Lee Child - MatchUp

“This isn’t a date.”

“It could be.”

“No, it couldn’t.”

He reached inside a suede jacket hanging on a chair and pulled out his credential case, which he handed to her.

She let the case fall open, revealing his FBI photo ID and badge. She handed the case back to him. “This seems to be my lucky day.”

“The day’s not over yet. You want a drink?”

“Water.”

He smiled, plucked two glasses from the cupboard and made one water and one scotch and water. “Sorry, no ice.”

“I don’t need ice.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re kind of uptight?”

She smiled. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re not uptight enough?”

He smiled back.

They clinked glasses and she said, “ Cent’anni .”

“Cheers.”

They drank, then he led her into the living room and indicated an armchair. He locked the sliding doors, then sat in a creaky rocker.

She looked around. “This is worse than my place. Did you win a Woodsy Weekend too?”

“I lost a bet.”

They both laughed.

She asked, “Do you have a landline phone here?”

“I don’t even have ice.”

“Let’s try 911 again.”

They both tried on their cells, but neither could get a connection.

He pointed out, “It could take an hour for a local cop or the State Police to get here anyway.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“First tell me what you saw in the woods.”

“We can do that on the way to the police station.”

He looked at Bennie Rosato. She’d gone from lady in distress to ball-busting lawyer in ten minutes. “We’re going to take separate cars out of here. In case we’re not coming back. So tell me what you saw.”

She sipped on her water and told him. He listened. As with most attorneys her narrative was clear and concise, though he suspected she hadn’t been as cool and collected when she was lost in the woods, finding what she thought was a terrorist facility.

When she finished, he said, “Something was going on there. Maybe criminal activity. Maybe some poachers. Maybe a meth lab or maybe park workers or environmental scientists doing something good for humanity.”

“They were speaking Arabic.”

“Other than from watching Homeland, would you know what Arabic sounded like?”

“I think so. And don’t forget the camouflage netting.”

“Right. What were these guys wearing?”

“Black pants and dark jackets.”

“Beards?”

“No.”

“Age?”

“Young.”

“Describe the crate.”

“Long and narrow.”

“Heavy?”

“Both men had to carry it.”

“Were there other crates in the truck?”

“I don’t know.”

“How big was this shed?”

“Are you taking my deposition?” She set down her water. “This is crazy. Let’s just go to the police.”

“I think I have enough for us to file a report.” Then he let her know, “You’re a good witness.”

“I grill witnesses for a living.”

“Me too.”

“So we have that in common.”

“That makes it a date.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It’s datelike.”

“Whatever that means.”

She smiled, and he found himself admiring her crossed legs.

“You a runner?” he asked.

“Rower.” She headed for the door. “If we’re not coming back here, I need to get Max.”

He stood. “I’ll get my stuff. We’ll drive to your place, collect your dog, and you’ll follow me in your car. There’s a State Police barracks in Ray Brook, about an hour from here. I worked with those guys once. They’re good.”

“We should try to call them from the car. They can meet us halfway. I don’t want these men to get away.”

“They’re already gone.”

She frowned, disappointed. “What makes you say that?”

“Bitter experience. Are you willing to go with the State Police and try to find this place?”

“If you come with me.”

He figured it was that life-or-death exception, striking again. “You’ll need better hiking clothes.”

“Look who’s talking.”

He smiled again. He liked her. “So are you enjoying your Woodsy Weekend Getaway?”

“No. Are you?”

“Actually, I am.”

“You weren’t chased by terrorists.”

“There’s still hope.”

“Mister Macho.”

“My middle name. Let’s move out.”

He grabbed his small duffel bag, and she shut off the lights, then they went out to his Jeep Cherokee. She got into the passenger seat as he set his bag in the back, opened it, took out four loaded magazines, and shoved them into his cargo pockets. He slammed the hatch shut and jumped behind the wheel, starting the engine and engaging the four-wheel drive. He used only his parking lights to navigate the dirt driveway. His driveway ended and he turned onto the one-lane gravel road that connected the cabins around the lake.

“Did you cross this road when you were lost?” he asked her.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’m trying to determine where this place was that you saw.”

“I think I did cross this road.”

“Did it occur to you that you were heading uphill, away from the lake and away from my cabin?”

“I was upset about Max. I was just following the lights.”

“Follow your senses.”

“You forgot your gun.”

“Your dog distracted me.”

“Again with the dog blaming.”

He liked women who didn’t take his crap. That was why he’d liked Robin, his first wife, and Kate, his future ex-wife. But maybe he should lay off lady lawyers for a while. “Do you think you could find this place again?”

“Maybe. Maybe they can find us. You should go faster.”

“We’re almost there.”

He looked at the thick forest that hugged the narrow road and listened to the sound of the tires crunching over the gravel. He saw the lights of her cabin off to his right and slowed down.

She said, “The driveway is between those big pines.”

He found the entrance and turned into it. The dirt drive continued downhill for a few hundred feet into the clearing around her cabin and he stopped the Jeep behind her BMW.

He shut off the engine. “I’ll check it out, just in case. Stay here.”

“Are you serious?”

She opened her door, climbed out, and headed around to the back deck.

He followed and said to her, “Stand back.” Inside he saw Max, still on the couch, looking at him. He didn’t think he needed to draw his gun, so he slid the door open with Bennie right behind him. Max jumped off the couch and ran directly to Bennie.

He locked the sliders as a standard precaution, then said, “I’ll go upstairs and get your bag. You haven’t unpacked anything, right?”

She shook her head. “I’ll get my purse and some stuff in the cabinets.” Then she did a double take. “How do you know where my bag is or that it’s still packed?”

“I was searching for clues.”

“To what? And where’s the probable cause?”

He grinned. “It’s not like I went looking for undies.”

Max was wagging his tail at a bag of dog food on the counter. He felt his own stomach rumbling. “Did you bring any people food?”

“There’s yogurt in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“I’d rather eat the dog food.”

She grabbed Max by the collar. “Let me get him in the car before he runs away again.” She left with the dog through the sliders, leaving them open, and he headed upstairs, lifted her small suitcase off the bed, then returned downstairs.

Two men in ski masks held Bennie at gunpoint in the living room.

“Put your hands up,” one said to him.

He stood looking at the two men.

The taller man was pointing a Glock at him, holding it in a two-hand grip. The other guy had his gun at the port arms position, his head and eyes darting around the room.