The guy was lounging back in his chair. His vest was still unbuttoned. His hat was pulled down over his face again. And he still wasn’t really asleep. His whole body stiffened as I came close. He wasn’t expecting to see me again. That was clear. He’d probably thought the blood on the ground outside was mine.
I said, “How much?”
The guy fumbled with his hat, pushed it back, and did his best to look like he was only flustered because he’d suddenly woken up. “How much? For what?”
“Calling Dendoncker. Telling him I was here. What did he pay you?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grabbed the guy’s ankles and pulled. His ass slid off the chair. He crashed onto the floor and squealed as he hit the tile. I vaulted over the counter and landed straddling his legs. He reached up toward a little shelf that wasn’t visible from the other side. A shotgun was balanced there. It was an ancient thing. An L.C. Smith. Its barrel had been sawn down to about six inches. That would make it easy to wield. And it would still be plenty lethal at close quarters.
I said, “Leave it.”
The guy kept on trying to grab it so I kicked him in the face. Not hard. It was more of a push. Just enough to knock him onto his back. Then I stamped on his hand. To discourage him. In case he felt the urge to go for the gun, again.
I said, “How much?”
The guy was rolling from side to side, clutching his crushed hand to his chest. “Nothing extra. He pays me every month. Five hundred dollars, cash. I report anything unusual. Or anything weird his people staying here get up to. Sometimes he puts out an alert. Like this morning. I got a text with a description of you. I had to call when I saw you. I had no choice. Mr. Dendoncker—he’s a bad man.”
“You always have a choice. Right or wrong. It’s clear-cut. You just thought you wouldn’t get caught. You chose greed. You used poor judgment. So this is what’s going to happen. When you wake up, you’ll leave town. Immediately. And you’ll never come back. I’m going to check. And if I find you here, I’ll make Dendoncker look like the Easter Bunny. Are we clear?”
“When I wake up? What, like, in the morning?”
“In the morning. The afternoon. Whenever it happens to be.”
I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position. Then I kicked him in the face again. A little harder that time.
Chapter 32
I tapped on the door to room 212. Gently. I was trying to sound friendly. There was no reply, so I tried again.
“Go away.” It was Sonia’s voice, but there was an edge to it. I couldn’t tell if she was angry. Or sad. Or scared. Then a thought crossed my mind. An unwelcome one. Maybe one of Dendoncker’s guys was in there with her. Someone could have sneaked up while I was dealing with the pair downstairs. Who knew what the reception guy had reported. Sonia might have a gun to her head. Which meant I couldn’t risk breaking down the door. Which severely limited my options. Until I remembered what Fenton had said about the routine she and Michael had with names. Sonia and Michael had been a couple. Maybe they did the same thing.
I stood to the side and knocked again. “Heather? You in there? You OK?”
I waited. I heard footsteps from inside the room. They were light, but slow. A moment later the door opened. It was Sonia. She was still in her yellow sundress. And there was no gun in sight. She leaned out into the corridor. Looked left and right, and spotted me. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were damp.
“Reacher?” she said. “Thanks for checking in. But I’m fine. I just want to be on my own. So please go, OK?”
“I’m not checking in. I need your help.”
“Oh. OK. With what?”
“Have you got a car?”
“Of course. Do you want to borrow it?”
“Where is it?”
“Parked out back.”
“Good. I want you to drive me someplace.”
“Where?”
“Have you got a go-bag handy?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Grab it. And your keys. I’ll explain in the car.”
* * *
—
Sonia’s car was tiny. It was called a Mini, and with good reason. I barely fit inside even with the passenger seat cranked all the way back. It was red with white wheels, and decals of Old Glory on the roof and the curved front edges of the door mirrors. I wished she drove something more discreet, in the circumstances. But at least it fit in the hotel parking lot. It was in another courtyard, this one contained within the building itself. It was a small cramped space with a low arch leading to the street on the east side. I guess it was originally for receiving deliveries and allowing light into the rooms on the inner side of the corridors.