an address in a close-by community, which automatically didn’t.
Reacher wondered if the apple farmer had a Persian carpet in his house.
Amos said, “It’s nearly time for you to go.”
He said, “Maybe I’ll walk through a couple of alleys and courtyards.”
“You won’t walk through anywhere. I’m going to drive you. In a marked car. No one would be dumb enough to attack a police vehicle.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“Purely in an operational sense. I want you out of here. Definitively. Once and for all. No delays. Because then my problem is solved. For avoidance of doubt I want to see it happen with my own eyes.”
“Maybe after that you should go stop the decoy and let him know it’s all over. He might be grateful. He must be desperate for a leak by now.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You could tell him which way I went. Tell him I’d like to meet him. And his pal in the van.”
“Let it go,” she said. “This ain’t the MPs anymore.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“Mostly,” she said.
She made a couple of arrangements on the phone, and then she grabbed her bag and led Reacher out to the lot, where she chose a black and white still wet from the car wash. The keys were in it. Reacher rode in the front, cramped by the laptop and the custom compartments. He gave her directions, to the corner before the side street where the inn was. Where he had gotten out, the day before. All the way there he watched the traffic. Didn’t see a blue van. Didn’t see a black Chrysler, either. There was a late rush hour jam at one of the lights. Amos checked her watch. Getting close. She lit up her roof bar and slipped through in the wrong lane.
And there dead ahead was the ancient Subaru. Waiting at the curb. On the right spot. At the right time. Inside was a familiar skinny silhouette. Blue denim, a pencil neck, and a long gray ponytail.
“Is that him?” Amos asked.
“Sure is,” Reacher said.
“Maybe I did something good in a previous life.”
She pulled in behind the Subaru. The silhouette jerked its head. Like it was suddenly staring in the mirror. Then the Subaru took off. Instantly. It disappeared out from in front of them. It howled off the curb and blasted down the street.
Maximum acceleration.
Amos said, “What?”
“Chase him,” Reacher said. “Go, go, go.”
She glanced over her shoulder and stamped on the gas and took off in pursuit.
She said, “What just happened?”
“You scared him,” Reacher said. “Your red lights were still on. Like you were pulling him over.”
“He was stationary.”
“Maybe he thought you were busting him.”
“Why would I? Was he on a hydrant?”
“Maybe he’s got weed in the car. Or secret documents. Or something. Maybe he thinks you’re an agent of deep state oppression. We’re dealing with an old guy with a ponytail here.”
They followed him a hundred yards behind, then eighty, then fifty, then twenty. The Subaru was doing its valiant best, but it was no match for a modern-day police vehicle. With lights and a siren. Then up ahead the Subaru turned right. It was lost to sight for ten or twelve agonizing seconds, but they turned after it, and saw it turning again, at the end of the block.
“He’s heading home,” Reacher said. “Somewhere north and west of here.”
Amos took a shortcut on a block she knew better, and came out right on the Subaru’s bumper. A one way street. Up ahead was a red light, and another small jam. Two lanes of traffic, five cars on the left, and six on the right. The tail end of rush hour. The light went green, but nobody moved. Someone was blocking the box. Not a blue van. Not a black Chrysler. The Subaru braked hard and swerved into the shorter line. Now he was the sixth car on the left, one inch behind the fifth. Amos stopped one inch behind him. On his left was the sidewalk, and on his right was the right-hand queue of vehicles, just as long, just as stopped. He was parked tighter than Paris.
Amos said, “Technically he committed a number of offenses.”
“Let it go,” Reacher said. “And thanks for everything.”
He got out of the car and walked ahead. He tapped on the Subaru’s passenger window. The old guy stared ahead for a long moment, absolutely refusing to look, rigid with principle, but eventually, and reluctantly, he glanced to his right. At which point he looked very surprised. He glanced