The Affair: A Reacher Novel

kitchen, and she probably had been all day long, dealing with the pent-up demand for something other than army chow. But she looked happy. The gates were finally open. The river of dollars was flowing again. She was getting her tips.
    The other three Rangers were dining with their girlfriends, face to face at tables for two, leaning in, heads together. All three men looked happy, and so did all three women. And why not? What could be finer than a romantic dinner at the best restaurant in town?
    The old couple from the hotel were in there too, at their usual table for four, almost hidden by the groups of Rangers all around them. The old lady had her book, and the old guy had his paper. They were staying later than normal, and I guessed they were the only service workers in town not at that very moment camped out behind their cash registers. But none of the guys from Kelham needed a bed for the night, and Toussaint’s offered no other facilities. Not even coffee. So it made sense for the owners to wait out the noise and the disruption somewhere safe and familiar, rather than listen to it all out their back windows.
    Then deeper into the room and right of the aisle and alone at the rearmost table for two was Major Duncan Munro. He was in BDUs and his head was bent over a meal. On the spot, just in case, even though his involvement in Kelham’s affairs had been terminated hours before, presumably. He was a good MP. Professional to the end. I guessed he was on his way back to Germany, and was waiting for transport.
    And Elizabeth Deveraux was there, of course. She was on her own at a table closer to the window than I had seen her choose before. Onthe spot, vigilant, just in case, paying attention, not willing to let the mayhem filter out from behind Main Street onto Main Street itself. Because of the voters. She was in uniform, and her hair was up in its ponytail. She looked tired, but still spectacular. I watched her for a beat, and then she looked up and saw me and smiled happily and kicked a chair out for me.
    I paused another beat, thinking hard, and then I stepped over and sat down opposite her.

Chapter
72
    Deveraux didn’t speak at first. She just looked me over, top to bottom, head to toe, maybe checking me for damage, maybe adjusting to the sight of me in uniform. I was still in the BDUs I had put on that afternoon, after getting back from D.C. A whole new look.
    I said, “Busy day?”
    She said, “Real busy since ten o’clock this morning. They opened the gates and out they came. Like a flood.”
    “Any trouble?”
    “None of them would pass a field sobriety test on their way home, but apart from that everything’s cool. I’ve got Butler and Pellegrino out and about, just to show the flag. Just in case.”
    “I saw them,” I said.
    “So how did it go up there?”
    “Inconclusive,” I said. “Very bad timing on my part, I’m afraid. Just one of those freak things. The guy I went to see died in an accident. So I got nothing done.”
    “I figured,” she said. “I was getting regular updates from Frances Neagley, until things got busy here. From eight until ten this morning you were drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. But something must have happened during those hours. My guess would be around nine o’clock. Mail call, maybe. But whatever, somebody must havereached a conclusion about something, because an hour later it all let loose. It was back to business as usual here.”
    I nodded.
    “I agree,” I said. “I think new information was released this morning. Something definitive, I guess.”
    “Do you know what it was?”
    I said, “By the way, thank you for worrying. I was very touched.”
    “Neagley was just as worried as I was,” she said. “Once I told her what you were doing, that is. She didn’t need much persuading.”
    “In the end it was safe enough,” I said. “It got a little tense around the Pentagon. That was the worst of it. I hung around there for quite a time. I came in through the cemetery. Behind Henderson Hall. You know that place?”
    “Of course I do. I was there a hundred times. They have a great PX. It feels like Saks Fifth Avenue.”
    “I got talking with a guy there. About you and a one-star called James Dyer. This guy said Dyer knew you.”
    “Dyer?” she said. “Really? I knew him, but I doubt if he knew me. If he did, then I’m flattered. He was a real big deal. Who was the guy you were talking to?”
    “His name was Paul