Free The Hard Way by Lee Child Page A

you’ve got enemies, some of them might be foreign.”
    “It’s an American,” Lane said. “I think.” He closed his eyes again and concentrated. His lips moved like he was replaying conversations in his head. “Yes, American. Certainly a native speaker. No stumbles. Never any weird or unusual words. Just normal, like you would hear all the time.”
    “Same guy every time?”
    “I think so.”
    “What about this time? Anything different? Mood? Tension? Is he still in control or is he losing it?”
    “He sounded OK,” Lane said. “Relieved, even.” Then he paused. “Like this whole thing was nearly over. Like this might be the final installment.”
    “It’s too soon,” Reacher said. “We’re not even close yet.”
    “They’re calling the shots,” Lane said.
    Nobody spoke.
    “So what do we do now?” Gregory asked.
    “We wait,” Reacher said. “Fifty-six minutes.”
    “I’m sick of waiting,” Groom said.
    “It’s all we can do,” Lane said. “We wait for instructions and we obey them.”
    “How much money?” Reacher asked. “Ten?”
    Lane looked right at him. “Guess again.”
    “More?”
    “Four and a half,” Lane said. “That’s what they want. Four million five hundred thousand U.S. dollars. In a bag.”

CHAPTER 13
    REACHER SPENT THE remaining fifty-five minutes puzzling over the choice of amount. It was a bizarre figure. A bizarre progression. One, five, four and a half. Altogether ten and a half million dollars. It felt like a destination figure. Like the end of a road. But it was a bizarre total. Why stop there? It made no kind of sense at all. Or did it?
    “They know you,” he said to Lane. “But maybe not all that well. As it happens you could afford more, but maybe they don’t fully appreciate that. So was there a time when ten and a half million was all the cash you had?”
    But Lane just said, “No.”
    “Could someone out there have that impression?”
    “No,” Lane said again. “I’ve had less and I’ve had more.”
    “But you’ve never had exactly ten and a half?”
    “No,” Lane said for the third time. “There’s absolutely no reason for anyone to believe that they’re cleaning me out at ten and a half.”
    So Reacher gave it up and just waited for the phone to ring.

----

    It rang right on time, at six in the evening. Lane picked it up and listened. He didn’t speak. He didn’t ask for Kate. Reacher figured he had learned that the privilege of hearing his wife’s voice was reserved for the first call in any given sequence. The demand call. Not the instruction call.
    This instruction call lasted less than two minutes. Then the electronic squawk cut off abruptly and Lane put the receiver back in the cradle and gave a bitter little half-smile, like he was reluctantly admiring a hated opponent’s skill.
    “This is the final installment,” he said. “After this, it’s over. They promise I get her back.”
    Too soon,
Reacher thought.
Ain’t going to happen.
    Gregory asked, “What do we do?”
    “One hour from now,” Lane said. “One man leaves here alone with the money in the black BMW and cruises anywhere he wants. He’ll be carrying my cell phone and he’ll get a call anywhere between one and twenty minutes into the ride. He’ll be given a destination. He’s to keep the line open from that point on so they know he’s not conversing with anyone else in the car or on any other phones or on any kind of a radio net. He’ll drive to the destination he’s been given. He’ll find the Jaguar parked on the street there. The car that Taylor drove Kate in, the first morning. It’ll be unlocked. He’s to put the money on the back seat and drive away and not look back. Any chase cars, any coordination with anyone else, any tricks at all, and Kate dies.”
    “They’ve got your cell phone number?” Reacher asked.
    “Kate will have given it to them.”
    “I’ll be the driver,” Gregory said. “If you want.”
    “No,” Lane said. “I