Fowler shouldered past Ray and turned and leaned on the trunk. Stood and pressed the back of his head against the ragged holes. Raised his field glasses and looked back down the range toward the matting. He figured he was more than a hundred and fifty yards behind the target. The target had been more than eight hundred yards from the matting. He did the math in his head.
"A thousand yards," he breathed.
Fowler and Joseph Ray paced it out together on the way back to Borken. Ray kept his stride long, just about exactly a yard. Fowler counted. Nine hundred and ninety strides, nine hundred and ninety yards. Borken knelt on the matting and used Ray's field glasses. He closed one eye and stared across the distance. He could barely even see the white tree. Reacher watched him try to keep the surprise out of his face. Thought to himself: you wanted a big performance, you got one. You like it, fat boy?
"OK," Borken said. "So let's see how damn smart you're going to act now."
TH E FIVE GUARDS that had been six when Jackson was with them formed up in a line. They moved forward and took up position around Reacher and Holly. The crowd started filing away, quietly. Their feet crunched and slid on the stony ground. Then that sound was gone and the rifle range was quiet.
Fowler stooped and picked up the guns. He hefted one in each hand and walked away through the trees. The five guards unslung their weapons with the loud sound of palms slapping on wood and metal.
"OK," Borken said again. "Punishment detail."
He turned to Holly.
"You too," he said. "You're not too damn valuable for that. You can help him. He's got a task to perform for me."
The guards stepped forward and marched Reacher and Holly behind Borken, slowly down through the trees to the Bastion and on along the beaten earth track to the command hut clearing. They halted there. Two of the guards peeled off and walked to the stores. They were back within five minutes with their weapons shouldered. The first guard was carrying a long-handled shovel in his left hand and a crowbar in his right. The second was carrying two olive fatigue shirts. Borken took them from him and turned to face Reacher and Holly.
"Take your shirts off," he said. "Put these on."
Holly stared at him.
"Why?" she said.
Borken smiled.
"All part of the game," he said. "You're not back by nightfall, we turn the dogs loose. They need your old shirts for the scent."
Holly shook her head.
"I'm not undressing," she said.
Borken looked at her and nodded.
"We'll turn our backs," he said. "But you only get one chance. You don't do it, these boys will do it for you, OK?"
He gave the command and the five guards fanned out in a loose arc, facing the trees. Borken waited for Reacher to turn away and then swiveled on his heels and stared up in the air.
"OK," he said. "Get on with it."
The men heard unbuttoning sounds and the rasp of cotton. They heard the old shirt fall to the ground and the new one slipping on. They heard fingernails clicking against buttons.
"Done," Holly muttered.
Reacher took off his jacket and his shirt and shivered in the mountain breeze. He took the new shirt from Borken and shrugged it on. Slung the jacket over his shoulder. Borken nodded and the guard handed Reacher the shovel and the crowbar. Borken pointed into the forest.
"Walk due west a hundred yards," he said. "Then north another hundred. You'll know what to do when you get there."
Holly looked at Reacher. He looked back and nodded. They strolled together into the trees, heading west.
THIRTY YARDS INTO the woods, as soon as they were out of sight, Holly stopped. She planted her crutch and waited for Reacher to turn and rejoin her.
"Borken," she said. "I know who he is. I've seen his name in our files. They tagged him for a robbery, northern California somewhere. Twenty million dollars in bearer bonds. Armored car driver was killed. Sacramento office investigated, but they couldn't make it stick."
Reacher nodded.
"He did it," he said. "That's for damn sure. Fowler admitted it. Says they've got twenty million in the Caymans. Captured from the enemy."
Holly grimaced.
"It explains the mole in Chicago," she said. "Borken can afford a pretty handsome bribe with twenty million bucks in the bank, right?"