The Hard Way

The government is insulated.”
    “You’ve studied hard,” Reacher said.
    “So what kind of a man is Lane to participate?”
    “You tell me.”
    “He’s a sordid egomaniac weasel.”
    “What do you wish you had done? To keep Anne alive?”
    “I should have convinced her. I should have just gotten her out of there, penniless but alive.”
    “Not easy,” Reacher said. “You were the kid sister.”
    “But I knew.”
    “When did you move here?”
    “About a year after Anne died. I couldn’t let it rest.”
    “Does Lane know you’re here?”
    She shook her head. “I’m very careful. And this city is incredibly anonymous. You can go years without ever laying eyes on your neighbor.”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “Do?”
    “You brought me here for a purpose. And you took a hell of a risk doing it.”
    “I think it’s time for me to take risks.”
    “What do you want me to do?” Reacher repeated.
    “I want you to just walk away from him. For your own sake. Don’t dirty your hands with his business. No possible good can come of it.”
    Silence for a moment.
    “And he’s dangerous,” Patti said. “More dangerous than you can know. It’s not smart to be anywhere near him.”
    “I’ll be careful,” Reacher said.
    “They’re all dangerous.”
    “I’ll be careful,” Reacher said again. “I always am. But I’m going back there now. I’ll walk away on my own schedule.”
    Patti Joseph said nothing.
    “But I’d like to meet with this guy Brewer,” Reacher said.
    “Why? Because you want to trade guy jokes about the nutty little sister?”
    “No,” Reacher said. “Because if he’s any kind of a cop at all he’ll have checked with the original detectives and the FBI agents. He might have a clearer picture.”
    “Clearer which way?”
    “Whichever way,” Reacher said. “I’d like to know.”
    “He might be here later.”
    “Here?”
    “He usually comes over after I phone in a report.”
    “You said he wasn’t doing anything.”
    “I think he just comes for the company. I think he’s lonely. He drops by, at the end of his shift, on his way home.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “Staten Island.”
    “Where does he work?”
    “Midtown.”
    “So this isn’t exactly on his way home.”
    Patti Joseph said nothing.
    “When does his shift end?” Reacher asked.
    “Midnight.”
    “He visits you at midnight? Way out of his way?”
    “I’m not involved with him or anything,” Patti said. “He’s lonely. I’m lonely. That’s all.”
    Reacher said nothing.
    “Make an excuse to get out,” Patti said. “Check my window. If Brewer’s here, the light will be on. If he isn’t, it won’t be.”

CHAPTER 19
    PATTI JOSEPH WENT back to her lonely vigil at the window and Reacher let himself out and left her there. He walked clockwise around her block for caution’s sake and came up on the Dakota from the west. It was a quarter to ten in the evening. It was warm. There was music somewhere in the Park. Music and people, far away. It was a perfect late-summer night. Probably baseball up in the Bronx or out at Shea, a thousand bars and clubs just warming up, eight million people looking back on the day or looking forward to the next.
    Reacher stepped inside the building.
    The lobby staff called up to the apartment and let him go ahead to the elevator. He got out and turned the corner and found Gregory in the corridor, waiting for him.
    “We thought you’d quit on us,” Gregory said.
    “Went for a walk,” Reacher said. “Any news?”
    “Too early.”
    Reacher followed him into the apartment. It smelled sour. Chinese food, sweat, worry. Edward Lane was in the armchair next to the phone. He was staring up at the ceiling. His face was composed. Next to him at the end of a sofa was an empty place. A dented cushion. Recently occupied by Gregory, Reacher guessed. Then came Burke, sitting still. And Addison, and Perez, and Kowalski. Carter Groom was leaning on the wall, facing the door, vigilant. Like a sentry.
I’m all business,
he had said.
    “When will they call?” Lane asked.
    Good question,
Reacher thought.
Will they call at all? Or will you call them? And give them the OK to pull the triggers?
    But he said: “They won’t call before eight in the morning. Drive time and counting time, it won’t be any faster than that.”
    Lane glanced at his watch.
    “Ten hours from now,” he said.
    “Yes,” Reacher said.
    Somebody will call somebody ten hours from