The Hard Way Part 3

"Abandoned," Gregory said. "Or awaiting renovations. One or the other. It was empty, anyway. I went back there tonight, before I came to the cafe. No sign of habitation."

"How good was this guy Taylor? Did you know him in Britain?"

Gregory nodded. "SAS is a big family. And Taylor was very good indeed."

"OK," Reacher said.

"OK what?" Lane said.

"There are some obvious early conclusions," Reacher said.

CHAPTER 4

REACHER SAID, "The first conclusion is that Taylor is already dead. These guys clearly know you to some extent, and therefore we should a.s.sume they knew who and what Taylor was. Therefore they wouldn't keep him alive. No reason for it. Too dangerous."

Lane asked, "Why do you think they know me?"

"They asked for a specific car," Reacher said. "And they suspected you might have a million dollars in cash lying around. They asked for it after the banks were closed and told you to deliver it before the banks reopened. Not everyone could comply with those conditions. Usually even very rich people take a little time to get a million bucks in cash together. They get temporary loans, wire transfers, they use stock as collateral, stuff like that. But these guys seemed to know that you could just cough it up instantly."

"How do they know me?"

"You tell me."

n.o.body spoke.

"And there are three of them," Reacher said. "One to guard Kate and Jade wherever they took them. One to watch Gregory's back while he walked south on West Broadway, on a cell phone to a third who was waiting to move in and pick up the keys as soon as it was safe."

n.o.body spoke.

"And they're based a minimum two hundred miles upstate," Reacher said. "Let's a.s.sume the initial action went down before about eleven o'clock yesterday morning. But they didn't call for more than five hours. Because they were driving. Then they issued instructions at five o'clock for a ransom drop more than six hours later. Because they needed the six hours because two of them had to drive all the way back. Five, six hours, that's two hundred miles, maybe two fifty, maybe more."

"Why upstate?" Lane said. "They could be anywhere."

"Not south or west," Reacher said. "Or they would have asked for the ransom car south of Ca.n.a.l, so they could head straight for the Holland Tunnel. Not east on Long Island, or they would have wanted to be near the Midtown Tunnel. No, north on Sixth was what they wanted. That implies they were happy to head up toward the George Was.h.i.+ngton Bridge, or the Henry Hudson and the Saw Mill, or the Triboro and the Major Deegan. Eventually they hit the Thruway, probably. They could be in the Catskills or anywhere. A farm, probably. Certainly somewhere with a big garage block or a barn."

"Why?"

"They just inherited your Mercedes Benz. Right after hijacking whatever Taylor drove to Bloomingdale's yesterday. They need a place to hide them."

"Taylor was driving a Jaguar."

"There you go. Their place must look like a luxury car lot by now."

"Why are you so sure they're going to call back?"

"Because of human nature. Right now they're mad as h.e.l.l. They're kicking themselves. They know you, but maybe not all that well. They took a chance and asked for a million dollars in cash, and you bagged it up without a moment's hesitation. You shouldn't have done that. You should have gambled and stalled. Because now they're saying, d.a.m.n it, we should have asked for more. They're saying, we should have tested the limits. So they're going to get back on the phone and hit you up for another chunk. They're going to feel out exactly how much cash you've got lying around. They're going to bleed you dry."

"Why wait so long?"

"Because it's a significant change in strategy," Reacher said. "Therefore they're arguing about it. They've been arguing about it all day. That's human nature, too. Three guys always argue, pro and con, stick to the plan or improvise, play it safe or take the risk."

n.o.body spoke.

"How much have you got in cash?" Reacher asked.

"I'm not going to tell you," Lane said.

"Five million," Reacher said. "That's what they'll ask for next. The phone is going to ring and they're going to ask for another five million dollars."

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward the phone. It didn't ring.

"In another car," Reacher said. "They must have a big barn."

"Is Kate safe?" Lane asked.

"Right now, she's as safe as houses,' Reacher said. "She's their meal ticket. And you did the right thing, asking to hear her voice the first time. That set up a good pattern. They'll have to repeat it. The problem will come after they've had the last payment. That's the toughest part of any kidnap. Giving the money away is easy. Getting the person back is hard."

The phone stayed silent.

"So should I stall?" Lane asked.

"I would," Reacher said. "Parcel it out. Keep it going. Buy some time."

The phone didn't ring. No sound in the room except the hiss of cooled air and men breathing low. Reacher glanced around. Everyone was waiting patiently. Special Forces soldiers were good at waiting. For all the occasional spectacular action they saw, they spent a lot more time waiting, standing by, pa.s.sing the time in readiness. And then nine times out of ten they were stood down, action cancelled.

The phone didn't ring.

"Good conclusions," Lane said, to n.o.body in particular, through the' silence. "Three guys, far away. Upstate. On a farm." But Reacher was completely wrong. Just four miles away through the electric city darkness, right there on the island of Manhattan, a lone man pushed open a door to a small, hot room. Then he stepped back. Kate Lane and her daughter Jade pa.s.sed in front of him without meeting his eyes. They stepped inside the room and saw two beds. The beds looked hard and narrow. The room felt damp and unused. The window was draped with black cloth. The cloth was duct-taped to the walls, across the top, across the bottom, down both sides. The lone man closed the door and walked away.

CHAPTER 5

THE PHONE RANG at exactly one o'clock in the morning. Lane s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of the cradle and said, "Yes?" Reacher heard a faint voice from the earpiece, distorted twice, first by a machine and then again by a bad connection. Lane said, "What?" and there was a reply. Lane said, "Put Kate on the phone. You've got to do that first." Then there was a pause, and then there was a different voice. A woman's voice, distorted, panicked, breathy. It said just one word, possibly Lane's name, and then it exploded in a scream. The scream died into silence and Lane screwed his eyes shut and the electronic robot voice came back and barked six short syllables. Lane said, "OK, OK, OK," and Reacher heard the line go dead.

Lane sat in silence, his eyes clamped shut, his breathing fast and ragged. Then his eyes opened and moved from face to face and stopped on Reacher's.

"Five million dollars," he said. "You were right. How did you know?"

"It was the obvious next step," Reacher said. "One, five, ten, twenty. That's how people think."

"You've got a crystal ball. You can see the future. I'm putting you on the payroll. Twenty-five grand a month, like all these guys."

"This isn't going to last a month," Reacher said. "It can't. It's going to be all over in a couple of days."

"I agreed to the money," Lane said. "I couldn't stall. They were hurting her."

Reacher nodded. Said nothing.

Gregory asked, "Instructions later?"

"In an hour," Lane said.

The room went quiet again. More waiting. All around the room men checked their watches and settled back imperceptibly. Lane put the silent handset back in the cradle and stared off into s.p.a.ce. But Reacher leaned forward and tapped him on the knee.

"We need to talk," he said, quietly.

"About what?"

"Background. We should try to figure out who these guys are."

"OK," Lane said, vaguely. "We'll go to the office."

He stood up slowly and led Reacher out of the living room and through a kitchen to a maid's room in back. It was small and plain and square and had been fixed up as an office. Desk, computer, fax machine, phones, file cabinets, shelves.

"Tell me about Operational Security Consultants," Reacher said.

Lane sat down in the desk chair and turned it to face the room.

"Not much to tell," he said. "We're just a bunch of ex-military trying to keep busy."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever people need. Bodyguarding, mostly. Corporate security. Like that."

There were two framed photographs on the desk. One was a smaller reprint of Kate's stunning picture from the living room. A seven-by-five instead of a fourteen-by-eleven, in a similar expensive gold frame. The other was of another woman, about the same age, blonde where Kate was dark, blue eyes instead of green. But just as beautiful, and photographed just as masterfully.

"Bodyguarding?" Reacher said.

"Mostly."

"You're not convincing me, Mr. Lane. Bodyguards don't make twenty-five grand a month. Bodyguards are big dumb lumps lucky to make a tenth of that. And if you had guys trained for close personal protection you'd have sent one of them out with Kate and Jade yesterday morning. Taylor driving, maybe Gregory riding shotgun. But you didn't, which suggests that bodyguarding isn't exactly the business you're in."

"My business is confidential," Lane said.

"Not anymore. Not if you want your wife and daughter back."

No reply.

"A Jaguar, a Mercedes, and a BMW," Reacher said. "Plus more where they came from, I'm sure. Plus a co-op in the Dakota. Plus lots of cash lying around. Plus half a dozen guys on twenty-five grand a month. Altogether big bucks."

"All legal."

"Except you don't want the cops involved."

Involuntarily Lane glanced at the photograph of the blonde woman.

"No connection," he said. "That's not the reason."

Reacher followed Lane's gaze.

"Who is she?" he asked.

"Was," Lane said.

"Was what?"

"Anne," Lane said. "She was my first wife."

"And?"

Silence for a long moment.

"You see, I've been through this before," Lane said. "Five years ago. Anne was taken from me. In just the same way. But back then I followed procedure. I called the cops, even though the men on the phone had been very clear that I shouldn't. The cops called the FBI."

"And what happened?"

"The FBI screwed up somehow," Lane said. "They must have been spotted at the ransom drop. Anne died. They found her body a month later in New Jersey."

Reacher said nothing.

"That's why there's no cops this time," Lane said.

CHAPTER 6

REACHER AND LANE sat in silence for a long time. Then Reacher said, "Fifty-five minutes. You should be ready for the next call."