The Hard Way

big university hospitals down south. They gave him literature.” Reacher pointed at the small table and Edward Lane broke ranks with his men and stepped over to pick up the shiny brochures. He flipped through both of them and asked, “Which one?”
    Reacher said, “It doesn’t matter which one.”
    “The hell it doesn’t,” Lane said.
    “Hobart didn’t kidnap Kate.”
    “You think?”
    “No, I know.”
    “How?”
    “You should have bought more information than just his address. You should have asked why he was at Saint Vincent’s in the first place.”
    “We did. They said malaria. He was admitted for IV chloroquine.”
    “And?”
    “And nothing. A guy just home from Africa can expect to have malaria.”
    “You should have gotten the whole story.”
    “Which is?”
    Reacher said, “First, he was strapped down to a bed getting that IV chloroquine at the exact time that Kate was taken. And second, he has a pre-existing condition.”
    “What condition?”
    Reacher shifted his gaze and looked straight at Perez and Addison.
    “He’s a quadruple amputee,” he said. “No hands, no feet, can’t walk, can’t drive, can’t hold a gun or dial a telephone.”
    Nobody spoke.
    “It happened in prison,” Reacher said. “Back in Burkina Faso. The new regime had a little fun. Once a year. On his birthday. Left foot, right foot, left hand, right hand. With a machete. Chop, chop, chop, chop.”
    Nobody spoke.
    “After you all ran away and left him behind,” Reacher said.
    No reaction. No guilt, no remorse.
    No anger.
    Just nothing.
    “You weren’t there,” Lane said. “You don’t know how it was.”
    “But I know how it is now,” Reacher said. “Hobart’s not the guy you’re looking for. He’s not physically capable.”
    “You sure?”
    “Beyond certain.”
    “I still want to find him,” Lane said.
    “Why?”
    No answer.
Checkmate.
Lane couldn’t say why without going all the way back and admitting what he had asked Knight to do for him five years previously, and he couldn’t do that without blowing his cover in front of his men.
    “So we’re back at square one,” he said. “You know who it wasn’t. Great job, Major. You’re making real progress here.”
    “Not quite square one,” Reacher said.
    “How?”
    “I’m close,” Reacher said. “I’ll give you the guy.”
    “When?”
    “When you give me the money.”
    “What money?”
    “You offered me a million bucks.”
    “To find my wife. It’s too late now.”
    “OK,” Reacher said. “So I won’t give you the guy. I’ll give you a mirror on a stick instead.”
    Lane said, “Give me the guy.”
    “Then meet my price.”
    “You’re that kind of a man?”
    “Only a bullshitter doesn’t have a price.”
    “High price.”
    “I’m worth it.”
    “I could have it beaten out of you.”
    “You couldn’t,” Reacher said. He hadn’t moved at all. He was sitting back on the sofa, relaxed, sprawled, arms resting easy along the back cushions, legs spread, six-five, two-fifty, a picture of supreme physical self-confidence. “You try that shit and I’ll bend you over and I’ll use Addison’s head to hammer Perez up your ass like a nail.”
    “I don’t like threats.”
    “This from the guy who said he’d have me blinded?”
    “I was upset.”
    “I was broke. I still am.”
    Silence in the room.
    “OK,” Lane said.
    “OK what?” Reacher said.
    “OK, a million bucks. When do I get the name?”
    “Tomorrow,” Reacher said.
    Lane nodded. Turned away. Said to his men, “Let’s go.”
    Addison said, “I need the bathroom.”

CHAPTER 47
    THE AIR IN the room was hot and still. Addison asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”
    Reacher stood up, slowly. Said, “What am I, the architect?” But he glanced over his left shoulder, at the kitchen door. Addison followed his gaze and moved a step in that direction and Reacher moved a step the other way. Just a subtle piece of psychological choreography, but due to the small size of the living room their relative positions were reversed. Now Reacher was nearer the bathroom.
    Addison said, “I think that’s the kitchen.”
    “Maybe,” Reacher said. “Check it out.”
    He moved into position in the mouth of the hallway and watched Addison open the kitchen door. Addison glanced inside just long enough to make sure what room it was and then he backed out. Then he stopped, in a slow-motion double-take. Checked again.
    “When did Hobart go south?” he