frame and swing sideways and get on it and climb down into the basement trash. Then that person could pick his way forward to the front of the building and root through the garbage with a flashlight and collect anything that had fallen the thirteen feet from the letter slot above.
Or, a nimble person could be already waiting down there and could catch whatever came through the slot like a pop-up in the infield.
"Was that ladder always there?" Reacher asked.
"I don't recall," the guy said.
"Who else has keys to this place?" Reacher asked.
'Everyone and his uncle, probably," the guy said. "This place has been vacant nearly twenty years. The last owner alone tried half a dozen different separate schemes. That's half a dozen architects and contractors and God knows who else. Before that, who knows what went on? The first thing you'll need to do is change the locks."
"We don't want it," Gregory said. "We were looking for something ready to move into. You know, maybe a little paint. But this is off the charts."
"We could be flexible on price," the guy said.
"A dollar," Gregory said. "That's all I'd pay for a dump like this."
"You're wasting my time," the guy said.
He leaned in over the yawning void and pulled the door closed. Then he relocked it and walked back up the alley without another word. Reacher and Gregory followed him out to Thompson Street. The guy relocked the gate and walked away south. Reacher and Gregory stayed where they were, on the sidewalk.
"Not their base, then," Gregory said, clipped and British.
"Mirror on a stick," Reacher said.
"Just a dead drop for the car keys. They must be up and down that ladder like trained monkeys."
"I guess they must."
"So next time we should watch the alley."
"I guess we should."
"If there is a next time."
"There will be," Reacher said.
"But they've already had six million dollars. Surely there's going to come a point where they decide they've got enough."
Reacher recalled the feel of the mugger's hand in his pocket.
"Look south," he said. "That's Wall Street down there. Or take a stroll on Greene Street and look in the store windows. There's no such thing as enough."
"There would be for me."
"For me, too," Reacher said.
"That's my point. They could be just like us."
"Not exactly like us. I never abducted anyone. Did you?"
Gregory didn't answer that. Thirty-six minutes later the two men were back in the Dakota, and the woman who was watching the building had made another entry in her log.
CHAPTER 11
REACHER HAD A late breakfast delivered from a gourmet deli on Edward Lane's tab and he ate it alone in the kitchen. Then he lay down on a sofa and thought until he was too tired to think anymore. Then he closed his eyes and dozed, and waited for the phone to ring. Kate and Jade were sleeping, too. It was nature's way. They had been unable to sleep at night, so exhaustion had overtaken them midway through the day. They were on their narrow beds, close together, deep in slumber. The lone man opened their door quietly and saw them. Paused a moment, just looking. Then he backed out of the room and left them alone. No hurry, he thought. In a way he was enjoying this particular phase of the operation. He was addicted to risk. He always had been. No point in denying it. It made him who he was. Reacher woke up and found himself all alone in the living room except for Carter Groom. The guy with the shark's eyes. He was sitting in an armchair, doing nothing.
"You pulled guard duty?" Reacher asked.
"You're not exactly a prisoner," Groom said. "You're in line to get a million bucks."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not really. You find her, you'll have earned it. The workman is worthy of his hire. Says so in the Bible."
"Did you drive her often?"
"My fair share."
"When Jade was with her, how did they ride?"
"Mrs. Lane always rode in the front. She was basically embarrassed about the whole chauffeur thing. The kid in the back, obviously."
"What were you, back in the
Or, a nimble person could be already waiting down there and could catch whatever came through the slot like a pop-up in the infield.
"Was that ladder always there?" Reacher asked.
"I don't recall," the guy said.
"Who else has keys to this place?" Reacher asked.
'Everyone and his uncle, probably," the guy said. "This place has been vacant nearly twenty years. The last owner alone tried half a dozen different separate schemes. That's half a dozen architects and contractors and God knows who else. Before that, who knows what went on? The first thing you'll need to do is change the locks."
"We don't want it," Gregory said. "We were looking for something ready to move into. You know, maybe a little paint. But this is off the charts."
"We could be flexible on price," the guy said.
"A dollar," Gregory said. "That's all I'd pay for a dump like this."
"You're wasting my time," the guy said.
He leaned in over the yawning void and pulled the door closed. Then he relocked it and walked back up the alley without another word. Reacher and Gregory followed him out to Thompson Street. The guy relocked the gate and walked away south. Reacher and Gregory stayed where they were, on the sidewalk.
"Not their base, then," Gregory said, clipped and British.
"Mirror on a stick," Reacher said.
"Just a dead drop for the car keys. They must be up and down that ladder like trained monkeys."
"I guess they must."
"So next time we should watch the alley."
"I guess we should."
"If there is a next time."
"There will be," Reacher said.
"But they've already had six million dollars. Surely there's going to come a point where they decide they've got enough."
Reacher recalled the feel of the mugger's hand in his pocket.
"Look south," he said. "That's Wall Street down there. Or take a stroll on Greene Street and look in the store windows. There's no such thing as enough."
"There would be for me."
"For me, too," Reacher said.
"That's my point. They could be just like us."
"Not exactly like us. I never abducted anyone. Did you?"
Gregory didn't answer that. Thirty-six minutes later the two men were back in the Dakota, and the woman who was watching the building had made another entry in her log.
CHAPTER 11
REACHER HAD A late breakfast delivered from a gourmet deli on Edward Lane's tab and he ate it alone in the kitchen. Then he lay down on a sofa and thought until he was too tired to think anymore. Then he closed his eyes and dozed, and waited for the phone to ring. Kate and Jade were sleeping, too. It was nature's way. They had been unable to sleep at night, so exhaustion had overtaken them midway through the day. They were on their narrow beds, close together, deep in slumber. The lone man opened their door quietly and saw them. Paused a moment, just looking. Then he backed out of the room and left them alone. No hurry, he thought. In a way he was enjoying this particular phase of the operation. He was addicted to risk. He always had been. No point in denying it. It made him who he was. Reacher woke up and found himself all alone in the living room except for Carter Groom. The guy with the shark's eyes. He was sitting in an armchair, doing nothing.
"You pulled guard duty?" Reacher asked.
"You're not exactly a prisoner," Groom said. "You're in line to get a million bucks."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not really. You find her, you'll have earned it. The workman is worthy of his hire. Says so in the Bible."
"Did you drive her often?"
"My fair share."
"When Jade was with her, how did they ride?"
"Mrs. Lane always rode in the front. She was basically embarrassed about the whole chauffeur thing. The kid in the back, obviously."
"What were you, back in the
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