Page 49 of In Too Deep

“I think it’s best.” She held out her keys. “Here. You can take my car.”

Reacher shook his head. “I’ll take Kane’s truck. That way if it is Paris, and she sees me coming, I’ll have an extra couple of seconds before she figures I’m not a friend.”

—

Reacher didn’t haveto adjust the driver’s seat in Kane’s Ford when he climbed in, which was a pleasant change. He fired up the engine and took his time to maneuver around Knight’s car, which she’d left perpendicular to the other three vehicles and centered on Vidic’s Jeep. He figured she’d be pissed if he damaged it, and he wasn’t sure how much more punishment it could take. He didn’t want to leave it in pieces on the driveway. That would take some explaining. He made it to the gate without incident then looked back toward the house. Knight was framed in the doorway, waving. Reacher couldn’t tell what kind of wave it was. It could have been saying,good luck and come back soon. Or it could have meant,so long—you’re never going to see me again. That made Reacher wonder if Knight would be there when he got back. And if she wasn’t, whether Kane would still be breathing.

Chapter22

Reacher fixed Vidic’s phone intoa bracket on the truck’s dashboard, the way he’d seen Knight attach hers in her car, earlier. The map was still displayed on its screen, but Reacher didn’t pay it much attention. He had memorized the route before leaving the house, which wasn’t difficult. The place he was heading was barely five miles away.

The farther Reacher got from the house, the narrower and twistier the roads became. The pavement got rougher. The dips and potholes were deeper and more frequent. The incline grew more aggressive and the trees on either side thinned out, exposing coarse, scrubby dirt beneath them. Reacher saw no houses or dwellings of any kind. He guessed it was no coincidence that the fancy developer from the seventies had invested his building dollars elsewhere.

Reacher kept going until he could see where the road dead-ended. Rough rocks rose on the left, and their profile was mirrored on the right by heaps of man-made spoil. Reacher cut the engine and coasted until the truck slowed to a stop. He climbed out, taking care not toslam his door. He could see a track winding its way through the spoil heaps. It was wide enough for SUVs and regular-sized trucks. Or larger ones, in skilled hands. And it would also be the perfect place for an ambush.

Reacher selected the spoil heap on the left of the track. Its incline was shallower. Easier to climb. He moved slowly, placing his feet deliberately and trying to dislodge as few stones as possible. He crept on up, steadily, until he made it to the top. It was domed, maybe twenty feet across. Reacher got down on his stomach and crawled forward until he could see down to the far side. There was a clearing. It was semicircular and covered with gravel. A metal door was set into the rock face beyond it, like the entrance to a mine. It was shiny and incongruous against the hulking gray slabs. And there were two vehicles. A panel van and a Land Rover. Reacher couldn’t see if either was occupied due to his angle of view. He couldn’t tell how big a space lay behind the metal door. And he had no idea if anyone was waiting there with hostile intent.

Going back down was harder, especially on the loose surface, so the descent took Reacher longer than he would have liked. Every second made the scant intel he had gathered increasingly worthless. He made it without causing a rockslide, which he figured was something, then he hurried back to Kane’s truck. He knew the smart move would be to leave. The area could be booby-trapped. And if the mine was defended to even a minimal level he would be crazy to attempt an assault with the equipment at his disposal.

Reacher didn’t like to take unnecessary risks. But neither did he like to change course or abandon an objective. The likelihood was that Paris was in the mine or one of the vehicles. It was only a matter of time before Vidic missed a contact. She would realize something was wrong, and run. Maybe they had a contingency plan alreadyfigured out for this kind of situation. Or maybe she would wing it. But either way, she wouldn’t be there for long.

Reacher knew what he should do. But he also knew that an FBI agent had died trying to build a case against this woman and her buddies. He had three of them under wraps, but that wasn’t good enough. There was no way he was about to let the fourth go free.

Reacher fired up the truck and took the track between the spoil heaps. He made the final bend and caught movement inside one of the parked vehicles. The Land Rover. A woman was behind the wheel. She was pale, with black hair, and there was a look of thunder on her face. Reacher pulled up in front of the two vehicles, parallel with the door to the mine, with the rock face to his right. That way if any shooting started he could bail out and put the engine block between himself and anyone with a gun.

Ten seconds crawled by. No shots were fired. The metal door to the mine remained closed. But the woman jumped down from the Land Rover. She took two steps toward the truck and stopped, hands on her hips, head tipped slightly to the side. Reacher climbed out, too. He left the engine running and circled around to face her.

The woman was wearing a sky-blue blouse over jeans and sneakers. She had a jacket styled like a man’s blazer and a broad black purse was slung over her shoulder.

Reacher said, “Are you Paris?”

Paris snorted. “Like you don’t know who I am. What am I supposed to think? You strayed in here by chance and pulled my name out of the air?”

“Is that ayes?”

“If you like.”

“Good. My name’s—”

“I know who you are. Your name’s Reacher. You’re the guy whowas with Gibson when he died. You beat up Fletcher in the kitchen at our house.”

Reacher held up his hands. “The first was an accident. It had nothing to do with me. The second, what can I say? He cuffed me to a table. He had it coming.”

“You don’t get it. I’m not mad at you. Gibson was a snitch. I’m glad he’s dead. I’d prefer it if someone had killed him. And Fletcher’s a despicable turd. If I thought for one minute you didn’t mean it when you kicked his ass, I would have shot you before your feet hit the ground. Now, what are you doing here? And why are you driving Kane’s stupid truck?”

“Vidic sent me. We’re working together. The thing with the safe. He didn’t tell you?”

Paris waited a moment. “Go on.”

“Something happened. An accident. Vidic is hurt. Pretty bad. He sent me to fetch you. To take you to him. He needs you.”

“Seriously? Damn. You could have led with that. Come on, then. Let’s get going.”

Reacher nodded toward the passenger seat of Kane’s truck and turned to get back in on his side.

Paris shook her head. “No. I’m not riding in that piece of garbage. I don’t care how bad Ivan is hurt. We’ll take my car.”

Reacher shrugged. He continued to his door, leaned in, and killed the engine. Then he made his way around the hood and started toward the passenger side of the Land Rover.

---