The Hard Way

"Coffee?" Patti said, before they were even in through the door.

"I thought you’d never ask," Reacher said.

Patti went to the kitchen to set up the machine and Pauling walked straight to the window. Looked at the stuff on the sill, and then checked the view. Raised her eyebrows in Reacher’s direction and gave a small shrug that said: Weird, but I’ve seen weirder.

"So what’s up?" Patti called through.

Reacher said, "Let’s wait until we’re all sitting down." And ten minutes later they all were, with Patti Joseph in tears. Tears of grief, tears of relief, tears of closure.

Tears of anger.

"Where is Knight now?" she asked.

"Knight died," Reacher said. "And he died hard."

"Good. I’m glad."

"No argument from me."

"What are we going to do about Lane?"

"That remains to be seen."

"I should call Brewer."

"Brewer can’t do anything. There’s truth here, but there’s no evidence. Not the kind that a cop or a prosecutor needs."

"You should tell the other guys about Hobart. Tell them what Lane did to their buddy. Send them down there to see for themselves."

"Might not work. They might not care. Guys that were likely to care wouldn’t have obeyed the order in Africa in the first place. And now, even if they did care, the best way to deal with their own guilt would be to stay in denial. They’ve had five years’ practice."

"But it might be worth it. To see with their own eyes."

"We can’t risk it. Not unless we know for sure ahead of time what their reactions would be. Because Lane will assume Knight spilled the beans in prison. Therefore Lane will see Hobart as a loose end now. And a threat. Therefore Lane will want Hobart dead now. And Lane’s guys will do whatever the hell Lane tells them to. So we can’t risk it. Hobart’s a sitting duck, literally. A puff of wind would blow him away. And his sister would get caught in the crossfire."

"Why are you here?"

"To give you the news."

"Not here. In New York, in and out of the Dakota."

Reacher said nothing.

"I’m not a fool," Patti said. "I know what goes on. Who knows more than me? Who possibly could? And I know that the day after I stop seeing Kate Lane and Jade anymore, you show up and people put bags in cars and you hide in the back seat and you come here to interrogate Brewer about the last time one of Edward Lane’s wives disappeared."

Reacher asked, "Why do you think I’m here?"

"I think he’s done it again."

Reacher looked at Pauling and Pauling shrugged like maybe she agreed Patti deserved to hear the story. Like somehow she had earned the right through five long years of fidelity to her sister’s memory. So Reacher told her everything he knew. Told her all the facts, all the guesses, all the assumptions, all the conclusions. When he finished she just stared at him.

She said: "You think it’s real this time because of how good an actor he is?"

"No, I think nobody’s that good of an actor."

"Hello? Adolf Hitler? He could work himself into all kinds of phony rages."

Patti stood up and stepped over to an armoire drawer and pulled out a packet of photographs. Checked the contents and tossed the packet into Reacher’s lap. A fresh new envelope. A one-hour service. Thirty-six exposures. He thumbed through the stack. Top picture was of himself, face-on, coming out of the Dakota’s lobby, preparing to turn toward the subway on Central Park West. Early this morning, he thought. The B train to Pauling’s office.

"So?"

"Keep going."

He thumbed backward and close to the end of the stack he saw Dee Marie Graziano, face on, coming out of the Dakota’s lobby. The sun in the west. Afternoon. The picture behind it showed her from the back, going in.

"That’s Hobart’s sister, am I right?" Patti said. "It has to be, according to your story. She’s in my notebook, too. Close to forty, overweight, not rich. Previously unexplained. But now I know. That’s when the Dakota doormen told her the family was in the Hamptons. Then she went out there."

"So?"

"Isn’t it obvious? Kate Lane takes this weird woman walking on the beach, and she hears a weird and fantastical story, but there’s something about it and something about her husband that stops her from just dismissing it out of hand. Enough of a grain of truth there to make her think for a moment. Maybe enough to make her ask her husband for an explanation."

Reacher said nothing.

Patti said, "In which case all hell would break loose. Don’t you see? Suddenly Kate is no longer a loyal and obedient wife. Suddenly she’s as bad as Anne was. And suddenly she’s a loose end, too. Maybe even a serious threat."

"Lane would have gone after Hobart and Dee Marie, too. Not just Kate."

"If he could find them. You only found them because of the Pentagon."

"And the Pentagon hates Lane," Pauling said. "They wouldn’t give him the time of day."

"Two questions," Reacher said. "If this is history repeating itself, Anne all over again, why is Lane pushing me to help?"

"He’s gambling," Patti said. "He’s gambling because he’s arrogant. He’s putting on a show for his men, and he’s betting that he’s smarter than you are."

"Second question," Reacher said. "Who could be playing Knight’s part this time around?"

"Does that matter?"

"Yes, it matters. It’s an important detail, don’t you think?"

Patti paused. Looked away.

"It’s an inconvenient detail," she said. "Because there’s nobody missing." Then she said, "OK, I apologize. Maybe you’re right. Just because it was fake for Anne doesn’t mean it’s fake for Kate." Then she said, "Just remember one thing, while you’re spending your time helping him. You’re not looking for a woman he loves. You’re looking for a prize possession. This is like somebody stole a gold watch from him, and he’s angry about it."

Then out of what Reacher guessed was sheer habit Patti moved to the window and stood with her hands linked behind her back, staring out and down.

"It’s not over for me," she said. "It won’t be over for me until Lane gets what he deserves."

Chapter 44

REACHER AND PAULING rode down to the Majestic’s lobby in silence. They stepped out to the sidewalk. Early evening. Four lanes of traffic, and lovers in the park. Dogs on leashes, tour groups, the bass bark of fire truck horns.

Pauling asked, "Where now?"

"Take the night off," Reacher said. "I’m going back to the lions’ den."

Pauling headed for the subway and Reacher headed for the Dakota. The doorman sent him up without making a call. Either Lane had put him on some kind of an approved list or the doorman had grown accustomed to his face. Either way it didn’t feel good. Poor security, and Reacher didn’t want to be recognized as part of Lane’s crew. Not that he expected to be around the Dakota ever again. It was way above his pay grade.

There was nobody waiting for him in the corridor on five. Lane’s door was closed. Reacher knocked and then found a bell button and pushed it. A minute later Kowalski opened up. The biggest of Lane’s guys, but no giant. Maybe six feet, maybe two hundred pounds. He seemed to be alone. There was nothing but stillness and silence behind him. He stepped back and held the door and Reacher stepped inside.

"Where is everybody?" Reacher asked.

"Out shaking the trees," Kowalski said.

"What trees?"