the driver said.
‘I waited for you at the coffee shop and when you didn’t show I came back to look for you. I figured I’d cut through the alley to save time and I found your friend. He was on the ground. In bad shape. He was bleeding. He had this big cut on his forehead. He was unconscious. Breathing, but only just. He must have gotten mugged. He had no wallet. No phone.’
‘Did you call 911?’
‘I couldn’t. I don’t have a phone. That’s why I came to get you. And I figured that with this whole computer situation going on it would be quicker for you to drive him to the hospital anyway.’
The driver paused, then put down the gun. ‘All right. Show me.’
‘Come on. Follow me. Pull into the alley. Then you’ll see him.’ Reacher set off at a fast jog, and after a second he heard an engine fire up behind him. Tyres squealed and a moment later the Suburban shot past him. It continued to accelerate then darted into the mouth of the alley without signalling. Reacher caught up and squeezed along the passenger side. The driver climbed out, his gun in his hand, and joined Reacher at the front of the vehicle.
‘Where is he?’ the driver said. ‘I don’t see him.’
‘I forgot,’ Reacher said. ‘I put him in the dumpster. The far one. To keep him safe. I didn’t know if you’d still be waiting, or how long it would take to find you.’
The driver raised his gun to Reacher’s chest. ‘You forgot?’
‘What?’ Reacher said. ‘You never forgot anything?’
‘All right.’ The driver raised the gun to Reacher’s head. ‘Back up against the wall. Keep your hands where I can see them.’ He waited for Reacher to comply then moved forward to the dumpster. ‘Don’t move.’ He lifted the lid with his free hand and took a glance inside. Reacher waited a moment for him to register the state his buddy was in, then strode forward and pulled the gun from his waistband. He switched it around so he was holding it by the barrel and swung it in a fast sideways arc. The butt smashed into the driver’s elbow.
The driver dropped his own gun and the lid of the dumpster and slumped down on one knee. Reacher switched the gun to his left hand, wrapped his right hand around the side of the guy’s head and slammed it against the dumpster. Then he grabbed the front of his shirt, half lifted him, and dropped him down in a sitting position with his back against the metal. His body was as slack as a rag doll. Reacher waited a moment to make sure he was conscious, then rammed his gun into the guy’s mouth.
‘I’m going to ask you a question,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll give you five seconds to think about it then I’ll remove the gun. If you give me the correct answer I’ll let you fish your buddy out of the trash and drive away. Give me anything other than the correct answer and I’ll put the gun back in your mouth and blow the back of your skull clean off. Are we clear?’
The driver’s eyes widened and he did his best to nod his head.
‘What does Rutherford have that you want?’ Reacher raised his thumb and each finger on his right hand in turn at one second intervals, then pulled out the gun.
‘Go ahead.’ The driver raised his chin. ‘Shoot me. Don’t waste any more time. There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll make me tell you what it is.’
‘You’d rather give up your life than one little piece of information?’ Reacher said. ‘That seems like a poor choice.’
‘It’s not just my life. I have a wife. A brother. I know what would happen to them. Come on.’ He opened his mouth, leaned forward, and gripped the muzzle with his teeth. ‘Do it.’
Reacher pulled the gun away and clubbed the driver on the side of the head with his right hand, knocking him out cold. He retrieved the dropped gun, checked it, tucked both weapons into his waistband, then started to go through the guy’s pockets. The contents proved no more satisfying than the passenger’s. He had no credit cards. Nothing with a name or an address. No spare ammunition. His phone had been used more recently, but it contained no names or personal information. Reacher took the cash as before, duct-taped his ankles, wrists and mouth, and dropped him in the other