Part 17 (1/2)
”This guy looked like a college athlete. College athletes drink beer from time to time. He was probably in here once or twice.”
”He wasn't.”
”What about another guy? Same age, much smaller. Wiry, maybe five-eight, one-forty.”
”Didn't see him.”
”You sure?”
”I'm sure.”
”You ever work up at the plant?”
”Couple of years, way back.”
”And then?”
”He moved me here.”
”Who did?”
”Mr. Thurman. He owns the plant.”
”And this bar, too?”
”He owns everything.”
”And he moved you? He sounds like a hands-on manager.”
”He figured I'd be better working here than there.”
”And are you?”
”Not for me to say.”
Reacher took a long pull on his bottle. Asked, ”Does Mr. Thurman pay you well?”
”I don't complain.”
”Is that Mr. Thurman's plane that flies every night?”
”n.o.body else here owns a plane.”
”Where does he go?”
”I don't ask.”
”Any rumors?”
”No.”
”You sure you never saw any young guys around here?”
”I'm sure.”
”Suppose I gave you a hundred bucks?”
The guy paused a beat and looked a little wistful, as if a hundred bucks would make a welcome change in his life. But in the end he just shrugged again and said, ”I'd still be sure.”
Reacher drank a little more of his beer. It was warming up a little and tasted metallic and soapy. The bartender stayed close. Reacher glanced at the mirrors. Checked reflections of reflections. n.o.body in the room was moving. He asked, ”What happens to dead people here?”
”What do you mean?”
”You got undertakers in town?”
The bartender shook his head. ”Forty miles west. There's a morgue and a funeral home and a burial ground. No consecrated land in Despair.”
”The smaller guy died,” Reacher said.
”What smaller guy?”
”The one I was asking you about.”
”I didn't see any small guys, alive or dead.”
Reacher went quiet again and the bartender said, ”So, you're just pa.s.sing through?” A meaningless, for-the-sake-of-it conversational gambit, which confirmed what Reacher already knew.Bring it on, he thought. He glanced at the fire exit in back and checked the front door in the mirrors. He said, ”Yes, I'm just pa.s.sing through.” he thought. He glanced at the fire exit in back and checked the front door in the mirrors. He said, ”Yes, I'm just pa.s.sing through.”
”Not much to see here.”
”Actually I think this is a pretty interesting place.”
”You do?”
”Who hires the cops here?”
”The mayor.”
”Who's the mayor?”
”Mr. Thurman.”
”There's a big surprise.”
”It's his town.”
Reacher said, ”I'd like to meet him.”