Page 103 of Chain Reaction

She clicked off and he put the phone back on the dash. He settled in his seat again. Asleep in every way, except his eyes were open and he was aware of one small sliver of the view. Partly an inborn talent, partly a learned behavior. It had always served him well.

—

Reacher was disturbed again at seven a.m. A guy showed up on an electric bike. He had a bag of takeout food hooked over the handlebar. He stopped outside Julia Bisley’s building and looked all around. He saw Reacher and pedaled over and knocked on his window. Reacher buzzed it down.

“Breakfast,” the guy said.

“For me?”

“For whoever is sitting in a blue car outside this address.”

Reacher took the bag and the guy pedaled away. Inside the bag was another bag, made of brown paper, and inside that were plastic containers and a twenty-ounce go-cup. Black coffee, bacon, sausage, two eggs and two biscuits. No vegetables. Plus napkins, a plastic knife and a plastic fork, and a sachet of ketchup.

His phone rang. Turner. She said, “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It just got here this minute. How did you know? Did Elwood deploy a drone?”

“No, I’m tracking it on the app.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Then you should go take a break. Julia is safe now. They ran back to California because you’re a savage.”

“How was your meeting?”

“We have to go arrest the current regime. That’s all. Joint operation with CIA.”

“The four scariest words in the English language.”

“Go get a hotel room and take a nap. Meet me in Julia’s lobby at ten.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

—

There were plenty of hotels close by, because of the airport. Reacher got a day rate, designed for passengers with long connections. He planned to take a shower, not a nap, which was what he figured Turner had meant all along. They were going to be sitting with Julia Bisley for a good part of the morning, probably in a small room. The woman had troubles enough. He detoured to the lobby shop and the Chief of Staff bought him a disposable razor and a travel-size can of foam. Plus a nail scissor and a white T-shirt. The scissor was for trimming his hair, and the tee was to wear under his regular shirt, which he would leave unbuttoned. Maybe with the sleeves rolled. To change up his look. He had read an advice column in a newspaper he had found on a bus. The paper promised Julia would think it was a whole new outfit.

He took his time and was pleased with the outcome. He looked civilized. He rinsed the blood off his shoe. He would be walking where the baby crawled. He checked one last time in the mirror at the door and left the room. Ten minutes later he was waiting outside Julia’s lobby again, leaning on the blue Dodge, which was still where he had left it. Before ten in the morning, and it was already another hot day. The glass all around bounced a thousand bright reflections. He could feel the sun on his newly shaved face. August in D.C. Perfect.

Turner got there five minutes later, in the back of a black Toyota that looked like it had done a million miles. She had changed out of uniform. Tactful, he thought. Better for Julia. She had chosen a summer dress. Clearly she had a closet in her office.

“You look very nice,” he said.

“You too,” she said. “The clean-cut thing suits you. You should think about it.”

They went in the door and walked to the desk. The doorman looked up. Not the guy Reacher had spoken to before. He was long gone. This was the day guy. He called upstairs and Julia told him to send them up. Eleventh floor. The B unit. Which turned out to be small but perfectly formed. Julia let them in and showed them to the living room. She looked well rested. The living room was a smart, urban space. Amanda was sitting on the rug. She looked well rested too. Quiet as a mouse.

Turner said, “Thanks so much for helping us out.”

“I don’t see how I can,” Julia said. “I know less about it now than I did before, which was already zero.”

They all sat down, in smart modernist chairs. Amanda looked from one to the other, and then back down at some colorful thing she had in her hands.

Julia looked at Reacher.

She said, “Actually I would rather talk about the spell you put on my baby. She’s back to who she was. We just had the calmest morning ever.”

Turner looked at Reacher. What?