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The ht, and solid, and hot, obviously He had sweated through his suit The woer, but not by much She was hot too, and scared Or tense, at least That was clear The man was too close to her She didn’t like that It was nearly half past eight in the evening, and going dark But not cooling off A hundred degrees, someone had said A real heat wave Wednesday, July 13th, 1977, New York City Reacher would always remember the date It was his second solo visit
The man put the pal daainst her skin, the ball of his thuressive gesture, either Neutral, like a doctor The wolanced around Without seeing , but the street was deserted It was too hot Waverly Place, between Sixth Avenue and Washington Square People would come out later, if at all
Then the man took his hand off the woman’s chest, and he flicked it doard like he wanted to knock a bee off her hip, and then he whipped it back up in a big roundhouse swing and slapped her full in the face, hard, with enough power for a real crack, but his hand and her face were too damp for pistol-shot acoustics, so the sound came out exactly like the word: slap The woman’s head was knocked sideways The sound echoed off the scalding brick
Reacher said, “Hey”
The man turned around He was dark haired, dark eyed, maybe five-ten, maybe two hundred pounds His shirt was transparent with sweat
He said, “Get lost, kid”
On that night Reacher was three months and sixteen days shy of his seventeenth birthday, but physically he was pretty et, and no sane person would have called him skinny He was six-five, tenty, all muscle The finished article, more or less But finished very recently Brand new His teeth hite and even, his eyes were a shade close to navy, his hair had wave and body, his skin was smooth and clear The scars and the lines and the calluses were yet to come
The ht now, kid”
Reacher said, “Ma’auy”
Which the woe The man said, “Do you knoho I am?”
Reacher said, “What difference would it make?”
“You’re pissing off the wrong people”
“People?” Reacher said “That’s a plural word Are there more than one of you?”
“You’ll find out”
Reacher looked around The street was still deserted
“When will I find out?” he said “Not right away, apparently”
“What kind of suy do you think you are?”
Reacher said, “Ma’a”
The woman didn’t move Reacher looked at her
He said, “A?”
The man said, “Get lost, kid”
The woet involved”
“I’ here in the street”
The man said, “Go stand in some other street”
Reacher turned back and looked at him and said, “Who died and made you mayor?”
“That’s sooing to regret that”
“When the other people get here? Is that what you ht now it’s just you and ret in that, not for ot no money”
“Money?”
“For me to take”
“What, now you think you’re going tome?”
“NotAn old principle Like a tradition You lose a war, you give up your treasure”
“Are we at war, you andto lose, kid I don’t care how big of a corn-fed country boy you are I’ to kick it bad”
The wo Reacher looked at her again and said, “Ma’aentleman married to you, or related to you in some other way, or known to you either socially or professionally?”
She said, “I don’t want you to get involved” She was younger than the guy, for sure But not by much Still way up there Twenty-nine, maybe A pale-colored blonde Apart froood looking, in an older-woman kind of a way But she was thin and nervous Maybe she had a lot of stress in her life She earing a loose summer dress that ended above her knee She had a purse hooked over her shoulder
Reacher said, “At least tell et involved in Is this so you on the street? Or not?”
“What else would it be?”
“Douy who busted one up, and then the wife got realher husband”
“I’m not married to this man”
“Do you have any interest in him at all?”
“In his welfare?”
“I suppose that’s e’re talking about”
“None at all But you can’t get involved So walk away I’ll deal with it”
“Suppose alk away together?”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Old enough,” Reacher said “For walking, at least”
“I don’t want the responsibility You’re just a kid You’re an innocent bystander”
“Is this guy dangerous?”
“Very”
“He doesn’t look it”
“Looks can be deceptive”
“Is he armed?”
“Not in the city He can’t afford to be”
“So what’s he going to do? Sweat on me?”
Which did the trick The guy hit boiling point, aggrieved at being talked about like he wasn’t there, aggrieved at being called sweaty, even though he e, his jacket flapping, his tie flailing, his shirt sticking to his skin Reacher feinted one way and uy stuuy tripped and fell He got up again fast enough, but by then Reacher had backed off and turned around and was ready for the secondto be an exact repeat of the first, except Reacher helped it along a little by replacing the ankle tap with an elbow to the side of the head Which was very well delivered At nearly seventeen Reacher was like a brand newand deith oil, flexible, supple, perfectly coordinated, like soon
The guy stayed down on his knees a little longer than the first tirees he had heard about must have been somewhere open Central Park, maybe Some little weather station In the narrow brick canyons of the West Village, close to the huge stone sidewalk slabs, it must have beenold khakis and a blue T shirt, and both items looked like he had fallen in a river
The guy stood up, panting and unsteady He put his hands on his knees
Reacher said, “Let it go, old man Find someone else to hit”
No answer The guy looked like he was conducting an internal debate It was a long one Clearly there were points to consider on both sides of the argument Pros, and cons, and plusses, and uy said, “Can you count to three and a half??
?
Reacher said, “I suppose”
“That’s how ht you’re a dead uy straightened up and walked away, back toward Sixth Avenue, fast, like hison the hot stone, like a brisk, purposeful person on a just-reht, and then he turned back to the woman and said, “Which way are you headed?”
She pointed in the opposite direction, toward Washington Square, and Reacher said, “Then you should be OK”
“You have three and a half hours to get out of town”
“I don’t think he was serious He was hauling ass, trying to save face”
“He was serious, believe me You hit him in the head I mean, Jesus”
“Who is he?”
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy passing through”
“From where?”
“Pohang, at the moment”