Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

‘How do you open it normally?’

‘With a fob. You just hold it up to a sensor. And there’s a keypad for backup.’

‘Does the code get changed frequently?’

‘No.’ Rutherford rolled his eyes. ‘It’s been 1 2 3 4 ever since I moved in.’

‘How’s the garage laid out?’

‘You drive down a ramp, which curves to the left. You’re supposed to honk but no one does. Then the main space is just a basic rectangle. There are pillars every three car widths apart. Spaces along each side. And a double row in the centre.’

‘Cameras?’

Rutherford thought for a moment. ‘Yes. There are those little half globes dotted around on the ceiling. I couldn’t say how many.’

‘Is there pedestrian access to the building?’

‘Yes. There’s a door at the far end. It leads to a flight of steps up to the lobby. You need your fob to open it, or there’s another keypad you can use.’

‘Good. We’ll risk one drive-by, then I want you to loop around to the front of the building and stop somewhere with a clear view of the main entrance.’

Rutherford drove slowly past the garage entrance then cut through an alley, squeezing past a pair of dumpsters, and rolled the car to the kerb diagonally opposite the diner. He left the engine running, ready to go. Reacher scanned the street ahead, working systematically, projecting a mental grid across the storefronts and the sections of sidewalk. No one was loitering. No one was waiting in any of the parked cars. No vehicle passed them more than once. No one was out walking. Rutherford took the new cell phone out of its box. Reacher repeated his scan, looking behind them this time. Rutherford worked at a credit-card-sized piece of plastic until he’d separated a section which held a little gold chip. He inserted it into a slot in the back of the phone. He slid the battery into place over it and hit the power button. Reacher repeated his scan to the front. Saw no one. The phone lit up and played a tinny electronic tune. Reacher repeated his scan, behind. Saw no one.

‘There’s a little charge in the battery,’ Rutherford said, and passed the phone to Reacher. ‘Are we going to be in the car for a while? I could charge it the rest of the way.’

‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘The coast’s clear. It’s time to move. Here’s what I want you to do. Go into your building and tell the doorman you came back from the airport because you forgot something. Tell him you rebooked your flight for this afternoon and you’re going to drive to the airport this time but need his advice about when you should leave to get there by a quarter after four. Whatever time he suggests you should thank him, say you’ll see him in a couple of weeks when you get back, then head upstairs. Only don’t stay in your own apartment. Go to your neighbour’s. Wait for me there. OK?’

‘OK.’ Rutherford handed the car key to Reacher and opened his door. ‘And I’ll text you when I get there. You have a phone now. You might as well use it.’

Rutherford’s text arrived after five minutes. It contained two words. In. Safe . Reacher read it, waited another five minutes, then took the truck-stop bag from the back seat, climbed out of the car, and headed into Rutherford’s lobby.

The doorman’s booth jutted out from the side wall, opposite the elevators, equally spaced between the front entrance and a door which Reacher assumed led to the stairs to the garage. It had mahogany sides which matched the panels on the walls and its green-veined marble top was the same pattern as the floor. As far as Reacher could tell. At least eighty per cent of its surface was covered. There were ring binders full of directories and procedures and regulations. A computer monitor. A phone, bristling with all kinds of buttons and displays. And a cell phone with a large screen. The space behind the counter was probably the regular size but the doorman seemed to completely fill it. He looked like he was in his late twenties, with a shaved head, a doughy face, small eyes and a heavy build. Very heavy. The kind of guy who had done well on the high-school football team, Reacher figured, but whose life had been all downhill from there.

‘Help you?’ the guy said.

The years Reacher spent in the military police had taught him that most investigations go with the numbers. A wife turns up dead, it’s usually the husband who killed her. Something goes missing from the stores, it’s usually a quartermaster who stole it. Someone shares secrets, it’s usually for the money. Unless they’re being blackmailed, which is less common. Or tricked. Or acting on principle, which is the rarest thing of all.

‘Name your price,’ Reacher said.

The guy stared back, blankly. ‘For what?’

‘You just made a call. Or sent a text. Or an email. Name your price to message me instead in future.’

The guy stretched out and covered his phone. It completely disappeared beneath his giant paw. ‘I didn’t send a text. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure you do,’ Reacher said. ‘You just had a conversation with Mr Rutherford. Then you told someone what time he’s leaving for the airport. Just like you told them he asked for a cab this morning.’

The guy was suddenly on his feet. He was as tall as Reacher. As wide as Reacher. Maybe faster than Reacher. ‘You want to hurt Mr Rutherford? Try it. See what happens.’

Reacher paused. Investigations go with the numbers. If the guy wasn’t motivated by money, then what? Blackmail was next in line, statistically, but Reacher couldn’t see it. And principle is the rarest thing of all.

‘Outstanding.’ Reacher held out his hand. ‘I knew you’d pass. But we can’t be too careful. Not when Mr Rutherford’s safety is at stake. I’m glad you’re on the team.’

‘We’re on a team?’

‘Of course. Keeping Mr Rutherford safe. You heard he got attacked on the street yesterday?’

The guy nodded.

‘I was the one who saved him,’ Reacher said.

‘That was you?’ The guy shook Reacher’s hand. ‘Thank you. I like Mr Rutherford. He’s always nice to the building staff. Not like some of the assholes who live here. I could tell you some stories …’

‘I bet you could,’ Reacher said. ‘But after yesterday we have to be extra careful. There might be a leak. That’s why they sent me here. To see if anyone changed sides.’

‘Not me.’

‘Clearly. What about the other doormen? Can we trust them?’

‘I think so. The day guys, anyway. The others I don’t know so well. But Mr Rutherford doesn’t go out much at night anyway. Unless he’s working. Then he’s out all night, sometimes, if he’s upgrading the systems or whatever those computer guys do.’

‘OK, good.’ Reacher leaned forward and gestured for the guy to move in closer. ‘Now here’s the thing. I’m going to level with you. We think whoever tried to hurt Mr Rutherford yesterday is going to try again today. I’m here to stop them, but I need your help. I need you to do two things. Are you with me?’

‘What two things?’

‘First, show me how I can see the pictures from the garage security cameras. Then I need to take your place for a while.’

‘You can watch the cameras on here,’ the guy said. He pressed the space bar on the computer keyboard and the screen lit up. It was divided into nine rectangles. The one at the top left showed the street outside the garage entrance. Each of the others gave a different view of the inside in clear, crisp colour. ‘It records so I don’t have to watch all the time, but I do when I’m bored.’

‘Sounds good,’ Reacher said. ‘Now, is there a closet anywhere?’

‘Sure.’ The guy pointed to a door disguised amongst the panels to the side of the booth. ‘Right there. Why?’