Page 26 of In Too Deep

“I don’t need to go near it.” Fletcher pulled out his phone and held it up. “Smart switches. Tap a couple of buttons. The deep fat fryer overheats. The dryer malfunctions. A table light short-circuits.”

“A home-arson app. Who knew? It was only a matter of time, I guess. We could license it. Make a fortune.”

“Already been done. Some guy out of Pensacola, Florida.” Fletcher paused. “Anything else?”

“Just one thing.” Vidic swiveled and pointed at the safe. “You said pack everything up, apart from the metals. That, too?”

“What’s inside it, sure. We’ll split it five ways. Gibson had a kid. She’ll get his share.”

“That’s fair, I guess.”

“But we’ll do that last. After the Russian thing’s a wrap.”

“What if something happens to you? No one else knows the combination.”

A smile crept across Fletcher’s face. “Guess you better take care that nothing does happen to me. I know how you’d hate to lose all that cash.”

Chapter13

Reacher slept, but lightly. Partof his subconscious remained active, on the alert for the slightest sign that somebody was trying to pick the lock. Or tamper with the bathroom window. He was disturbed at one point by noises from room 19, next door. Someone must have checked in while he was at the diner. He listened for five minutes, then dismissed the threat. It was just aimless voices. A couple of guys settling in for the night. Then he was woken finally a minute after 6:00a.m.by a knock at the door. It was loud and confident and it was followed by a woman’s voice. It said, “Mr. Austin? Room service. I have your breakfast.”

Reacher pulled the Glock out from beneath the pillow, stood up, and tucked it into his waistband. He rolled up the pillow to make it more rigid and carried it to the door. He moved to the right-hand side and lifted the pillow until the top was covering the peephole, in case someone was standing on the other side with a gun, waiting to pull the trigger when the little lens went dark. A second crawled by. Two. There was no gunshot. No shattered wood or shredded fabric.Reacher risked a quick glance. He saw a woman. She was slim. Maybe five feet eight. She had dark brown hair, tied back away from her face, and she was wearing an apron over her clothes. It was the kind he had seen the waitresses wearing at the diner the day before, but with no name tag. The woman was carrying a rectangular tray with a coffee mug on it alongside a plate that was covered with a silver metal lid. But she was only supporting the tray with one hand. Her left. Her right arm was tucked in tight against her side and her hand was hidden behind her thigh.

Reacher said, “I didn’t order any breakfast.”

The woman said, “You did. Kind of. You told Hannah May that you would be coming in but she’s gone off shift now. She asked me to take care of you. She’s sweet on you, for some reason. So I thought I’d go the extra mile. Bring your food to your room.”

“What did you bring me?”

“Coffee, obviously. She told me you like it. Only one mug, but I can get you a refill anytime. Plus I got bacon, eggs, and some toast.”

Reacher assumed that this was the next step in the attempt to lure him outside. He guessed a couple of guys, minimum, would be waiting, hidden from view on either side of the doorway. He decided to test the theory. He said, “OK. Sounds great. Bring it in.”

Reacher started to open the door. He moved it slowly and when it was two-thirds of the way through its arc he heard the clink of crockery on the other side. He slammed the door back the other way. He put all his weight behind it. The leading edge smashed into the tray. Then the woman. Then it crashed into its frame. The wood shuddered. The handle rattled. Reacher pulled the door open again. He did it fast this time. He saw the woman on the ground, sprawled on her back. A gun was lying four feet from her head. The mug had shattered. Brown liquid was pooling on the ground. The plate had landed upside down. But there was no sign of any other people.Reacher grabbed the woman by her foot and dragged her into the room. Then he stepped past her, ducked down, leaned out, and scanned to the left and the right. There was still no sign of anyone lurking near his room. He retrieved the fallen gun, shut the door, and turned to check on the woman. She had moved. She was on her feet. Her arms were out in front, fingers extended liked claws, and her body was taut, like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

She said, “Found you at last, you son of a—oh. You’re not…” She dropped her arms and stepped back.

Reacher waited for a moment, then said, “I’m not what?”

The woman looked down at the floor. Then she raised her eyes to meet Reacher’s and said, “You’re not the man who killed my father.”

—

Vidic barely gotany sleep. He lay awake on one of the couches in the cave for most of the night, cursing Reacher for not having a cellphone. He could have sent him a text silently. But he couldn’t call. Not from inside. Not with Kane stretched out on another couch. And he couldn’t risk going outside, even if he pretended to need the bathroom. Fletcher was there. Spending the night in his Cadillac. Maybe asleep. But maybe watching.

Fletcher came back into the cave at a quarter after six. He slammed the door behind him and said, “Big day today. Who wants breakfast?”

Kane stretched and said, “Me. I’ll have a burrito.”

Vidic said, “Croissant. Coffee.”

Fletcher said, “I want sausage and biscuits. Paris?”

Paris shrugged. “I’m not very hungry. Maybe some yogurt. A little fruit.”

Fletcher grimaced. “Sounds gross. But hey, your funeral. You heard what everyone else wants?”

Paris nodded.

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