She shook her head back at him.

“I can’t discuss that,” she said. “Not with civilians.”

He nodded. He was comfortable with that.

“OK,” he said.

“Any agent makes enemies,” she said.

“Naturally,” he replied.

“Me as much as anybody,” she said.

He glanced across at her. It was a curious remark. Defensive. The remark of a woman trained and eager and ready to go, but chained to a desk since last fall.

“Financial section?” he guessed.

She shook her head.

“I can’t discuss it,” she said again.

“But you already made enemies,” he said.

She gave him a half-smile which died fast. Then she went quiet. She looked calm, but Reacher could feel in her wrist that she was worried for the first time. But she was hanging in there. And she was wrong.

“They’re not out to kill you,” he said. “They could have killed you in that vacant lot. Why haul you away in this damn truck? And there’s your crutch, too.”

“What about my crutch?” she said.

“Doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why would they toss your crutch in here if they’re going to kill you? You’re a hostage, Holly, that’s what you are. You sure you don’t know these guys? Never saw them before?”

“Never,” she said. “I don’t know who the hell they are, or what the hell they want from me.”

He stared at her. She sounded way too definite. She knew more than she was telling him. They went quiet in the noise. Rocked and bounced with the movement of the truck. Reacher stared into the gloom. He could feel Holly making decisions, next to him. She turned sideways again.

“I need to get you out of here,” she said again.

He glanced at her. Glanced away and grinned.

“Suits me, Holly,” he said. “Sooner the better.”

“When will somebody miss you?” she asked.

That was a question he would have preferred not to answer. But she was looking hard at him, waiting. So he thought about it, and he told her the truth.