"Fine," he said.
She poked at the collapsed airbag with her finger, fascinated.
"These things really work, you know that?"
"First time I ever saw one deploy," he said.
"Me too."
Then there was rapping on the driver's-side window. The guy from behind was standing there, knocking urgently with his knuckles. Reacher stared out at him. The guy was gesturing for him to open up, urgently, like he was anxious about something.
"Shit," Reacher yelled.
He stamped on the gas. The jeep struggled forward, pushing against the woman's wrecked sedan. It made a yard, slewing to the left, sheet metal screeching.
"Hell are you doing?" Jodie screamed.
The guy had his hand on the door handle. His other hand in his pocket.
"Get down," Reacher shouted.
He found reverse and howled back the yard he'd made and smashed into the four-wheel-drive behind. The new impact won him another foot. He shoved the selector into drive and spun the wheel and barged left. Smashed into the rear quarter of the sedan in a new shower of glass. Traffic behind was swerving and slewing all over again. He glanced right and one of the guys he'd seen in Key West and Garrison was at the window with his hand on Jodie's door. He stamped on the gas and hurled the jeep backward, spinning the wheel. The guy kept tight hold, jerked backward by his arm, flung off his feet by the violent motion. Reacher smashed all the way backward into the black truck and bounced off again forward, screaming the motor, spinning the wheel. The guy was up again, still gripping the door handle, jerking and hauling, spare arm and legs flailing, like he was a wrangler and the jeep was a wild young steer in a desperate fight out of a trap. Reacher mashed the pedal and angled out forward close to the rear comer of the woman's wrecked sedan and scraped the guy off against the trunk. The fender took him at the knees and he somersaulted and his head came down on the rear glass. In the mirror Reacher saw a blur of flailing arms and legs as his momentum carried him up over the roof. Then he was gone, sprawling back to the sidewalk.
"Watch out!" Jodie screamed.
The guy from the truck was still there at the driver's window. Reacher was out in the traffic stream, but the traffic stream was slow and the guy was just running fast beside him, struggling to free something from his pocket. Reacher swerved left and came in parallel to a panel truck in the next lane. The guy was still running, skipping sideways, holding the door handle, coming out with something from his pocket. Reacher jammed left again and thumped him hard against the side of the truck. He heard a dull boom as the guy's head hit the metal and then he was gone. The truck jammed to a panic stop and Reacher hauled left and got in front of it. Broadway was a solid mass of traffic. Ahead of him was a shimmering patchwork of metallic colors, sedan roofs winking in the sun, dodging left, dodging right, crawling forward, fumes rising, horns blasting. He hauled left again and turned and went through a crosswalk against the light, a crowd of jostling people skittering out of his way. The jeep was juddering and bouncing and pulling hard to the right. The temperature gauge was off the scale. Steam was boiling up through the gaps around the buckled hood. The collapsed airbag was hanging down to his knees. He jerked forward and hauled left again and jammed into an alley full of restaurant waste. Boxes, empty drums of cooking oil, rough wooden trays piled with spoiled vegetables. He buried the nose in a pile of cartons. They spilled down on the wrecked hood and bounced off the windshield. He killed the motor and pulled the keys.
He had put it too close to the wall for Jodie's door to open. He grabbed her briefcase and her purse and threw them out through his door. Squeezed out after them and turned back for her. She was scrambling across the seats behind him. Her dress was riding up. He grabbed her around the waist and she ducked her head to his shoulder and he lifted her through the gap. She clung on hard, bare legs around his waist. He turned and ran her six feet away. She weighed nothing at all. He set her on her feet and ducked back for her bags. She was smoothing her dress over her thighs. Breathing hard. Damp hair all over the place.
"How did you know?" she gasped. "That it wasn't an accident?"
He gave her the purse and carried the heavy briefcase himself. Led her by the hand back down the alley to the street, panting with adrenaline rush.
"Talk while we walk," he said.
They turned left and headed east for Lafayette. The morning sun was in their eyes, the river breeze in their faces. Behind them, they could hear the traffic snarl on Broadway. They walked together fifty yards, breathing hard, calming down.
"How did you know?"
"Statistics, I guess. What were the chances we'd be in an accident on the exact same morning we figured there were guys out looking for us? Million to one, at best."
She nodded. A slight smile on her face. Head up, shoulders back, recovering fast. No trace of shock. She was Leon's daughter, that was for damn sure.
"You were great," she said. "You reacted so fast."
He shook his head as he walked.
"No, I was shit," he said. "Dumb as hell. One mistake after another. They changed personnel. Some new guy in charge. I never even thought about that. I was figuring what the original pair of assholes might do, never even thought about them putting in somebody smarter. And whoever that guy was, he was pretty smart. It was a good plan, almost worked. I never saw it coming. Then when it happened, I still wasted a shitload of time talking to you about the damn airbags deploying."
"Don't feel bad," she said.
"I do feel bad. Leon had a basic rule: Do it right. Thank God he wasn't there to see that screwup. He'd have been ashamed of me."
He saw her face cloud over. Realized what he'd said.
"I'm sorry. I just can't make myself believe he's dead."
They came out on Lafayette. Jodie was at the curb, scanning for a cab.
"Well, he is," she said, gently. "We'll get used to it, I guess."
He nodded. "And I'm sorry about your car. I should have seen it coming."
She shrugged. "It's only leased. I'll get them to send another one just like it. Now I know it stands up in a collision, right? Maybe a red one."
"You should report it stolen," he said. "Call the cops and say it wasn't there in the garage when you went for it this morning."
"That's fraud," she said.
"No, that's smart. Remember I can't afford for the cops to be asking me questions about this. I don't even carry a driver's license."
She thought about it. Then she smiled. Like a kid sister smiles when she's forgiving her big brother for some kind of waywardness, he thought.
"OK," she said. "I'll call them from the office."
"The office? You're not going to the damn office."
"Why not?" she said, surprised.
He waved vaguely west, back toward Broadway. "After what happened there? I want you where I can see you, Jodie."
"I need to go to work, Reacher," she said. "And be logical. The office hasn't become unsafe just because of what happened over there. It's a completely separate proposition, right? The office is still as safe now as it always was. And you were happy for me to go there before, so what's changed?"
He looked at her. He wanted to say everything's changed. Because whatever Leon started with some old couple from a cardiology clinic has now got halfway-competent professionals mixed in with it. Halfway-competent professionals who were about half a second away from winning this morning. And he wanted to say: I love you and you're in danger and I don't want you anyplace I can't be looking out for you. But he couldn't say any of that. Because he had committed himself to keeping it all away from her. All of it, the love and the danger. So he just shrugged, lamely.
"You should come with me," he said.
"Why? To help?"
He nodded. "Yes, help me with these old folks. They'll talk to you, because you're Leon's daughter."
"You want me with you because I'm Leon's daughter?"
He nodded again. She spotted a cab and waved it down.
"Wrong answer, Reacher," she said.
HE ARGUED WITH her, but he got nowhere. Her mind was made up, and she wouldn't change it. The best he could do was to get her to solve his immediate problem and rent him a car, with her gold card and her license. They took the cab up to midtown and found a Hertz office. He waited outside in the sun for a quarter hour and then she came around the block in a brand-new Taurus and picked him up. She drove all the way back downtown on Broadway. They passed by her building and passed by the scene of the ambush three blocks south. The damaged vehicles were gone. There were shards of glass in the gutter and oil stains on the blacktop, but that was all. She drove on south and parked next to a hydrant opposite her office door. Left the motor running and racked the seat all the way back, ready for the change of driver.
"OK," she said. "You'll pick me up here, about seven o'clock?"
"That late?"
"I'm starting late," she said. "I'll have to finish late."
"Don't leave the building, OK?"
He got out on the sidewalk and watched her all the way inside. There was a broad paved area in front of the building. She skipped across it, bare legs flashing and dancing under the dress. She turned and smiled and waved. Pushed sideways through the revolving door, swinging her heavy case. It was a tall building, maybe sixty stories. Probably dozens of suites rented to dozens of separate firms, maybe hundreds. But the situation looked like it might be safe enough. There was a wide reception counter immediately inside the revolving door. A line of security guys sitting behind it, and behind them was a solid glass screen, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with one opening in it, operated by a buzzer under their counter. Behind the screen were the elevators. No way in, unless the security guys saw fit to let you in. He nodded to himself. It might be safe enough. Maybe. It would depend on the diligence of the doormen. He saw her talking to one of them, head bent, blond hair falling forward. Then she was walking to the door in the screen, waiting, pushing it. She went through to the elevators. Hit a button. A door slid open. She backed in, levering her case over the threshold with both hands. The door slid shut.