The Affair: A Reacher Novel

clustered in the same semicircle I had seen before. Past them I could see a big crowd inside the bar itself, some guys standing and some, I assumed, sitting at the tables further into the room, although I had no direct view of the latter group. I moved closer, squeezing between parked cars and pick-up trucks, with the hubbub ahead of me getting a little louder with each step. But not much louder. The noise was a lot lower in level and a lot more politeand restrained than it would have been on any other night. Best behavior.
    I crossed an open lane between the first row of cars and the second and eased onward between a twenty-year-old Cadillac and a beat-up GMC Jimmy and a soft voice right next to me said, “Hello, Reacher.”
    I turned and saw Munro leaning against the far side of the Jimmy, neatly in the shadow, nearly invisible, relaxed and patient and vigilant.
    “Hello, Munro,” I said. “It’s good to see you. Although I have to say I didn’t expect to.”
    He said, “Likewise.”
    “Did Stan Lowrey call you?”
    He nodded. “But a little too late.”
    “Three guys?”
    He nodded again. “Mortarmen from the 75th.”
    “Where are they now?”
    “Tied up with telephone wire, gagged with their own T-shirts, locked in my room.”
    “Good work,” I said. Which it was. One against three, no warning, taken by surprise, but a satisfactory result nonetheless. I was impressed. Munro was nobody’s fool. That was clear.
    He asked, “Who did you get?”
    “An anti-aircraft crew.”
    “Where are they?”
    “Walking back from halfway to Memphis with no shoes and no pants.”
    He smiled, white teeth in the dark.
    He said, “I hope I never get posted to Benning.”
    I asked, “Is Riley in the bar?”
    “First to arrive, with his dad. They’re holding court big time. Tab must be three hundred bucks by now.”
    “Curfew still in place?”
    He nodded. “But it’s going to be a last-minute rush. You know how it is. The mood turned out to be pretty good, and no one will want to be the first to leave.”
    “OK,” I said. “Your job is to make sure Riley is the last to leave. Ineed him to be the very last car out of here. And not by a second or two, either. By a minute at least. Do whatever it takes to make that happen, will you? I’m depending on it.”
    With anyone else I might then have gone ahead and sketched out a few alternative ways to accomplish that goal, like suggestions, anything from puncturing a tire to asking for the old guy’s autograph, but by then I was beginning to realize Munro didn’t need help. He would think of all the same things I could, and maybe a few more besides.
    He said, “Understood.”
    “And then your job is to go sit on Elizabeth Deveraux. I need her to be under your eye throughout. In the diner, or wherever. Again, whatever it takes.”
    “Understood,” he said again. “She’s in the diner right now, as it happens.”
    “Keep her there,” I said. “Don’t let her go out on traffic patrol tonight. Tell her with the senator behind them the guys will behave.”
    “She knows that. She gave her deputies the night off.”
    “Good to know,” I said. “And good luck. And thanks.”
    I squeezed back between the Cadillac and the Jimmy and crossed the open lane and threaded through the rearmost rank of cars and walked out of the lot the same way I had come in. Five minutes later I was just past the railroad crossing, hidden in the trees on the side of the road that led to Kelham, waiting again.
    Munro’s assessment of the collective mood turned out to be correct. No one left as early as ten-thirty, because of the weird dynamic surrounding the senator. I had seen similar things before. I was pretty sure no one from Bravo Company would have pissed on the guy if he was on fire, but everyone seemed fascinated by his alien presence, and no doubt everyone still had the base commander’s instructions ringing in his ears.
Be nice to the VIP. Show him some respect
. So no one peeled away early. No one wanted to go first. No one wanted to stand out. So ten-thirty came and went with no movement on the road. None at all.
    As did ten thirty-five.
    Ten-forty, likewise.
    Then at ten forty-five the dam broke and they came in droves.
    I heard noise like a muted version of an armored division firing up and I saw exhaust smoke and crisscross headlight beams far in the distance as they all started jockeying for position and funneling out of the lot. Lights swung toward me in an