Page 50 of In Too Deep

Paris said, “No. You drive. I can’t. This news about Ivan? I’m too upset.”

Reacher changed course and made for her driver’s door.

Paris said, “Thank you.” She turned and took a step toward the back of the vehicle like she was going to loop around to the other side. But when she figured Reacher would be about to climb in shestopped. She spun around. She had a gun in her hand. A small one. A Walther PPK. She said, “On your—”

Reacher wasn’t where she expected him to be. He hadn’t paused to open the driver’s door. He had kept on going, hard on her heels, and now he was right on top of her. He grabbed her right hand with his left and moved it aside so that the muzzle was almost touching the Land Rover’s side window. He said, “Nice try. Now drop it.”

Paris held on to the gun. She tried to pull it back in line with Reacher’s head but her arm didn’t move an inch.

Reacher said, “Think about what you’re doing. You seem like an intelligent woman. The gun is metal. Your fingers aren’t. What’s going to happen when I start to squeeze?”

Paris pulled again, harder, twisting from the waist and using all her weight.

Reacher started to apply pressure. “Does a broken hand sound good to you? Because that’s what you’re going to have in about thirty seconds.”

Paris held on. She tugged and heaved and pitched from side to side, then accepted the inevitable. She relaxed her grip and said, “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

Reacher slipped the gun out of her fingers and stepped back. He said, “What I want is for you to get in the vehicle. We’re going to where Vidic is. I wasn’t joking about that. He is hurt.”

Paris started moving around the back of the Land Rover. “If you say so. I still don’t believe you.”

“Turn around.”

Paris stopped. “Why?”

“You’re going to drive.”

“I am? What kind of kidnapper are you?”

“A smart one. You’ll be in the front. I’ll be behind you. You won’t have a seatbelt on. I will. See how that works?”

Paris let out a long, deep sigh. She said, “I get the picture. Come on, then. Let’s get this over with. But I’m warning you. You better not be lying.” She was silent for a moment like the full implication of her words was just dawning on her. “I mean, you better not be lying about him being alive. He better be OK when we get there. If he’s dead and you know it and you—”

“I’m not lying. He is hurt but he’s going to make it.”

“Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

“Tell me about this place first.”

“What about it? It’s a filthy hole in the ground that no one should spend a second more in than absolutely necessary. What more do you need to know?”

“Who found it?”

“Fletcher.”

“What do you use it for?”

“Parties. Wedding receptions. What do you think we use it for?”

“Storage. Or hiding out. A place like this would be easy to fortify.”

“Fortify? What kind of world do you live in? We use it to dump all the crap we steal but no one will buy. Fletcher thinks it’s like a bank. I say it’s like your mad auntie’s basement. Or it would be if she had industrial-scale kleptomania and very poor decision-making skills.”

“Sounds picturesque. Show me.”

“Now?”

“You want to come back later?”

---