Page 68 of Exit Strategy
Reacher said, ‘So until the guys with the hats and bats come back in – if they come back, and don’t wind up in the hospital – we have the numerical advantage. Strickland has the territorial advantage. He knows the ground but he doesn’t know we’re here, so he has no reason to hide. Yet. The guard said guests get taken to his office, so let’s try that first. If we can find it. Sound good?’
Gilmour and Kasselwood both nodded.
Reacher said, ‘Okay. Let’s get these two cuffed and gagged, then move out.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
The main level of the old mine was seventy feet below the surface. The gradient of the access road had been capped at five degrees to give the old-time trucks that used to carry the limestone a fighting chance of climbing in and out. That made the walk from the entrance to the first open cavern a hair over eight hundred feet. The walls and ceiling of the shaft that carried the road had been hewn by hand. That had left the whitish-gray surface with a rough pitted complexion that reminded Reacher of pictures he’d seen of the Apollo landing sites on the moon.
The space around the first pair of pillars they came to when the road flattened out was a parking area. It would normally be used for Humvees, Reacher guessed, based on the track width of the tire marks in the layer of gray dust. There were no Humvees there that day. They werepresumably overseas, waiting to be used in the invasion of Armenia, if that ever happened. Instead there was a cluster of older domestic pickups on one side – some immaculately cared for, some on the verge of rusting to pieces – and a dark-blue Tesla on the other, with the license plate MS1. Morgan Strickland’s personal vehicle, Reacher guessed.
Beyond the Tesla was a door set into a limestone wall labeled Conference Room One. Reacher opened it, found a light switch, and took a look inside. Right away he called for the others to join him. The center of the room was taken up with a rectangular table that was surrounded by steel-and-chrome chairs, but Reacher wasn’t interested in the furniture. Two of the walls were covered with giant posters showing scenes from the company’s training zones. Each one featured a smiling young man or woman in uniform, swinging on a rope or climbing through a window or scrambling up a sand dune, but Reacher wasn’t interested in advertisements, either. It was the display on the third wall that had grabbed his attention. It was divided into three sections. There was a map of the complex in the center. A list of the complex’s specifications and facilities on the left. And a table on the right comparing Strickland Security’s strengths with the US Army’s. Reacher was tempted to rip that one down and throw it in the trash, but he resisted. He focused on the map instead. Gilmour came up alongside him and took a picture of it with his phone. It showed that half the total area was taken up by the training zones. The rest was shared between locker rooms, a mess hall, offices, and machine rooms.
Kasselwood stepped between Reacher and the map. She said, ‘I think we’re looking at two likely scenarios. Violeta’s cooperating with Strickland – or at least pretending to. Or she’s not. If she’s cooperating, she’ll be somewhere nice. Which would be what? The guard thought the offices. Strickland has a fancy ride back there. Maybe he splashed out on his workplace, too.’
Reacher said, ‘And if she’s not cooperating?’
Kasselwood said, ‘Somewhere uncomfortable, I guess. What do you think? A machine room, maybe? Somewhere hot, or noisy? Or cramped, where she can’t stand or sit?’
Gilmour said, ‘Or a latrine? That’s always a favorite.’
Reacher said, ‘Let’s assume she’s playing it smart. We’ll stick to the plan. Try the offices first.’
There were three offices in the complex, lined up one next to the other. Strickland’s, then McClaren’s, then Moyes’s. If the whereabouts board in the guard post was accurate, the second two would be empty, but Reacher listened at each of their doors, anyway. He heard nothing, so he knocked. He got no reply, so he moved on to Strickland’s. There was no sound from inside there, either, and no answer to his knock, so he barged the door with his shoulder. It barely moved, so he changed tack. He turned around, raised his right leg, then drove it back, slamming his heel into the door just to the side of the lock. The frame gave way, showering the inside of Strickland’s office with fragments of wood, and the door swung all the way open. Reacher looked inside. He saw a desk with an iPad lying on it, a giant monitor, and an old-school In/Out tray. There was a chair and a cot. But no sign ofVardanyan. He busted open the other two offices, just in case. McClaren’s was sparse and tidy. Moyes’s was cluttered and chaotic. Vardanyan wasn’t in either of them.
Reacher said, ‘I guess she’s not cooperating.’
Kasselwood said, ‘Oh God, I hope she’s all right.’
Gilmour called up the picture he’d taken of the map and they worked their way around, checking every area they thought a person could be confined in. They moved fast but they were thorough. They looked in, on, and under anything that could be used as a hiding place. They called on all their years of experience. Reacher, at finding people. Gilmour, at hiding people. Kasselwood, at hiding the remains of people. But after an hour they were back outside Strickland’s office with nothing to show for their efforts.
Kasselwood said, ‘We’ve seen no sign of Strickland, either, which is weird. Do you think they’re still here? Maybe he’s taken her somewhere.’
Gilmour said, ‘His car’s still here.’
Reacher said, ‘It’s more likely they’re here together, someplace we haven’t looked yet.’
Kasselwood said, ‘Like where?’
Reacher said, ‘The training zones.’
‘Why would he take her there?’
‘Plenty of reasons. Desert zone – bury her up to her neck in sand. Jungle zone – drop her in a pit or dangle her in a cage. Urban zone – shove her in a leaking sewer pipe. Mountain—’
‘Okay, I get it. Let’s get over there. But I’m telling you now, if Strickland’s doing something gross with her,twenty-six years of …acquaintancearen’t going to count for shit.’
Reacher led the way from the offices toward the training zones, but when he got to a spot where they needed to make a sharp left, he stopped. Gilmour stepped up alongside him and pointed. He said, ‘It’s that way.’
Reacher said, ‘I know. But what’s that doing there?’ He gestured straight ahead. The bottom inch of a metal chair leg was peeking out from behind a limestone pillar fifty yards away.
‘No idea.’
‘Is there supposed to be anything down there?’
Gilmour took out his phone and pulled up the picture he’d taken of the map. He said, ‘No. There should be empty space all the way to the boundary wall.’
Kasselwood said, ‘Maybe someone’s hiding out down there. Dodging kitchen duty or something?’
