Reacher said, “What opens the exit door?”
The guy said, “There’s a remote clipped to the visor. Hit the button, the door rolls up. Approach the gate in the inner fence. It’ll open. Pull forward toward the gate in the outer fence. The inner one will close on its own. Then flash your headlights three times. The guy in the booth will let you out.”
“Flash the headlights. Really?”
“That’s the signal.”
Reacher saw that the guy wouldn’t meet his eye. So he opened the van’s rear door and said, “Get in. You’re riding with Begovic. When we’re clear of here I’ll come and let you out. But first I’ll knock on the bulkhead. If the door opens and Begovic hasn’t heard a knock, he’s going to shoot out one of your kneecaps.”
The guy shook his head and took a step back. “Wait. You don’t flash your lights. You don’t do anything. Just approach the outer gate. The officer in the booth has orders to let this van in or out, any time, no record, no search. Don’t worry. You won’t be penned in for long.”
Penned in. Two words Reacher did not like the sound of. Not when they applied to him.
* * *
—
Reacher didn’t make the guard get in the back of the van. Because Reacher didn’t know Begovic well enough. He couldn’t predict how Begovic would stand up to the pressure. If he got flustered or showed signs of panic there was too much danger the guard would go for the gun. He could make a noise. Alert whoever was on duty in the booth. Begovic could wind up taking a stray bullet. Or a deliberate one. So Reacher took a different approach. He knocked the guy out, rolled his body onto the bottom shelf at the side of the room, and piled a bunch of balled-up orange jumpsuits in front of it.
The van’s engine started at the first turn of the key. The exit door opened at the first press of the remote. The gate in the inner fence rolled aside the moment the van approached. It slid back into place the second the van was through. Then nothing more happened. The outer gate stayed where it was. It was completely still. Inert. Like it was welded shut. Or it was just another fixed panel in the fence. The electrified fence. That was on their left. On their right. And now effectively in front and behind. There was no way forward. No way back. Nowhere to go even if they abandoned the vehicle.
The outer gate didn’t move.
Reacher looked at the booth. He couldn’t see inside. The glass was mirrored. Maybe no one was there. Maybe the fire alarm protocol required the guard to assist with the evacuation on the other side of the prison. Or maybe the guard was still at his post, waiting for some kind of signal. Something Reacher didn’t know about. Something he had to do or the guard would raise the alarm. Reinforcements would come from behind, Reacher thought. Through the warehouse. Heavily armed. He checked the mirror. The roll-up door was still closed. For the moment.
The outer gate didn’t move.
Reacher’s foot was on the brake. He was thinking about shifting it to the gas pedal. There was no point trying to smash through the gate. It would be too strong. Designed to stop a much heavier vehicle. With a run up. Not from a standing start. Reacher had no doubt about that. But he figured he could cause a dent. Get some of the truck’s metal in contact with the mesh or the frame. Then he could open the van’s back door. The cargo space was fitted with shelves. He had seen them when he was getting Begovic situated. He could tear a couple out. Use them to connect the rear of the van to the inner fence. Maybe cause a short circuit. Maybe kill the power for long enough to climb over. If he could find something to cover the razor wire.
The outer gate didn’t move.
Reacher looked down. There were mats on the floor. In both foot wells. They were made of rubber. Heavy duty. Made to protect the vehicle’s floor from boots soaked with Mississippi rain. And thick enough to save a person from getting cut to ribbons. Maybe. There was only one way to find out. Reacher started to lift his foot. Then he stopped. And pressed down again for a moment.
The outer gate twitched. It shuddered. Then it lurched to the side.
* * *
—
Begovic switched from the cargo area to the passenger seat when they were a safe distance from the prison but he didn’t say a word on the rest of the drive to Bruno Hix’s home. He pressed himself back against his seat and stayed completely still apart from his eyes, which were constantly flicking from one side to the other. Reacher didn’t speak, either. He didn’t want to tell Begovic there was a kid waiting for him at the house until they were close. He didn’t want to give him the chance to think about it too much. To freak out. But at the same time Reacher didn’t feel right making meaningless small talk when he was holding back such a significant piece of information. The farther he drove, the less sure he felt about the choice he’d made. Then all of a sudden he was very glad he’d made no mention of Begovic’s kid.