Die Trying by Lee Child

The general’s aide walked him back to the roadblock. There was silence

in the command vehicle. McGrath and Brogan and Milosevic studied the

map.

“We can’t get through, they can’t get through,” McGrath said. “We’ve

got them bottled up. We need to start exploiting that.”

“How?” Webster said.

“Control them,” McGrath said. “We already control their road. We can

control their power and their telephone line, too. The lines more or

less follow the road. Separate spurs up out of Kalispell. We should

cut the phone line so it terminates right here, in this vehicle. Then

they can’t communicate with anybody except us. Then we tell them we

control their power. Threaten to cut it off if they don’t

negotiate.”

“You want a negotiation?” Johnson asked.

“I want a stalling tactic,” McGrath said. “Until the White House

loosens up.”

Webster nodded.

“OK, do it,” he said. “Call the phone company and get the line run in

here.”

“I already did,” McGrath said. “They’ll do it first thing in the

morning.”

Webster yawned. Checked his watch. Gestured to Milosevic and

Brogan.

“We should get a sleeping rota going,” he said. “You two turn in

first. We’ll sleep two shifts, call it four hours at a time.”

Milosevic and Brogan nodded. Looked happy enough about it.

“See you later,” McGrath said. “Sleep tight.”

They left the trailer and closed the door quietly. Johnson was still

fiddling with the map. Twisting it and turning it on the table.

“Can’t they do the phone thing faster?” he asked. “Like tonight?”

Webster thought about it and nodded. He knew fifty per cent of any

battle is keeping the command structure harmonious.

“Call them again, Mack,” he said. “Tell them we need it now.”

McGrath called them again. He used the phone at his elbow. Had a

short conversation which ended with a chuckle.

“They’re sending the emergency linemen,” he said. “Should be done in a

couple of hours. But we’ll get an invoice for it. I told them to send

it to the Hoover Building. The guy asked me where that was.”

He got up and waited in the doorway. Johnson and Webster stayed at the

table. They huddled together over their map. They looked at the

southern ravine. It had been formed a million years ago when the earth

shattered under the weight of a billion tons of ice. They assumed it

was accurately represented on paper.

THIRTY-SIX

REACHER WOKE UP EXACTLY TWO MINUTES BEFORE TEN O’CLOCK. He did it in

his normal way, which was to come round quickly, motionless, no change

in his breathing. He felt his arm curled under his head and opened his

eyes the smallest fraction possible. The other side of the punishment

hut, Joseph Ray was still sitting against the door. The Clock was on

the floor beside him. He was checking his watch.

Reacher counted off ninety seconds in his head. Ray was glancing

between the roof of the hut and his watch. Then he looked across at

Reacher. Reacher snapped upright in one fluid movement. Pressed his

palm against his ear like he was listening to a secret communication.

Ray’s eyes were wide. Reacher nodded and stood up.

“OK,” he said. “Open the door, Joe.”

Ray took out the key from his pocket. Unlocked the door. It swung

open.

“You want to take the Clock?” Ray asked.

He held the gun out, butt first. Anxiety in his eyes. Reacher smiled.

He had expected nothing less. Ray was dumb, but not that dumb. He had

been given two and a half hours to scope it out. This was a final

test. If he took the gun, he was bullshitting. He was certain it was

unloaded and the clip was in Ray’s pocket.

“Don’t need it,” Reacher said. “We’ve got the whole place covered. I

got weapons at my disposal more powerful than a nine-millimeter,

believe me, Joe.”

Ray nodded and straightened up.

“Don’t forget the laser beams,” Reacher said. “You step out of this

hut, you’re a dead man. Nothing I can do about that right now. Vous

comprenez, mon ami?”

Ray nodded again. Reacher slipped out into the night. Ray swung the

door closed. Reacher backtracked silently and waited around the corner