Page 69 of Exit Strategy
Reacher said, ‘Let’s find out.’
There wasn’t one chair at the end of the corridor. There were two. And they were set outside a structure that looked like an odd kind of cage. It was rectangular, sixty feet long by twenty feet wide by eight feet tall, and its walls were made of steel mesh over shiny insulated panels. It had a metal door with no handle. Next to it there was a keypad.
Kasselwood said, ‘What the hell is this place?’
Gilmour said, ‘Looks like a storage facility.’
Reacher said, ‘It’s no ordinary store.’ He pointed to a pair of heavy-duty electrical conduits that dropped downfrom the roof and snaked into the room through a hatch in the ceiling. ‘There’s some major equipment in there.’ Then he pointed to the chairs. ‘And it’s guarded most of the time. Look at the floor. The chair legs are wearing channels in it.’
Kasselwood said, ‘Where are the guards now? Is the place abandoned?’
Reacher shook his head. ‘It looks new. My guess is the guards are outside. They got called away when the mob attacked.’
Gilmour said, ‘Maybe Vardanyan’s in there.’
Reacher said, ‘One way to find out.’
Gilmour pointed at the keypad. ‘What about the code? It could take all afternoon to crack it.’
‘Maybe.’ Reacher crossed to the metal door, took hold of the keypad, and wrenched it off its mounting. Four wires were sticking out. Reacher selected two and touched their exposed ends together. The door gave an audibleclick. ‘Or maybe not.’
The gun Reacher had taken from the guard at the entrance was tucked into his waistband. He took it out, held it ready, and shoved the door. It swung open a quarter of the way, then immediately slammed back. Reacher jammed it with his foot, then shoved again, harder. The door hit something. Reacher heard a groan. He pushed again then stepped into the room.
Chill air hit Reacher in the face. He ignored the sensation and focused on a man who was backing away from him. He was wearing a heavy coat. One sleeve hung empty, and a patch covered a missing eye.
Reacher said, ‘Strickland.’
Strickland didn’t answer.
Gilmour stepped through the door, followed by Kasselwood.
Gilmour said, ‘What is this place? An infirmary?’
Both of the room’s long walls were lined with metal cots. There were fifteen on each side. Each had a crisp white pillow and a red blanket pulled tight. Four of the cots were empty. One was occupied by a woman. Twenty-five were occupied by men.
Kasselwood said, ‘Morgan?’ She took a step forward, then pivoted toward the woman in the bed. ‘Oh my God – Violeta? Are you all right?’
Reacher said, ‘It’s not an infirmary. Look again. All the men in here are dead.’
THIRTY-NINE
Gilmour looked at each bed in turn. All the men’s eyes were closed. Their chests were not moving. Their skin was waxy and pale. Some had bullet wounds to the head. Some had shrapnel wounds. The outline beneath the blankets showed that some had lost arms, or legs, or both. And from the small amount of fabric that was visible between the top of the blankets and the men’s chins, it was clear they were all wearing uniforms. Twenty-four looked to be a similar shade of washed-out green but the one at the end on the far side seemed to be darker, like it had never seen the sun.
The woman in the bed stared at Kasselwood and said, ‘Are you all right? They shot you. I saw you fall.’
Strickland frowned. He said, ‘I guess the reports of your death have been exaggerated. That’s too bad.’
Kasselwood patted her chest and said, ‘I was wearing a vest. I’m fine.’ She glanced uneasily at the rows of bodies, then turned to Reacher and Gilmour and said, ‘Guys, this is Violeta Vardanyan. Together we’re going to stop a war.’
Strickland said, ‘The hell you are.’
Kasselwood turned to Vardanyan and said, ‘Come on. Let’s get you out of here.’
Vardanyan said. ‘I can’t move. The asshole tied me down.’
Kasselwood moved closer and took out her knife. She pulled back the blanket and cut the ropes that were securing Vardanyan’s left wrist and ankle to the bed frame. Then she moved to the other side and freed Vardanyan’s right wrist and ankle.
Reacher looked at Strickland. He said, ‘Why are you keeping these bodies here?’
