"Hard to tell," he said again. "It's one of them, that's for sure."
"I think it was Brogan," Webster said.
Johnson looked hard. Used his finger and thumb against the screen to estimate the guy's height, head to toes.
"How tall is he?" he asked.
"HOW TALL IS he?" Reacher asked suddenly.
"What?" McGrath said.
Reacher was behind McGrath in the trees, staring out at the punishment hut. He was staring at the front wall. The wall was maybe twelve feet long, eight feet high. Right to left, there was a two-foot panel, then the door, thirty inches wide, hinged on the right, handle on the left. Then a panel probably seven and a half feet wide running down to the end of the building.
"How tall is he?" Reacher asked again.
"Christ, does it matter?" McGrath said.
"I think it does," Reacher said.
McGrath turned and stared at him.
"Five nine, maybe five ten," he said. "Not an especially big guy."
The cladding was made up of horizontal eight-by-fours nailed over the frame. There was a seam halfway up. The floor was probably three-quarters board laid over two-by-fours. Therefore the floor started nearly five inches above the bottom of the outside cladding. About an inch and a half below the bottom of the doorway.
"Skinny, right?" Reacher said.
McGrath was still staring at him.
"Thirty-eight regular, best guess," he said.
Reacher nodded. The walls would be two-by-fours clad inside and out with the plywood. Total thickness five and a half inches, maybe less if the inside cladding was thinner. Call it the inside face of the end wall was five inches in from the corner, and the floor was five inches up from the bottom.
"Right-handed or left-handed?" Reacher asked.
"Speak to me," McGrath hissed.
"Which?" Reacher said.
"Right-handed," McGrath said. "I'm pretty sure." The two-by-fours would be on sixteen-inch centers. That was the standard dimension. But from the corner of the hut to the right-hand edge of the door, the distance was only two feet. Two feet less five inches for the thickness of the end wall was nineteen inches. There was probably a two-by-four set right in the middle of that span. Unless they skimped it, which was no problem. The wall would be stuffed with Fiberglas wadding, for insulation.
"Stand back," Reacher whispered.
"Why?" McGrath said.
"Just do it," Reacher replied.
McGrath moved out of the way. Reacher put his eyes on a spot ten inches in from the end of the hut and just shy of five feet up from the bottom. Swayed left and rested his shoulder on a tree. Raised his M-16 and sighted it in.
"Hell are you doing?" McGrath hissed.
Reacher made no reply. Just waited for his heart to beat and fired. The rifle cracked and the bullet punched through the siding a hundred yards away. Ten inches from the corner, five feet from the ground.
"Hell are you doing?" McGrath hissed again.
Reacher just grabbed his arm and pulled him into the woods. Dragged him north and waited. Two things happened. The six men burst back into the clearing. And the door of the punishment hut opened. Brogan was framed in the doorway. His right arm was hanging limp. His right shoulder was shattered and pumping blood. In his right hand, he was holding his Bureau.38. The hammer was back. His finger was tight on the trigger.
Reacher snicked the M-16 to burst fire. Stitched five bursts of three shells into the ground, halfway across the clearing. The six men skidded away, like they were suddenly facing an invisible barrier or a drop off a tall cliff. They ran for the woods. Brogan stepped out of the hut. Stood in a bar of sunshine and tried to lift his revolver. His arm wouldn't work. It hung uselessly.
"Decoy," Reacher said. "They thought I'd go in after him. He was waiting behind the door with his gun. I knew he was the bad guy. But they had me fooled for a moment."
McGrath nodded slowly. Stared at the government-issue.38 in Brogan's hand. Remembered his own being confiscated. He raised the Glock and wedged his wrist against a tree. Sighted down the barrel.
"Forget it," Reacher said.
McGrath kept his eyes on Brogan and shook his head.
"I'm not going to forget it," he said quietly. "Bastard sold Holly out."
"I meant forget the Glock," Reacher said. "That's a hundred yards. Glock won't get near. You'd be lucky to hit the damn hut from here."
McGrath lowered the Glock and Reacher handed him the M-16. Watched with interest as McGrath sighted it in.
"Where?" Reacher asked.
"Chest," McGrath said.
Reacher nodded.
"Chest is good," he said.
McGrath steadied himself and fired. He was good, but not really good. The rifle was still set to burst fire, and it loosed three rounds. The first hit Brogan in the upper left of his forehead, and the other two stitched upward and blasted fragments off the door frame. Good, but not very. But good enough to do the job. Brogan went down like a marionette with the strings cut. He just telescoped into the ground, right in front of the doorway. Reacher took the M-16 back and sprayed the trees on the edge of the clearing until the magazine clicked empty. Reloaded and handed the Glock back to McGrath. Nodded him east through the forest. They turned together and walked straight into Joseph Ray. He was unarmed and half dressed. Blood dried on his face like brown paint. He was fumbling with his shirt buttons. They were done up into the wrong holes.
"Women and children are going to die," he said.
"You all got an hour, Joe," Reacher said back to him. "Spread the word. Anybody wants to stay alive, better head for the hills."
The guy just shook his head.
"No," he said. "We've got to assemble on the parade ground. Those are our instructions. We've got to wait for Beau there."
"Beau won't be coming," Reacher said.
Ray shook his head again.
"He will be," he said. "You won't beat Beau, whoever you are. Can't be done. We got to wait for him. He's going to tell us what to do."
"Run for it, Joe," Reacher said. "For Christ's sake, get your kids out of here."
"Beau says that they have to stay here," Ray said. "Either to enjoy the fruits of victory, or to suffer the consequences of defeat."
Reacher just stared at him. Ray's bright eyes shone out. His teeth flashed in a brief defiant smile. He ducked his head and ran away.
"Women and children are going to die?" McGrath repeated.
"Borken's propaganda," Reacher said. "He's got them all convinced compulsory suicide is the penalty for getting beat around here."
"And they're standing still for it?" McGrath asked.
"He controls them," Reacher said. "Worse than you can imagine."
"I'm not interested in beating them," McGrath said. "Right now, I just want to get Holly out."
"Same thing," Reacher said.
They walked on in silence, through the trees in the direction of the Bastion.
"How did you know?" McGrath asked. "About Brogan?"
Reacher shrugged.
"I just felt it," he said. "His face, I guess. They like hitting people in the face. They did it to you. But Brogan was unmarked. I saw his face, no damage, no blood. I figured that was wrong. The excitement of an ambush, the tension, they'd have worked it off by roughing him up a little. Like they did with you. But he was theirs, so he just walked in, handshakes all around."