Dead Ringer: The Jack Reacher Experiment Book 1 by Jude Hardin

Author:Jude Hardin [Hardin, Jude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

14

It wasn’t quite as difficult as the housekeeping supervisor had thought it would be for Wahlman to determine which of the big white plastic bags contained the trash from his room. It only took him about five minutes to find the bag from the fourth floor. The plastic was translucent, and he could see the logo on the box from the chicken place Allison had gone to last night to get their dinner.

He tore the bag open and started ferreting through the nastiness. No broken glass or razor blades, but plenty of stuff that probably should have been sealed into a container with a biohazard stamp on it. There was a dirty diaper that probably should have been sealed in lead and buried deeply in the ground. Half-eaten hamburgers, dental floss, candy wrappers. Someone had discarded a sizeable wedge of birthday cake. Chocolate with chocolate frosting. It said PY BIR, and below that, JA. Maybe the person’s name was Jane. Or Jason. Or Jack. With the hefty tax on sugar these days, Wahlman wondered why so much of the cake had been thrown away. He didn’t wonder about it long, though, because right underneath the circular piece of cardboard it had been mounted on was the business card he was looking for.

He reached down and picked up the card, slid it into his back pocket, climbed out of the bin and brushed himself off. He tossed the goggles and the rubber gloves and took the stairs back up to the fourth floor and went to his room.

The clothes he was wearing were filthy from fighting in the street and digging in the trash. He opened his suitcase and set out some clean things—Levi’s and socks and boxers and an undershirt, and a blue oxford button-down with tails that could be left out to conceal the revolver—and then he shaved and took a shower and transferred everything from the pockets of his dirty clothes to the pockets of his fresh clothes and made a pot of coffee and looked at the business card with the magnifying glass. He’d used a ballpoint pen to write Fake Drake’s number on the card, and the pressure from the point had indeed left an impression, albeit a very faint one. He could make out every number except the second to the last.

The phone started ringing. The only person Wahlman wanted to talk to right now was Allison, and there was no way to be certain that she was the one calling. So instead of answering the phone, Wahlman turned the coffee pot off, stuffed the clothes he’d been wearing earlier into the trash can, slid the .38 into his waistband, zipped up his suitcase and left the room.

As he made his way down the corridor, it occurred to him that maybe he didn’t even need his own hotel room anymore. Now that he’d gotten the business card back, the room wasn’t much more than a liability. He’d initially hoped to use it as a lure

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