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The secrets are deadlier and his enemies are stronger than he could have guessed--but so is the woman whose life he'll risk his own to save.
In 61 Hours, Lee Child has written a showdown thriller with an explosive ending that readers will talk about for a long time to come.
Not always. Not completely , notes Jack Reacher—and sure enough, the retired military cop is soon pulled back into service.
Someone has taken a shot at the president of France in the City of Light. The bullet was American. The distance between the gunman and the target was exceptional.
How many snipers can shoot from three-quarters of a mile with total confidence? Very few, but John Kott—an American marksman gone bad—is one of them.
Not this time. Not Nice. Reacher never gets too close. But now a killer is making it personal. His destination: a sturdy stone building a short bus ride from Washington D.
It was the closest thing to a home he ever had. He wants to meet the new commanding officer, Major Susan Turner. He liked her voice on the phone.
Why is Susan Turner not there? He himself is in big trouble, accused of a sixteen-year-old homicide. And your ass is mine. Or — will someone else?
Four people in a car, hoping to make Chicago by morning. One man driving, eyes on the road. A woman in the back, silent and worried. And next to her, a huge man with a broken nose, hitching a ride east to Virginia.
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.
All Reacher wanted was a ride to Virginia. All he did was stick out his thumb. But he soon discovers he has hitched more than a ride.
He has tied himself to a massive conspiracy that makes him a threat - to both sides at once. As the tension rises, the twists come fast and furious, keeping readers guessing and gasping until the explosive finale.
But even a pleasant hike on a beautiful summer day turns into a walk on the wild side. Jack Reacher is on the road, hitching a ride with some earnest young Canadians who are planning a hike through some of the last unspoiled wilderness in North America in the dense forests of Maine.
They part ways after sharing a hot meal, and Reacher checks out a quiet town surrounded by countryside serene enough to cool even his raging wanderlust.
But not for long. First the trail is suddenly and inexplicably closed. Then the military police show up in force. Maybe it's a drill. Or maybe it's trouble—the kind of trouble that always finds Reacher, no matter how far he travels off the beaten path.
The assignment that awaits him: The army is meeting with its Capitol Hill paymasters for classified talks on a new, state-of-the-art sniper rifle for U.
But vital details about the weapon are leaking—straight from the Capitol and probably into the hands of unidentified foreign arms dealers. His task: infiltrate the top-secret proceedings and smoke out the mole.
His target: a quartet of high-powered Army political liaison officers—all of them fast-track women on their way to the top.
No need to draw a gun. But Reacher knows that things are rarely what they seem. Or four. Lessons that will come in handy when he starts digging for the truth—and gets his hands a lot dirtier than he expected.
Box, and Nelson DeMille. Jance and Eric Van Lustbader. For the only way to find the truth--and save two innocent lives--is to do it the way Jack Reacher does it best: the hard way Jack Reacher was alone, the way he liked it, soaking up the hot, electric New York City night, watching a man cross the street to a parked Mercedes and drive it away.
The car contained one million dollars in ransom money. And Edward Lane, the man who paid it, will pay even more to get his family back.
Lane runs a highly illegal soldiers-for-hire operation. He will use any amount of money and any tool to find his beautiful wife and child.
And then he'll turn Jack Reacher loose with a vengeance--because Reacher is the best man hunter in the world.
On the trail of a vicious kidnapper, Reacher is learning the chilling secrets of his employer's past He's beginning to realize that Edward Lane is hiding something.
Something dirty. Something big. But Reacher also knows this: he's already in way too deep to stop now.
What could connect a cold-blooded off-post shooting with Reacher, his elder brother Joe, and a secretive unit of pointy-heads from the Pentagon?
This time, he's a hitchhiker picked up by a troubled beauty. And what happens between them has everybody talking. Child builds tension to unbearable extremes.
In the midst of a savage heat wave and an infamous murder spree, a blackout awakens the dark side of the city that never sleeps—and a young Jack Reacher takes action as only he can.
July The summer heat is suffocating, the city is bankrupt, and the mad gunman known as Son of Sam is still on the loose.
Reacher meets a woman with a problem, and agrees to help her. What does a visiting teenager do in the dark?
If that visiting teenager is Jack Reacher, the answer is plenty. Between them, twelve miles of empty road. Jack Reacher never turns back. It's not in his nature.
All he wants is a cup of coffee. What he gets is big trouble. He was just passing through, minding his own business.
Shouts,shrill, trailing curses, and the muffled beat of hoofs in the dust. Arider plunged into view now, his horse leaning far in to take the sharpangle, and the dust skidding out and away from his sliding hoofs.
Therider gave easily and gracefully to the wrench of his mount. And he seemed to have a perfect trust in his horse, for he rode with thereins hanging over the horns of his saddle.
His hands were occupied by apair of revolvers, and he was turned in the saddle. The head of the pursuing crowd lurched around the elbow-turn; fire spattwice from the mouth of each gun.
Two men dropped, one rolling over andover in the dust, and the other sitting down and clasping his leg in aludicrous fashion.
But the crowd was checked and fell back. By this time the racing horse of the fugitive had carried him close tothe hotel, and now he faced the front, a handsome fellow with long blackhair blowing about his face.
He wore a black silk shirt which accentuatedthe pallor of his face and the flaring crimson of his bandanna. And helaughed joyously, and the watchers from the hotel window heard him call:"Go it, Mary.
Feed 'em dust, girl! Another gust of revolver shots barked from the turning of the street, andamong them a different and more sinister sound like the striking of twogreat hammers face on face, so that there was a cold ring of metal afterthe explosion--at least one man had brought a rifle to bear.
Now, as thewild rider darted past the hotel, his hat was jerked from his head by aninvisible hand. He whirled again in the saddle and his guns raised.
As heturned, Elizabeth Cornish saw something glint across the street. It wasthe gleam of light on the barrel of a rifle that was thrust out throughthe window of the store.
That long line of light wobbled, steadied, and fire jetted from the mouthof the gun. The black-haired rider spilled sidewise out of the saddle;his feet came clear of the stirrups, and his right leg caught on thecantle.
He was flung rolling in the dust, his arms flying weirdly. Therifle disappeared from the window and a boy's set face looked out.
Butbefore the limp body of the fugitive had stopped rolling, ElizabethCornish dropped into a chair, sick of face. Her brother turned his backon the mob that closed over the dead man and looked at Elizabeth inalarm.
It was not the first time he had seen the result of a gunplay, and forthat matter it was not the first time for Elizabeth. Her emotion upsethim more than the roar of a hundred guns.
He managed to bring her a glassof water, but she brushed it away so that half of the contents spilled onthe red carpet of the room. He isn't dead!
But--what in the world! Did you know the fellow? The capable hands of Elizabethwere pressed to her breast, and out of the thirty-five years ofspinsterhood which had starved her face he became aware of eyes young anddark, and full of spirit; by no means the keen, quiet eyes of ElizabethCornish.
All the time she was seeing nothing, but she would never forget what shehad seen, no matter how long she lived.
Subconsciously she was fightingto keep the street voices out of her mind. They were saying things shedid not wish to hear, things she would not hear.
Finally, she recoveredenough to stand up and shut the window. That brought her a terribletemptation to look down into the mass of men in the street--and women,too!
But she resisted and looked up. The forms of the street remainedobscurely in the bottom of her vision, and made her think of somethingshe had seen in the woods--a colony of ants around a dead beetle.
Presently the door opened and Vance came back. He still seemed veryworried, but she forced herself to smile at him, and at once his concerndisappeared; it was plain that he had been troubled about her and not inthe slightest by the fate of the strange rider.
She kept on smiling, butfor the first time in her life she really looked at Vance withoutsisterly prejudice in his favor.
She saw a good-natured face, handsome,with the cheeks growing a bit blocky, though Vance was only twenty-five.
He had a glorious forehead and fine eyes, but one would never look twiceat Vance in a crowd. She knew suddenly that her brother was simply awell-mannered mediocrity.
Ordinarily she was well-nigh brutallyfrank. Now she found it easy to lie and keep on smiling. Caught you off balance. But I never knew you to lose yourgrip so easily.
Well, do you know what you've seen? It seemed to him that a tremor of unevennesshad come into her voice. Very neat shot. Youngster thatdropped him; boy named Joe Minter.
Six thousand dollars for Joe. Nicelittle nest egg to build a fortune on, eh?