Jude Hardin - The Reacher Code - Timestream 1

He grabbed several spray bottles and some rags and some sheets and blankets, loaded everything onto the cart and headed out to the hallway.

He looked at his watch.

02:00.

He was right on time. He figured Reacher would be asleep at this hour, along with most of the other trauma victims on the ward. The nurses had made their rounds at midnight, and would make them again at 04:00, but right now they were catching up on their charting and letting the patients rest.

Top made his way to the end of the hallway and turned the corner—and almost bumped into a guy wearing the same kind of uniform he was wearing.

The patch on the guy’s shirt said Gary. Short and pudgy with shaggy blonde hair and a mustache. Top gave him a nod and kept going.

Ward B was straight ahead. Top didn’t want to stop, but one of the wheels on the cart had started squeaking when he rounded the corner. Now the cart was a liability instead of an asset. Top pushed it against the wall and crouched down to check the wheel.

“Sounds like you could use some oil.”

It was Gary. He’d walked up behind Top.

“I’m just going to leave it here for now,” Top said, rising to a standing position. “I don’t want to wake the patients up.”

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Gary said, extending his hand. “Gary Hawthorne.”

“Ed McKay.”

They shook hands.

“New here?” Gary asked.

“Yeah. Just started last week. Anyway, better get back to it. Have a good night.”

Top grabbed a spray bottle and some rags and started toward the ward.

“Hang on a minute,” Gary said. “I’ll go grab some oil and fix your cart for you.”

“I think I can manage without it for now,” Top said. “But thanks anyway.”

“It’ll just take a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” top said. “I’ll come with you. That way you won’t have to walk all the way back here.”

Gary shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said.

Top walked alongside him, back around the corner and down the hall toward the supply closet.

16

Diane opened the trunk.

Wahlman climbed out.

“I don’t think they’re going to let you in with a machinegun,” Diane said.

“That’s why I brought this too,” Wahlman said, reaching around to the back of his waistband and pulling out the semi-automatic pistol that also had been stowed under his motorcycle seat. He jacked a round into the chamber and clicked off the safety.

“They’re probably not going to let you in anyway,” Diane said. “I’m sure they’ve alerted every guard on the base to look out for a tall muscular guy in a motorcycle jacket.”

Wahlman thought about using the AdaptoSuit function on his watch to change the clothes he was wearing. But the watch wasn’t on his wrist. It was on Diane’s wrist. He didn’t want to take the time to move it back and forth, and he didn’t want Diane to see what the watch was capable of doing. Witnessing that kind of 2101 technology would blow her 1983 mind. It would lead to all kinds of questions, and it would qualify as a severe violation of the FCYYC policy regarding interference with a native of the past. It was a capital offense, and not just for Wahlman. Allowing Diane to see the AdaptoSuit in action could actually put her life in jeopardy as well. She could be executed for knowing too much.

And changing clothes probably wouldn’t be enough anyway. Security Forces had probably distributed detailed descriptions of Wahlman to all their personnel. It was possible that they’d even produced a sketch of his face already. The sentry at the door would probably stop him no matter what he was wearing.

“Is there another way inside?” he asked. “A door that doesn’t have a guard posted on it twenty-four hours a day?”

“There’s a doctor’s entrance around front,” Diane said. “But you have to have a key.”

“What’s the easiest way to get there?”

“Just follow the parking lot to the other side of the building. You’ll see an area by the ER where the ambulances pull in and out. It’s about a hundred feet to the left of that.”

“I want you to get in the car,” Wahlman said. “Lock the doors. I’ll be back in time to disarm the watch.”

Diane looked doubtful.

“What if you’re not back in time?” she said. “I’m supposed to just sit here and watch the seconds tick off until—”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much the deal.”

Diane glanced down at the watch. It looked huge on her tiny wrist.

“How are you even going to know when to come back?” she asked.

“I’m good at keeping track of time in my head,” Wahlman said. “I’ll know.”

“Why can’t you just trust me?”

“It’s nothing personal. The mission I’m hoping to complete is crucial. If I’m not successful, the future of the planet could be in jeopardy.”

“The future of the planet? What are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you what I’m talking about,” Wahlman said. “Anyway, I better go now. Get in the car and stay there.”

Wahlman zipped up his jacket and slid the pistol back into his waistband and headed toward the westernmost corner of the building, the side furthest from the rear entrance. He rounded the corner, stayed close to the side of the building, edged around the next corner and saw the turnaround for the ambulances in front of the emergency room. There didn’t seem to be any activity over there. No ambulances coming or going. It must have been a slow night. He looked to the left and saw the door Diane had told him about, the one the doctors used. Five concrete steps led up to a concrete stoop. Simple railing, steel pipe painted black. The door was made of steel and glass. There was a handle on it rather than a push bar, which told Wahlman that it opened outward. He ran to the staircase and crouched down beside it, pulled the pistol from his waistband and sat in the dirt and scooted in behind a big bush with red berries on it. A few minutes later a man wearing khaki pants and a shirt and tie and a long white lab coat climbed the stairs and slid a key into the deadbolt. Wahlman stood and aimed the pistol at his chest.

“Don’t make a sound,” Wahlman said. “You’re going to walk inside, and I’m going to follow you.”

The doctor nodded. A wet spot bloomed on the crotch of his pants. The sudden jolt of fear had caused him to lose control of his bladder. Wahlman climbed up onto the stoop and followed him inside.

The doctor raised his hands.

“My wallet’s in my back pocket,” he said.

“I don’t want your money,” Wahlman said.

“Then what do you want?”

Wahlman had studied the layout of the hospital for the initial recon mission, but his memory was still foggy and he didn’t quite know his way around anymore. And in the event that he happened to encounter any staff members on his way to Reacher’s bed, he figured it might be advantageous to have a physician as an escort.

“I want you to help me get up to the third floor,” he said.

“Pardon me?”

“Ward B, on the third floor. You know how to get there?”

“Of course. The elevator’s right around the corner.”

“No elevators,” Wahlman said. “We need to take the stairs.”

“We?”

“You’re coming with me. If you shout out or make any sort of attempt to escape, I will shoot you. Understand?”

“Why are you here? What do you want?”

“Don’t worry about what I want. As long as you cooperate, this will all be over soon.”

“My pants are wet,” the doctor said, obviously embarrassed by the fact that he’d pissed himself.

“Button your lab coat,” Wahlman said. “Nobody will see it.”

The doctor buttoned his lab coat.