be. What was his name?
Emerson?
The receptionist hung up the phone.
'Please go straight up,' she said. 'Mr Rodin is on the third floor.'
I'm honoured, Reacher thought. The receptionist wrote his name on a visitor pass and slipped it into a plastic sleeve. He clipped it on his shirt and headed for the elevator. Rode it to the third floor. The third floor had low ceilings and internal corridors lit by fluorescent tubes.
There were three doors made of painted fibreboard that were closed and one set of double doors made of polished wood that were open. Behind those was a secretary at a desk.
The second gatekeeper. She was younger than the downstairs lady, but presumably more senior.
'Mr Reacher?' she asked.
He nodded and she came out from behind her desk and led him to where the windowed offices started. The third door they came to was labelled A. A.
Rodin.
"What's the A. A. for?' Reacher asked.
'I'm sure Mr Rodin will tell you if he wants to,' the secretary said.
She knocked on the door and Reacher heard a baritone reply from inside. Then she opened the door and stood aside for Reacher to go in past her.
'Thanks,' he said.
'You're most welcome,' she said.
Reacher went in. Rodin was already on his feet behind his desk, ready to welcome his visitor, full of reflexive courtesy. Reacher recognized him from the TV. He was a guy of about fifty, fairly lean, fairly fit, grey hair cut short. In person he looked smaller. He was maybe an inch under six feet and a pound under two hundred. He was dressed in a summer weight suit, dark blue. He had a blue shirt on, and a blue tie. His eyes were blue. Blue was his colour, no doubt about it. He was immaculately shaved and wearing cologne. He was a very squared away guy, no question. As opposed to me, Reacher thought. It was like a study in contrasts. Next to Rodin, Reacher was an unkempt giant. He was six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. His hair was two inches longer and his clothes were a thousand dollars cheaper.
'Mr Reacher?' Rodin said.
Reacher nodded. The office was government-basic, but neat. It was cool and quiet. No real view from the window. Just the flat roofs of the off-brand stores and the DMV office, with all the duct work showing. The black glass tower was visible in the distance. There was a weak sun in the sky. At right angles to the window there was a trophy wall behind the desk, with college degree certificates and photographs of Rodin with politicians. There were framed newspaper headlines reporting guilty verdicts in seven different cases.
On another wall was a photograph of a blonde girl wearing a mortar board and a gown and holding a degree scroll. She was pretty. Reacher looked at her for a moment longer than he needed to. 'That's my daughter,' Rodin said. 'She's a lawyer too.'
'Is she?' Reacher said.
'She just opened her own office here in town.'
There was nothing in his tone. Reacher wasn't sure whether he was proud, or disapproving. You're due to meet with her, I think,' Rodin said.
'Am I?' Reacher said. 'Why?'
'She's defending James Barr.'
'Your daughter? Is that ethical?'
'There's no law against it. It might not be sensible, but it's not unethical.'
He said sensible with emphasis, hinting at a number of meanings. Not smart to defend a notorious case, not smart for a daughter to take on her father, not smart for anyone to take on A. A. Rodin. He sounded like a very competitive guy. 'She put your name on her provisional witness list,' he said. my?'
'She thinks you have information.'
"Where did she get my name?'
'I don't know.'
'From the Pentagon?'
Rodin shrugged. 'I'm not sure. But she got it from somewhere. Therefore people have been looking for you.'
'Is that why I got in here?'
Rodin nodded.
'Yes, it is,' he said. 'That's exactly why. Generally I don't encourage walkins.' 'Your staff seems to be on board with that policy.'
'I certainly hope so,' Rodin said. 'Sit down, please.'
Reacher sat in the visitor chair and Rodin
Emerson?
The receptionist hung up the phone.
'Please go straight up,' she said. 'Mr Rodin is on the third floor.'
I'm honoured, Reacher thought. The receptionist wrote his name on a visitor pass and slipped it into a plastic sleeve. He clipped it on his shirt and headed for the elevator. Rode it to the third floor. The third floor had low ceilings and internal corridors lit by fluorescent tubes.
There were three doors made of painted fibreboard that were closed and one set of double doors made of polished wood that were open. Behind those was a secretary at a desk.
The second gatekeeper. She was younger than the downstairs lady, but presumably more senior.
'Mr Reacher?' she asked.
He nodded and she came out from behind her desk and led him to where the windowed offices started. The third door they came to was labelled A. A.
Rodin.
"What's the A. A. for?' Reacher asked.
'I'm sure Mr Rodin will tell you if he wants to,' the secretary said.
She knocked on the door and Reacher heard a baritone reply from inside. Then she opened the door and stood aside for Reacher to go in past her.
'Thanks,' he said.
'You're most welcome,' she said.
Reacher went in. Rodin was already on his feet behind his desk, ready to welcome his visitor, full of reflexive courtesy. Reacher recognized him from the TV. He was a guy of about fifty, fairly lean, fairly fit, grey hair cut short. In person he looked smaller. He was maybe an inch under six feet and a pound under two hundred. He was dressed in a summer weight suit, dark blue. He had a blue shirt on, and a blue tie. His eyes were blue. Blue was his colour, no doubt about it. He was immaculately shaved and wearing cologne. He was a very squared away guy, no question. As opposed to me, Reacher thought. It was like a study in contrasts. Next to Rodin, Reacher was an unkempt giant. He was six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. His hair was two inches longer and his clothes were a thousand dollars cheaper.
'Mr Reacher?' Rodin said.
Reacher nodded. The office was government-basic, but neat. It was cool and quiet. No real view from the window. Just the flat roofs of the off-brand stores and the DMV office, with all the duct work showing. The black glass tower was visible in the distance. There was a weak sun in the sky. At right angles to the window there was a trophy wall behind the desk, with college degree certificates and photographs of Rodin with politicians. There were framed newspaper headlines reporting guilty verdicts in seven different cases.
On another wall was a photograph of a blonde girl wearing a mortar board and a gown and holding a degree scroll. She was pretty. Reacher looked at her for a moment longer than he needed to. 'That's my daughter,' Rodin said. 'She's a lawyer too.'
'Is she?' Reacher said.
'She just opened her own office here in town.'
There was nothing in his tone. Reacher wasn't sure whether he was proud, or disapproving. You're due to meet with her, I think,' Rodin said.
'Am I?' Reacher said. 'Why?'
'She's defending James Barr.'
'Your daughter? Is that ethical?'
'There's no law against it. It might not be sensible, but it's not unethical.'
He said sensible with emphasis, hinting at a number of meanings. Not smart to defend a notorious case, not smart for a daughter to take on her father, not smart for anyone to take on A. A. Rodin. He sounded like a very competitive guy. 'She put your name on her provisional witness list,' he said. my?'
'She thinks you have information.'
"Where did she get my name?'
'I don't know.'
'From the Pentagon?'
Rodin shrugged. 'I'm not sure. But she got it from somewhere. Therefore people have been looking for you.'
'Is that why I got in here?'
Rodin nodded.
'Yes, it is,' he said. 'That's exactly why. Generally I don't encourage walkins.' 'Your staff seems to be on board with that policy.'
'I certainly hope so,' Rodin said. 'Sit down, please.'
Reacher sat in the visitor chair and Rodin
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