was quiet and well covered so they walked north and turned right to get a view of the back. There were cop cars top and bottom of the alley. Nothing was happening. Everything was buttoned up tight against the cold. They walked onward to the next street. There were cop cars there, too.
"Waste of time," Neagley said. "Nobody's going to get him in his house. I assume the police would notice somebody hauling in an artillery piece."
"So let's get breakfast," Reacher said. They walked back to the cross street and found a doughnut shop. Bought coffee and crullers and perched on stools in front of a long counter built inside the store window. The window was misted with condensation. Neagley used a napkin and wiped crescent shapes to see through.
"Different tie," she said.
He glanced down at it.
"Different suit," she said.
"You like it?"
"I would if we still lived in the 1990s," she said.
He said nothing. She smiled.
"So," she said.
"What?"
"Ms. Froelich collected the set."
"You could tell?"
"Unmistakable."
"Free will on my part," Reacher said.
Neagley smiled again. "I didn't think she raped you."
"You going to be all judgmental now?"
"Hey, your call. She's a nice lady. But so am I. And you never come on to me."
"You ever wanted me to?"
"No."
"That's the point. I like my interest to be welcome."
"Which must limit your options some."
"Some," he said. "But not completely."
"Apparently not," Neagley said.
"You disapprove?"
"Hell no. Be my guest. Why do you think I stayed on in the hotel? I didn't want to get in her way, is all."
"Her way? Was it that obvious?"
"Oh please," Neagley said.
Reacher sipped his coffee. Ate a cruller. He was hungry and it tasted great. Iced hard on the outside, light in the middle. He ate another and sucked his fingertips clean. Felt the caffeine and the sugar hit his bloodstream.
"So who are these guys?" Neagley asked. "You got any feelings?"
"Some," Reacher said. "I'd have to concentrate hard to line them up. Not worth starting with that until we know if we're staying on the job."
"We won't be," Neagley said. "Our job ends with the cleaners. And that's a waste of time in itself. No way will they have a name for us. Or if they do, it'll be phony. Best we'll get is a description. Which is bound to be useless."
Reacher nodded. Finished his coffee.
"Let's go," he said. "Once around the block for form's sake."
They walked as slowly as they could bear to in the cold. Nothing was happening. Everything was quiet. There were cop cars or Secret Service vehicles on every street. Their exhaust fumes clouded white and drifted in the still air. Apart from that absolutely nothing was moving. They turned corners and came up on Armstrong's street from the south. The white tent was ahead of them on the right. Froelich was out of her car, waving to them urgently. They hurried up the sidewalk to meet her.
"Change of plan," she said. "There was a problem on the Hill. He cut the CIA thing short and headed up there."
"He left already?" Reacher asked.
Froelich nodded. "He's rolling now."
Then she paused and listened to a voice in her earpiece.
"He's arriving," she said.
She lifted her wrist and spoke into her microphone.
"Situation report, over," she said, and listened again.
There was a wait. Thirty seconds. Forty.
"OK, he's inside," she said. "Secure."
"So what now?" Reacher said.
Froelich shrugged. "Now we wait. That's what this job is. It's about waiting."
They drove back to the office and waited the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. Froelich received regular situation reports. Reacher built up a pretty good picture of how things were organized. Metro cops were stationed outside the Senate Office buildings in cars. Secret Service agents held the sidewalk. Inside the street doors were members of the Capitol's own police force, one officer manning each metal detector, plenty more patrolling the hallways. Mingled in with them were more Secret Service. The transition business itself took place in upstairs offices with pairs of agents outside every door. Armstrong's personal detail stayed with him at all times. The radio reports spoke of a fairly static day. There was a lot of sitting around and talking going on. Plenty of deals being made. That was clear. Reacher recalled the phrase smoke-filled rooms, except he guessed nobody was allowed to smoke anymore.
At four o'clock they drove over to Neagley's hotel, which was being used again for the contributor function. Start time was scheduled for seven in the evening, which gave them three hours to secure the building. Froelich