Page 21 of Exit Strategy
‘Very well.’ The tone of the guy’s voice made it clear that he wasn’t convinced, but he moved back anyway, ducked into a shallow alcove, and left the way clear to a carpeted staircase. ‘Enjoy your evening.’
Reacher stepped forward. The light changed as he moved, and his eyes picked up a band of plaster with a different texture, four inches wide, running vertically up one wall, across the ceiling, and down the other. It concealed a metal detector, he thought. Farther ahead, level with the foot of the stairs, something else ran across the ceiling. A slight ridge. A hinge concealing the opening for a security screen that could slam down. Reacher estimated the distance between them. He wondered if a person could sprint fast enough to get through the detector with a gun or knife and dive under the screen before it dropped. He decided it was impossible to be sure. And even if someone got through, they’d have no idea who or what would be waiting for them at the top of the stairs.
It turned out that a woman was waiting that night. Shewas much younger than the guy in the hallway. Probably in her mid-twenties, Reacher guessed. She had chestnut-brown hair, braided and coiled on top of her head. She was wearing a black cocktail dress with a short, asymmetric skirt and plunging neckline. The tail of a glittering snake-shaped necklace descended almost out of sight. And without her four-inch heels she would also have been around five feet six. She slipped her arm under Reacher’s and smiled like she was genuinely happy to see him. She said, ‘You’re new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’
Reacher said, ‘This is my first time.’
‘Well, I’m glad to meet you. You’re going to have a great time tonight. It’s my job to make sure of that. My name’s Amy, by the way. And yours?’
Reacher said, ‘Engle.’ It was an old habit of his, using a cover name, and he always liked to have a theme. He’d gone through several over the years – vice presidents, Yankees second basemen, astronauts from the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs – and now he was working his way through space shuttle commanders.
Amy lowered her voice and leaned in a little closer. ‘Just to let you know, we’re going to need some valid ID if you want us to set you up for any credit, so if you’d like to try that name again for any reason …’
‘No.’ Reacher patted the wad of cash in his pocket. ‘I’m good.’
‘Fantastic!’ Another smile lit up Amy’s face. ‘In that case, what’s your pleasure?’
The room was long and narrow with pale-green carpet and walls that were painted a similar shade. Reacher hadread a study that claimed green was a calming color. Probably why the owner had chosen it, he thought. To reduce the number of punters who freaked out and tried to smash the place up when they lost all their money. There was a small bar to the left. Nothing fancy. Just a counter with four stools in front and a shelf behind holding a bunch of bottles of spirits, plus an ice bucket and all shapes of glasses on top. Another smart move. Money flowed faster with the right lubrication, Reacher had always noticed. Although fists were quicker to fly, too. Four square tables took up the rest of the space. Each had a half-dozen chairs around it, but only two tables were occupied. One had three people plus a dealer playing some kind of a card game. The other had a single guy plus a dealer.
Amy said, ‘It’s late and we’re winding down a little, so we just have poker and blackjack on the go right now. Which one sounds good to you?’
Reacher said, ‘Neither. I’m looking to spend my money a different way.’
Amy let go of Reacher’s arm and took a half step away. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mr Engle. What kind of place do you think this is?’
‘I know exactly what kind of place.’ Reacher crossed his arms. ‘I’m here to buy some information. From Mr Horner. Please ask him to join me. In the meantime, the house can buy me a drink.’
Reacher moved across and took the end stool.
Amy hurried after him. ‘Mr Horner? We don’t have any customers by that name. Whoever told you—’
Reacher leaned in close to Amy’s ear and dropped hisvoice to a whisper. ‘Horner is the owner. You know that. Go get him.’
Amy’s mouth opened but she didn’t speak, and she didn’t move.
Reacher kept his voice as quiet as he could make it. ‘Get Horner now. You don’t want me to have too much time on my hands. I might get bored. I might decide to relieve your blackjack dealer over there. Take a look at the deck. Show your customer why it is he can never seem to land a break. Maybe move on to the poker table. See where all the picture cards are …’
‘Fine.’ Amy crossed her arms. ‘I’ll get him. You stay here. Don’t move. Don’t go near those tables.’
Amy made her way to the far corner, moving quickly, all stiff-legged and awkward in her heels. She shimmied around the final empty table, pressed her palm against the wall, and a concealed door swung open. She hurried through and the door closed silently behind her. A moment later Reacher heard muffled footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming up. They were in a hurry. A man appeared, also in his mid-twenties, with a mess of fair, curly hair and a leather apron over black pants and a white shirt. He paused, seeming startled to see someone sitting at the bar, then scurried across and dodged behind the counter. He said to Reacher, ‘Good evening, sir. What can I get you?’
Reacher said, ‘Drop thesir. What can you make that uses a lot of ice?’
The bartender looked confused. ‘Anything you like. A martini? A margarita?’
‘Either of those. Whichever’s quicker.’
He gave Reacher a sideways glance as if he thought he was being tricked or tested, then took a cocktail shaker from a shelf beneath the counter. He opened it, set it down, grabbed a pick, and set to work chipping away at the big block of ice in the bucket.
The guy hadn’t made much progress when the concealed door at the far end of the room opened again. A man stepped into the frame. He had a shaved head and was wearing a tuxedo. The suit looked too tight for him, which was no doubt deliberate. The guy wasn’t especially tall, but he was surprisingly broad, and to emphasize the fact, he stood still, silhouetted for a moment in an awkward, exaggerated stance. Some kind of body-building pose, Reacher thought. The guy certainly had the physique for it. He was all puffed up and bulky. The opposite of the gray-haired guy downstairs. Reacher was happy that the older man had stayed down there. There was something about him that he’d liked. His gracefulness, perhaps, or his politeness. Reacher had been hoping he wouldn’t have to hurt him.
There was nothing graceful about the guy who’d just appeared. He broke out of his pose and lumbered across the room, heading directly toward Reacher. And as he grew closer, he showed no signs of politeness, either. Instead he barked, ‘You. Out. Now.’
FOURTEEN
Reacher leaned back to avoid the specks of spittle that were flying from the tuxedo guy’s mouth, but he didn’t stand. He made no move to leave.
The bartender carefully set his tools down and crept to the opposite end of the counter. The card players stopped their games and turned to gawp.
