Jack Reacher 01 - Killing Floor

invincibility, all the implacability, all the protection I felt. I was doing the hard, no-blink stare that used to shrivel up drunken marines two at a time. I wanted Roscoe to feel safe. After what she was giving me, I wanted to give her that. I didn’t want her to feel afraid.
    “It’s going to take more than four little country boys to get me,” I said. “Who are they kidding? I’ve shit better opponents than that. They come in here again, they’ll go out in a bucket. And I’ll tell you what, Roscoe, someone even thinks about hurting you, they die before they finish thinking.”
    It was working. I was convincing her. I needed her to be bright, tough, self-confident. I was willing her to pick it up. It was working. Her amazing eyes were filling with spirit.
    “I mean it, Roscoe,” I said. “Stick with me and you’ll be OK.”
    She looked at me again. Pushed her hair back.
    “Promise?” she said.
    “You got it, babe,” I said. Held my breath.
    She sighed a ragged sigh. Pushed off the wall and stepped over. Tried a brave smile. The crisis was gone. She was up and running.
    “Now we get the hell out of here,” I said. “We can’t stay around like sitting targets. So throw what you need into a bag.”
    “OK,” she said. “Are we going to fix my door first?”
    I thought about her question. It was an important tactical issue.
    “No,” I said. “If we fix it, it means we’ve seen it. If we’ve seen it, it means we know we’re under attack. Better if they figure we don’t know we’re under attack. Because then they’ll figure they don’t need to be too careful next time. So we don’t react at all. We make out we haven’t been back here. We make out we haven’t seen the door. We carry on acting dumb and innocent. If they think we’re dumb and innocent, they’ll get careless. Easier to spot them coming next time.”
    “OK,” she said.
    She didn’t sound convinced, but she was agreeing.
    “So throw what you need into a bag,” I said again.
    She wasn’t happy, but she went off to gather up some stuff. The game was starting. I didn’t know exactly who the other players were. I didn’t even know exactly what the game was. But I knew how to play. Opening move was I wanted them to feel like we were always one step behind.
    “Should I go to work today?” Roscoe asked.
    “Got to,” I said. “Can’t do anything different from normal. And we need to speak with Finlay. He’s expecting the call from Washington. And we need what we can get on Sherman Stoller. But don’t worry, they’re not going to gun us down in the middle of the squad room. They’ll go for somewhere quiet and isolated, probably at night. Teale’s the only bad guy up there, so just don’t be on your own with him. Stick around Finlay or Baker or Stevenson, OK?”
    She nodded. Went to get showered and dressed for work. Within twenty minutes, she came out of the bedroom in her uniform. Patted herself down. Ready for the day. She looked at me.
    “Promise?” she said.
    The way she said it was like a question, an apology, a reassurance all in one word. I looked back at her.
    “You bet your ass,” I said, and winked.
    She nodded. Winked back. We were OK. We went out the front door and left it slightly open, just like we’d found it.

    I HID THE BENTLEY IN HER GARAGE TO MAINTAIN THE ILLUSION that we hadn’t been back to her house. Then we got in her Chevy and decided to start with breakfast up at Eno’s. She took off and gunned the car up the hill. It felt loose and low after the upright old Bentley. Coming down the hill toward us was a panel van. Smart dark green, very clean, brand-new. It looked like a utility van, but on the side was a sign in fancy gold script. It said: Kliner Foundation. Same as I’d seen the gardeners using.
    “What’s that truck?” I said to Roscoe.
    She wafted through the right at the convenience store. Up onto Main Street.
    “Foundation’s got a lot of trucks,” she said.
    “What is it they do?” I asked her.
    “Big deal around here,” she said. “Old man Kliner. The town sold him the land for his warehouses and part of the deal was he set up a community program. Teale runs it out of the mayor’s office.”
    “Teale runs it?” I said. “Teale’s the enemy.”
    “He runs it because he’s the mayor,” she said. “Not because he’s Teale. The program assigns a lot of money, spends it on public things, roads, gardens, the library, local business grants. Gives the police