Page 18 of In Too Deep

“It does. But it’s private. You’re not getting it.”

“Life is a very uncertain thing, wouldn’t you say, Mary?”

“I guess.”

“Well, this is a very unusual moment because right now the outcome is absolutely guaranteed. I’m leaving here with the information I want. There is no doubt about that. The only question is how we get to that point. There are two possibilities. One, you tell me what I need to know. Or two, I call my old cop buddies. Suggest they come visit. Now, I’m going out on a limb and guessing that you don’t want those guys coming here with their dogs, sniffing around your locker. I’m guessing you don’t want them stopping you on your way home and searching every last hiding place in your car. Am I right?”

Mary’s eyes grew wide. “Please. There’s nothing I can do. You don’t understand. I can’t give you that information. I just cannot do it. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Let me tell you what we used to do back in the day when an investigator needed information from someone who wasn’t supposed to give it to us. That person would leave the file or the records, or the computer, on their desk and step out to the bathroom, or to have a cigarette, or whatever else they felt like doing. While they were gone we got what we wanted. And technically they didn’t tell us a thing. Does that sound like something we could work with here?”

Mary didn’t reply.

“Or would you prefer the dogs and the traffic stops?”

Mary thought for a moment, then said, “Two minutes.” She worked the keyboard for a few seconds and fiddled with the mouse, then a display popped up on the screen. A grid. The squares acrossthe top indicated the days of the week. The squares down the side showed the room numbers.

Reacher waited until Mary ducked out through the door behind the counter then turned his attention back to the screen. Vidic said that Gibson met his handler in room 1, earlier that day. The grid showed that room 1 had been booked by a corporate client. A company named Automotive Factors Inc., which had a contact number with a 312 area code. That would place it in Chicago. If it actually existed. Reacher picked up the desk phone and dialed the number. His call rang six times then diverted to a message that gave the correct company name and stated its standard business hours. He wondered how hard it would be to fake such a thing. He figured it would be pretty straightforward.

Reacher scanned down the screen and saw that four other rooms were occupied. His, under the name John Austin. Presumably the name Vidic had used when he checked in. And three other rooms. They were all under the names of apparent individuals. No way to tell if they were legitimate. Or what the clients were using the rooms for. He experimented with the mouse until he figured out how to make the display go back to the previous week. He saw the same company name—Automotive Factors—with the same 312 phone number, but this time registered against room 4. The other three individuals all had the same rooms. He went back another week. Automotive Factors was booked into room 6. The individuals had the same rooms. The week before Automotive Factors had room 2.

Mary reappeared after three minutes. She said, “Got what you need?”

Reacher clicked random parts of the screen with the mouse until the display changed to a high-level menu. He said, “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Chapter10

The diner was Reacher’s nextport of call. He stepped inside and found the interior didn’t match the outside at all. Instead of cutesy and affected, it was plain and simple, just as he liked it. There were sixteen four-top tables in two parallel lines, one large rectangular table at the far end for larger groups, and a hatch that led into the kitchen. The place was deserted, which wasn’t surprising given the time. It was a minute shy of 1:00a.m. Reacher moved across to the window and picked the seat that gave the best view of the front of the motel. He could easily see the door to room1. He could see the doors to all the rooms except 20. The diner was an excellent observation point. Vidic’s claim about seeing Gibson’s handler could have been true.

It could have been. That didn’t mean it was.

A door to the side of the serving hatch opened and a waitress appeared. She was tall and thin with gray hair tied up in a bun on top of her head and a kind expression on her face. The name tag on herapron read,Hannah May.She said, “Back so soon? You must’ve liked us. You can’t stay away.”

Reacher said, “You’ve seen me before?”

Hannah May tipped her head to one side. “That’s not much of a pickup line and this isn’t a bar so I don’t really know what to do with that.”

Reacher held his hands up, palms out, as if to apologize for the confusion. “I was in a car accident this afternoon. I can’t remember anything that happened this morning. The guy who pulled me out of the wreck told me he saw me here, earlier. I’m trying to figure out whether he was shooting straight or if he’s trying some kind of angle.”

“You were here. No doubt about that. I never saw anyone drink so much coffee in so short a time.”

“When I was here, did you see another guy? Kind of stooped with a strange square head?”

Hannah May nodded. “A guy like that was sitting where you are now.”

“Ever seen him before?”

“No. A head like his I’d remember.”

Reacher wished he could ask her about Gibson, but he didn’t know what the guy had looked like. He had no idea how to describe him. He swallowed his frustration and got to his feet. He said, “I’m going to switch seats. I don’t like this one.” He moved to a table near the wall, where he could keep an eye on the kitchen door, the main entrance, and all the other tables. The waitress followed. The look on her face said,Weird. But not the weirdest thing I’ve seen on this job. Out loud she said, “Want any food while you’re here?”

Reacher said, “What did I have before?”

“A cheeseburger and a piece of pie.”

“Did I like it?”

“There was none left on your plate when you were done, so I guess you did.”

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