One Shot (59 page)

We're hoping she's OK, but we're worried that she
isn't.'

Cash listened until he couldn't hear her any more. He
shook his head in bemusement. Then he ducked his
eye to the scope and watched the house.

Rosemary Barr wasn't in the basement. It took
Reacher less than a minute to be completely certain of
that. It was a wide open space, musty, dimly lit,
uninterrupted and totally empty except for the
foundations of three brick chimneys.

Reacher paused at the circuit-breaker box. He was
tempted to throw the switch.

But Chenko had a night sight, and he didn't. So he just
crept back up the stairs.

Yanni found Helen Rodin's shoes literally by stumbling
over them. They were placed neatly side by side at the
base of the fence. High heels, black patent, gleaming
slightly in the ragged moonlight. Yanni kicked them
accidentally and heard the sound of empty footwear.

She bent and picked them up. Hung them on the fence
by their heels.

'Helen?' she whispered. 'Helen? Where are you?'

Then she heard a voice: 'Here.'

'Where?'

'Here. Keep going.'

Yanni walked on. Found a black shape rolled tight
against the base of the fence.

'I dropped my phone,' Helen said. 'Can't find it'

'Are you OK?'

'He missed me. I was leaping around like a mad
woman. But the bullet came real close. It scared me. I
just dropped my phone and ran.' Helen sat up. Yanni
squatted next to her.

'Look,' Helen said. She was holding something in the
palm of her hand.

Something bright. A coin. A quarter, new and shiny.

'What is it?' Yanni said.

'A quarter,' Helen said.

'So what?'

'Reacher gave it to me.'

Helen was smiling. Yanni could see the white of her
teeth in the moonlight.

Reacher crept down the hallway. Opened doors and
searched rooms to the left and right as he went. They
were all empty. All unused. He paused at the bottom of
the stairs. Backed away into an empty twelve-by-twenty
space that might once have been a parlour. Crouched
and laid the knife on the floor and pulled out his phone.

'Gunny?' he whispered.

Cash answered: 'You back with us?'

'Phone was in my pocket'

'Yanni found Helen. She's OK.'

'Good. The basement and the ground floor are clear. I
think you were right after all. Rosemary must be in the
attic' 'You going upstairs now?'

'I guess I'll have to.'

'Body count?'

'Two down so far.'

'Lots more upstairs, then.'

'I'll be careful.'

'Roger that'

Reacher put the phone back in his pocket and
retrieved the knife from the floor. Stood up and crept out
to the hallway. The staircase was at the back of the
house. It was wide, doglegged, and shallow-pitched.

Quite grand. There was a wide landing halfway up
where the dog-leg reversed direction. He went up the
first half-flight backwards. It made more sense that way.

He wanted to know right away if there was someone in
the second floor hallway looking down over the
banister. He kept close to the wall. If stairs creaked at all,
they creaked most in the middle of a tread. He went
slowly, feeling with his heels, putting them down gently
and deliberately. And quietly. Boat shoes. Good for
something. After five up-and-back steps his head was
about level with the second-storey floor. He raised the
gun. Took another step. Now he could see the whole of
the hallway. It was empty. It was a quiet carpeted space
lit by a single low-wattage bulb. Nothing to see, except
six closed doors, three on a side. He breathed out and
made it to the half-landing. Shuffled left and crept up the
second part of the dog-leg going forward. Stepped off
the staircase.

Into the hallway.

Now what?

Six closed doors. Who was where? He moved slowly
towards the front of the house. Listened at the first door.

Heard nothing. He moved on. Heard nothing at the
second door. Moved on again but before he reached the
third door he heard sounds from the floor above.

Sounds that were coming down through the floor.

Sounds that he didn't understand. Sliding, scraping,
crunching noises, repeated rhythmically, with a single
light footfall at the end of every sequence. Slide, scrape,
crunch, tap. Slide, scrape, crunch, tap. He stared up at
the ceiling. Then the third door opened and Grigor
Linsky stepped out into the hallway right in front of him.

And froze.

He was wearing his familiar double-breasted suit. Grey
colour, boxy shoulders, cuffed pants. Reacher stabbed
him in the throat. Instantly, right-handed, instinctively.

He buried the blade and jerked it left. Sever the
windpipe.

Keep him quiet. He stepped aside to avoid the fountain
of blood. Caught him under the arms from behind and
dragged him back into the room he had come out of. It
was a kitchen. Linsky had been making tea. Reacher
turned out the light under the kettle. Put the gun and the
knife on the counter. Bent down and clamped Linsky's
head between his hands and twisted it left and jerked it
right. Broke his neck. The snap was loud enough to
worry about. It was a very quiet house. Reacher
retrieved the gun and the knife and listened at the door.

Heard nothing except slide, scrape, crunch, tap. Slide,
scrape, crunch, tap. He stepped back into the hallway.

Then he knew.

Glass.

Cash had returned fire through Chenko's favoured
northern vantage point and like all good snipers had
sought maximum damage from his one shot. And in turn
like all good snipers Chenko was keeping his physical
environment operational.

He was cleaning up the broken glass. He had a twenty-five per cent chance of being directed back to that
particular window and he wanted his passage through
the room clear.

Slide, scrape, crunch, tap. He was using the side of his
foot to sweep the glass aside. Into a pile. Then he was
stepping forward to sweep the next arc.

He would want a clear two-foot walkway through the
room. No danger of slipping or sliding.

How far had he got?

Reacher crept to the next staircase. It was identical to
the last one. Wide, shallow, doglegged. He walked up
backwards, listening hard. Slide, scrape, crunch, tap. He
crossed the half landing. Kept on going, forward. The
third-floor hallway had the same layout as the one
below, but it wasn't carpeted. Just bare boards. There
was an upright chair in the centre of the corridor. All the
doors were open. North was to the right. Reacher could
feel night air coming in. He stayed close to the wall.

Crept onward. The noises got louder. He flattened
against the wall. Took a breath. Pivoted slowly and
stepped to his left. Into a doorway.

Chenko was twelve feet from him. Facing away. Facing
the window. The lower pane had been pushed up
behind the upper pane. Both panes had been blown
out.

The room was cold. The floor was covered in glass.

Chenko was clearing a path from the door towards the
window. He had about three feet left to go. His rifle was
upright against the wall, six feet from him. He was
stooped, looking down, concentrating hard on his task.

It was an important task. Skidding on a pebble of glass
could cost him precious time in a firefight. Chenko had
discipline.

And ten seconds to live.

Reacher put the knife in his pocket. Freed his right
hand. Flexed it. Stepped forward. Just walked slow and
silent down the path that Chenko had cleared.

Four quiet paces. Chenko sensed it. He straightened.

Reacher caught him round the neck from behind.

One-handed. He gripped hard. Took one more long
fast stride and stiff-armed Chenko forward with it and
threw him out the open window, head first. 'I warned
you,' he whispered into the darkness below. 'You
should have put me down when you had the chance.'

Then he took out his phone. 'Gunny?' he whispered.

'Here.'

'Third-floor window, where you returned fire. You see
it?'

'I see it.'

'A guy just fell out. If he gets up again, shoot him.'

Then he put the phone away and went looking for the
attic door.

He found Rosemary Barr completely unharmed, sitting
upright on the attic floor. Her feet were taped, her wrists
were taped, her mouth was taped.

Reacher put his finger to his lips. She nodded. He cut
her free with the bloodstained knife and helped her
stand. She was unsteady for a moment. Then she shook
herself and gave a kind of nod. Then a smile. Reacher
guessed that whatever fear she had felt and whatever
reaction she was feeling right then had both been
neutralized by some kind of a steely determination to
help her brother. If she survived, he would survive. That
belief had kept her going.

'Have they gone?' she whispered.

'All except Raskin and the Zee,' Reacher whispered
back.

'No, Raskin killed himself. I heard them talking. The Zee
made him do it.

Because he let you steal his cell phone.' 'Where's the
Zee likely to be?'

'He's in the living room most of the time. Second floor.'

'Which door?'

'Last on the left.'

'OK, stay here,' Reacher whispered. 'I'll round him up
and I'll be right back.'

'I can't stay here. You have to get me out.'

He paused. 'OK, but you've got to be real quiet. And
don't look left or right'

'Why not?'

'Dead people.'

'I'm glad,' she said.

Reacher held her arm down the stairs to the third-floor
hallway. Then he went ahead alone to the second. All
quiet. The last door on the left was still closed. He
waved her down. They made the turn together and
headed to the first floor. To the front of the house. To the
room he had entered through. He helped her over the
sill and out the window, to the dirt below. He pointed.

'Follow the driveway to the road,' he said. Turn right. I'll
tell the others you're coming. There's a guy in black with
a rifle. He's one of ours.' She stood still for a second.

Then she bent down and took off her low-heeled shoes
and held them in her hands and started running like hell,
due west, through the dirt, towards the road. Reacher
took out his phone. 'Gunny?' he whispered.

'Here.'

'Rosemary Barr is heading your way.'

'Outstanding.'

'Round up the others and meet her halfway. There's no
more operational night vision. Then stand by. I'll get
back to you.' 'Roger that.'

Reacher put the phone away. Backtracked through the
silent house, on his way to find the Zee.

SEVENTEEN

IN THE END, IT CAME DOWN TO WAITING. WAIT, AND

GOOD THINGS come to you. And bad things. Reacher
crept back to the second floor. The last door on the left
was still closed. He ducked into the kitchen. Linsky was
on the floor, on his back in a pool of blood. Reacher relit
the flame under the kettle. Then he stepped out to the
hallway. Walked quietly to the front of the house and
leaned on the wall beyond the last door on the left.