He raised his wrist, which raised hers too, to make his point. The woman went quiet for a long moment. She was revising her opinion of him. Reacher rocked with the motion of the vehicle and smiled.

“And you should know better,” he said. “You’re a government agent of some sort, right? DEA, CIA, FBI, something like that, maybe a Chicago PD detective? New in the job, still fairly dedicated. And fairly wealthy. So somebody is either looking for a ransom, or you’ve already become a potential problem to somebody, even though you’re new, and either way you should have taken more care of yourself.”

She looked across at him. Nodded, eyes wide in the gloom. Impressed.

“Evidence?” she asked.

He smiled at her again.

“Couple of things,” he said. “Your dry cleaning? My guess is every Monday lunch break you take last week’s clothes in to get them cleaned, and you pick up this week’s clothes to wear. That means you must have about fifteen or twenty outfits. Looking at that thing you got on, you’re not a cheap dresser. Call it four hundred bucks an outfit, you’ve got maybe eight grand tied up in things to wear. That’s what I call moderately wealthy, and that’s what I call too regular in your habits.”

She nodded slowly.

“OK,” she said. “Why am I a government agent?”

“Easy enough,” he said. “You had a Glock 17 shoved at you, you were bundled into a car, you were thrown in a truck, handcuffed to a complete stranger and you’ve got no idea where the hell they’re taking you, or why. Any normal person would be falling apart over all that, screaming the place down. But not you. You’re sitting there quite calmly, which suggests some kind of training, maybe some kind of familiarity with upsetting or dangerous situations. And maybe some kind of sure knowledge there’ll be a bunch of people looking to get you back soon as they can.”

He stopped and she nodded for him to continue.

“Also, you had a gun in your bag,” he said. “Something fairly heavy, maybe a thirty-eight, long barrel. If it was a private weapon, a dresser like you would choose something dainty, like a snub twenty-two. But it was a big revolver, so you were issued with it. So you’re some kind of an agent, maybe a cop.”