The Affair (Jack Reacher, #16)

by Lee Child

I went to bed early, my hair matted, my unshaven face scratchy on the pillow, and the clock in my head woke me at five, two hours before dawn, on Friday, March 7th, 1997. The first day of the rest of my life.

The driver said, “Who are you and where are you going?” I said nothing. I’m good at saying nothing. I don’t like talking. I could go the rest of my life without saying another word, if I had to.

“Nothing has to turn out any which way, Reacher. It’s a choice.” “You don’t really believe that.” She made a face. “At least pick your battles.” “I always do. And this one is as good as any.”

“You sure you want to take the risk of finding out for sure?” “Talking to a man with a gun is a risk. Asking questions isn’t.” I believed that then, back in 1997.

“They’re shooting people, Reacher.” “They’re shooting the people they see. They won’t see me.”

Frazer’s office was small. Its free floor space was smaller still. Like fighting in a phone booth. How it was going to go would depend on how smart Frazer was. And I figured he was plenty smart. He had survived Vietnam, and the Gulf, and years of Pentagon bullshit. You don’t do any of that without brains. I figured he was an easy seven out of ten. Maybe an eight. In no imminent danger of winning the Nobel Prize, but definitely smarter than the average bear. Which helped me. Fighting morons is harder. You can’t guess what they’re going to do. But smart people are predictable.

“Rules of engagement?” “I don’t know. What does it take to muzzle you?” “More than three Rangers,” I said.

“I covered the army’s ass.” “And the army will be reminded of that every time it sees you.” “I have a Purple Heart and a Silver Star.” “But what have you done for me lately?”