Page 38 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

“Hard to say.” Kim shrugged.

The elevator stopped on the twentieth floor and another couple entered.

Kim tilted her head to acknowledge them and said nothing more.

The ride down was terminally slow. The elevator seemed to stop at every floor, admitting passengers each time.

When they finally reached the lobby, Kim and Russell were pressed against the back of the crowded car, facing forward.

People standing in front of Kim emptied the car as slowly as they’d entered, maneuvering luggage and strollers and wheelchairs until finally, the car was clear enough to exit.

“We’re running later than planned. Westwood could bolt,” Kim said as they hustled toward the front door. “We can make better time on our own. Easier to move through the crowds. I’ll go on ahead. You run the laptop out to the SUV. Meet me at the observation deck.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Russell nodded. “See you in ten. Fifteen at the latest.”

“Copy that,” Kim said with a grin.

Russell peeled off left at the front door. Kim picked up her pace to move around the knot of giggling girls in front of her on the right.

The corridor to the Falls Incline Railway was clearly marked. Kim headed through the doors and out onto the walkway bridge. At the end, instead of turning toward the jam-packed incline railway car, she took the stairs down, two at a time.

The roar of the water tumbling over Horseshoe Falls at those seven-hundred-gallons-per-second was deafening. Heavy mist soaked the air. The added humidity enhanced the early spring cold and sliced her skin even through her clothes.

Kim clamped her teeth together and shoved her hands into her pockets. Without a hood for warmth, she tilted her head down and kept going.

The wind picked up closer to the river, whipping spray from the falls like pellets. Water stung her eyes as she struggled to remain fully engaged with her surroundings, scanning for Westwood.

And whoever might be hunting him.

Crowds of tourists moved like a herd of bison ever closer to the river, lining the retaining fences, seeking good vantage points to view the special fireworks. Laughing, chatting, enjoying the adventure.

Several people behaved foolishly, but none seemed overtly suspicious.

Construction work had closed two of the walkways, one on each side of Table Rock Centre. The retaining fences had been removed and flimsy temporary barriers erected.

An ever-growing mob moved around the orange cones and barriers and continued toward the Rainbow Bridge connecting the US to Canada.

The lower observation deck where Westwood waited would probably be one of the busiest fireworks viewing locations. With luck, perhaps the proximity to the cold, wet spray would persuade some to watch the show from a more distant location.

Kim entered the warmth of Table Rock Centre and pushed through the crowd to the ticket counter. A twisty queue of pleasant tourists waited, credit cards in hand. Kim slid along the ropes behind their backs and made it to the cashier. The jovial group didn’t seem to mind.

At the checkout, she bought two tickets. One for her and one for Russell. She hurried along to the line waiting for the elevator to the lower level.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a quick text to Russell, telling him to skip the ticket line and where to find her.

The queue moved with glacial speed. Only one elevator car. Ten tourists packed in each time. The rate of descent painfully slow.

The system was designed to regulate and limit the number of people occupying the lower observation deck. But for special events like tonight, it seemed the numbers had been adjusted to allow the space to fill beyond normal capacity.

When Kim was close enough to spy an emergency stairway, she slid along the back wall to the exit door and stole inside. She stashed Russell’s ticket behind a trash barrel and sent a quick text to update him. Then she took the damp, slippery stairs down to the tunnels below.

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Chapter 17

Friday, June 3

Niagara Falls, Ontario, CA

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