Never Go Back

into the lot, and he heard it slew around and jam to a stop outside. He heard three doors open, a ragged sequence of three separate sounds, all contained in the same second, and he heard three pairs of boots hit the ground, which meant three guys, not four, which meant they were not the guys from the car with the dented doors. There was a pause, with one set of footsteps receding fast, which he guessed was someone running around to cover the rear, which was a waste of time, because there was no bathroom window, but they didn’t know that, and better safe than sorry. Which told him he was dealing with a competent crew.
    He uncrossed his ankles and unlaced his hands from behind his head and sat up on the bed. He swivelled around and put his feet on the floor. Right on cue the hammering started on the door. Nothing like Major Sullivan’s polite little tap, tap, tappity tap from six o’clock in the morning. This was a full-on furious boom, boom, boom , by big strong guys trained to make a paralysing first impression. Not his own favourite method. He had always felt self-conscious, making a lot of noise.
    The guys outside stopped banging long enough to shout something a couple of times. Open up, open up , Reacher guessed. Then they started banging again. Reacher stood up and walked to the door. He thumped on it from the inside, just as hard and just as loud. The commotion stopped on the outside. Reacher smiled. No one expects a door to talk back.
    He opened up and saw two guys in army combat uniform. One had a sidearm drawn, and the other had a shotgun. Which was pretty damn serious, for a suburban Virginia afternoon. Behind them their car had three doors hanging open. Its motor was running.
    Reacher said, ‘What?’
    The guy on the hinge side of the door was in charge. Safest spot, for the senior guy. He said, ‘Sir, you’re to come with us.’
    ‘Says who?’
    ‘Says me.’
    ‘Unit?’
    ‘75th MP.’
    ‘Acting for who?’
    ‘You’ll find out.’
    The name on the guy’s uniform tape was Espin. He was about the size of a flyweight boxer, dark-haired, hard and muscled, with a flattened nose. He looked like an OK type of guy. In general Reacher liked warrant officers. Not as much as sergeants, but more than most commissioned officers.
    He asked, ‘Is this an arrest?’
    ‘Do you want it to be?’ Espin said. ‘If so, keep talking.’
    ‘Make your mind up, soldier. It’s one thing or the other.’
    ‘I prefer voluntary cooperation.’
    ‘Dream on.’
    ‘Then yes, you’re under arrest.’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Espin.’
    ‘First name?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I want to remember it as long as I live.’
    ‘Is that a threat?’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Pete,’ the guy said.
    ‘Got it,’ Reacher said. ‘Pete Espin. Where are we going?’
    ‘Fort Dyer,’ Pete Espin said.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Someone wants to talk to you.’
    The third guy came back from behind the building. Junior to Espin, but only technically. All three of them looked like veterans. Seen it all, done it all. Espin said, ‘We’re going to search you first.’
    ‘Be my guest,’ Reacher said. He held his arms out wide. He had nothing to hide. He had nothing in his pockets except his passport, his ATM card, his toothbrush, some cash money, some gum, and his motel key. Which was all quickly confirmed. Whereupon the guy with the shotgun motioned him over to the car. To the back seat on the passenger side. Which was the safest spot to carry a bad guy in a four-place vehicle without a security screen. Smallest chance of him interfering with the driver. The guy who had checked for a bathroom window got in the driver’s seat. Espin got in next to Reacher. The guy with the shotgun closed Reacher’s door on him and then climbed in the front passenger seat. All set, nice and easy and professional. A good crew.
    It was too late for lunch and too early for rush hour, so the roads were clear and the drive was quick, on a different route from the one Reacher had used before, through a tangle of streets to Dyer’s northern entrance, which seemed much less used than the main gate to the south. But it was no less secure. Getting in took the same amount of time. Dragons’ teeth, barriers, and check, check, check, three separate times. Then they drove a looping back way around and fetched up at the rear door of the guardhouse. Reacher was ushered out of the car, and in through the door, to a guy behind it. Not exactly a prison guard. More