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“More than enough.”

“You could send the other three to help them out. We could charter another jet. There are hundreds standing by.”

Hennessy paused a beat.

“I’m afraid the day crew took a casualty,” he said. “The only one they caught up to was the big man. One of my guys took him on solo. Didn’t end well.”

“What happened?” Brill said.

“Broke his skull, broke his leg, broke the fingers on both his hands. Whoever he is, the big man is an animal. But he knows what he’s doing. He took my guy right off the field of battle.”

“Can you replace him?”

“Not quickly.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the hospital.”

“Am I paying for that?”

“It’s in our contract, yes.”

Silence.

“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Cameron said. “When we have some news.”

—

Thirty minutes after the coffee and the cookies they began their final descent. Tray tables were stowed and seat backs were in an upright position. Reacher and Turner had fastened their belts. Two rows behind them the dog was under the seat in front. Elwood and his elegant neighbor were awake and chatting. The landing gear howled in the slipstream. The plane touched down gently and rolled down the runway. It turned and taxied slowly to the terminal. The air in the jet bridge was hot and heavy. Ten minutes later they were in the elevator to the parking garage.

Turner’s shiny blue Dodge was parked nose out in a corner slot. She gave Reacher her key and the exit ticket for the garage. She put Julia Bisley’s address in the navigation system. It was about a mile away. She opened the trunk. She opened the compartment in the floor of the trunk. She took out her gun. The SIG Sauer M18. She gave it to Reacher. It was small for his hand, but he was happy to have it. She said, “I have another in the office. Elwood has one in his car. He’ll get me there OK. Keep in touch by phone. I’ll answer if I can.”

She and Elwood walked away. Reacher got in the car and scooted the seat back. He fired it up and looked at the screen. It showed a long dog-leg route to get him across the parkway. It might have been quicker to walk. But he needed the car to wait in. All night and most of the morning. He could have found a bus bench, but the cops would move him on. Homeless people had to be kept out of sight.

Ten minutes later he was outside Julia Bisley’s building. It was a high-rise made of granite and glass. He parked where he had an easy view of the front entrance. He could see a doorman at a desk in the back of the lobby. He got out and locked up and took a walk around. There was a street-level service entrance in back, for trash and deliveries. It was a plain steel door with no outside handle. No doubt locked all night. There was a vehicle ramp down to a basement garage, closed off by a wide roller door. Also no doubt locked. Inside the basement there would be a door to a belowground walkway. Most of Crystal City was interconnected by underground corridors. A 1960s vision of the future. The elevator would go all the way down to the garage. It would be possible to bypass the lobby completely.

He jammed the SIG in his waistband in the small of his back and hitched his shirt tail down to cover it. He walked back around to the front. The main door was a glass slab. It was locked. The doorman heard him rattle it and looked up. He hit a button and the lock clicked open. Reacher stepped inside and walked to the desk.

“Help you?” the doorman asked.

“Department of Defense,” Reacher said. “I need your help with a couple of things.”

The doorman nodded, slowly, not entirely convinced, but not entirely unconvinced either. It was a plausible approach. Crystal City was full of DoD and Pentagon sub-offices and satellite operations. He said, “Can I see ID?”

“No,” Reacher said. “I’m undercover. I can’t carry ID.”

The doorman didn’t answer. Still not convinced, still not unconvinced. Again plausible. Goodwill jeans, a plain shirt, unshaven, messy hair. Reacher looked like he could be a government guy undercover, trying to fit in with some kind of radical group. Central casting.

Reacher said, “I don’t need to come in or anything. I just need to understand how your basement doors work. For the garage, and the underground walkway.”

“Why?”

“I’m keeping an eye on one of your tenants. We heard a rumor. She might be in danger. How do people get in downstairs? Do they have keys?”

“They have regular openers in their cars to get in the garage. You know, on the sun visor. They have electronic fobs to get in the walkway door. On their key rings.”

Which was what Reacher was worried about. Like master keys for motel doors. Easy to hack and clone.