"What's the A. A. for?" Reacher asked.
"I'm sure Mr. Rodin will tell you if he wants to," the secretary said.
She knocked on the door and Reacher heard a baritone reply from inside. Then she opened the door and stood aside for Reacher to go in past her.
"Thanks," he said.
"You're most welcome," she said.
Reacher went in. Rodin was already on his feet behind his desk, ready to welcome his visitor, full of reflexive courtesy. Reacher recognized him from the TV. He was a guy of about fifty, fairly lean, fairly fit, gray hair cut short. In person he looked smaller. He was maybe an inch under six feet and a pound under two hundred. He was dressed in a summer-weight suit, dark blue. He had a blue shirt on, and a blue tie. His eyes were blue. Blue was his color, no doubt about it. He was immaculately shaved and wearing cologne. He was a very squared-away guy, no question. As opposed to me, Reacher thought. It was like a study in contrasts. Next to Rodin, Reacher was an unkempt giant. He was six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. His hair was two inches longer and his clothes were a thousand dollars cheaper.
"Mr. Reacher?" Rodin said.
Reacher nodded. The office was government-basic, but neat. It was cool and quiet. No real view from the window. Just the flat roofs of the off-brand stores and the DMV office, with all the ductwork showing. The black glass tower was visible in the distance. There was a weak sun in the sky. At a right angle to the window there was a trophy wall behind the desk, with college degree certificates and photographs of Rodin with politicians. There were framed newspaper headlines reporting guilty verdicts in seven different cases. On another wall was a photograph of a blonde girl wearing a mortarboard and a gown and holding a degree scroll. She was pretty. Reacher looked at her for a moment longer than he needed to.
"That's my daughter," Rodin said. "She's a lawyer, too."
"Is she?" Reacher said.
"She just opened her own office here in town."
There was nothing in his tone. Reacher wasn't sure whether he was proud, or disapproving.
"You're due to meet with her, I think," Rodin said.
"Am I?" Reacher said. "Why?"
"She's defending James Barr."
"Your daughter? Is that ethical?"
"There's no law against it. It might not be sensible, but it's not unethical."
He said sensible with emphasis, hinting at a number of meanings. Not smart to defend a notorious case, not smart for a daughter to take on her father, not smart for anyone to take on A. A. Rodin. He sounded like a very competitive guy.
"She put your name on her provisional witness list," he said.
"Why?"
"She thinks you have information."
"Where did she get my name?"
"I don't know."
"From the Pentagon?"
Rodin shrugged. "I'm not sure. But she got it from somewhere. Therefore people have been looking for you."
"Is that why I got in here?"
Rodin nodded.
"Yes, it is," he said. "That's exactly why. Generally I don't encourage walk-ins."
"Your staff seems to be on board with that policy."
"I certainly hope so," Rodin said. "Sit down, please."
Reacher sat in the visitor chair and Rodin sat behind his desk. The window was on Reacher's left and Rodin's right. Neither man had the light in his eyes. It was an equitable furniture arrangement. Different from some prosecutors' offices Reacher had known.
"Coffee?" Rodin asked.
"Please," Reacher said.
Rodin made a call and asked for coffee.
"Naturally I'm interested in why you came to see me first," he said. "The prosecution, I mean, rather than the defense."
"I wanted your personal opinion," Reacher said.
"On what?"
"On how strong a case you've got against James Barr."
Rodin didn't answer immediately. There was a short silence and then there was a knock at the door and the secretary came in with coffee. She had a silver tray with the works on it. A French press, two cups, two saucers, a sugar bowl, a tiny pitcher of cream, two silver spoons. The cups were fine china. Not government issue, Reacher thought. Rodin likes his coffee done right. The secretary put the tray on the edge of the desk, so that it was exactly halfway between the desk chair and the visitor chair.
"Thanks," Reacher said.
"You're most welcome," she said, and left the room.
"Help yourself," Rodin said. "Please."
Reacher pushed the plunger down and poured himself a cup, no cream, no sugar. It smelled dark and strong. Coffee, done right.
"The case against James Barr is exceptionally good," Rodin said.
"Eyewitnesses?" Reacher asked.
"No," Rodin said. "But eyewitness testimony can be of random value. I'm almost glad we don't have eyewitnesses. Because what we've got instead is exceptional physical evidence. And science doesn't lie. It doesn't get confused."
"Exceptional?" Reacher said.
"A complete rock-solid evidence trail that ties the man to the crime."
"How solid?"
"As good as it gets. The best I've ever seen. I'm completely confident."
"I've heard prosecutors say that before."
"Not this one, Mr. Reacher. I'm a very cautious man. I don't prosecute capital cases unless I'm certain of the outcome."
"Keeping score?"
Rodin gestured above and behind him at his trophy wall.
"Seven for seven," he said. "One hundred percent."
"In how long?"
"In three years. James Barr will make it eight for eight. If he ever wakes up."
"Suppose he wakes up damaged?"
"If he wakes up with any brain function at all, he's going to trial. What he did here can't be forgiven."
"OK," Reacher said.
"OK what?"
"You've told me what I wanted to know."
"You said you had information. From the army."
"I'll keep it to myself for now."
"You were a military policeman, am I right?"
"Thirteen years," Reacher said.
"And you knew James Barr?"
"Briefly."
"Tell me about him."
"Not yet."
"Mr. Reacher, if you have exculpatory information, or anything to add at all, you really need to tell me now."
"Do I?"
"I'll get it anyway. My daughter will submit it. She'll be looking for a plea bargain."
"What does the A. A. stand for?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your initials."
"Aleksei Alekseivitch. My family came from Russia. But a long time ago. Before the October Revolution."
"But they keep up traditions."
"As you can see."
"What do people call you?"
"Alex, of course."
Reacher stood up. "Well, thanks for your time, Alex. And the coffee."
"Are you going to see my daughter now?"
"Is there any point? You seem pretty sure of yourself."
Rodin smiled an indulgent smile.
"It's a matter of procedure," he said. "I'm an officer of the court, and you're on a witness list. I'm obliged to point out that you're obliged to go. Anything less would be unethical."
"Where is she?"
"In the glass tower you can see from the window."
"OK," Reacher said. "I guess I could drop by."