The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,10
clockwise on his right foot. Pushed Rutherford back and to the side. And held him there, out of anyone else’s range.
‘Let’s keep things civil,’ Reacher said. ‘Show me some ID, or get in the car and drive away.’
‘Let him go,’ the western guy said.
‘If you have a legitimate reason to detain him, you’ll have some kind of official ID. If you do, show it to me. If you don’t, drive away. This is your last chance.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Given the situation, you should stick to the relevant issues.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I gave you two options. Asking irrelevant questions was not one of them.’
‘Let him go.’ The guy went to step around Reacher, his arm stretched out, trying to grab Rutherford. Reacher hit him in the temple and he bounced off the wall and dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Reacher turned to the other guy. ‘You’ve had your final chance. Pick up your trash and leave. Or don’t, and get added to the pile. Make your choice. Either way’s fine with me.’
Reacher caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The Toyota’s passenger window was rolling down. The driver was lifting her arm. She was looking directly at him. Raising a gun? Reacher didn’t wait to find out. He let go of Rutherford and spun the eastern guy around so that he was facing the car. Grabbed his collar and waistband. And launched him headfirst through the open window, jamming him in tight, his arms pinned and his legs kicking helplessly.
Reacher stepped back to avoid the flailing feet and checked that Rutherford was still there, frozen to the spot. Then he sensed rather than heard a heavy object racing towards them. He grabbed Rutherford and shoved him back and a moment later a black Chevy Suburban lurched on to the sidewalk, stopping right where Reacher had been standing. The driver’s door opened and a man jumped out. He was shorter than the others, and wirier. Another man jumped down from the passenger side and joined him. They stood side by side for a moment, both in a version of some strange martial arts stance, then relaxed. They stepped forward. They were comfortable together. They had clearly done this kind of thing before.
‘Step aside, mister,’ the driver said. ‘This isn’t your fight. The guy’s coming with us.’
Reacher shook his head. ‘You’re not taking him. That’s a given. He walks away. The only question is, will you? Or do you have some strong urge to join your buddies in the hospital?’
The driver didn’t reply and Reacher became aware of a scrabbling sound on the far side of the Suburban. The guy he’d thrown through the Toyota’s window had wriggled free and along with the woman from the alley was trying to manoeuvre their unconscious comrade into the back seat. A ring of onlookers had formed, starting on the sidewalk and spilling on to the street. It reminded Reacher of the crowds that would gather in the playgrounds on the first day of each new school he attended, growing up. Him and his brother, Joe. Back to back. Fighting them off. He looked at Rutherford. He wasn’t trying to run, which was something. But Reacher knew he’d be no help if the mob turned nasty.
The two guys exchanged glances. They were considering their next move. Stealth was out of the window so it was down to a choice between a frontal assault and a tactical withdrawal. Neither option seemed to appeal. Then a siren started up. The pedestrians scattered. The car pulled away, its gas engine kicking in as the driver buried the accelerator. The wiry guys jumped back into the Suburban and slammed it into reverse, clipping the front corner of the leading police cruiser before racing into the distance. Rutherford stayed still, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
The pair of police cars stopped at the side of the street and killed their sirens and light bars. Four officers jumped out. Three converged immediately on the sidewalk. One lingered to inspect the damage to his car. All had their guns drawn, but not raised. They expected their numbers to give them the advantage, Reacher guessed, but were taking no chances. Which seemed like a sensible attitude to take.
‘On the ground,’ the lead officer said. ‘Face down.’
‘You’re arresting us?’ Reacher said.
‘What were you expecting? A lollipop? Get on the ground.’
Reacher didn’t move.
The officer stepped closer. ‘On the ground. Do it now.’