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miles away, up to my eyes in bullshit.”
    She nodded. “Joe knew that. It was kind of theoretical.”
    He looked at her. “But now it’s not theoretical, apparently. Eight years later you’re going ahead with it. And I’m still wondering why.”
    “Like I said, now it’s my call. And I’m under big-time pressure to perform well.”
    He said nothing.
    “Would you consider doing it?” Froelich asked.
    “I don’t know much about Armstrong. Never heard much about him before.”
    She nodded. “Nobody has. He was a surprise choice. Junior senator from North Dakota, standard-issue family man, wife, grown-up daughter, cares long-distance for his sick old mother, never made any kind of national impact. But he’s an OK guy, for a politician. Better than most. I like him a lot, so far.”
    Reacher nodded. Said nothing.
    “We would pay you, obviously,” Froelich said. “That’s not a problem. You know, a professional fee, as long as it’s reasonable.”
    “I’m not very interested in money,” Reacher said. “I don’t need a job.”
    “You could volunteer.”
    “I was a soldier. Soldiers never volunteer for anything.”
    “That’s not what Joe said about you. He said you did all kinds of stuff.”
    “I don’t like to be employed.”
    “Well, if you want to do it for free we certainly wouldn’t object.”
    He was quiet for a beat. “There would be expenses, probably, if a person did this sort of a thing properly.”
    “We’d reimburse them, naturally. Whatever the person needed. All official and aboveboard, afterward.”
    He looked down at the table. “Exactly what would you want the person to do?”
    “I want you, not a person. Just to act the part of an assassin. To scrutinize things from an outside perspective. Find the holes. Prove to me if he’s vulnerable, with times, dates, places. I could start you off with some schedule information, if you want.”
    “You offer that to all assassins? If you’re going to do this you should do it for real, don’t you think?”
    “OK,” she said.
    “You still think nobody could get close?”
    She considered her answer carefully, maybe ten seconds. “On balance, yes, I do. We work very hard. I think we’ve got everything covered.”
    “So you think Joe was wrong back then?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Why did you break up?” he asked.
    She glanced away for a second and shook her head. “That’s private.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Thirty-five.”
    “So eight years ago you were twenty-seven.”
    She smiled. “Joe was nearly thirty-six. An older man. I celebrated his birthday with him. And his thirty-seventh.”
    Reacher moved sideways a little and looked at her again. Joe had good taste , he thought. Close up, she looked good. Smelled good. Perfect skin, great eyes, long lashes. Good cheekbones, a small straight nose. She looked lithe and strong. She was attractive, no doubt about it. He wondered what it would be like to hold her, kiss her. Go to bed with her. He pictured Joe wondering the same thing, the first time she walked into the office he ran. And he eventually found out. Way to go, Joe .
    “I guess I forgot to send a birthday card,” he said. “Either time.”
    “I don’t think he minded.”
    “We weren’t very close,” he said. “I don’t really understand why not.”
    “He liked you,” she said. “He made that clear. Talked about you, time to time. I think he was quite proud of you, in his own way.”
    Reacher said nothing.
    “So will you help me out?” she asked.
    “What was he like? As a boss?”
    “He was terrific. He was a superstar, professionally.”
    “What about as a boyfriend?”
    “He was pretty good at that, too.”
    Reacher said nothing. There was a long silence.
    “Where have you been since you left the service?” Froelich asked. “You haven’t left much of a paper trail.”
    “That was the plan,” Reacher said. “I keep myself to myself.”
    Questions in her eyes.
    “Don’t worry,” he said.