The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,53

dumpster. Then he turned to the Suburban. He checked the glovebox. The sun visors. The door pockets. Under the seats. Under the floor mats. In the trunk. Around the spare and the jack and the little wallet of tools. Under the hood. In the wheel arches. And found nothing. Not even a loose dime or a discarded candy wrapper. Whoever these guys were, they were fastidious. That was for damn sure.

Reacher closed the hood and the tailgate and all the doors apart from the driver’s. He was tempted to climb in. Take the vehicle. Partly because it could be useful. And partly to deprive the enemy of a valuable asset. But he had seen one of the same crew stick a tracking device on Rutherford’s Beetle. That meant there was a risk they’d use the same technology on their own vehicles. So he made sure the key was in the ignition and left the Suburban to take its chances.

Someone had left a stack of cards advertising a pizza delivery service on the reception counter but otherwise the lobby of Rutherford’s building seemed undisturbed when Reacher returned. He was starting to feel hungry again so he tucked a card into his back pocket then approached the closet door. He braced himself in case the doorman had used the time to think. To see through the ruse. Then he worked the lock. And found the guy sitting on the floor with his knees up near his shoulders. He blinked his tiny eyes against the sudden light then recognized Reacher and tried to speak, but his voice was unintelligible through the shiny tape.

‘Good news,’ Reacher said. He grabbed the doorman’s hands and heaved him to his feet, then took out his smaller knife and started to cut him free. ‘False alarm. There’s no threat against Mr Rutherford. Not today. He’s perfectly safe. For now. Although he’s not feeling very well. He just called. He’s postponed his trip again. He’s going to stay in his apartment for a few days until he’s feeling better. He doesn’t want any visitors, or any other interruptions at all. I’m just going to go up and check if he needs anything, then I’ll be heading back to Nashville. It was a pleasure meeting you. Keep up the good work.’

Reacher figured that if Rutherford’s neighbour could spend half the year away on cruises he must be an older guy. Retired. With plenty of time on his hands. And many years of accumulating junk behind him. Reacher pictured an apartment crammed with chintzy furniture. Flowery curtains. Pictures of children. Probably grandchildren. But when Rutherford opened the door and stepped back Reacher saw a large, almost empty space. All the dividing walls had been removed. The exterior walls had been painted bright white. The floor was covered with pale grey concrete which was sealed and polished to match the kitchen countertops. Aluminium blinds, angled to allow the afternoon sun to flood in, covered the windows. The coffee table had a lozenge-shaped glass top with a curved wood support rather than regular legs. The rest of the furniture was all chrome and black leather. Reacher had seen pictures of things like it in a magazine about mid-century designers. There were polished walnut units with doors set into them separating the far third of the room. Something that looked like a giant metal egg made out of riveted panels set on a black wood tripod. And a set of blond wood shelves. Each one was an apparently random length, but Reacher figured they were probably carefully calculated to create some kind of effect. They seemed to be floating near the wall rather than being attached with brackets or supports, and they held a sparse selection of random objects. The kind that were no doubt pronounced objays by the people who sold them.

‘What do you think?’ Rutherford said.

‘I don’t know,’ Reacher said. ‘Is it a home? Or a showroom?’

‘A home. It’s been Mitch’s for years. Although he does have a couple of other ones too. And it hasn’t always looked like this. He had it completely remodelled last year. He has some really cool things now. See this?’ Rutherford pointed at the egg. ‘It came from a lightbulb factory. In Germany. They used it to test the vacuum seal inside the glass bulbs. Now Mitch uses it for storing his whisky.’ Rutherford walked across and opened a door set into the front of the thing. Inside were four crystal decanters full of golden liquid