Page 36 of The Secret

Reacher stepped through the hidden doorway. Smith and Neilsen followed. It led them to another room, the same size and shape. This one also had a window and a desk with a pair of chairs in front of it. It had a leather couch off to the side. Paintings of nineteenth-century battle scenes on the walls. And a console in the corner with a bank of small, square TV screens. There were six. All black and white. They showed live feeds from the room Reacher had just left, the corridor, the stairs, two from the café, and one from the sidewalk outside. Reacher turned to the guy who was sitting behind the desk. He said, “Enjoy the show?”

The guy looked remarkably like Kerzhakov, except that he was still capable of sitting upright. He had the same barrel chest and wide shoulders. The same kind of square head and beady eyes and neolithic forehead. He stared back at Reacher and shrugged as if to suggest he’d seen better.

Reacher said, “You’re Sarbotskiy?”

The guy prickled. “I am His Royal Highness the Prince—”

“Cut the crap,” Reacher said. “This is America. Son of a king or son of a whore, it’s all the same here.”

Sarbotskiy scowled. He said, “And you are?”

“Jack Reacher. US Army.”

“Army? All of you?”

“Close enough.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to do you a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Not burning this place to the ground.”

“Not the most generous of favors.”

“Best offer you’re going to get.”

“Undoubtedly. And I assume you want something in return.”

“Not much. A little information.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“Why would you not?” Reacher gestured toward the TV monitors. “You’ve seen this isn’t a social call.”

“You can’t force me to cooperate. I have protection.”

“You do?” Reacher looked around the room. “Where is it?”

“From the US government. We have an agreement. A contract. It’s watertight.”

“Watertight. Huh. But is it fireproof? Does it make this property and everything else you own impossible to burn down?”

Sarbotskiy didn’t answer.

“Is it soundproof? Does it guarantee that word of your whereabouts won’t spread to the guys back home? The ones you no doubt sold out to get this agreement?”

Sarbotskiy crossed his arms. He didn’t reply.

“I hear your homeland is falling apart. Collapsing like a house of cards. I bet a lot of those guys are planning to relocate. Looking for a cozy little business to buy into. Only not by using money.”

Sarbotskiy leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Maybe I could help you with thisinformationyou want. But I can’t just give it to you. I have principles. I’ll need something in return.”

“What?”

“A wrestling match would have been nice. You and a couple of my guys. It’s one thing watching a bout on a screen, but nothing beats violence up close and personal, does it? I love wrestling.” Sarbotskiy sighed. “Tell you the truth, I miss it.”

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