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hand, brown leather, larger than a doctor bag, smaller than a duffel.
    No one else got out of the train.
    The doors were still open.
    On his right Reacher saw the spare-parts guy take another step forward. The man from the train spotted him. The spare-parts guy said a name and stuck out his hand. Polite, respectful, welcoming, and humble.
    The man from the train shook hands.
    The doors were still open.
    But Reacher stayed where he was, in the dark.
    The spare-parts guy carried the leather bag and led the man in the suit toward the exit gate. The train doors sucked shut, and the cars whined and shuddered, and the train moved away again, slowly, slowly, car after car.

    The spare-parts guy led the man in the suit out of sight.
    Reacher stepped out to the ramp and watched the tail light dance away in the distance.
    From the shadows Chang said, “They’re heading for the motel.”
    Reacher said, “Who are?”
    “The man from the train, and his new pal.”
    She stepped into the light.
    She said, “You didn’t go.”
    He said, “No, I didn’t.”
    “I thought you would.”
    “So did I.”
    “I think I’m a nice person, but I know I’m not the reason.”
    Reacher said nothing.
    Chang said, “That came out wrong. I’m sorry. Not that kind of reason. Which is presumptuous anyway. I mean, no reason I should be that kind of reason. And now I’m making it worse. I mean, you didn’t stay just to help me out. Did you?”
    “Did you see those guys shake hands?”
    “Of course.”
    “That’s why I stayed.”

Chapter 8
    Reacher led Chang into the silent waiting room and they sat on a bench, side by side in the dark. Reacher said, “How would you characterize that handshake?”
    Chang said, “In what way?”
    “The narrative. The story. The body language.”
    “It looked like a junior corporate executive had been sent to meet an important customer.”
    “Had they met before?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “I agree. And it was nicely done, by the local guy. Wasn’t it? A whole subtle performance. Deferential, but not obsequious. Different from when he shakes his buddy’s hand, I’m sure. Or his father-in-law’s. Or the loan officer at the bank. Or an old friend from high school he hasn’t seen for twenty years.”
    “So?”
    “Our local guy is a man with a wide variety of handshaking styles at his command, and we can assume he’s comfortable about using all of them. It’s part of his shtick.”
    “How does this help us?”

    “I saw that guy this morning. He runs a store with spare parts for irrigation systems. I walked by his window, and he jumped and went for the phone.”
    “Why would he?”
    “You tell me.”
    “How paranoid do you want me to be?”
    “Somewhere between common sense and a little bit.”
    She said, “I would think nothing of it, if it wasn’t for Keever.”
    “But?”
    “You look like Keever. In a general way. Maybe Keever’s been snooping around, and people have been told to keep an eye out for him, or anyone like him.”
    Reacher said, “I wondered about that, too. Didn’t seem very likely, but unlikely things happen. So I went back later, to check. I asked the guy, why did you react? He said he recognized me, from college football in 1986. At Penn State. Apparently there were photographs of me in the magazines. He said he didn’t make a telephone call. He said maybe his hand was moving because the phone was ringing. He said it rings all the time.”
    “Was it ringing?”
    “I couldn’t hear.”
    “You played football at Penn State?”
    “No, I went to West Point and played football only once. Not very well, I’m afraid. I’m pretty sure I was never in a magazine.”
    “Could have been an innocent mistake. 1986 was a long time ago. Your appearance would have changed considerably. And you look like you could have played football for Penn State.”
    “That was my conclusion. At the time.”
    “But now?”
    “Now I think he was covering his ass. He was hiding