Lee Child - Running Blind

“Reason is I don’t want to own a house.”

“But reasons have layers. That’s only the top layer. She’s asking herself, OK, why doesn’t he want to own a house?”

“Because I don’t want the hassle. She knows that. I told her.”

“Bureaucratic type of hassle?”

He nodded. “It’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Yes, it is. A real big pain in the ass. But she’s thinking bureaucratic hassle is just a kind of symbol for something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like wanting to be footloose.”

“You’re just going around in a circle.”

“I’m just telling you how she’s thinking.”

The philosophy student brought coffee and Danish. Left a check written out in a neat, academic hand. Harper picked it up.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

“OK,” Reacher said.

“You need to convince her,” Harper said. “You know, make her believe you’re going to stick around, even though you’re selling the house.”

“I told her I’m selling my car too,” he said.

She nodded. “That might help. Sounds like a stick-around thing to do.”

He paused for a beat.

“I told her I might travel a little,” he said.

She stared at him. “Christ, Reacher, that’s not very reassuring, is it?”

“She travels. She’s been to London twice this year. I didn’t make a big fuss about it?”

“How much do you plan to travel?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. A little, I guess. I like getting around. I really do. I told you that.”

Harper was quiet for a second.

“You know what?” she said. “Before you convince her you’re going to stick around, maybe you should convince yourself.”

“I am convinced.”

“Are you? Or do you figure you’ll be in and out, as and when?”

“In and out a little, I guess.”

“You’ll drift apart.”

“That’s what she said.”

Harper nodded. “Well, I’m not surprised.”

He said nothing. Just drank his coffee and ate his Danish.

“It’s make-your-mind-up time,” Harper said. “On the road or off the road, you can’t do both together.”

HIS LUNCH BREAK will be the first big test. That’s your preliminary conclusion. At first you wondered about bathroom arrangements, but he just went inside and used hers. He got out of the car after about ninety minutes, after his morning coffee had worked its way through. He stood stretching on the sidewalk. Then he walked up the looping path and rang the doorbell. You adjusted the focus on the field glasses and got a pretty good side view. You didn’t see her. She stayed in the house. You saw his body language, a little awkward, a little embarrassed. He didn’t speak. He didn’t ask. Just presented himself at the door. So the arrangement had been set up ahead of time. Tough on Scimeca, you think to yourself, psychologically speaking. A raped woman, random intrusion of a large male person for some explicit penis-based activity. But it happened smoothly enough. He went in, and the door closed, a minute passed, the door opened again, and he came back out. He walked back to the car, looking around some, paying attention. He opened the car door, slid inside, and the scene went back to normal.

So, no opportunity with the bathroom breaks. His lunch break would be the next chance. No way the guy is going twelve hours without eating. Cops are always eating. That’s your experience. Doughnuts, pastries, coffee, steak and eggs. Always eating.

HARPER WANTED A view of the city. She was like a tourist. Reacher walked her south through Washington Square Park and all the way down West Broadway to the World Trade Center. It was about a mile and three quarters. They sauntered slowly and spent fifty minutes doing it. The sky was bright and cold and the city was teeming. Harper was enjoying it.

“We could go up to the restaurant,” Reacher said. “Bureau could buy me lunch.”

“I just bought you lunch,” Harper said.

“No, that was a late breakfast.”

“You’re always eating,” she said.

“I’m a big guy,” he said. “I need nutrition.”

They checked their coats in the lobby and rode up to the top of the building. Waited in line at the restaurant desk, with Harper pressed up against the wall of windows, gazing out at the view. She showed her badge and they got a table for two, right at a window facing directly back up West Broadway and Fifth Avenue beyond, from a quarter-mile high.

"Awesome,” she said.

It was awesome. The air was crisp and clear and the view extended a hundred miles. The city was khaki far below them in the fall light. Packed, intricate, infinitely busy. The rivers were green and gray. The outer boroughs faded into Westchester and Connecticut and Long Island. In the other direction, New Jersey crowded the bank and curved away in the far distance.

“Bob’s over there,” she said.

“Someplace,” Reacher agreed.

“Who is Bob?”

“He’s an asshole.”

She smiled. “Not a very exact description, criminologically speaking.”

“He’s a storeman,” Reacher said. “A nine-to-five guy, if he’s in the bar every night.”

“He’s not our guy, right?”

He’s nobody’s guy , Reacher thought.

“He’s small-time,” he said. “Selling out of the trunk of his car in the parking lot? No ambition. Not enough at stake to make it worth killing people.”

“So how can he help us?”

“He can name names. He’s got suppliers, and he knows who the other players are. One of the other players will name more names, and then another and another. ”

“They all know each other?”

Reacher nodded. “They carve it up. They have specialties and territories, same as anybody else.”

“Could take us a long time.”

“I like the geography here,” Reacher said.

“The geography? Why?”

“It makes sense. You’re in the Army, you want to steal weapons, where do you steal them from? You don’t creep around the barracks at night and pull them out from every footlocker you see. That way, you get yourself about eight hours’ grace until the guys wake up and say hey, where’s my damn Beretta?”

“So where do you steal them from?”

“Someplace they won’t be missed, which means storage. Find a stockpile facility where they’re laid up ready for the next war.”

“And where are those?”

“Look at an interstate map.”

“Why interstate?”

“Why do you think the interstates were built? Not so the Harper family could drive from Aspen to Yellowstone Park on vacation. So the Army could move troops and weapons around, fast and easy.”

“They were?”

Reacher nodded. “Sure they were. Eisenhower built them in the fifties, height of the Cold War thing, and Eisenhower was a West Pointer, first and last.”

“So?”

“So you look where the interstates all meet. That’s where they put the storage, so the stuff can go any which way, moment’s notice. Mostly just behind the coasts, because old Ike wasn’t too worried about parachutists dropping into Kansas. He was thinking of ships coming in from the sea.”

“And Jersey is good for that?”

Reacher nodded again. “Great strategic location. Therefore lots of storage, therefore lots of theft.”

“Therefore Bob might know something?”

“He’ll point us in a new direction. That’s about all we can count on from Bob.”

HIS LUNCH BREAK is no good. No good at all. You keep the field glasses tight to your eyes and watch the whole thing happen. A second black-and-white prowl car noses around the corner and moves slowly up the hill. It stops flank to flank against the first one and stays there, motor running. Two of the damn things, side by side. Probably the whole of the police department’s fleet, right there in front of you.