Page 92 of No Plan B

“But here? Now?”

“I don’t see that happening. Not unless a random meteorite lands on us.”

“No? So what’s your proposal?”

“Open the doors. Watch us walk out.”

“Be serious.”

“Open the doors. Shoot yourself in the head. Don’t watch us walk out.”

Riverdale was silent for a moment, then he said, “Are you married, Reacher?”

Reacher said, “No.”

“You ever been married?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend? Significant other?”

“No.”

“OK. Given you’re homeless and destitute, I’m guessing you don’t get much action. So I have an idea. Might tip the scales.” Riverdale took out his phone and speed-dialed a number. When the call was answered he said, “Reacher’s neutralized. I need to get back to my office. Turn the power back on and unlock the doors between S1 and there.”

—

Nothing happened fortwenty seconds. Then there were simultaneous clicks from all sides of the room and the lights stepped up a level.

Riverdale started toward the exit door. He said, “Come with me.”

Reacher and Begovic followed through the covered corridor. The rat trap, as Reacher already thought of it. He was expecting guards to burst through the door behind them at any second. Or for Riverdale to hit the floor at some predetermined signal and bullets to tear into them from the front. They covered half the distance. Three-quarters. Took a left at the end. And finally made it into the next building. Riverdale led the way up a flight of concrete steps. He said, “This is the original admin block. Everyone else has moved to Hix’s new, fancy building. But not me.”

The steps opened onto a dingy corridor. It smelled vaguely of stewed cabbage and stagnant drains. There were windows on one side looking down over two of the exercise yards. And six office doors on the other side. At the far end a metal bar was fixed to the wall. Reacher figured it would be for cuffing people to, although it was in a very illogical place.

Riverdale ushered Reacher and Begovic down the length of the corridor and into the last office. The floor was bare concrete. There were fluorescent tubes in cages on the ceiling. Framed pictures of motorcycles on the walls. A couch against the far wall, covered in gold-colored velour. And a metal desk in the center of the room. Riverdale walked across to it and unlocked the top drawer. He took out a tablet computer, activated it with his thumbprint, opened a file of photographs, and handed it to Reacher. He said, “Take a look.”

Reacher scrolled through the pictures. They were all of women. The youngest would still be in her teens. The oldest, maybe in her sixties. They were all naked. And the pictures had all been taken in that room.

Riverdale said, “Take your time. Pick your favorite. I can have her here within an hour. You can do what you want to her. For as long as you want.”

Reacher said, “What’s in it for you?”

“I get Begovic.”

“And then?”

“You can go. Free as a bird.”

“How?”

“Same way you got in, I guess. Whatever that was.”

“You know how I got in. You figured it out from the doors I opened. You think I’m crazy? I’m not going back the same way.”

“OK. If I can guarantee you a safe way out, do we have a deal?”

“What kind of safe way?”

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