Without Fail

spinal cord. It flew on and struck the ground eleven feet farther back and buried itself deep in the earth.
    Armstrong was clinically dead before he hit the ground. The bullet’s path caused massive brain trauma and its kinetic energy pulsed outward through brain tissue and was reflected back by the inside of the skull bones like a big wave in a small swimming pool. The resulting damage was catastrophic. All brain function ceased before gravity dropped the body.
    One hundred and twenty-six yards away the man with his eye to the scope lay perfectly still for a second. Then he cradled the rifle flat against his torso and rolled away until it was safe to stand. He racked the rifle’s bolt and caught the hot shell case in his gloved hand and dropped it into his pocket. Moved backward into cover and then walked away, completely shielded from view.

    Neagley was uncharacteristically quiet in the car. Maybe she was worried about the day ahead. Maybe she could sense the altered chemistry. Reacher didn’t know, and either way he wasn’t in a hurry to find out. He just sat quiet while Froelich battled the traffic. She looped northwest and used the Whitney Young bridge across the river and drove past the RFK football stadium. Then she took Massachusetts Avenue and stayed away from the congestion around the government part of town. But Mass. Ave. was slow itself, and it was nearly nine o’clock before they arrived in Armstrong’s Georgetown street. She parked behind another Suburban near the mouth of the tent. An agent stepped off the sidewalk and rounded the hood to talk with her.
    “The spook just got here,” he said. “They’ll be into Spying 101 by now.”
    “Should be 201 by now, surely,” Froelich said. “He’s been doing it long enough.”
    “No, CIA stuff is awful complicated,” the guy said. “For plain folks, anyway.”
    Froelich smiled and the guy walked away. Took up station again on the sidewalk. Froelich buzzed her window up and half-turned to face Reacher and Neagley equally.
    “Foot patrol?” she said.
    “Why I wore my coat,” Reacher said.
    “Four eyes are better than two,” Neagley said.
    They got out together and left Froelich in the warmth of the car. The street side of the house was quiet and well covered so they walked north and turned right to get a view of the back. There were cop cars top and bottom of the alley. Nothing was happening. Everything was buttoned up tight against the cold. They walked onward to the next street. There were cop cars there, too.
    “Waste of time,” Neagley said. “Nobody’s going to get him in his house. I assume the police would notice somebody hauling in an artillery piece.”
    “So let’s get breakfast,” Reacher said. They walked back to the cross street and found a doughnut shop. Bought coffee and crullers and perched on stools in front of a long counter built inside the store window. The window was misted with condensation. Neagley used a napkin and wiped crescent shapes to see through.
    “Different tie,” she said.
    He glanced down at it.
    “Different suit,” she said.
    “You like it?”
    “I would if we still lived in the 1990s,” she said.
    He said nothing. She smiled.
    “So,” she said.
    “What?”
    “Ms. Froelich collected the set.”
    “You could tell?”
    “Unmistakable.”
    “Free will on my part,” Reacher said.
    Neagley smiled again. “I didn’t think she raped you.”
    “You going to be all judgmental now?”
    “Hey, your call. She’s a nice lady. But so am I. And you never come on to me .”
    “You ever wanted me to?”
    “No.”
    “That’s the point. I like my interest to be welcome.”
    “Which must limit your options some.”
    “Some,” he said. “But not completely.”
    “Apparently not,” Neagley said.
    “You disapprove?”
    “Hell no. Be my guest. Why do you think I stayed on in the hotel? I didn’t want to get in her way, is all.”
    “ Her way? Was it that obvious?”
    “Oh please,” Neagley said.
    Reacher sipped his coffee. Ate a cruller. He was hungry and it tasted great. Iced hard on the outside, light in the middle. He ate another and sucked his fingertips clean. Felt the caffeine and the sugar hit his bloodstream.
    “So who are these guys?” Neagley asked. “You got any feelings?”
    “Some,” Reacher said. “I’d have to concentrate hard to line them up. Not worth starting with that until we know if we’re staying on the job.”
    “We won’t be,” Neagley said. “Our