The Hard Way (Jack Reacher)
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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 because Edward Lane, the man who paid it, would do anything to get his family back.
Lane runs a highly illegal soldiers-for-hire operation. He will use any tool to find his beautiful wife and child. And Jack Reacher is the best manhunter in the world.
On the trail of vicious kidnappers, Reacher learns the chilling secrets of his employer’s past . . . and of a horrific drama in the heart of a nasty little war. He knows 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. And if he has to do it the hard way, he will.
straight to the kid's head and grabs her hair with his free hand and holds on tight. That's game over right there. Nobody on the street is worried. For them, it's a pickup, not a drop-off. And Taylor would do what he's told from that point on. What choice does he have? He's got Mrs. Lane screaming in the seat next to him. And what can he do anyway? He can't flip the lever and shove the seat off its runners back on the guy, because the Jaguar's got electric seats. He can't turn around and fight,
what to think. But at least one of Lane's guys wasn't sleeping too well last night." "I met Hobart and Knight, you know. Five years ago. During the investigation." "Did either of them look like the guy I saw?" "Medium-sized and ordinary-looking? Both of them, exactly." "That helps." "What are you going to do now?" "I'm going back to the Dakota. Maybe we'll get a call and this whole thing will be over. But more likely we won't, and it's just beginning." "Give me three hours," Pauling said.
big," Pauling said. "Start small. Name one thing that surprised you." "Is this what you did? In the FBI? In your brainstorming sessions?" "Absolutely. Didn't you?" "I was an MP. I was lucky to find anyone with a brain to storm." "Seriously. Name one thing that surprised you." Reacher sipped his coffee. She's right, he thought. There's always something out of context even before you know what the context ought to he. "Just one thing," Pauling said again. "At random." Reacher said, "I got
by below. And a wide six-lane east-west highway with slow traffic driving on the left. Then suburbs, two-family houses, curving roads, tiny green back yards, garden sheds, and then acres of airport parking full of small cars, many of them red. Then the airport fence. Then the chevrons at the start of the runway. Close to the ground the plane seemed huge again after feeling cramped for seven hours. After being a narrow tube it became a two-hundred-ton monster doing two hundred miles an hour. It
offer very generous finders' fees." The direct approach. A variant. "How much?" Kemp asked. "It's usually a percentage.' "What farms?" Kemp asked. "You tell us. Generally we look for tidy well-run places that might have issues with ownership stability." "What the hell does that mean?" "It means we want good places that were recently bought up by amateurs. But we want them quick, before they're ruined." "Grange Farm," Kemp said. "They're bloody amateurs. They've gone organic." "We heard