An hour before the scheduled meeting, Otto and Gaspar stepped out of the coffee shop located across the street from the J. Edgar Hoover building into the mild autumn weather. Full dark had fallen a while back, but streetlights and headlights and floodlights eliminated all blackness. The trees were partially clothed in fall finery; grass remained green and a few flowers still bloomed. No breeze ruffled to cool the temperature.
After Wisconsin, Kim found the evening weather pleasantly warm. After Miami, Gaspar might have been a bit chilled. Both were energized by the anticipated confrontation. Maybe they were finally going to catch a break.
Saturday night on Pennsylvania Avenue NW was subdued. Traffic moved at posted speeds or less. Couples and small groups populated the sidewalks, strolling with discrete distances between them. Nothing out of the ordinary to notice.
Gaspar stretched like a cat, asked, “Shall we walk?” and set off eastbound before she had a chance to respond.
Kim ran through the options. The Metro Stop at 7th Street was off the path, a cab wasn’t worth the wait, she absolutely wasn’t taking the bus, Gaspar wasn’t limping, and walking always helped to organize her thoughts before a mission.
“Probably easiest, if you’re up for it,” Kim said, quickening her pace to reach him and keep up with his longer stride.
So they approached the National Gallery of Art’s East Building the first time as any tourist might travel from FBI headquarters, hoofing less than a mile along Pennsylvania Avenue and turned right at 4th Street NW, walking along the sidewalk opposite the East Building.
Kim had studied the building through quick online research during her return flight from Madison. Opened in 1978, it was designed by I.M. Pei, which no doubt accounted for its irregular shape and probably explained the National Honor Award from the American Institute of Architects in 1981.
Inside, the building housed modern art, research centers and offices. Outside, it was nestled among the trees, surrounded by a six-acre contemporary sculpture garden and green space on three sides.
Although it was connected underground to the more traditional West Building where the main Gallery entrance was located, the East Building also admitted the public through a massive glass-walled entrance facing 4th Street.
Before they turned onto 4th Street, they’d seen a line of cabs and limousines at the East Building’s front entrance. Kim looked inside the East Building lobby as they walked past. The room seemed stuffed to capacity. Men in tuxedoes; women in long gowns and short skirts; waiters passing trays of canapés and bubbly; a string quartet playing in the front corner. None of the noise from the party seeped out to Kim’s ears.
“Some sort of charity gala?” she asked, noticing the flags on a few of the limos. “Diplomats, maybe?”
At the 4th Street and Madison Drive corner, they crossed 4th Street, turned and returned along the sidewalk closest to the East Building this time. The green space was lighted, but too dark to traverse without dogs and Tasers. They stayed on the sidewalk until they reached the opposite corner, which was technically 4th Street and Constitution.
Gaspar’s gaze scanned everywhere. He said, “Three dark hoodies at three o’clock, south side, between the glass pyramids. Check it out next pass.”
“Reacher?”
He wagged his head. “Too small.”
“You saw the sculptures and all those narrow, open areas around the building?” she asked. What worried her were the number of deeply shadowed areas suitable for clandestine attacks. Quick death was easy to imagine and bodies could lay in those shadows for a good long time before anyone noticed.
Gaspar seemed to hear her concern. “Even if he planned this -”
“You think he didn’t?”
He wagged his head. “Not Reacher’s style, is it? Based on what we know? He’d come right at us if he wanted to take us out.”
Kim’s breath sucked in and stayed there a beat, making it hard to talk. “Why don’t I find that reassuring?” she said lightly when she could speak again.
Gaspar laughed. “If he planned everything. Big if. But if he did, this is a test.”
“Test of what?”
Gaspar shrugged. “Dunno. He wants to see what we’ll do. Whether we’ll come alone or bring an army. How long we’ll wait. What we’ll say. My kids call it a psych-out.”
Kim said nothing, but she agreed, partly. If she'd expected to find Reacher here tonight in the shadows, she would have brought more firepower. But she thought Reacher had planned this encounter. What exactly was he up to?