Under the circumstances, I could see no alternative. I had to send the message and let the chips fall how they may. If I arrived second to the house, no real harm would be done. I could surveil the place. Make a plan. It might impact the details. But not the outcome. The way I was feeling it didn’t matter how many guys Dendoncker sent or what they brought with them. They were all going to be taking a trip to the hospital. Or the morgue.
I touched the icon for messages and entered the number the guy had given me when he outlined his orders. He said no exact wording was required so I tapped out, “Prisoner Secured. Heading to House.” Then I added, “ETA 40 Minutes.” I figured that might make a difference. Or it might not. But it was worth a try.
I didn’t know if the phone would be usable for long so I dialed Wallwork’s number as I walked to the hotel. He answered on the first ring.
“This is Reacher. The clock’s ticking on a lead so I’ve got to be brief. I have an update. I interrogated someone connected to a member of Dendoncker’s crew. She admitted there’s a plot to plant a bomb at a Veterans Day ceremony. She claimed the bomb only releases smoke. For some kind of publicity stunt.”
“Do you believe her?”
“We know Dendoncker’s guy built a real bomb. Fenton’s work at TEDAC proved that. So, either the woman I spoke to has been duped and the harmless bomb will be switched, or there’s a second plot.”
“Where’s the target?”
“The woman didn’t know.”
“OK. Better play it safe. I’ll put out a general alert.”
“Good. Anything for me?”
“The address you gave me? I traced the owner. It’s a shell corporation. Another one. No connection to Dendoncker or any of his other companies. No other assets. And there’s something else weird. It changed hands ten years ago. Right after Dendoncker showed up in the town. I found a report in the local press. It says the previous owner was a nice old guy. He lived there for years and pretty much got driven out. The house wasn’t on the market. He hadn’t wanted to sell. Then some unnamed newcomer – presumably Dendoncker – came after it. Aggressively. Like it had been targeted specifically.”
“Why? No one lives in it now. It’s empty. Dendoncker’s guys use it as a cutout. There must be dozens of places they could have picked. The town feels like it’s on life support. Why go after that house in particular?”
“Maybe Dendoncker planned to live there, and changed his mind? Or had some other scheme for it that didn’t pan out? There could be dozens of reasons.”
“Could be, I guess. But do me a favor. Check who owns the neighboring houses. Check the whole street. See if anything else jumps out.”
The call ended just as I reached the steps to the hotel’s main entrance. The blood trail was still there. It was dry now. It had turned brown and crusty. The surviving door was closed. Someone had retrieved the other. They’d propped it up against the wall. I went in through the gap it left. Scanned the foyer. Saw that the cowboy boots were back, propped up on the reception counter. They were the same ones. Snakeskin. Holes in their soles. I was glad they were there. It meant ticking the next item off my list would be nice and easy.
The guy was lounging back in his chair. His vest was still unbuttoned. His hat was pulled down over his face again. And he still wasn’t really asleep. His whole body stiffened as I came close. He wasn’t expecting to see me again. That was clear. He’d probably thought the blood on the ground outside was mine.
I said, “How much?”
The guy fumbled with his hat, pushed it back, and did his best to look like he was only flustered because he’d suddenly woken up. “How much? For what?”
“Calling Dendoncker. Telling him I was here. What did he pay you?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grabbed the guy’s ankles and pulled. His ass slid off the chair. He crashed onto the floor and squealed as he hit the tile. I vaulted over the counter and landed straddling his legs. He reached up toward a little shelf that wasn’t visible from the other side. A shotgun was balanced there. It was an ancient thing. An L.C. Smith. Its barrel had been sawn down to about six inches. That would make it easy to wield. And it would still be plenty lethal at close quarters.
I said, “Leave it.”
The guy kept on trying to grab it so I kicked him in the face. Not hard. It was more of a push. Just enough to knock him onto his back. Then I stamped on his hand. To discourage him. In case he felt the urge to go for the gun, again.
I said, “How much?”
The guy was rolling from side to side, clutching his crushed hand to his chest. “Nothing extra. He pays me every month. Five hundred dollars, cash. I report anything unusual. Or anything weird his people staying here get up to. Sometimes he puts out an alert. Like this morning. I got a text with a description of you. I had to call when I saw you. I had no choice. Mr. Dendoncker – he’s a bad man.”
“You always have a choice. Right or wrong. It’s clear-cut. You just thought you wouldn’t get caught. You chose greed. You used poor judgment. So this is what’s going to happen. When you wake up, you’ll leave town. Immediately. And you’ll never come back. I’m going to check. And if I find you here, I’ll make Dendoncker look like the Easter Bunny. Are we clear?”
“When I wake up? What, like, in the morning?”
“In the morning. The afternoon. Whenever it happens to be.”
I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position. Then I kicked him in the face again. A little harder that time.
Chapter 32
I tapped on the door to room 212. Gently. I was trying to sound friendly. There was no reply, so I tried again.
“Go away.” It was Sonia’s voice, but there was an edge to it. I couldn’t tell if she was angry. Or sad. Or scared. Then a thought crossed my mind. An unwelcome one. Maybe one of Dendoncker’s guys was in there with her. Someone could have sneaked up while I was dealing with the pair downstairs. Who knew what the reception guy had reported. Sonia might have a gun to her head. Which meant I couldn’t risk breaking down the door. Which severely limited my options. Until I remembered what Fenton had said about the routine she and Michael had with names. Sonia and Michael had been a couple. Maybe they did the same thing.
I stood to the side and knocked again. “Heather? You in there? You OK?”
I waited. I heard footsteps from inside the room. They were light, but slow. A moment later the door opened. It was Sonia. She was still in her yellow sundress. And there was no gun in sight. She leaned out into the corridor. Looked left and right, and spotted me. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were damp.
“Reacher?” she said. “Thanks for checking in. But I’m fine. I just want to be on my own. So please go, OK?”
“I’m not checking in. I need your help.”
“Oh. OK. With what?”
“Have you got a car?”
“Of course. Do you want to borrow it?”
“Where is it?”
“Parked out back.”
“Good. I want you to drive me someplace.”
“Where?”
“Have you got a go-bag handy?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Grab it. And your keys. I’ll explain in the car.”
Sonia’s car was tiny. It was called a Mini, and with good reason. I barely fit inside even with the passenger seat cranked all the way back. It was red with white wheels, and decals of Old Glory on the roof and the curved front edges of the door mirrors. I wished she drove something more discreet, in the circumstances. But at least it fit in the hotel parking lot. It was in another courtyard, this one contained within the building itself. It was a small cramped space with a low arch leading to the street on the east side. I guess it was originally for receiving deliveries and allowing light into the rooms on the inner side of the corridors.