Lee Child - Jack Reacher 07 Persuader

Persuader

The cop climbed out of his car exactly four minutesbefore he got shot. He moved like he knew his fate inadvance. He pushed the door against the resistance ofa stiff hinge and swiveled slowly on the worn vinyl seatand planted both feet flat on the road. Then he graspedthe door frame with both hands and heaved himself upand out. He stood in the cold clear air for a second andthen turned and pushed the door shut again behindhim.

Held still for a second longer. Then he stepped forwardand leaned against the side of the hood up near theheadlight.

The car was a seven-year-old Chevy Caprice. It wasblack and had no police markings.

But it had three radio antennas and plain chromehubs. Most cops you talk to swear the Caprice is thebest police vehicle ever built. This guy looked like heagreed with them.

He looked like a veteran plain-clothes detective withthe whole of the motor pool at his disposal. Like hedrove the ancient Chevy because he wanted to. Like hewasnt interested in the new Fords. I could see that kindof stubborn old-timer personality in the way he heldhimself. He was wide and bulky in a plain dark suit madefrom some kind of heavy wool. He was tall but stooped.

An old man. He turned his head and looked north andsouth along the road and then craned his thick neck toglance back over his shoulder at the college gate. Hewas thirty yards away from me.

The college gate itself was purely a ceremonial thing.

Two tall brick pillars just rose up from a long expanse oftended lawn behind the sidewalk. Connecting the pillarswas a high double gate made from iron bars bent andfolded and twisted into fancy shapes. It was shiny black.

It looked like it had just been repainted. It was probablyrepainted after every winter. It had no security function.

Anybody who wanted to avoid it could drive straightacross the lawn. It was wide open, anyway. There was adriveway behind it with little knee-high iron posts seteight feet back on either side. They had latches. Eachhalf of the gate was latched into one of them. Wideopen. The driveway led on down to a huddle of mellowbrick buildings about a hundred yards away. Thebuildings had steep mossy roofs and were overhung bytrees. The driveway was lined with trees. The sidewalkwas lined with trees. There were trees everywhere. Theirleaves were just about coming in. They were tiny andcurled and bright green. Six months from now theywould be big and red and golden and photographerswould be swarming all over the place taking pictures ofthem for the college brochure.

Twenty yards beyond the cop and his car and the gatewas a pickup truck parked on the other side of the road.

It was tight against the curb. It was facing toward me,fifty yards away. It looked a little out of place. It wasfaded red and had a big bull bar on the front.

The bar was dull black and looked like it had been bentand straightened a couple of times. There were two menin the cab. They were young, tall, clean-cut, fair-haired.

They were just sitting there, completely still, gazingforward, looking at nothing in particular.

They werent looking at the cop. They werent lookingat me.

I was set up to the south. I had an anonymous brownpanel van parked outside a music store. The store wasthe kind of place you find near a college gate. It hadused CDs in racks out on the sidewalk and posters inthe windows behind them advertising bands peoplehave never heard of. I had the vans rear doors open.

There were boxes stacked inside. I had a sheaf ofpaperwork in my hands. I was wearing a coat, becauseit was a cold April morning. I was wearing gloves,because the boxes in the van had loose staples wherethey had been torn open. I was wearing a gun, because Ioften do. It was wedged in my pants, at the back, underthe coat. It was a Colt Anaconda, which is a hugestainless steel revolver chambered for the.44 Magnumcartridge. It was thirteen and a half inches long andweighed almost four pounds. Not my first choice ofweapon. It was hard and heavy and cold and I wasaware of it all the time.

I paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked upfrom my papers and heard the distant pickups enginestart. It stayed where it was, just idling. White exhaustpooled around its rear wheels. The air was cold. It wasearly and the street was deserted. I stepped behind myvan and glanced down the side of the music storetoward the college buildings. Saw a black Lincoln TownCar waiting outside one of them. There were two guysstanding next to it. I was a hundred yards away butneither one of them looked like a limo driver. Limodrivers dont come in pairs and they dont look youngand heavy and they dont act tense and wary. Theseguys looked exactly like bodyguards.

The building the Lincoln was waiting outside of lookedlike some kind of a small dormitory. It had Greek lettersover a big wooden door. I watched and the big woodendoor opened up and a young thin guy stepped out. Helooked like a student. He had long messy hair and wasdressed like a homeless person but carried a bag thatlooked like shiny expensive leather. One of thebodyguards stood point while the other held the cardoor and the young thin guy tossed his bag onto theback seat and slid right in after it. He pulled the doorshut behind himself. I heard it slam, faint and muffledfrom a hundred yards away. The bodyguards glancedaround for a second and then got in the front togetherand a short moment later the car moved away. Thirtyyards behind it a college security vehicle snuffledslowly in the same direction, not like it was intending tomake up a convoy but like it just happened to be thereanyway. There were two rent-a-cops in it. They wereslumped down low in their seats and they lookedaimless and bored.

I took my gloves off and tossed them into the back ofmy van. Stepped out into the road where my view wasbetter. I saw the Lincoln come up the driveway at amoderate speed.

It was black and shiny and immaculate. It had plenty ofchrome on it. Plenty of wax. The college cops were waybehind it. It paused at the ceremonial gate and turnedleft and came south toward the black police Caprice.

Toward me.

What happened next occupied eight seconds, but itfelt like the blink of an eye.

The faded red pickup moved off the curb twenty yardsback. It accelerated hard. It caught up with the Lincolnand pulled out and passed it exactly level with the copsCaprice. It came within a foot of the cops knees. Then itaccelerated again and pulled a little ways ahead and itsdriver swung the wheel hard and the corner of the bullbar smashed square into the Lincolns front fender. Thepickup driver kept the wheel turned and his foot harddown and forced the Lincoln off the road onto theshoulder. The grass tore up and the Lincoln slowedradically and then hit a tree head-on. There was the