Long enough for them to get bored and lose focus.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Twenty,” she said.

—

Axel Brill called Saxby Cameron, down on the nerd floor. He asked, “When did Turner go off the air? And why didn’t you tell me, bro? I have three guys sitting around with their thumbs up their asses.”

Cameron said, “What?”

“When did she leave the room?”

“She didn’t leave the room. She’s still right there. Still transmitting. I can see her now, in real time.”

“She’s not there.”

“You sure?”

“I have eyewitness reports. No one is in the room.”

“Well, her phone is. It hasn’t moved an inch.”

“Son of a bitch,” Brill said. He clicked off the call and dialed his flip. Lazarus Lorenzo. The concierge. Brill said, “They decoyed us. Her phone is in the room, but she isn’t. I’m guessing she never was. Not beyond the first thirty seconds, anyway.”

“I don’t understand. What is her next move? She can’t abandon her phone. It’s classified government technology.”

“I told you, she’s messing with my head.”

“She has to be coming back. For the phone. And her suitcase is still there.”

“What’s in her suitcase?”

“My guys told me clothes, toiletries, and a big fat book.”

“No phone?”

“Nothing like that.”

“Tell your guys to find it,” Brill said. “I want that phone. It’s somewhere in that room.”

—

Reacher sat quiet for a long moment, listening to the back of his brain. His thousand lucky ancestors. He said, “I think twenty minutes is too long. I think ten is too long. I think we should go right now.”

“Explain,” Turner said.

“They know when your phone is on the air. They can track it plus or minus fifteen feet. So they know it’s in the room. And they know we aren’t. My fault entirely. I apologize. I thought they would just duck their heads in, and then hustle back to their vehicle. I didn’t account for them staying put. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later. They’ll track your phone to see where we went next, and they’ll realize it hasn’t moved at all. They’ll realize it was a decoy. They’ll realize it must be somewhere in the room. Then what? If it was me, I would want to look for it.”

“It would be seriously bad news if they found it.”