“I haven’t been Mirandized,” Reacher said.

“You haven’t been charged with a crime,” the old guy said. “This isn’t a trial.”

“So what is it?”

“A hearing.”

“About what?”

“It’s an administrative matter, that’s all. Possibly just a technicality. But I do need to ask you some questions.”

Reacher said nothing.

The guy asked, “Name?”

“I’m sure the police department copied my passport and showed it to you.”

“For the record, please.”

The guy’s tone was neutral and his manner was reasonably courteous. So Reacher shrugged and said, “Jack Reacher. No middle initial.”

The guy wrote it down. Followed up with his date of birth, and his Social Security number, and his nationality. Then he asked, “Address?”

Reacher said, “No fixed address.”

The guy wrote it down. Asked, “Occupation?”

“None.”

“Purpose of your visit to Despair?”

“Tourism.”

“How do you propose to support yourself during your visit?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I didn’t anticipate a major problem. This isn’t exactly London or Paris or New York City.”

“Please answer the question.”

“I have a bank balance,” Reacher said.

The guy wrote it all down. Then he sniffed and skipped his pen back over the lines he had already completed and paused. Asked, “What was your last address?”

“An APO box.”

“ APO?”

“Army Post Office.”

“You’re a veteran?”

“Yes, I am.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Until?”

“I mustered out ten years ago.”

“Unit?”

“Military Police.”

“Final rank?”

“Major.”

“And you haven’t had a permanent address since you left the army?”

“No, I haven’t.”