17 A Wanted Man

and saw the gate closing again behind them. Mitchell kept on going, along a worn concrete roadway, tight around a circle, and stopped next to the office. He didn’t sit back and sigh and stretch like his journey was over. He didn’t switch off the motor. He kept the car in gear and his foot on the brake. Reacher unclipped his belt and tried his door. He had been right. It wouldn’t open from the inside.
    Dawson got out and opened it for him from the outside. He didn’t say anything. He just pointed with his chin, towards the office door. Reacher slid out and stood up straight in the evening chill. Dawson got back in and closed his door and the car drove off. It moved quietly away from next to Reacher’s hip and completed its trip around the circle and headed back along the worn concrete roadway to the gate. The gate was already opening before the car got there and it drove on through without stopping. It paused for a second and then turned right on the two-lane and headed back north, the way it had come.
    The gate closed behind it, not fast, not slow, but silent.
    Reacher stepped into the motel office. It looked like a hundred others he had seen. It was very similar to the fat man’s place from early that morning. There was a reception counter, and lobby furniture, and a table with space for coffee and breakfast muffins. There was vinyl on the floor, and pictures on the walls, and lighting chosen more for a small electric bill than adequate illumination.
    There was a plump, motherly woman behind the counter. She was smiling, in a kind, welcoming fashion.
    She said, ‘Mr Reacher?’
    Reacher said, ‘Yes.’
    ‘We’ve been expecting you.’
    ‘Have you?’
    She nodded. She said, ‘We have rooms with kings, queens, and twins, but I’ve gone right ahead and put you in a room with a queen.’
    ‘Have you?’ Reacher said again.
    The woman nodded again. She said, ‘I think the rooms with the queens are the nicest. They feel more spacious, with the armchairs and all. Most people like those rooms the best.’
    ‘Most people? How many guests do you get?’
    ‘Oh, we have quite the procession.’
    He said, ‘I guess I’m happy with a queen. I’m on my own.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know.’
    She wrote in a book and took a key off a hook. She said, ‘Room twenty. It’s easy to find. Just follow the signs. They’re all lit up at night. Dinner starts in an hour.’
    Reacher put the key in his pocket and went back outside. It was nearly full dark. As promised he saw knee-high fingerposts lit up by nearby spotlights set on spikes in the ground. He followed the sign for rooms sixteen through twenty. The path was brushed concrete and it wound its curving way around empty flowerbeds and it came out at a long low block of five rooms together. Room twenty was the last room in line. The empty swimming pool was not far from it, and beyond the pool was the decorative wall faced with stucco, and beyond that was the security fence. Up close it looked tall and black and angular. The mesh was a matrix of flat steel blades welded into rectangles smaller than postage stamps. Too small to put a finger in. Way too small for a foothold. Plus loops of razor wire overhanging the whole thing. It was a very efficient fence.
    Reacher unlocked his door and let himself in. As promised he saw a queen bed, and armchairs. There were clothes on the bed, in two neat piles. Two outfits, both the same. Blue jeans, blue button-down shirts, blue cotton sweaters, white undershirts, white underwear, blue socks. Every garment looked to be exactly the right size. Not easy to find, at short notice.
    We’ve been expecting you
.
    There were pyjamas on the pillow. There were toiletries in the bathroom. Soap, shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream. Some kind of skin lotion. Deodorant. There were disposable razors. There was toothpaste, and a new full-size toothbrush sealed in cellophane. There was a hairbrush and a comb, like the toothbrush brand new and still sealed. There was a bathrobe on a hook. There were little hotel slippers in a packet. There were all kinds of towels on the rails, and a bath mat.
    Just like the Four Seasons.
    But there was no television in the room, and no telephone.
    He locked up again, and went out exploring.
    Overall the whole compound was roughly rectangular, indented here and there for the sake of interest and variety. A complicated network of brushed concrete paths wound in and out and visited everywhere of