Blue Moon - Lee Child Page 0,8
some kind of a common law principle. An attorney could explain it.”
“No lawyers,” Shevick said.
“Worried about them, too?”
“I can’t afford one. Especially if I have to find another thousand bucks.”
“You don’t. They can’t have it both ways. You were here on time. They weren’t.”
“These are not reasonable people.”
The barman glared from far away.
The clock in Reacher’s head hit twelve noon exactly.
He said, “We can’t wait here six hours.”
“My wife will be worried,” Shevick said. “I should go home and see her. Then come back again.”
“Where do you live?”
“About a mile from here.”
“I’ll walk with you, if you like.”
Shevick paused a long moment.
Then he said, “No, I really couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve done enough for me already.”
“That was vague and polite, for damn sure.”
“I mean I mustn’t put you out anymore. I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Generally I avoid having things to do. Clearly a reaction against literal regimentation earlier in my life. The result is I have no particular place to go, and all the time in the world to get there. I’m happy to take a one-mile detour.”
“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“The regimentation I mentioned was, as I said, in the military police, where, as I also said, we were trained to notice things. Not just physical clues, but things about how people are. How they behave and what they believe. Human nature, and so on and so forth. Most of it was bullshit, but some of it rang bells. Right now you’re facing a mile walk through a backstreet neighborhood, with more than twenty grand in your pocket, which you feel weird about, because you’re not really supposed to still have it, and it’s a total disaster if you lose it, and you’ve already been mugged once today, so the truth is, all in all you’re afraid of that walk, and you know I could help with that feeling, and you’re also hurt from the attack, and therefore not moving well, and you know I can help with that too, so all in all you should be begging me to see you home.”
Shevick said nothing.
“But you’re a gentleman,” Reacher said. “You wanted to give me a reward. Now if I walk you home and meet your wife, you think the very least you should do is give me lunch. But there is no lunch. You’re embarrassed. But you shouldn’t be. I get it. You’re in trouble with a moneylender. You haven’t eaten lunch in a couple of months. You look like you lost twenty pounds. Your skin is hanging loose. So we’ll pick up sandwiches on the way. Uncle Sam’s dime. That’s where my cash comes from. Your tax dollars at work. We’ll enjoy some conversation, and then I’ll walk you back here. You can pay off your guy, and I’ll get on my way.”
“Thank you,” Shevick said. “I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” Reacher said. “I mean it.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Someplace else. Often depends on the weather. I like to be warm. Saves buying a coat.”
The barman glared again, still from far away.
“Let’s go,” Reacher said. “A person could die of thirst in here.”
Chapter 4
The man who had been due to meet Aaron Shevick at the table in the far back corner of the bar was a forty-year-old Albanian named Fisnik. He was one of the two men mentioned that morning by Gregory, the Ukrainian boss. Accordingly he had gotten a call at home from Dino, telling him to drop by the lumber yard before starting his day’s work in the bar. Dino’s tone of voice revealed nothing untoward. In fact if anything it sounded cheery and enthusiastic, as if praise and recognition were in store. Maybe expanded opportunities, or a bonus, or both. Maybe a promotion, or extra status in the organization.
It didn’t work out that way. Fisnik ducked through the personnel door in the roll-up gate, and smelled fresh pine, and heard the whine of a saw, and headed to the offices in back, feeling pretty good about things. A minute later he was duct-taped to a wooden chair, and suddenly the pine smelled like coffins, and the saw sounded like agony. First they drilled through his knees with a cordless DeWalt sporting a quarter-inch masonry bit. Then they moved on. He told them nothing, because he had nothing to tell. His silence was taken as a stoic confession. Such was their culture. He garnered a little grudging admiration for his fortitude, but not enough to stop the