Die Trying by Lee Child

That was unusual,” he said. “Mostly I don’t work at all, just live off

my savings. But I came up to Chicago with a singer, one thing, led to

another, I got asked to work the door at the club the guy was headed

for.”

“So what do you do if you don’t work?” she asked.

“I look at things,” he said. “You got to remember I’m a

thirty-seven-year-old American but I’ve never really been in America

much. You been up the Empire State Building?”

“Of course,” she said.

“I hadn’t,” he said. “Not before last year. You been to the

Washington museums?”

“Sure,” she said.

“I hadn’t,” he said again. “Not before last year. All that kind of

stuff. Boston, New York, Washington, Chicago, New Orleans, Mount

Rushmore, the Golden Gate, Niagara. I’m like a tourist. Like I’m

catching up, right?”

“I’m the other way around,” Holly said. “I like to travel overseas.”

Reacher shrugged.

“I’ve seen overseas,” he said. “Six continents. I’m going to stay

here now.”

“I’ve seen the States,” she said. “My dad traveled all the time, but

we stayed here, apart from two tours to Germany.”

Reacher nodded. Thought back to the time he’d spent in Germany, man

and boy. Many years in total.

“You picked up on the soccer in Europe?” he asked.

“Right,” Holly said. “Really big deal there. We were stationed one

time near Munich, right? I was just a kid, eleven maybe. They gave my

father tickets to some big game in Rotterdam, Holland. European Cup,

the Bayern Munich team against some English team, Aston Villa, you ever

heard of them?”

Reacher nodded.

“From Birmingham, England,” he said. “I was stationed near a place

called Oxford at one point. About an hour away.”

“I hated the Germans,” Holly said. “So arrogant, so overpowering. They

were so sure they were going to cream these Brits. I didn’t want to go

and watch it happen. But I had to, right? NATO protocol sort of a

thing, would have been a big scandal if I’d refused. So we went. And

the Brits creamed the Germans. The Germans were so furious. I loved

it. And the Aston Villa guys were so cute. I was in love with soccer

from that night on. Still am.”

Reacher nodded. He enjoyed watching soccer, to an extent. But you had

to be exposed early and gradually. It looked very free-form, but it

was a very technical game. Full of hidden attractions. But he could

see how a young girl could be seduced by it, long ago in Europe. A

frantic night under floodlights in Rotterdam. Resentful and unwilling

at first, then hypnotized by the patterns made by the white ball

PR

on the green turf. Ending up in love with the game afterward. But

something was ringing a warning bell. If the eleven-year-old daughter

of an American serviceman had refused to go, it would have caused some

kind of an embarrassment within NATO? Was that what she had said?

“Who was your father?” he asked her. “Sounds like he must have been

an important sort of a guy.”

She shrugged. Wouldn’t answer. Reacher stared at her. Another

warning bell had started ringing.

“Holly, who the hell is your father?” he asked urgently.

The defensive tone that had been in her voice spread to her face. No

answer.

“Who, Holly?” Reacher asked again.

She looked away from him. Spoke to the metal siding of the truck. Her

voice was almost lost in the road noise. Defensive as hell.

“General Johnson,” she said quietly. “At that time, he was C-in-C

Europe. Do you know him?”

Reacher stared up at her. General Johnson. Holly Johnson. Father and

daughter.

“I’ve met him,” he said. “But that’s not the point, is it?”

She glared at him. Furious.

“Why?” she said. “What exactly is the damn point?”

“That’s the reason,” he said. “Your father is the most important

military man in America, right? That’s why you’ve been kidnaped,

Holly, for God’s sake. These guys don’t want Holly Johnson, FBI agent.

The whole FBI thing is incidental. These guys want General Johnson’s

daughter.”

She looked down at him like he had just slapped her hard in the face.