No Plan B (Jack Reacher, #27)(58)

The driver said, “We can’t. We don’t know anything.”

“You work for Minerva?”

The driver nodded.

“Is anyone else looking for me between here and Winson?”

Neither of the guys answered.

Reacher pulled the guns back. He slid the SIG between his knees. Then he leaned through the gap between the front seats and punched the passenger just next to his ear. The guy’s head snapped sideways. It smashed into the window, bounced back a few inches, then the guy slumped face-first into the dashboard.

Reacher raised the Beretta again. “Hands on the wheel. Move, and I’ll blow your head off. Do you understand?”

The driver grabbed the wheel. His hands were in the ten and two position and his knuckles were white like a nervous teenager’s before his first lesson.

Reacher said, “Do you know what I just did?”

“You knocked out Wade.”

“I gave you plausible deniability.”

The driver didn’t react.

“Plausible deniability,” Reacher said. “It means you can do something, then say you didn’t and no one can prove otherwise. Like, you can answer my questions.”

The guy didn’t respond.

“You can tell me what I need to know. No one will ever find out. Then you can drive away. Lie low for a couple of days. Claim you escaped. Or I could break your arms and legs and throw you in the nearest dumpster. Your choice.”

The guy glanced to his right but he didn’t speak.

Reacher said, “The cavalry isn’t coming. Think about it. How many lanes are open?”

“One.”

“What just drove that way?”

“The truck you stole.”

“Correct. So it’s going to meet the pilot vehicle, head-on. The person driving it is stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. No way is she going to back up again. It’s going to take hours to sort that mess out.”

The guy glanced to his left.

“No one can get through that way, either. We covered all the bases. It’s just you and me. And you have a decision to make.”

The guy was silent for another moment, then he said, “What do you want to know?”

“Has Brockman got anyone else looking for me between here and Winson?”

“How would I know? Brockman doesn’t share his plans with me.”

“Brockman’s a smart man, I guess. Relatively speaking. So what did he share?”

“A picture of you. An old one. A description of the truck you stole. And its license plate.”

“What were your orders?”

“To stop you from getting to Winson.”

“Why doesn’t Brockman want me to get to Winson?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What’s happening there in the next couple of days?”

“Nothing special. Some con’s getting released tomorrow. There’ll be speeches. Some celebrating. It happens a few times every year. The shine’s wearing off, to be honest. People are getting used to it now.”

“What else?”

The guy shrugged. “Nothing.”

“OK. You did the right thing. Start it up. You can go now.”

The guy paused for a moment, frozen. Then his hand shot out. He grabbed the key. Turned it, and the heavy old motor spluttered into life.

“One other thing before you get on your way,” Reacher said. “See that trailer, over on the far shoulder?”

The guy nodded.

Reacher said, “Pull up next to it for a moment.”

The guy shifted into Drive, released the brake, looped around to the opposite shoulder, and eased to a stop.

Reacher said, “Get out for a moment. There’s something I need you to do. You can leave the engine running.”

The guy opened his door and climbed down. Reacher did the same and led the way around to the passenger side.

Reacher said, “See the net that’s holding down all the junk? Peel back one corner.”

The guy fiddled with the nearest cleat and released part of the net.

Reacher said, “Pull out some of those branches at the top. And the bushes. Clear some space.”

The guy grabbed a few of the bigger pieces and dumped them on the ground.

Reacher said, “Good. Now get your buddy out of the car. Put him in the space you made.”

The guy said, “Put him in the trailer?”

“Right. We have to make this look realistic. Brockman won’t believe you escaped otherwise. He’ll think you helped me. That’s not what you want to happen. Believe me.”

The guy was still for a moment. His mouth was gaping slightly. Then he shrugged and opened the passenger door. He pushed his buddy back in the seat. His head lolled to the side. The guy grabbed his wrists. Hauled him out. Swung him onto his shoulder. Maneuvered him to the end of the trailer. Set him down on the spoil from the construction work. Then he took hold of the net and started to pull it back into place.

“Wait,” Reacher said. “I need to borrow your phone for a second.”

The guy shrugged, then took his phone out of his pocket, entered a code to unlock its screen, and held it out. Reacher took it and set it on the ground.

He said, “One more question. The guys Brockman sent to the Greyhound station had to watch out for me on every bus that arrived. All kinds of people would have been milling around. Places like that get pretty chaotic. That’s a tall order. The guys at the truck stop had to keep an eye on hundreds of people, coming and going. That’s a real challenge. The guys at the intersection didn’t know if I would be hitching a ride or already in a car, speeding past. That’s like two tasks in one, and neither of them is easy. But you? All you had to do was look through a window. Why do you think you were chosen for that particular job?”