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mother was related to Neil Armstrong. The first man on the moon. Fifteenth cousin or something.’
    Reacher sniffed the steam and tried the coffee. It was excellent. It was fresh, hot, and strong. Vincent said, ‘President Nixon had a speech prepared, you know, just in case they got stuck up there. In case they couldn’t lift off the surface. Can you imagine? Just sitting there, looking up at Earth in the sky, waiting for the air to run out?’
    Reacher said, ‘Aren’t there laws? Monopolies, or restraint of trade or something?’
    Vincent said, ‘Going to a lawyer is the same thing as going bankrupt. A lawsuit takes what? Two, three years? Two or three years without your crop getting hauled is suicide. And have you ever worked on a farm? Or run a motel? Believe me, at the end of the day you don’t feel like cracking the law books. You feel like getting some sleep.’
    Reacher said, ‘Wrecking the doctor’s car wasn’t a small thing.’
    Vincent said, ‘I agree. It was worse than usual. We’re all a little unsettled by that.’
    ‘All?’
    ‘We all talk to each other. There’s a phone tree. You know, for when something happens. We share information.’
    ‘And what are people saying?’
    ‘The feeling is maybe the doctor deserved it. He was way out of line.’
    ‘For treating his patient?’
    ‘She wasn’t sick. It was an intervention.’
    ‘I think you’re all sick,’ Reacher said. ‘I think you’re all a bunch of spineless cowards. How hard would it be to do something? One guy on his own, I agree, that’s difficult. But if everyone banded together and called another trucker, they’d come. Why wouldn’t they? If there’s enough business here for the Duncans, there’s enough for someone else.’
    ‘The Duncans might sue.’
    ‘Let them. Then they’ve got three years of legal bills and no income. The shoe would be on the other foot.’
    ‘I don’t think another trucker would take the business. They carve things up. They don’t poach, in a place like this.’
    ‘You could try.’
    Vincent didn’t answer.
    ‘Whatever,’ Reacher said. ‘I really don’t care who gets an ear of corn hauled away, or how, or if, or when. Or a bushel of beans. Or a peck or a quart or however the hell you measure beans. You can sort it out for yourselves. Or not. It’s up to you. I’m on my way to Virginia.’
    ‘It’s not that easy,’ Vincent said. ‘Not here. People have been scared so long they can’t even remember what it’s like not to be scared any more.’
    Reacher said nothing.
    Vincent asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
    Reacher said, ‘That depends on the Duncans. Plan A is to hitch a ride out of here. But if they want a war, then plan B is to win it. I’ll keep on dumping football players on their driveway until they got none left. Then I’ll walk on up and pay them a visit. Their choice.’
    ‘Stick to plan A. Just go. That’s my advice.’
    ‘Show me some traffic and I might.’
    ‘I need something from you.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Your room key. I’m sorry.’
    Reacher dug it out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. A big brass item, marked with a figure six.
    Vincent said, ‘Where are you going to sleep tonight?’
    ‘Better that you don’t know,’ Reacher said. ‘The Duncans might ask you. And you’d tell them, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘I’d have to,’ Vincent said.
    *     *     *
    There was no more conversation. Reacher finished his coffee and walked out of the lounge, back to the truck. The winch cable had bent the light bar on the roof, so that from the front the whole thing looked a little cross-eyed. But the key turned and the engine started. Reacher drove out of the motel lot. If in doubt, turn left, was his motto. So he headed south, rolling slow, lights off, letting his eyes adjust to the night-time gloom, looking for a direction to follow.

THIRTEEN
    T HE ROAD WAS A NARROW STRAIGHT RIBBON, WITH DARK EMPTY fields to the right, and dark empty fields to the