No Plan B (Jack Reacher, #27)(69)

Hannah stopped the truck in the center of the Lodge’s parking lot and wiped her chin with a paper napkin. She had eaten her burger as she drove from the Winson Garden. She had been hoping to get to it before it went completely cold, but that ship had long sailed. It had been nasty and rubbery and congealed. That didn’t stop her from finishing it, though. Or Reacher from plowing through both of his.

Hannah said, “This is not how the place looked on the website when I booked. They’re taking some major liberties with their advertising. Want me to find us somewhere else to stay?”

Reacher said, “No. It’ll do just fine.”

Hannah looked around the lot. There were three cars close together near the hotel entrance. Generic domestic sedans. Neutral colors. Probably rentals. And an ancient VW microbus away to the right near a blue metal storage container like the one they’d seen at the construction zone. It wasn’t clear if the bus was still capable of moving. Hannah said, “There can’t be many guests.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“You sure? It isn’t usually a good sign.”

“Today’s not a usual day.”

“I guess.” Hannah took her foot off the brake, looped around, and slotted the truck into the gap on the far side of the container. “This won’t fool anyone who’s searching for us but there’s no point advertising where we are, right?” She took off her seatbelt, reached for the door handle, then paused. “But here’s what I don’t get. The cop who stopped us wasn’t on the level, was he? He was expecting you to be driving. On your own. That was obvious. He was surprised when he saw me. He stammered, then he was all over my ID, and he didn’t even ask your name. And the idea that the DMV has updated Sam’s records already? Give me a break. So given that the cop was bent, why didn’t he shoot us? Or at least arrest us?”

“Ever heard the expression a fish rots from the head?”

“No. I hate fish. What have they got to do with the cop?”

“The way I see it, there’s bound to be plenty of contact between the police and the prison. Escape drills. Visitors getting caught smuggling. Relatives causing a nuisance in the town. So there’ll be plenty of opportunity for Minerva to get its hooks into someone. Makes sense to go for someone high up. With authority. Influence. The beat cops will just have orders to be on the lookout. For me. For the truck. To report anything they see.”

“You think our guy will report that he saw us go to the Winson Garden?”

“I’m counting on it.”





Chapter 35


The reception area at the Riverside Lodge had a double height domed ceiling painted to look like a blue sky with a few fleeting clouds. A chandelier hung down from its highest point. It was suspended directly over the center of a compass motif that was laid into the floor with black and white tile and gold dividers. The counter was made of mahogany. It was so shiny it almost glowed after decades of being polished by maids and getting rubbed by guests checking in and out. Reacher knew the hotel must be involved with computers since Hannah had made their reservation online, but none were visible. There was just a thick ledger, bound in green leather. An old school telephone, made of Bakelite with a brown braided cable. And a brass bell to summon attention when no one was waiting to help.

Reacher tapped the plunger on top of the bell and a moment later a guy scurried out from a back room. He looked like he was maybe twenty-five. He had blond hair, a little long but swept back in a neat, tidy style. He was wearing a gray suit. The creases in the pants were razor sharp. His shirt was pressed and his tie was properly knotted.

The guy said, “How can I assist you this evening?”

Reacher said, “I need two rooms.”

“Do you have a reservation?”

“No. This is a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Let me see what I can do.” The guy opened the ledger and took a fountain pen from his jacket pocket. “How many nights?”

“Let’s start with one. We’ll add more if we need them.”

“No problem. Our standard rate is $85 per night, per room.”

“Let’s say $100, cash, for rooms well away from your other guests.”

The guy glanced left, then right. “We only have three other guests presently. They’re all at the near end of the south wing. How about the two rooms at the far end? You won’t even know the others are there.”

“How about the north wing? Is it empty?”

“It is, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The refurbishment program hasn’t been completed yet.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“To be honest, the refurb hasn’t actually started. The rooms are a bit of a mess.”

“Are they infested? Is there a health hazard of any kind?”

“No. They’re functional. Just a little on the scruffy side.”

“You could say the same about me.” Reacher glanced at the sign on the wall, which directed guests to the two wings. It showed that rooms 101 through 124 were to the north. “Give me 112. My friend will take 114. Assuming they’re adjacent?”

The guy nodded. “They are. Can I have your names?”

“Ambrose Burnside. Nat Kimball.”

The guy took the cap off his pen but Reacher leaned across and closed the ledger.