Ли Чайлд - The Sentinel

Not bad, Reacher thought. Quick. Effective. Though not quite symmetrical. No points for style.

The housekeeper zipped forward. Reacher hardly saw her leg move, but he felt the side of her foot when it hit his cheek. He lunged for her but she danced back towards the corner, twisting and weaving, too fast for him to grab. He moved towards her, crowding her, aiming to trap her in the corner and nullify her speed. She dodged to the side, pulling something from her hair as she moved. A pin. More like a blade. Six inches long. Slender. Razor sharp. She slashed at Reacher as she passed. Caught him on the chest. Sliced his shirt. And his skin. Not too deep, but enough to draw blood. She slashed the opposite way. Missed. And ran for the door. Reacher followed. Looked down the corridor. Saw she was already halfway to the end. He took the SOCOM from his waistband, aimed and fired three shots. Going for her centre mass. But hitting the end wall, high and left. The suppressor must have gotten bent when the gun tumbled down the steps. His instinctive side screamed: Chase her! His rational side said: She’s too fast. Forget her. She’s gone.

Reacher went back into the room and found Klostermann just inside the door. He kicked him in the balls. Klostermann doubled over and went down on all fours, puking and gasping and moaning. Reacher crossed to Fisher. He stretched up and unfastened her manacles. Fisher steadied herself for a moment with a hand on Reacher’s chest. Then she wrapped her arms around herself.

‘I’m freezing,’ she said. ‘I’m dizzy.’

Reacher stepped back over to the Russian woman’s body, hauled it into a sitting position, and wrestled her shirt over her head. He handed it to Fisher then went to work removing the dead woman’s boots, socks, and trousers. He left Fisher to finish getting dressed, walked across to Klostermann, and helped him into a sitting position against the wall.

‘I want you to tell me two things,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ve seen how you get information from people. Do I need to get busy with your tool kit? Hang you from the ceiling? Fire up your electric toy?’

‘No.’ Klostermann’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.

‘Good. Now, these are things I already know, but I want to hear you say them. First, Toni Garza. The journalist. You killed her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And tortured her?’

Klostermann nodded.

‘And Marty? The guy who drove me?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘You killed him, too?’

‘No. I had them do it.’ Klostermann gestured towards the Russians’ bodies.

‘OK. Thank you for being honest. And while the spirit of sharing is upon us, I have a couple of things to tell you. For a start, your plan to use Fisher to feed false information to the FBI? It failed.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘All it did was alert them to the real agent.’

Klostermann stiffened.

‘They’re going to arrest her real soon.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true. Otherwise, how would I know her name? Diane Smith. Diane Klostermann, before she got married.’

Klostermann didn’t react. He sat perfectly still. For ten seconds. Fifteen. Then he lunged for his ankle. His fingers closed around the grip of a little pearl-handled .22. But he never got it out of its holster. Because Reacher grabbed a handful of his wild hair. Pulled his head forward. And smashed it back into the wall.

Just once.

That was all it took.

Reacher took two phones from Klostermann’s pockets. A plain vanilla burner, and one with all kinds of extra buttons and icons. He figured someone at the FBI would be interested in that one, so he handed it to Fisher. Then he led the way out of the room, down the corridor, and through the door to the lobby. Fisher took a step towards the ladder, then sank down into a crouch.

‘I’m not feeling good,’ she said. ‘Whatever that drug was they used, it’s messed me up. I don’t think I can climb.’

‘I’m not leaving you down here,’ Reacher said. ‘That’s for damn sure.’ He hoisted her over his shoulder, climbed to the next level, and squeezed through the hatch. ‘See, no problem. One more flight and we’re home free.’

Reacher climbed the next five rungs. And stopped. Something was wrong up at the top of the shaft. It was too dark. He continued to the space at the top, gently lowered Fisher down and rested her against the wall. Closed his eyes. And tried the door.

It didn’t move. Not even a fraction of an inch.

Reacher was trapped. Underground. In a small space. The only thing since childhood that could give him nightmares. His worst fear. The only thing he couldn’t fight.

‘I don’t get it,’ Fisher said. ‘Why is there no handle?’

‘It’s on the other side,’ Reacher said. He was focused on continuing to breathe. ‘It’s a kind of airlock. With two doors.’ He paused. ‘They should never be open at once. So the handles are on the same side. Then one guy can control them both.’

‘So someone locked it from the other side? Who?’

‘My money’s on Klostermann’s housekeeper.’ Reacher pressed his back against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the ground. The skin between his shoulder blades was beginning to prickle. He was starting to sweat.

‘The skinny woman? Who ran? But you shot her. I heard it. No. Wait.’ Fisher shook her head, trying to clear the lingering fog. She pressed her fingers against her temples. ‘Her body wasn’t in the corridor. She got away?’

Reacher shrugged.

‘The way she fought?’ Fisher said. ‘The way they let her take part in the torture? She’s not just a housekeeper. She’s one of them. She’ll report what happened. The Russians will pull their agent. We’ve got to warn Wallwork.’

‘He’s on his way,’ Reacher said. ‘He should be. I told him you were here.’

‘We can’t wait. We have to warn him now.’

Reacher took out his phone. It had no signal. They were near the surface, but behind too much concrete. Too much steel. The same things that were keeping them in were keeping the radio waves out. Reacher tried Klostermann’s phones. Neither of those could connect, either.

‘OK,’ Fisher said. ‘Then we have to stop her.’

‘How?’ Reacher said. ‘This door is the only way out. It’s impossible to open.’

‘There must be another way. Where the utilities come in? Some kind of pipe? Or duct?’

Reacher shook his head. ‘These places are self-contained. The water is processed and recirculated. Same with the air.’

‘What about power? The generator. It’s gone now, but there must have been one. This place was built, when? The 1950s?’

Reacher nodded.

‘What kind of generators did they have back then?’ Fisher said.

‘Diesel, probably,’ Reacher said.

‘And diesel engines require air to run. Which would have to come from outside. Come on.’ Fisher struggled to her feet. ‘Back to the generator room. We’ll start looking in there.’

Reacher looked at the mouth of the shaft. It was the last place in the world he wanted to go. But where he was, trapped behind that massive door, was the last place in the world he wanted to stay. And he had the Russian agent to think about. Klostermann’s daughter. Maybe with her hands already on The Sentinel. Maybe already ordered to disappear. Reacher knew Sands would raise the alarm when she didn’t hear from him. Wallwork should be on his way, too. But how long would help take to arrive?

‘I’ll go.’ Reacher handed the SOCOM to Fisher. ‘Someone might come. They might open the door. If they do, make sure they don’t close it again.’

Reacher climbed down the first ladder. One rung at a time. Nice and slow and calm. Then the second ladder. Then he walked down the corridor to the generator room. Went in. Glanced at the bodies on the floor. And turned his attention to the ceiling. He surveyed every inch. There was nothing that looked like it could have been a vent or an air supply. He moved down to the walls. There were two filled-in circles that could have been pipes. In which case they were doomed. They were only nine inches across. Which left two square panels set into the opposite wall. Reacher walked over and knocked on one. It sounded solid. He tried the second.