Die Trying by Lee Child

corpse-disposal problem in advance. Get rid of the middle class now,

they don’t need so many concentration camps later.”

Reacher was just staring at Borken’s eyes. Like looking at a bright

light. The fat red lips were smiling an indulgent smile.

“I told you, we’re way ahead of the others,” he said. “We’ve seen it

coming. What else is the Federal Reserve for? That’s the key to this

whole thing. America was basically a nation founded on business,

right? Control business, you control everything. How do you control

business? You control the banks. How do you control the banks? You

set up a bullshit Federal Reserve system. You tell the banks what to

do. That’s the key. The world government controls everything, through

the Fed. I’ve seen it happen.”

His eyes were open wide. Shining with no color.

“I saw them do it to my own father,” he screamed. “May his poor soul

rest in peace. The Fed bankrupted him.”

Reacher tore his gaze away. Shrugged at the corner of the room. Said

nothing. He started trying to recall the sequence of titles in

Borken’s fine mahogany bookcase. Warfare from ancient China through

Renaissance Italy through Pearl Harbor. He concentrated on naming the

titles to himself, left to right, trying to resist the glare of

Borken’s attention.

“We’re serious here,” Borken was saying again. “You may look at me and

think I’m some kind of a despot, or a cult leader, or whatever the

world would want to label me. But I’m not. I’m a good leader, I won’t

deny that. Even an inspired leader. Call me intelligent and

perceptive, I won’t argue with you. But I don’t need to be. My people

don’t need any encouraging. They don’t need much leading. They need

guidance, and they need discipline, but don’t let that fool you. I’m

not coercing anybody. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating their

will. Don’t ignore their desire for a change for the better.”

Reacher was silent. He was still concentrating on the books, skimming

in his mind through the events of December 1941, as seen from the

Japanese point of view.

“We’re not criminals here, you know,” Borken was saying. “When a

government turns bad, it’s the very best people who stand up against

it. Or do you think we should all just act like sheep?”

Reacher risked another glance at him. Risked speaking.

“You’re pretty selective,” he said. “About who’s here and who’s

not.”

Borken shrugged.

“Like unto like,” he said. That’s nature’s way, isn’t it? Black

people have got the whole of Africa. White people have got this

place.”

“What about Jewish dentists?” Reacher asked. “What place have they

got?”

Borken shrugged again.

That was an operational error,” he said. “Loder should have waited

until he was clear. But mistakes happen.”

“Should have waited until I was clear, too,” Reacher said.

Borken nodded.

“I agree with you,” he said. “It would have been better for you that

way. But they didn’t, and so here you are among us.”

“Just because I’m white?” Reacher said.

“Don’t knock it,” Borken replied. “White people got precious few

rights left.”

Reacher stared at him. Stared around the bright, hate-filled room.

Shuddered.

“I’ve made a study of tyranny,” Borken said. “And how to combat it.

The first rule is you make a firm decision, to live free or die, and

you mean it. Live free or die. The second rule is you don’t act like

a sheep. You stand up and you resist them. You study their system and

you learn to hate it. And then you act. But how do you act? The

brave man fights back. He retaliates, right?”

Reacher shrugged. Said nothing.

“The brave man retaliates,” Borken repeated. “But the man who is both

brave and clever acts differently. He retaliates first. In advance.

He strikes the first blows. He gives them what they don’t expect, when

and where they don’t expect it. That’s what we’re doing here. We’re

retaliating first. It’s their war, but we’re going to strike the first

blows. We’re going to give them what they don’t expect. We’re going

to upset their plans.”

Reacher glanced back at the bookcase. Five thousand classic pages, all