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By Lee Child

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Sample text

You’ll need to make two trips. ” The second guy nodded. The floorboards were eighteen inches wide, from back when lumbermen had the pick of any tree they wanted. No way would they fit into the flatbed with the rest of the junk. They finished loading the plaster and their employer squeezed into their truck with them. He was such a big guy, it made for a tight fit. He pointed beyond the old building. “Drive north,” he said. ” The road led them straight out of town and then wound upward through some steep bends.

She smiled. “I could be handicapped,” she said. ” Reacher shook his head in the gloom. “That’s a hospital crutch,” he said. “They loaned it to you, short-term, until you’re over your injury. If it was a permanent thing, you’d have bought your own crutch. Probably you’d have bought a dozen. ” She laughed. It was a pleasant sound above the drone and boom of the truck’s engine and the roar of the road. “Pretty good, Jack Reacher,” she said. “I’m an FBI Special Agent. Since last fall. ” Reacher said.

The woman was pushed in behind him. Then the jumpy guy crowded in on them and slammed the door. The leader got in front on the right. Slammed the door. The driver nudged the selector and the car moved smoothly and quietly away down the street. THE WOMAN WAS gasping in pain and Reacher figured she had the jumpy guy’s gun jammed in her ribs. The leader was twisted around in the front seat with his gun hand resting against the thick leather headrest. The gun was pointed straight at Reacher’s chest.

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