Without Fail

Thanksgiving Day.”
    “Armstrong’s working, so we’re working.”
    “What’s he doing?”
    “Being a nice guy at a homeless shelter.”
    “Is that wise?”
    Stuyvesant just shrugged.
    “No choice,” Froelich said. “It’s in the Constitution that politicians have to serve turkey dinners on Thanksgiving Day in the worst part of town they can find.”
    “Well, wait until we talk tomorrow morning,” Bannon said. “Maybe you’ll want to change his mind. Or amend the Constitution.”
    Then he stood up and walked around the table and collected the photographs again, like they were precious to him.

    Froelich dropped Neagley at the hotel and then she and Reacher drove home. She was quiet all the way. Conspicuously and aggressively silent. He stood it until they reached the bridge over the river and then he gave in.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” she said.
    “Got to be something,” he said.
    She didn’t answer. Just drove on and parked as near her place as she could get, which was two streets away. The neighborhood was quiet. It was late at night before a holiday. People were inside, cozy and relaxed. She shut off the engine, but didn’t get out of the car. Just sat there, looking straight ahead through the windshield, saying nothing.
    “What?” he asked again.
    “I don’t think I can stand it,” she said.
    “Stand what?”
    “You’re going to get yourself killed,” she said. “Just like you got Joe killed.”
    “Excuse me?” he said.
    “You heard.”
    “I didn’t get Joe killed.”
    “He wasn’t cut out for that kind of stuff. But he went ahead and did it anyway. Because he was always comparing himself. He was driven to do it.”
    “By me?”
    “Who else? He was your brother. He followed your career.”
    Reacher said nothing.
    “Why do you people have to be like this?” she said.
    “Us people?” he said back. “Like what?”
    “You men,” she said. “You military people. Always charging headlong into stupidity.”
    “Is that what I’m doing?”
    “You know it is.”
    “I’m not the one sworn to take a bullet for some worthless politician.”
    “Neither am I. That’s just a figure of speech. And not all politicians are worthless.”
    “So would you take a bullet for him? Or not?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “And I’m not charging headlong into anything.”
    “Yes, you are. You’ve been challenged . And God forbid you should stay cool and just walk away.”
    “You want me to walk away?” he said. “Or do you want to get this thing done?”
    “You can’t do it by butting heads, like you were all rutting deer or something.”
    “Why not? Sooner or later it’s us or them. That’s how it is. That’s how it always is. Why pretend any different?”
    “Why look for trouble?”
    “I’m not looking for trouble. I don’t see it as trouble .”
    “Well, what the hell else is it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know ?”
    He paused a beat.
    “You know any lawyers?” he asked.
    “Any what?”
    “You heard,” he said.
    “Lawyers? Are you kidding? In this town? It’s wall-to-wall lawyers.”
    “OK, so picture a lawyer. Twenty years out of law school, lots of hands-on experience. Somebody asks him, can you write this slightly complex will for me? What does he say? What does he do? Does he start trembling with nerves? Does he think he’s been challenged? Is it a testosterone thing? No, he just says, sure, I can do that. And then he goes ahead and does it. Because it’s his job . Pure and simple.”
    “This isn’t your job, Reacher.”
    “Yes, it is, near as makes no difference. Uncle Sam paid me your tax dollars to do exactly this kind of stuff, thirteen straight years. And Uncle Sam sure as hell didn’t expect me to run away and get all psychological and conflicted about it.”
    She stared forward through the windshield. It was misting fast, from their breath.
    “There are hundreds of people on the other side of the Secret Service,” she said. “In Financial Crimes. Hundreds of them. I don’t know how many, exactly. Lots of them. Good people. We’re not really investigative, but they are. That’s all they are. That’s what they’re for . Joe could have picked any ten of them and sent them down to Georgia. He could have picked fifty of them. But he didn’t. He had to go himself. He had to go alone. Because he was challenged. He couldn’t back off. Because he was always comparing himself.”
    “I agree he