Die Trying by Lee Child

had no head.

This is General Garber,” McGrath said. Top boy in the military

police.”

Garber shook his head.

“Wasn’t me,” he said. “Somebody beat me to it.”

“Wasn’t me,” Milosevic said.

Then Garber nodded behind them.

“Probably this guy,” he said.

Reacher was on his way down the knoll. Out of breath. A frame six

five high and two hundred twenty pounds in weight is good for a lot of

things, but not for sprinting a mile.

“Reacher,” Holly said.

He ignored her. Ignored everybody. Just ran on south and turned to

stare up at the white wall. He saw bullet holes. A lot of bullet

holes. Probably thirty holes, most of them scattered over the second

floor in the southeastern corner. He stared at them for a second and

ran for the jeep parked at the curb. Snatched the shovel from its

clips under the spare fuel can. Sprinted for the steps. Crashed

through the door and up the stairs to Holly’s room. Ran for the front

wall.

He could see at least a dozen exit holes punched through the wood.

Ragged splintered holes. He smashed the blade of the shovel into one

of them. Split the pine board length ways and used the shovel to

wrench it off. Smashed the shovel behind the next and tore it away

from the nails securing it. By the time McGrath was in the room, he

had exposed four feet of studding. By the time Holly joined them, they

were staring into an empty cavity.

“No dynamite,” she said, quietly.

Reacher ducked away to the adjacent wall. Tore enough boards off to be

sure.

There never was any,” Holly said. “Shit, I can’t believe it.”

There was some,” McGrath said. “Jackson called it in. Described the

whole thing. I saw his report. He unloaded the truck with seven other

guys. He carried it up here. He saw it going into the walls, for

God’s sake. A ton of dynamite. Kind of a hard thing to be confused

about.”

“So they put it in,” Reacher said. “And then they took it out. They

let people see it going in, then they took it out again secretly. They

used it somewhere else.”

Took it out again?” Holly repeated.

“Women and children have to die,” Reacher said, slowly.

“What?” Holly asked. “What are you saying?”

“But not here,” he said. “Not these women and children.”

“What?” Holly said again.

“Not mass suicide,” Reacher said. “Mass murder.”

Then he just went blank. He was silent. But in his head he was

hearing something. He was hearing the same terrible blast he had heard

thirteen years before. The sound of Beirut. The sound of the Marine

compound, out near the airport. He was hearing it all over again, and

it was deafening him.

“Now we know what it is,” he muttered through the shattering roar.

“What is it?” McGrath asked.

“Low on its springs,” Reacher said. “But we don’t know where it’s

gone.”

“What?” Holly said again.

“Women and children have to die,” Reacher repeated. “Borken said so.

He said the historical circumstances justified it. But he didn’t mean

these women and these children up here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” McGrath said.

Reacher glanced at him, and then at Holly, surprised, like he was

seeing them both for the first time.

“I was in the motor pool,” he said. “I saw the truck. Our truck? It

was parked up, low on its springs, like it had a heavy weight

inside.”

“What?” Holly said again.

“They’ve made themselves a truck bomb,” Reacher said. “Stevie’s

delivering it somewhere, some public place. That’s the other attack.

They’re going to explode it in a crowd. There’s a whole ton of

dynamite in it. And he’s six hours ahead of us.”

McGrath was first down the stairs.

“Into the jeep,” he yelled.

Garber ran for the jeep. But Milosevic was much nearer. He vaulted in

and fired it up. Then McGrath was helping Holly into the front seat.

Reacher was on the sidewalk, staring south, lost in thought. Milosevic

was drawing his revolver. He was thumbing the hammer back. Garber

stopped. Raised his rifle and aimed. Milosevic

3QD

leaned across in front of Holly. McGrath jumped away. Milosevic