Free Worth Dying For by Lee Child Page B

paused. Reacher could see she wanted to forget the whole thing and take off without him. It was right there in her face. But she didn’t. She leaned across the width of the cab and opened the door and flapped her hand.
Hurry up
.
    Reacher stepped out of the cabin and into the truck. The woman said, ‘If we see anyone, you have to duck down and hide, OK?’
    Reacher agreed, although it would be hard to do. It was a small truck. A Chevrolet, grimy and dusty inside, all worn plastic and vinyl, with the dash tight against his knees and the window into the load bed tight against the back of his seat.
    ‘Got a bag?’ he asked.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I could put it on my head.’
    ‘This isn’t funny,’ she said. She drove off, the worn old transmission taking a second to process her foot’s command, something rattling under the hood, a holed muffler banging away like a motorcycle. She turned left out of the lot and drove through the crossroads and headed south. There was no other traffic. In the daylight the land all around looked flat and featureless and immense. It was all dusted white with frost. The sky was high and blank. After five minutes Reacher saw the two old buildings in the west, the sagging barn and the smaller shed with the captured pick-up in it. Then three minutes later they passed the Duncans’ three houses standing alone at the end of their long shared driveway. The woman’s hands went tight on the wheel and Reacher saw she had crossed her fingers. The truck rattledonward and she watched the mirror more than the road ahead and then a mile later she breathed out and relaxed.
    Reacher said, ‘They’re only people. Three old guys and a skinny kid. They don’t have magic powers.’
    ‘They’re evil,’ the woman said.
    They were in Jonas Duncan’s kitchen, eating breakfast, biding their time, waiting for Jacob to come out with it. He had a pronouncement to make. A decision. They all knew the signs. Many times Jacob had sat quiet and distracted and contemplative, and then eventually he had delivered a nugget of wisdom, or an analysis that had cut to the heart of the matter, or a proposal that had killed three or four birds with one stone. So they waited for it, Jonas and Jasper patiently enjoying their meal, Seth struggling with it a little because chewing had become painful for him. Bruising was spreading out from under his aluminium mask. He had woken up with two black eyes the size and colour of rotting pears.
    Jacob put down his knife and his fork. He dabbed his lips with his cuff. He folded his hands in front of him. He said, ‘We have to ask ourselves something.’
    Jonas was hosting, so he was entitled to the first response.
    ‘What something?’ he asked.
    ‘We have to consider whether it might be worth trading a little dignity and self-respect for a useful outcome.’
    ‘In what way?’
    ‘We have a provocation and a threat. The provocation comes from the stranger in the motel throwing his weight around in matters that don’t concern him. The threat comes from our friend to the south getting impatient. The first thing must be punished, and the second thing shouldn’t have happened at all. No date should have been guaranteed. But it was, so we have to deal with it, and without judgement either. No doubt Seth was doing what he thought was best for all of us.’
    Jonas asked, ‘How do we deal with it?’
    ‘Let’s think about the other thing first. The stranger from the motel.’
    Seth said, ‘I want him hurt bad.’
    ‘We all do, son. And we tried, didn’t we? Didn’t work out so well.’
    ‘What, now we’re afraid of him?’
    ‘We are, a little bit, son. We lost three guys. We’d be stupid not to be at least a little concerned. And we’re not stupid, are we? That’s one thing a Duncan will never be accused of. Hence my question about self-respect.’
    ‘You want to let him walk?’
    ‘No, I want to tell our friend to the south that the stranger is the problem. That he’s somehow