Worth Dying For by Lee Child Page B

faint sounds outside. Tyres on gravel. A vehicle, on their driveway. It came slow, whining in a low gear. It seemed to stop halfway. The engine kept on running. There was a pause, and then a ragged thump, dull, percussive, somehow mixed with the sound of breath expelled, and then another pause, and another sound. Then the vehicle drove away, faster this time, with acceleration and gear changes, and the world went quiet again.
    Jonas Duncan was first out the door. From fifty yards he could see strange humped shapes in the moonlight. From twenty he saw what they were. From five he saw what condition they were in. He said, ‘Not out of our hair. Not exactly. Not yet.’
    Jacob Duncan said, ‘Who the hell is this guy?’
    Seth Duncan and his uncle Jasper didn’t speak.
    Reacher parked the pick-up truck next to the wrecked Subaru and found the motel owner waiting at his door. Mr Vincent. His hair looked black in the light.
    ‘Changing the locks?’ Reacher asked him.
    The guy said, ‘I hope I won’t have to.’
    ‘But?’
    ‘I can’t let you stay here.’
    Reacher said, ‘I paid thirty dollars.’
    ‘I’ll refund it, of course.’
    ‘That’s not the point. A deal is a deal. I didn’t damage anything.’
    Vincent said nothing.
    Reacher said, ‘They already know I’m here. Where else could I be?’
    ‘It was OK before.’
    ‘Before what?’
    ‘Before they told me not to let you stay here. Ignorance of the law is no offence. But I can’t defy them now. Not after they informed me.’
    ‘When did they inform you?’
    ‘Two minutes ago. By phone.’
    ‘You always do what they tell you?’
    Vincent didn’t answer.
    ‘Dumb question, I suppose,’ Reacher said.
    ‘I’d lose everything I’ve worked for. And my family before me. All those years.’
    ‘Since 1969?’ Reacher asked.
    ‘How did you know that?’
    ‘Just a lucky guess. The moon landing and all. The Apollo programme.’
    ‘Do you remember 1969?’
    ‘Vaguely.’
    ‘I loved it. So many things were going on. I don’t know what happened afterwards. It really seemed like the start of a new era.’
    ‘It was,’ Reacher said. ‘Just not the era you expected.’
    ‘I’m sorry about this.’
    ‘You going to offer to drive me down to the Interstate now?’
    ‘I can’t do that either. We’re not supposed to help you in any way at all.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘Any of us. They’re putting the word out.’
    ‘Well, I seem to have inherited a truck,’ Reacher said. ‘I can drive myself.’
    ‘Don’t,’ Vincent said. ‘They’ll report it stolen. The county police will stop you. You won’t get halfway there.’
    ‘The Duncans control the cops too?’
    ‘No, not really. But a stolen truck is a stolen truck, isn’t it?’
    ‘They want me to stay here?’
    ‘They do now. You started a war. They want to finish it.’

TWELVE
    R EACHER STOOD IN THE COLD BETWEEN THE TRUCK AND THE motel cabin and looked all around. There was nothing much to see. The blue glow of the neon reached only as far as the dead Subaru, and then it faded away. Overhead was a moon and a billion chilly stars.
    Reacher said, ‘You still got coffee in the pot?’
    Vincent said, ‘I can’t serve you.’
    ‘I won’t rat you out.’
    ‘They might be watching.’
    ‘They’re driving two guys sixty miles to the hospital.’
    ‘Not all of them.’
    ‘This is the last place they’ll look. They told you to move me on. They’ll assume you obeyed.’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Let’s make a deal,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll move on, to spare you the embarrassment. You can keep the thirty bucks, because this isn’t your fault. In return I want a cup of coffee and some answers.’
    *     *     *
    The lounge was dark, except for a lone work light behind the bar. No more soft reds and pinks. Just a harsh fluorescent tube, with a pronounced flicker and a green colour cast and a noisy component. The music was off and the room was silent, apart from the buzz of the light and the