Nothing to Lose

there?”
    Reacher said, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    Vaughan raised her glass halfway and stopped. She looked at it like she was having second thoughts about ingesting anything and put it back down on the table. She said, “Tell me what you know about dirty bombs.”
    “They’re the same as clean bombs,” Reacher said. “Except they’re dirty. A bomb detonates and creates a massive spherical pressure wave that knocks things over and pulps anything soft, like people, and small fragments of the casing are flung outward on the wave like bullets, which does further damage. That effect can be enhanced by packing extra shrapnel inside the casing around the explosive charge, like nails or ball bearings. A dirty bomb uses contaminated metal for the extra shrapnel, usually radioactive waste.”
    “How bad is the result?”
    “That’s debatable. With depleted uranium, the powdered oxides after a high-temperature explosion are certainly bad news. There are fertility issues, miscarriages, and birth defects. Most people think the radiation itself isn’t really a huge problem. Except that, like I said, it’s debatable. Nobody really knows for sure. Which is the exact problem. Because you can bet your ass everyone will err on the side of caution. Which multiplies the effect, psychologically. It’s classic asymmetric warfare. If a dirty bomb goes off in a city, the city will be abandoned, whether it needs to be or not.”
    “How big would the bomb need to be?”
    “The bigger the better.”
    “How much uranium would they need to steal?”
    “The more the merrier.”
    Vaughan said, “I think they’re already stealing it. That truck we photographed? The front of the load compartment was glowing just like the wall.”
    Reacher shook his head.
    “No,” he said. “That was something else entirely.”

64
    Reacher said, “Walk to town with me. To the motel.”
    Vaughan said, “I don’t know if I want to be seen with you. Especially at the motel. People are talking.”
    “But not in a bad way.”
    “I’m not so sure.”
    “Whatever, I’ll be gone tomorrow. So let them talk for one more day.”
    “Tomorrow?”
    “Maybe earlier. I might need to stick around to make a phone call. Apart from that, I’m done here.”
    “Who do you need to call?”
    “Just a number. I don’t think anyone will answer.”
    “What about all this other stuff going on?”
    “So far all we’ve got is the Pentagon washing its dirty linen in private. That’s not a crime.”
    “What’s at the motel?”
    “I’m guessing we’ll find room four is empty.”

    They walked together through the damp late-morning air, two blocks north from Fifth Street to Third, and then three blocks west to the motel. They bypassed the office and headed on down the row. Room four’s door was standing open. There was a maid’s cart parked outside. The bed was stripped and the bathroom towels were dumped in a pile on the floor. The closets were empty. The maid had a vacuum cleaner going.
    Vaughan said, “Mrs. Rogers is gone.”
    Reacher nodded. “Now let’s find out when and how.”
    They backtracked to the office. The clerk was on her stool behind the counter. Room four’s key was back on its hook. Now only two keys were missing. Reacher’s own, for room twelve, and Maria’s, for room eight.
    The clerk slid off her stool and stood with her hands spread on the counter. Attentive, and helpful. Reacher glanced at the phone beside her and asked, “Did Mrs. Rogers get a call?”
    The clerk nodded. “Six o’clock last night.”
    “Good news?”
    “She seemed very happy.”
    “What then?”
    “She checked out.”
    “And went where?”
    “She called a cab to take her to Burlington.”
    “What’s in Burlington?”
    “Mostly the airport bus to Denver.”
    Reacher nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
    “Is anything wrong?”
    “That depends on your point of view.”

    Reacher was hungry and he needed more coffee, so he led Vaughan another block north and another block west to the diner. The place was practically empty. Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch. Reacher stood for a second and then slid into the booth that Lucy Anderson had used the night he had met her. Vaughan sat across from him, where Lucy had sat. The waitress delivered ice water and silverware. They ordered coffee, and then Vaughan asked, “What exactly is going on?”
    “All those young guys,” Reacher said. “What did they have in common?”
    “I