By Lee Child
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Additional info for Jack Reacher 02 Die Trying
The two men were pointing the guns. Close in. Reacher felt they’d all been standing like that for a long time. But he knew that feeling was deceptive. It probably hadn’t been more than a second and a half. The guy opposite Reacher seemed to be the leader. The bigger one. The calmer one. He looked between Reacher and the woman and jerked his automatic’s barrel toward the curb. “In the car, bitch,” the guy said. ” He spoke urgently, but quietly. With authority. Not much of an accent. Maybe from California, Reacher thought.
A fine piece of craftsmanship. But he hadn’t liked it much. Not for the specialized requirements of his unit. He’d recommended rejection. He’d supported the Beretta 92F instead. The Beretta was also a nine-millimeter, a half-pound heavier, an inch longer, two fewer rounds in the magazine. But it had about ten percent more stopping power than the Glock. That was important to him. And it wasn’t plastic. The Beretta had been Reacher’s choice. His unit commander had agreed. He had circulated Reacher’s paper and the Army as a whole had backed his recommendation.
You’re sitting there quite calmly, which suggests some kind of training, maybe some kind of familiarity with upsetting or dangerous situations. ” He stopped and she nodded for him to continue. “Also, you had a gun in your bag,” he said. “Something fairly heavy, maybe a thirty-eight, long barrel. If it was a private weapon, a dresser like you would choose something dainty, like a snub twenty-two. But it was a big revolver, so you were issued with it. ” The woman nodded again, slowly. ” she asked.