The eyewitness said he didn’t actually see it happen. But how else could it have gone down? Not long after midnight a man in a green winter coat had gone into a small concrete bunker through its only door. Two men in black suits had followed him in. There had been a short pause. The two men in the black suits had come out again.
The man in the green winter coat had not come out again. The two men in the black suits had walked thirty brisk feet and climbed into a bright red car. Fire-engine red, the eyewitness called it. Vivid red. Fairly new. A regular four-door sedan, the eyewitness thought. Or maybe a fi ve-door. Or a three door. But definitely not a two-door coupe. A Toyota, the eyewitness thought. Or maybe a Honda. Or a Hyundai. Maybe a Kia. But whichever, the two men in the black suits had driven away in it.
There was still no sign of the man in the green winter coat. Then blood had pooled out from under the concrete bunker’s door. The eyewitness had called 911. The county sheriff had shown up and gotten the story. He was good at hustling folk along while looking patient. It was one of his many talents. Eventually the eyewitness had finished up. Then the county sheriff had thought for a long moment. He was in a part of the nation where in every direction there were hundreds of square miles of emptiness just over the dark horizon. Where roads were long lonely ribbons.
He was in roadblock country.
So he had called the highway patrol, and then he had ordered up the helicopter from the state capital. He had put out an urgent APB on a bright red import carrying two men in black suits.
Jack Reacher rode for ninety miles and ninety minutes with a woman in a dirty gray van, and then he saw bright vapor lights up ahead at the highway cloverleaf, with big green signs pointing west and east. The woman slowed the van, and stopped, and Reacher got out and thanked her and waved her away. She used the first ramp, west toward Denver and Salt Lake City, and he walked under the bridge and set up on the eastbound ramp, one foot on the shoulder and one in the traffic lane, and he stuck out his thumb and smiled and tried to look friendly.
Which was not easy. Reacher was a big man, six feet five inches tall, heavily built, and that night as always he looked a little ragged and unkempt. Lonely drivers wanted pleasant and unthreatening company, and Reacher knew from long experience that visually he was no one’s first choice of companion. Too intimidating. And right then he was further handicapped by a freshly broken nose. He had patched the injury with a length of silver duct tape, which he knew must make him look even more grotesque. He knew the tape must be shining and glittering in the yellow light. But he felt the tape was helping him medically, so he decided to keep it in place for the fi rst hour. If he didn’t get a ride inside sixty minutes, he would consider peeling it off.
He didn’t get a ride inside sixty minutes. Traffic was light. Nebraska, at night, in the wintertime. The cloverleaf he was at was the only significant interchange for miles around, but even so whole minutes passed with no action at all. Up on the bridge the through traffic was fairly steady, but few people seemed keen to join it. In the first hour only forty vehicles showed up to turn east.
Copyright © 2012 by Lee Child
All Jack Reacher wanted was a ride to Virginia. But when he gets into a car full of strangers, he soon discovers he has hitched more than a ride…he’s unwittingly put himself in the middle of a massive conspiracy that makes him a target of the FBI, the CIA and an insidious terrorist plot.
His fellow passengers in the car say they’re simply employees from a software company, but the man behind the wheel and his friend are telling stories that don’t add up. And in the back is a woman, silent and worried, trying to communicate to Reacher with her frightened eyes that she may be a hostage.
An hour behind them, a man lies stabbed to death in an old pumping station. He was seen going in with two others, but he never came out. He has been executed, the knife work professional, the killers vanished. Within minutes, the police are notified. Within hours, the FBI descends, laying claim to the victim without ever saying who he was or why he was there.
In Lee Child’s white-hot thriller, nothing is what it seems, and nobody is telling the truth. As the tension rises, the twists come fast and furious, keeping readers guessing and gasping until the explosive finale.
Hardcover Book : 304 pages
Publisher: Delacorte Press ( September 11, 2012 )
Item #: 13-633525
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 8.25 x 0.94inches
Product Weight: 15.0 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
I love Lee Child's Jack Reacher series and this was no exception. The story is very fast-paced and full of thrills. It all starts when Jack is hitch-hiking and is picked up by two men and a woman dressed in identical clothes. Immediately he knows something is wrong. Will he get out of that car alive? Read and see. Excellent book. Lee Child may be British but he writes about all-American characters. This book is consistent with the rest of the series.
Reviewer: Terri M
Have read several Reacher books and this one wasn't the best.
Reviewer: Judy L
I've read all of Lee Child's Jack Reacher books and this was clearly not one of the better books. It moved slow and lacked much of the fun and excitement I've come to expect from Jack Reacher. He seems to be slowing down as he gets older.
Reviewer: Jack L
I haave all of the Reacher books and love them all - but this one is just not true to Jack Reacher. Seems more like a "Tom Cruse" Reacher. Whata farce that 5ft7inch "Reacher" was --
Reviewer: Beverley H
Always enjoy the Reacher stories. Keeps me turning the pages.