The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,93

outside for soft drinks and ice. Then it continued around three sides of a square with a regular pattern of window and door, window and door. Thirty-six pairs altogether. Each with a parking space outside. Leaving no distance to walk from your vehicle to your room. Making it easy to carry your luggage inside. And reducing the chances of anyone seeing what you had brought. However unusual it might be. Or incongruous. Such as three mismatched suitcases and a dozen sleek black boxes.

The layout suited Reacher very well. As did the fact that of the thirty-six parking spaces only four were occupied. Three were taken by ancient sedans, their paint bleached and blistered by years of sun. The other by a bright yellow Toyota SUV with red mud sprayed right up to its roof. Two of the sedans were on the office side of the courtyard. The third sedan and the Toyota were on the opposite side. Leaving one section completely vacant.

Sands pulled up next to the vending machines, climbed out, and headed into the office. Reacher parked next to the minivan and went inside with her. The space was long and narrow. The reception counter was immediately to the right, followed by a tall freezer with double glass doors and a table with a microwave and a drip coffee machine. Three white plastic tables were lined up along the left-hand wall. Each had four white plastic chairs. And a vase with a red plastic flower.

Reacher rapped on the counter and after a moment a door opened and a guy came through. He looked about nineteen. His hair was shoulder length, he had round glasses, and he was wearing a baggy white T-shirt and a pair of faded, baggy jeans. He plonked himself down in the receptionist’s chair and peered at Reacher.

‘We need to talk about the price of your rooms,’ Reacher said.

The guy pointed to a sign on the wall behind him: Rooms $95+ / night.

‘Those are your standard rates, I guess,’ Reacher said. ‘I’m not interested in those.’

‘No discounts,’ the guy said. ‘Ninety-five plus tax. Take it or leave it.’

‘I’m not looking for a discount. I need something else. A special arrangement.’

‘No special arrangements, either. Whatever they are.’

‘Don’t be hasty. You haven’t heard what I have in mind. Do you want to miss out on a good thing?’

The guy paused. ‘Go on.’

‘Two rooms,’ Reacher said. ‘A week in advance. One at ninety-five a night, on a credit card, as normal. The other at one fifty a night, in cash, directly into your pocket.’

‘Go on,’ the guy said.

‘Three conditions. First, the rooms must be together in the centre of the vacant block facing out across the courtyard, and they must have a connecting door.’

‘Can do.’

‘Second, we register for one of the rooms as normal. The other you enter in your system as not available for occupancy.’

‘I don’t know what that is. I don’t think we have it here.’

‘Sure you do. All hotels have it. Or some version of it. For when a customer dies and you have to wait for the coroner to sign off. Or someone gets busted for drugs and you have to wait for the police to clear the scene. Or even if the plumbing breaks down and you have to wait to get it fixed. Look in your employee handbook. It’ll be there.’

‘Handbook? What century are you from?’ The guy woke his computer and called up a help screen. ‘Oh. OK. We do have it. No problem. What else?’

‘This arrangement is completely confidential. You don’t mention it to anyone. Not your boss. Not your co-workers. Not the people who clean the rooms. Not your friends. Not your mom or dad. Not even your cat or dog.’

‘I don’t have a cat or a dog. But I get your point. Can do. And just to clarify, you said a week for both rooms? As in seven nights?’

‘Seven nights. A thousand and fifty bucks, if that’s what you’re thinking about.’

‘All right then. We have a deal.’

‘Outstanding. My friend here will take care of the credit card and the forms. I’ll take care of the cash. Half now. Half when we leave. Assuming you’ve kept your mouth shut.’

Reacher and Sands walked out of the office with the keys to rooms eighteen and nineteen. Eighteen was above board. Nineteen was off the books. Invisible to anyone who might come looking for them.

Reacher parked Marty’s car outside room eighteen. Sands reversed the minivan close to the door to room nineteen. They