Die Trying by Lee Child

noise moved up out of the cabin and settled to a deep roar inside the

engines. The ground tilted and flashed past below. Reacher saw the

mountain hairpins unwinding and the parade ground sliding past. The

knot of tiny people was breaking up.

3QS

They were drifting away into the trees and being swallowed up under the

green canopy. Then the narrow slash of the rifle range was under them,

then the broad stony circle of the Bastion. Then the aircraft rose

sharply as the ground fell away so that the big white courthouse

slipped by underneath as small as a doll house. Then they were over

the ravine, over the broken bridge, and away into the vast forested

spaces to the south.

Reacher tapped the pilot on the shoulder and spoke through the

intercom.

“What speed are we doing?” he asked.

“Hundred and sixty,” the pilot said.

“Course?” Reacher asked.

“Dead on south,” the pilot said.

Reacher nodded. Closed his eyes and started to calculate. It was like

being back in grade school. He’s two hundred miles ahead, doing fifty

miles an hour. You’re chasing him at a hundred and sixty. How long

before you catch him? Grade-school math had been OK for Reacher. So

had fighting in the yard. The fighting part had stayed with him better

than the math. He was sure there must be some kind of a formula for

it. Something with x and y all over the damn page. Something equaling

something else. But if there was a formula, he had long ago forgotten

it. So he had to do it by trial and error. Another hour, Stevie would

be two hundred and fifty miles from home. The Night Hawk would have

done one hundred and sixty. Way behind. An hour after that, Stevie

would be three hundred miles out, and the Night Hawk would be three

hundred and twenty. Overshot. Therefore they were going to catch him

somewhere near the top of the second hour. If they were headed in the

right direction.

Flathead Lake came into view, far ahead and far below. Reacher could

see the roads snaking across the rugged terrain. He thumbed the button

on his mike.

“Still south?” he asked.

“Dead on,” the pilot said.

“Still one-sixty?” Reacher asked.

“Dead on,” the pilot said again.

“OK, stick with it,” Reacher said. “Hour and fifty minutes, maybe.”

“So where is he going?” Webster asked.

“San Francisco,” Reacher said.

“Why?” McGrath asked.

“Or Minneapolis,” Reacher said. “But I’m gambling on San Francisco.”

“Why?” McGrath asked again.

“San Francisco or Minneapolis,” Reacher said. “Think about it. Other

possibilities would be Boston, New York, Philly, Cleveland, Richmond in

Virginia, Atlanta, Chicago, St. Louis and Kansas City in Missouri, or

Dallas in Texas.”

McGrath just shrugged blankly. Webster looked puzzled. Johnson

glanced at his aide. Garber was motionless. But Holly was smiling.

She smiled and winked at Reacher. He winked back and the Night Hawk

thumped on south over Missoula at a hundred and sixty miles an hour.

“Christ, it’s the Fourth of July,” Webster said suddenly.

Tell me about it,” Reacher said. “Lots of people gathered in public

places. Families, kids and all.”

Webster nodded grimly.

“OK, where exactly in San Francisco?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Reacher said.

“North end of Market,” Holly said. “Right near Embarcadero Plaza.

That’s where, chief. I’ve been there on the Fourth. Big parade in the

afternoon, fireworks over the water at night. Huge crowds all day

long.”

“Huge crowds everywhere on the Fourth,” Webster said. “You better be

guessing right, people.”

McGrath looked up. A slow smile was spreading over his bruised face.

“We are guessing right,” he said. “It’s San Francisco for sure. Not

Minneapolis or anyplace else.”

Reacher smiled back and winked. McGrath had gotten it.

“You want to tell me why?” Webster asked him.

McGrath was still smiling.

“Go figure,” he said. “You’re the damn director.”

“Because it’s the nearest?” Webster asked.

McGrath nodded.

“In both senses,” he said, and smiled again.

“What both senses?” Webster asked. “What are we talking about?”

4m

Nobody answered him. The military men were quiet. Holly and McGrath

were staring out through the windows at the ground, two thousand feet