Gone Tomorrow

and concentrating on her computer screen, and then I drifted around the edge of the room and hit the up button.
    I figured that Sansom would be in a big suite, and that the big suites would all be on the top floor, so I hit the highest number the elevator had to offer. A long moment later I stepped out into a hushed carpeted corridor and saw a uniformed cop standing easy outside a double mahogany door. A patrolman, from the Greensboro PD. Not young. A veteran, with first dibs on some effortless overtime. A token presence. I walked toward him with a rueful smile on my face, like Hey, you’re working, I’m working, what’s a guy to do ? I figured he must have processed a few visitors already. Room service coffee, staffers with legitimate reasons to be there, maybe journalists. I nodded to him and said, “Jack Reacher for Mr. Sansom,” and leaned beyond him and knocked on the door. He didn’t react. Didn’t complain. Just stood there, like the window-dressing he was. Whatever Sansom was going to be next, right then he was still only a Congressman from the sticks, and he was a long way from getting serious protection.
    There was a short delay, and then the suite door opened. Sansom’s wife stood there with her hand on the inside handle. She was dressed, coiffed, made up, and ready for the day.
    “Hello, Elspeth,” I said. “Can I come in?”

Chapter 25
    I saw a fast, expert , politician’s-wife calculation run behind Elspeth Sansom’s eyes. First instinct: Throw the bum out. But: There was a cop in the corridor, and probably media in the building, and almost certainly hotel staff within earshot. And local people talk. So she swallowed once and said, “Major Reacher, how nice to see you again,” and stood back to give me room to pass.
    The suite was large and dark because of draped windows and full of heavy furniture in rich and muted colors. There was a living room with a breakfast bar and an open door that must have led to a bedroom. Elspeth Sansom walked me to the middle of the space and stopped, like she didn’t know what to do with me next. Then John Sansom stepped out of the bedroom to see what the fuss was all about.
    He was in pants and a shirt and a tie and socks. No shoes. He looked small, like a miniature man. Wiry build, narrow through the shoulders. His head was a little large compared to the rest of his body. His hair was cut short and neatly brushed. His skin was tanned, but in a creased, active, outdoors kind of a way. Rugged. No sun lamps for this guy. He glowed with wealth, and power, and energy, and charisma. It was easy to see how he had won plenty of elections. Easy to see why the news weeklies were in love with him. He looked at me and then looked at his wife and asked, “Where’s Springfield?”
    Elspeth said, “He went downstairs to check on things. They must have passed in the elevators.”
    Sansom nodded, not much more than a fast up-and-down with his eyelids. A practiced decision maker, and a pragmatic man, not much given to crying over spilled milk. He glanced at me and said, “You don’t give up.”
    I said, “I never have.”
    “Didn’t you listen to those federal boys in Washington?”
    “Who were they, exactly?”
    “Those guys? You know how it is. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. But whatever, they were supposed to warn you off.”
    “Didn’t resonate.”
    “They copied me on your record. I told them they’d fail.”
    “They talked to me like I was a moron. And they called me too old. Which makes you way too old.”
    “I am way too old. For most of this shit, anyway.”
    “You got ten minutes?”
    “I can give you five.”
    “You got coffee?”
    “You’re wasting time.”
    “We’ve got plenty of time. More than five minutes, anyway. More than ten, even. You need to lace your shoes and put a jacket on. How long can that take?”
    Sansom shrugged and stepped over to the breakfast bar and poured me a cup of coffee. He carried it back and gave it to me and said, “Now cut to the chase. I know who you are and why you’re here.”
    “Did you know Susan Mark?” I asked him.
    He shook his head. “Never met her, never even heard of her before last night.”
    I was watching his eyes, and I believed him. I asked, “Why would an HRC clerk be coerced into checking you out?”
    “Is that what was happening?”
    “Best guess.”
    “Then I have no idea. HRC is the new PERSCOM, right? What did you ever get from PERSCOM? What did anyone?