Without Fail

trusted.”

    They drove the half mile west on Pennsylvania Avenue and parked in the garage and rode up to the Secret Service’s own conference room. Every inch of the short journey was bitter without Froelich.
    “Hell of a thing,” Stuyvesant said. “I never lost an agent before. Twenty-five years. And now I’ve lost two in a day. I want these guys, so bad.”
    “They’re dead men walking,” Reacher said.
    “All the evidence is against us,” Stuyvesant said.
    “So what are you saying? You don’t want them if they’re yours?”
    “I don’t want them to be ours.”
    “I don’t think they are yours,” Reacher said. “But either way, they’re going down. Let’s be real straight about that. They’ve crossed so many lines I’ve given up counting.”
    “I don’t want them to be ours,” Stuyvesant said again. “But I’m afraid Bannon might be right.”
    “It’s either-or,” Reacher said. “That’s all. Either he’s right or he’s wrong. If he’s right, we’ll know soon enough because he’ll bust his balls to show us. Thing is, he’ll never look at the possibility that he’s wrong. He wants to be right too much.”
    “Tell me he’s wrong.”
    “I think he is wrong. And the upside is, if I’m wrong that he’s wrong, it doesn’t matter worth a damn. Because he’s going to leave no stone unturned. We can absolutely rely on him. He doesn’t need our input. Our responsibility is to look at what he’s not looking at. Which I think is the right place to look anyway.”
    “Just tell me he’s wrong.”
    “His thing is like a big pyramid balancing on its point. Very impressive, until it falls over. He’s betting everything on the fact that Armstrong hasn’t been told. But there’s no logic in that. Maybe these guys are targeting Armstrong personally. Maybe they just didn’t know you wouldn’t tell him.”
    Stuyvesant nodded.
    “I might buy that,” he said. “God knows I want to. But there’s the NCIC thing. Bannon was right about that. If they were outside our community, they’d have pointed us toward Minnesota and Colorado personally. We have to face that.”
    “The weapons are persuasive too,” Neagley said. “And Froelich’s address.”
    Reacher nodded. “So is the thumbprint, actually. If we really want to depress ourselves we should consider if maybe they knew the print wouldn’t come back. Maybe they ran a test from this end.”
    “Great,” Stuyvesant said.
    “But I still don’t believe it,” Reacher said.
    “Why not?”
    “Get the messages and take a real close look.”
    Stuyvesant waited a beat and then stood up slowly and left the room. Came back three minutes later with a file folder. He opened it up and laid the six official FBI photographs in a neat line down the center of the table. He was still wearing his pink sweater. The bright color was reflected in the glossy surfaces of the eight-by-tens as he leaned over them. Neagley moved around the table and all three of them sat side by side so they could read the messages the right way up.
    “OK,” Reacher said. “Examine them. Everything about them. And remember why you’re doing it. You’re doing it for Froelich.”
    The line of photographs was four feet long, and they had to stand up and shuffle left to right along the table to inspect them all.
    You are going to die.
    Vice-President–elect Armstrong is going to die.
    The day upon which Armstrong will die is fast approaching.
    A demonstration of your vulnerability will be staged today.
    Did you like the demonstration?
    It’s going to happen soon .
    “So?” Stuyvesant asked.
    “Look at the fourth message,” Reacher said. “ Vulnerability is correctly spelled.”
    “So?”
    “That’s a big word. And look at the last message. The apostrophe in it’s is correct. Lots of people get that wrong, you know, it’s and its . There are periods at the ends, except for the question mark.”
    “So?”
    “The messages are reasonably literate.”
    “OK.”
    “Now look at the third message.”
    “What about it?”
    “Neagley?” Reacher asked.
    “It’s a little fancy,” she said. “A little awkward and old-fashioned. The upon which thing. And the fast approaching thing.”
    “Exactly,” Reacher said. “A little archaic.”
    “But what does all this prove?” Stuyvesant asked.
    “Nothing, really,” Reacher said. “But it suggests something. Have you ever read the Constitution?”
    “Of what? The United States?”
    “Sure.”
    “I