Die Trying by Lee Child

friendly, refuses to launch.”

“Guaranteed?” McGrath asked.

The aide nodded.

“Foolproof,” he said.

Garber glowered at him. But he said nothing. Not his field of

expertise.

“OK,” Webster said. “Back to bed. Wake us again at eight, Brogan.”

On the tarmac at Peterson, a Boeing CH-47D Chinook was warming its

engines and sipping the first of its eight hundred fifty-eight gallons

of fuel. A Chinook is a giant aircraft, whose twin rotors thump

through an oval of air a hundred feet long and sixty wide. It weighs

more than ten tons empty, and it can lift another eleven. It’s a giant

flying box, the engines and the fuel tanks strapped to the top and the

sides, the crew perched high at the front. Any helicopter can search,

but when heavy equipment is at stake, only a Chinook can rescue.

Because of the holiday weekend, the Peterson dispatcher assigned a

skeleton crew of two. No separate spotter. He figured he didn’t need

one. How difficult could it be to find five army trucks on some

shoulder in Montana?

“You should have stayed here,” Borken said. “Right, Joe?”

Reacher glanced into the gloom inside the punishment hut. Joseph Ray

was standing to attention on the yellow square. He was staring

straight ahead. He was naked. Bleeding from the mouth and nose.

“Right, Joe?” Borken said again.

Ray made no reply. Borken walked over and crashed his fist into his

face. Ray stumbled and fell backward. Staggered against the back wall

and scrambled to regain his position on the square.

“I asked you a question,” Borken said.

Ray nodded. The blood poured off his chin.

“Readier should have stayed here,” he said.

Borken hit him again. A hard straight right to the face. Ray’s head

snapped back. Blood spurted. Borken smiled.

“No talking when you’re on the square, Joe,” he said. “You know the

rules.”

Borken stepped back and placed the muzzle of the Sig-Sauer in Reacher’s

ear. Used it to propel him out into the clearing. Gestured Stevie to

follow.

“You stay on the square, Joe,” he called over his shoulder.

Stevie slammed the door shut. Borken reversed his direction and used

the Sig-Sauer to shove Readier toward him.

Tell Fowler to get rid of this guy,” he told him. “He’s outlived his

usefulness, such as it ever was. Put the bitch back in her room. Put

a ring of sentries right around the building. We got things to do,

right? No time for this shit. Parade ground at six-thirty. Everybody

there. I’m going to read them the proclamation, before we fax it.”

McGrath couldn’t sleep. He walked back to the accommodations trailer

with the others and got back on his bunk, but he gave it up after ten

minutes. Quarter to seven in the morning, he was back in the command

vehicle with Brogan and Milosevic.

“You guys take a break if you want,” he said. “I’ll look after things

here.”

“We could go organize some breakfast,” Brogan said. “Diners in

Kalispell should be open by now.”

McGrath nodded vaguely. Started into his jacket for his wallet. “Don’t

worry about it,” Brogan said. “I’ll pay. My treat.” “OK, thanks,”

McGrath said. “Get coffee. Lots of it.” Brogan and Milosevic stood

up and left. McGrath stood in the doorway and watched them drive an

army sedan south. The sound of the car faded and he was left with the

silent humming of the equipment behind him. He turned to sit down.

The clock ticked around to seven. The fax machine started whirring.

Holly smoothed her hands over the old mattress like Reacher was there

on it. Like it was really his body under her, scarred and battered,

hot and hard and muscular, not a worn striped cotton cover stuffed with

ancient horsehair. She blinked the tears out of her eyes. Blew a deep

sigh and focused on the next decision. No

Readier, no Jackson, no weapon, no tools, six sentries in the street

outside. She glanced around the room for the thousandth time and

started scoping it out all over again.

McGrath woke the others by thumping on the sides of the accommodations

trailer with both fists. Then he ran back to the command post and