Running Blind (The Visitor)

hung up and rolled out of bed.
    He walked to the window and pulled the drapes open. The view faced west and it was still dark night outside. Maybe there was a sunrise behind him on the other side of the building. Maybe it hadn’t happened yet. He could hear the distant sound of hard rain on dying leaves. He turned his back on it and walked to the bathroom.
    He used the toilet and shaved slowly. Spent fifteen minutes in the shower with the water as hot as he could stand it, getting warm. Then he washed his hair with the FBI’s shampoo and toweled it dry. Carried his clothes out of the steam and dressed standing by the bed. Buttoned his shirt and hung his ID around his neck. He figured room service was unlikely, so he just sat down to wait.
    He waited forty-five minutes. There was a polite knock at the door, followed by the sound of a key going into the lock. Then the door opened and Lisa Harper was standing there, backlit by the brightness of the corridor. She was smiling, mischievously. He had no idea why.
    “Good morning,” she said.
    He raised his hand in reply. Said nothing. She was in a different suit. This one was charcoal gray, with a white shirt and a dark red tie. An exact parody of the unofficial Bureau uniform, but a whole lot of cloth had been cut out of it to make it fit. Her hair was loose. There was a wave in it, and it hung front and back of her shoulders, very long. It looked golden in the light from the corridor.
    “We’ve got to go,” she said. “Breakfast meeting.”
    He took his coat from the closet as he passed. They rode down to the lobby together and paused at the doors. It was raining hard outside. He pulled his collar up and followed her out. The light had changed from black to gray. The rain was cold. She sprinted down the walkway, and he followed a pace behind, watching her run. She looked pretty good doing it.
    Lamarr and Blake and Poulton were waiting for them in the cafeteria. They were in three of five chairs crowded around a four-place table by the window. They were watching him carefully as he approached. There was a white coffee jug in the center of the table, surrounded by upside-down mugs. A basket of sugar packets and little pots of cream. A pile of spoons. Napkins. A basket of doughnuts. A pile of morning newspapers. Harper took a chair and he squeezed in next to her. Lamarr was watching him, something in her eyes. Poulton looked away. Blake looked amused, in a sardonic kind of a way.
    “Ready to go to work?” he asked.
    Reacher nodded. “Sure, after I’ve had some coffee.”
    Poulton turned the mugs over and Harper poured.
    “We called Fort Dix last night,” Blake said. “Spoke with Colonel Trent. He said he’ll give you all day today. ”
    “That should do it.”
    “He seems to like you.”
    “No, he owes me, which is different.”
    Lamarr nodded. “Good. You need to exploit that. You know what you’re looking for, right? Concentrate on the dates. Find somebody whose stand-down weeks match. My guess is he’s doing it late in the week. Maybe not exactly the last day, because he’s got to get back to base and calm down afterward.”
    Reacher smiled. “Great deduction, Lamarr. You get paid for this?”
    She just looked at him and smiled back, like she knew something he didn’t.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Just keep a civil tongue in your head,” Blake said. “You got a problem with what she’s suggesting?”
    Reacher shrugged. “We do it by dates alone, we’re going to come up with maybe a thousand names.”
    “So narrow it down some. Get Trent to cross-reference against the women. Find somebody who served with one of them.”
    “Or served with one of the men who got canned,” Poulton said.
    Reacher smiled again. “Awesome brainpower around this table. It could make a guy feel real intimidated.”
    “You got better ideas, smart guy?” Blake asked.
    “I know what I’m going to do.”
    “Well, just remember what’s riding on it, OK? Lots of women in danger, one of them yours.”
    “I’ll take care of it.”
    “So get going.”
    Harper took the cue and stood up. Reacher eased out of his seat and followed her. The three at the table watched him go, something in their eyes. Harper was waiting for him at the cafeteria door, looking back at him, watching him approach, smiling at him. He stopped next to her.
    “Why’s everybody looking at me?” he asked.
    “We checked the tape,” she said. “You know, the surveillance