The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,122

He went down on one knee and only just recovered before the guy followed up with a kick aimed at his gut. Reacher arched around it and crashed his right fist into the guy’s temple. The guy staggered to his left. Regained his balance. Took four more steps. Then reversed direction and came at Reacher. Fast. Aiming to charge into him. To knock him down. A schoolyard manoeuvre. Brutally effective against the unwary. But not against someone with Reacher’s experience.

The guy was leading with his right shoulder. Reacher stepped to his left. To place himself behind the guy as he passed. Away from the danger of a right jab. Or a left hook. Or a forearm smash. Only the guy didn’t pass. He jammed his right foot into the ground. Locked his knee. Pushed back. Spun around counterclockwise. And slammed his left elbow flat across Reacher’s chest.

The force lifted Reacher off his feet and this time he went down on his back. His head hit the ground. The air left his lungs. The Moscow guy loomed over him. Lifted his right foot. Held it high, ready to stamp down on Reacher’s head. Or throat. Or gut. Or groin. Whichever he picked, that would be the end. Or the beginning of the end. Only the guy hesitated. Maybe he was spoilt for options. Maybe he wanted to make his victim sweat. But whatever the reason, it gave Reacher time to flip over on to his front. Push down with his hands. Pull his knees forward. Plant his feet flat on the ground. And spring up, locking his legs and driving the top of his head into the base of the guy’s jaw just where it narrowed under his chin.

The guy went up and back and down and wound up sprawling and winded in the dirt. With Reacher looming over him. And Reacher did not hesitate. He was a street fighter at heart. A brawler. He knew the first rule. When you get your guy down, you finish him. Right there. Right then. So he kicked the guy in the head as hard as he could. Then he kicked him again. And again. And then he knelt on his chest and punched him in the throat with all his weight and strength.

Reacher stood back to survey the damage. He took a moment to get his breath back. Then he dragged the guy’s body over to the Town Car. He searched his pockets for spare ammunition for the SOCOM. He didn’t find any, so he used the remote to pop the trunk. Heaved the guy up. And folded him inside. Then he opened the driver’s door. Leaned in and wrenched the rear-view mirror off the windshield. Texted Sands: Switch on. And started back towards the steps. He was on the third one down when his phone rang.

It was Wallwork.

‘News,’ he said. ‘From Oak Ridge. You were right about Klostermann having a kid who works there. But not a son. A daughter. Diane. And she doesn’t go by Matusak. She’s married. She uses her husband’s name. Smith. The most common last name in America. Useful thing for a spy, right? Anyway, we’re watching her now. First clear chance, we’ll grab her. She could be a useful bargaining chip.’

Reacher ended the call and continued down the steps. He retrieved the SOCOM, paused at the bottom, pushed the heavy door. And went through.

The space was tiny. And low. Like a cubicle in a clothing store fitting room. Maybe adequate for normal-size people. But very tight for Reacher. The floor and walls were made of concrete. The ceiling was lined with massive steel joists. Ahead was another door. Also grey. With a giant wheel in the centre in place of a lock. Reacher pulled and the door opened. He went through into another space, slightly larger but still uncomfortable. Steel joists continued to support the ceiling. The walls were plain concrete. And there was a hatch set into the floor. Reacher had expected something like this. Some kind of vertical shaft. If someone was waiting at the bottom with a weapon, it would be game over. But there was no way around it. If he was going to find Fisher, he would have to go down.

Reacher held the SOCOM in his right hand and lifted the hatch with his left. He swung it all the way open, then took out the mirror he’d removed from the Town Car. He held it over the opening and angled it