Page 61 of In Too Deep

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The driver swungthe truck around and started toward the exit. The passenger was fiddling with the stereo. It wouldn’t make a sound. Then the silence was shattered by a gunshot. The truck bucked a little. Steam started to pour from somewhere at the front. There was another shot. More steam gushed out. A hole was ripped in the dead center of the hood. The windshield shattered. A bullet tore through the wheel arch at the side of the load bed and the left-hand rear tire exploded. The truck pulled to the side. The driver hit the brake and tried to correct the steering but he was too late. He couldn’t avoid planting the truck’s nose six inches deep in the side of the spoil heap.

The driver climbed out. He was shaking. The passenger tumbled down at the other side. They both looked around, stunned, trying to figure out who had fired on them.

“Up here, gentlemen.” Reacher got to his feet at the top of the right-hand spoil heap. The Glock was in his left hand. “Now move back behind the vehicle. Get down on your knees and lace your fingers behind your head.”

Neither man moved.

Reacher put a bullet through the roof of the truck’s cab. He said, “The next goes through one of you.”

The driver started to shuffle away from the truck. The passenger followed. They moved ten feet clear of the tailgate then slumped down. Reacher stayed still. The cave door slid open a couple of feet and Paris appeared. She was holding half a dozen plasticuffs. She hurried toward the Ford and stopped when she was behind the driver. She guided his arms behind his back and looped a cuff around his wrists. She pulled it tight then repeated the procedure with the passenger.

Paris called, “They’re good.” Then she started toward the van the guys had brought.

Reacher made his way down the spoil heap. He took his time, gun in hand, switching his glance back and forth between the two guys and the rocks and pebbles beneath his feet.

Paris made it to the van. She took the keys from the ignition, looped around to the rear, and unlocked the double doors. She pulled the first one open. Then, from Reacher’s viewpoint, it looked like a giant, invisible hand had flung her onto the ground. Knight appeared in the open doorway. She jumped down. Stepped across to Paris. Grabbed her by the blouse. Lifted her head and chest. And punched her square in the face.

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Reacher herded thetwo guys across to the van. Neither would go near Knight, who was rubbing her bruised knuckles. Reacher said to her, “That’s Paris. Not one of the guys who grabbed you.”

Knight shrugged.

“Solves a problem, though.” Reacher pointed to the plasticuffs Paris had dropped.

Knight scooped up a couple and secured Paris’s arms and legs. She said, “In the van?”

Reacher nodded. Knight was favoring her left hand but she was still able to haul Paris into a sitting position, lift her under the armpits, and push her through the open door.

Knight looked at the two guys. She said, “Which of you assholes took my phone?”

The passenger said, “It’s in the front.”

Reacher opened the second of the van’s rear doors and turned to the driver. He said, “Sit on the edge. Lift your feet. Do anything stupid and my friend will work out some more of her anger on you.”

The driver did as he was told and Knight slipped a cuff around his ankles. She tightened it and then shoved him in the chest. Hetoppled back into the van’s load space. She repeated the process with the passenger, told them both to bend their knees, then slammed the doors, closing them in.

Knight breathed out heavily and stepped away from the van.

Reacher said, “You OK?”

“My hand’s been better. The rest of me’s fine. A little bruised, maybe, from being bounced around on the metal floor.” She gestured to the truck and the wrecked Ford. “This was all you? How did you do it?”

“A phone call. A couple of emails. Nothing to it.”

“You sent emails?”

“Not personally.”

“I was worried for a minute. I thought you must be a ringer.” She rubbed the skin on her wrists. “But seriously, Reacher, thank you. Bowery’s in there. He’s in bad shape. Mistook me for Paris and told me a bunch of things. Including how those two guys made him watch them torture a man to death. They have a whole setup for it. A torture chamber with a viewing gallery for their next victim. If they’d got me there…” She turned away and shivered.

“What else did Bowery say?”

“He got captured. Was forced to give up Paris and Vidic. Then he promised to give them some kind of stolen document in return for his life. It’s worth a fortune, he said. A report from a company called Cone Dynamics. Ever heard of them?”

“No. I wonder what their big secret is?”

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