Without Fail

waited for you.”
    “OK, leave it on the table, nobody touch it, and seal this room tight.”
    “Is there a camera in the garage?” Reacher asked.
    “Yes, there is.”
    “So get Nendick to bring us tonight’s tape, right now.”
    Neagley craned over the table. “Rather florid wording, don’t you think? And ‘fast’ definitely takes the prediction defense away, I would say. Turns the whole thing into an overt threat.”
    Froelich nodded.
    “You got that right,” she said slowly. “If this is somebody’s idea of a game or a joke, it just turned very serious very suddenly.”
    She said it loud and clear and Reacher caught her purpose fast enough to watch the faces in the room. There was absolutely no reaction on any of them. Froelich checked her watch.
    “Armstrong’s in the air,” she said. “On his way home to Georgetown.”
    Then she was quiet for a beat.
    “Call out an extra team,” she said. “Half to Andrews, half to Armstrong’s house. And put an extra vehicle in the convoy. And take an indirect route back.”
    There was a split second of hesitation and then people started moving with the practiced efficiency of an elite team readying itself for action. Reacher watched them carefully, and he liked what he saw. Then he and Neagley followed Froelich back to her office. She called an FBI number and asked for a forensic team, urgent. Listened to the reply and hung up.
    “Not that there’s much doubt about what they’ll find,” she said, to nobody in particular. Then Nendick knocked and came in, carrying two videotapes.
    “Two cameras,” he said. “One is inside the booth, high up, looking down and sideways, supposed to ID individual drivers in their cars. The other is outside, looking straight up the alley, supposed to pick up approaching vehicles.”
    He put both cassettes on the desk and went back out. Froelich picked up the first tape and scooted her chair over to her television set. Put the tape in and pressed play. It was the sideways view from inside the booth. The angle was high, but it was about right to catch a driver framed in a car window. She wound back thirty-five minutes. Pressed play again. The guard was shown sitting on his stool with the back of his left shoulder in shot. Doing nothing. She fast-wound forward until he stood up. He touched a couple of buttons and disappeared. Nothing happened for thirty seconds. Then an arm snaked into view from the extreme right edge of the picture. Just an arm, in a heavy soft sleeve. A tweed overcoat, maybe. The hand on the end of it was gloved in leather. There was an envelope in the hand. It was pushed through the half-closed sliding window and dropped onto the ledge. Then the arm disappeared.
    “He knew about the camera,” Froelich said.
    “Clearly,” Neagley said. “He was a yard shy of the booth, stretching out.”
    “But did he know about the other camera?” Reacher asked.
    Froelich ejected the first tape and inserted the second. Wound backward thirty-five minutes. Pressed play. The view was straight up the alley. The quality was poor. There were pools of light from outdoor spotlights and the contrast with areas of darkness was vivid. The shadows lacked detail. The angle was high and tight. The top of the picture cut off well before the street end of the alley. The bottom of the shot stopped maybe six feet in front of the booth. But the width was good. Very good. Both walls of the alley were clearly in view. There was no way of approaching the garage entrance without passing through the camera’s field of vision.
    The tape ran. Nothing happened. They watched the timecode counter until it reached a point twenty seconds before the arm had appeared. Then they watched the screen. A figure appeared at the top. Definitely male. No doubt about it. There was no mistaking the shoulders or the walk. He was wearing a heavy tweed overcoat, maybe gray or dark brown. Dark pants, heavy shoes, a muffler around his neck. And a hat on his head. A wide-brimmed hat, dark in color, tilted way down in front. He walked with his chin tucked down. The video picked up a perfect view of the crown of his hat, all the way down the alley.
    “He knew about the second camera,” Reacher said.
    The tape ran on. The guy walked fast, but purposefully, not hurrying, not running, not out of control. He had the envelope in his right hand, holding it flat against his body. He disappeared out of the bottom of the shot and reappeared three seconds later.