put cuffs on three groaning and dizzy men. Which made her glad. With exactly equal intensity. A full-on hundred percent. Which made her mad all over again, this time at herself, for being glad about such a terrible thing.
“I apologize,” Reacher said. “I needed to find out about a bird. I’m going now.”
“You need to,” she said.
“Apologize?”
“To go now,” she said. “This was nice, but dangerous. They’ll react.”
“Because they have a code?”
“Next time they’ll send someone better.”
“I would hope.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “Not good for you, not good for me.”
“I got what I need,” he said. “I’m out of here.”
“How?”
“In the Subaru. It’s waiting for me. At least it was five minutes ago. You might have scared it away. Like last time.”
Amos took a radio from her bag and called in the question. A second later a voice that could have been Davison’s cut in on a blast of static and said, yes, the Subaru was still at the curb, engine off, driver behind the wheel. She thanked him and clicked off. She looked at the guys on the floor again.
She said, “Why did they come in here?”
“I’m hoping it was to find a bathroom where they could strip off their jump suits. Then they could have scattered three different directions, looking normal in civilian clothes. They might have sown some confusion. That was the percentage play. But in case they had something worse in mind, I figured it would be safer all around if I got my retaliation in first.”
Amos said nothing. He knew why. Mad or glad, still not sure. Then she got back on the radio and ordered all four of the street cops to head for the library. As fast as possible. Repeat, abandon current positions, hustle straight inside the building.
Then to Reacher she said, “And you go get in the Subaru, right now this minute.”
“And get out of town?”
“By the fastest possible route.”
“And never come back?”
She paused.
“Not soon,” she said.
He stepped over an arm and a leg and went out the door he had come in through. He walked the same paved path, past people strolling, and sitting on benches, and lying flat on the grass. He went out the gate and crossed the sidewalk to the Subaru. He tapped on the glass, politely, and then he opened the door and got in.
Burke asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“It was a rough-legged hawk,” Reacher said.
“I’m glad you know now.”
“Thank you.”
“I saw cops in the gardens. Just now. First time ever. Guys running in from all sides. Just when I told you it never happens.”
“Maybe there was a big emergency. Maybe there was an unpaid fine.”
“I’ll drive you to the highway now, if you like.”
“No,” Reacher said. “I’m going back to Ryantown. One last look. You shouldn’t come with me. You can let me out at the end of the road. You shouldn’t be involved.”
“Neither should you. Not there, of all places. They’ll be waiting.”
“I would hope,” Reacher said again. “I more or less promised I would come. I like to be taken as a man of his word.”
“The highway would be better.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t always think so. A couple times, at least. Maybe more. At various points in your life. Starting maybe forty years ago.”
Burke didn’t answer. He started the car and pulled out in the traffic. He made a turn that Reacher thought was right for Ryantown. He settled in. He felt the snap of new paper in his back pants pocket. The note from the librarian. The ornithologist. His name and number. From the university, down in Durham.
He fished around and pulled it out.
He said, “Do you have a cell phone?”
“It’s an old one,” Burke said.
“Does it work?”
“Most of the time.”
“May I borrow it?”
Burke found it in his pocket, and handed it over, blind, his eyes on the road. Reacher took it. It was an old one for sure. Not like a tiny flat screen TV. It had real buttons. It was shaped like a miniature coffin, and it was as thick as a candy bar. He got it working. The signal was good. They were still in town. He dialed the ornithologist’s number. Down in Durham. It rang and rang, and then an assistant answered. The guy was in a meeting. Couldn’t be disturbed. Reacher left a message. Ryantown, the hawk, the rat poison theory, and how the S. of S. and W. Reacher was his father. He said the number he was on might