Page 124 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

One she would recognize with nothing more than a brief glimpse.

She scanned the open area, peering in every direction. She spotted a couple of big men and a few tall men.

No Reacher.

The interior lights were flashing to indicate the exhibit was closed.

Announcements were made.

Two security guards approached five minutes apart and asked Kim to leave.

Still, she waited.

Even as she knew, somehow, that Reacher wasn’t there.

Finally, when the exiting crowd had thinned to a trickle, another security guard came by gesturing toward the exits.

“Ma’am, we’re closed. We need you to leave now. We’ll reopen tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,”

Kim climbed down off the bench, prepared to give up, even as she kept scanning the cavernous room.

Distracted, she made one last turn, murmured, “Time to give up. Just for now.”

Her foot slipped on a puddle on the concrete floor. She lost her balance and went down hard, both palms flat and holding her torso off the grimy wet surface.

Which was when she glanced under the bench.

A sturdy brown cardboard box was stuffed into the corner.

She reached to pull it out into the open where she could lift it onto the bench.

The box was sealed with clear packing tape.

On the tape, written with a black felt tip pen, was block printing she recognized. She’d seen it on Reacher’s postcard.

Four words.

For Your Eyes Only.

The security guards had moved on. There was no one else in the room at the moment.

Kim lifted the box and strode to the closest exit, hurrying outside and away from prying spies.

She found a low, sturdy retaining wall with a flat top. She set the box down and pulled it open.

Inside was a damaged matte silver drone.

One she’d seen before.

Flying over the Devil’s Punchbowl.

Kim grinned as she resealed the box and carried it away toward the waiting helo.

“Nicely played, Reacher.”

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