Jack is back... with a bang

He’s a big guy with a massive attitude and, even when staring down the barrel of a gun, there’s one word missing from Jack Reacher’s vocabulary – retreat.

America’s Midwest is his new frontline. Having found a woman’s class ring in a Wisconsin pawn shop, he’s set his sights on finding out why she gave up something she’d spent over four hard years earning. But finding her and returning the ring was never going to be easy. Or without risk... guy had was a worn-out .38 with a two-and-a-half-inch barrel. Not an accurate weapon. More or less a guaranteed miss, with the speed Reacher could walk.

So the better bet would be hang out the driver’s window. Much quicker. It was right there. But how? The guy would have to kneel up sideways on the driver’s seat, and stick his whole upper body out, and wriggle his right arm free, like putting on a tight sweater, bringing him all the way out of the car up to his waist, and then he would have to twist, and aim, and fire. Except at that point he would also be overbalancing and about to fall out the window. An inaccurate weapon, and a preoccupied shooter cling- ing to the door mirror. Not a whole lot to worry about.

The whole get-in-the-car thing looked pretty good in the movies, but on the street it was basically optional. Plenty of choices. Keep calm and walk away. Live to fight another day. But Reacher stayed where he was. He said, “You want me to get in the car?” The guy said, “Right now.” “Then put the gun away.” “Or?” “Or I won’t get in the car.” “I could shoot you first and get you in bleeding.” “No,” Reacher said. “You really couldn’t.”

All he had to do was take one fast pace left. Then the guy would be shooting through glass again, or the B-pillar, or the C-pillar, plus anyway his shoulder was tight against the upholstery and wouldn’t rotate. Plus again, the cops would come. Lights and sirens. Questions. The guy was stuck.

He was an amateur. Which was encouraging.