Manhattan Mayhem by Mary Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online Page A

She looks sad. It’s the loneliest picture I’ve ever seen.”
    Reacher looked through the real-life glass. Easy to imagine bright fluorescent light in there, pinning people like searchlight beams, exposing them in a merciless way to the dark streets all around. Except the streets all around were empty, so there was no one to see.
    In the painting, and in real life, too.
    He said, “What have I walked into?”
    The woman said, “You’re to stand still, right where you are, anddon’t move until I tell you to.”
    “Or what?”
    “Or you’ll go to prison for interfering with a national security operation.”
    “Or you’ll get fired for continuing with a national security operation after it suddenly got a civilian in the way.”
    “The operation isn’t here. It’s in the park.”
    She looked diagonally across the wide junction, three major thoroughfares all meeting, at the mass of trees beyond.
    He said, “What have I walked into?”
    She said, “I can’t tell you.”
    “I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
    “Military police, right?”
    “Like the FBI, but on a much lower budget.”
    “We have a target in the park. Sitting on a bench all alone. Waiting for a contact who isn’t coming.”
    “Who is he?”
    “A bad apple.”
    “From your barrel?”
    She nodded. “One of us.”
    “Is he armed?”
    “He’s never armed.”
    “Why isn’t his contact coming?”
    “He died an hour ago in a hit-and-run accident. The driver didn’t stop. No one got the plate.”
    “There’s a big surprise.”
    “He turned out to be Russian. The State Department had to inform their consulate. Which turned out to be where the guy worked. Purely by coincidence.”
    “Your guy was talking to the Russians? Do people still do that?”
    “More and more. And it’s getting more and more important all the time. People say we’re headed back to the 1980s. But they’re wrong. We’re headed back to the 1930s.”
    “So, your guy ain’t going to win employee of the month.”
    She didn’t answer.
    He said, “Where are you going to take him?”
    She paused a beat. She said, “All that’s classified.”
    “All that? All what? He can’t be going to multiple destinations.”
    She didn’t answer.
    Now he paused a beat.
    He said, “Is he headed for the destination you want?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Is he?”
    She said, “No.”
    “Because of suits higher up?”
    “As always.”
    “Are you married?”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “Are you?”
    “I’m hanging in there.”
    “So you’re the redhead.”
    “And?”
    “I’m the guy in the hat with his back to us, all alone.”
    “Meaning, what?”
    “Meaning, I’m going to take a walk. Like a First Amendment thing. Meaning, you’re going to stay here. Like a smart tactical thing.”
    And he turned and moved away before she had a chance to object. He rounded the tip of the cowcatcher and headed diagonally across the heart of the complex junction, moving fast, not breaking stride at the curbs and the painted lines, ignoring the DON ’ T WALK signs, not slowing at all, and finally straight into the park itself, by its southwest gate. Ahead was a dry fountain and a closed-up burger stall. Curving left was the main center path, clearly following some kind of a design scheme that featured large ovals, like running tracks.
    There were dim fancy lights on poles, and the Times Square glow was bouncing off the clouds like a magnesium flare. Reacher could see pretty well, but all he saw were empty benches, at least at the start of the curve. More came into sight as he walked, but they too stayedempty, all the way to the far tip of the oval, where there was another dry fountain, and a children’s playground, and finally the continuation of the path itself, curving down the other side of the oval, back toward the near tip. And it had benches, too.
    And one of them was occupied.
    By a big guy, all pink and fleshy, maybe fifty years old, in a dark suit.