Page 90 of In Too Deep

Reacher slotted the sweeper back into its place on the cart and slipped off the bib. He took a step in the same direction as Vidic, then stopped. He could follow Vidic, or watch the backpack he had been so interested in. Letting Vidic escape after all the trouble he’d taken to find the guy seemed massively counterintuitive. But Reacherdid it, anyway. He stayed where he was and kept his eyes on the moving belt.

The backpack made another circuit. Fewer bags joined it. More were taken. No one approached it. Reacher scanned the hall around him. He spotted Knight heading down the escalator. She reached the bottom then headed straight for him. She took a spot by his side. Her shoulders were sagging and she couldn’t drag her gaze up from the ground. She said, “You struck out, too? Let’s hope our luck changes at the hangar.”

Reacher said, “Vidic was here. Heavily disguised. I guess he slipped by you at the gate.”

“Vidic was? Where is he now?”

“He left.”

“And you didn’t follow him? Are you crazy?”

Reacher pointed out the backpack. “Vidic waited till he saw that bag. He sent a picture of it to someone.”

“Why would he do that? And why did you stay here? What’s wrong with you?”

“Watch this.”

A man had stepped forward. He was around six-two and was wearing a blue pin-striped suit and smart black shoes. He had blond hair, cut short, and combed into a neat style. A tan leather briefcase was slung over his left shoulder. He watched the backpack as it approached, glanced around, then picked it up and walked away.

—

This time Reacherdid follow. Knight kept pace at his side. The guy in the suit was making for the escalator. He stepped onto it. Stood politely to the side until he reached the top. Then he turned left and started across an enclosed bridge that led to a multistory parking garage. At the far end the space opened out into a square lobby toaccommodate a trio of payment machines as well as three doors leading to respective restrooms. The guy dodged to his left and disappeared through the center door. The accessible restroom. Reacher tried the handle. It didn’t move.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind the door. “Occupied.”

Reacher looked at Knight and said, “Got a quarter?”

Knight pulled out her wallet, rummaged for a moment, then handed a coin to Reacher. He waited a couple of minutes then forced it into the plastic groove beneath the door handle. He turned it, releasing the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The guy was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. His phone was in his hand. He had a computer on his lap. A memory stick was attached on one side. The backpack he had taken from the carousel was lying at his feet with its main compartment unzipped. His briefcase was perched on the edge of the sink.

The guy said, “You can’t come in here. This bathroom is occupied.”

Reacher thought he could pick up a hint of an Eastern European accent.

The guy’s phone made a whooshing sound.

Reacher closed the door behind him and said, “Who are you texting with?”

The guy said, “Leave. Now. You can’t be here.”

Reacher stretched out his left hand and took the phone. It made a different sound. A ping. The guy grabbed Reacher’s wrist and gripped it tight. He pulled something from his suit coat pocket with his right hand. It looked like a pen until he hit the button at the top of its barrel. Then a spike shot out in place of a nib. It was three inches long, needle sharp, and made of some kind of laminate. Nothing that would raise any suspicions on an airport X-ray. The guy got to his feet, pushing with his legs to propel himself forward. His laptopslipped down and landed on the backpack, then slid onto the floor. He jabbed at Reacher’s stomach. Reacher twisted his right hand around and blocked the blow with the back of his forearm. The sharpened tip bit into the dense material of his cast. A jolt of pain ran through his wrist. Reacher pivoted on his right heel and used theguy’s own momentum to spin him into the wall. Reacher slipped the phone into his pocket then brought his left hand back up, driving his fist into the underside of the guy’s chin. The guy rocked back onhis heels. His head smashed into the wall. He stayed upright, swaying on his feet. Reacher grabbed him by the throat. He squeezed, crushing the guy’s larynx, and simultaneously lifted. The guy raised up on his toes. He couldn’t breathe. He grabbed Reacher’s wrist with both hands and tried to wrench it free. He failed. His eyes began to bulge. He flailed wildly with both arms. His hands were trying to grab Reacher’s head. His fingers were searching for his eyes. Reacher brought his right knee up and crashed it into the guy’s stomach. The remaining air was driven out of his lungs. Reacher twisted and pushed the toilet seat up with his foot. He relaxed his grip on the guy’s throat. The guy slumped forward. Reacher slid his hand around to the back of his neck, pulled the guy forward, then pushed his face into the toilet bowl. He leaned down with all his weight. The guy’s forehead was crushed against the porcelain. The tip of his nose was touching the water.

Reacher said, “Who do you work for? Who bought that memory stick?”

The guy pressed down against the floor with both hands. He was in good shape. Wiry rather than outright muscle, but even so he had no chance of lifting Reacher’s weight.

Reacher said, “A government? A middleman? Who?”

The guy kicked and scrabbled with his feet but couldn’t get any purchase.

Reacher pressed the lever with his right hand. The toilet flushed. Water flooded down, filling the bowl. The guy’s head was mostly blocking the pan so the water almost overflowed. It took a good thirty seconds to work its way around the U-bend. The guy bucked and heaved and twisted but Reacher didn’t let up the pressure on the back of his head.

Reacher said, “Who?”

The guy coughed and gurgled but said nothing intelligible.

“Want me to do that again? I can keep going all day.”

---