A masterpiece of suspense from #1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child • Don’t miss the hit streaming series Reacher !    “The truth about Reacher gets better and better.”—Janet Maslin, The New York Times Four people in a car, hoping to make Chicago by morning. One man driving, eyes on the road. Another man next to him, telling stories that don’t add up. A woman in the back, silent and worried. And next to her, a huge man with a broken nose, hitching a ride east to Virginia.   An hour behind them, a man lies stabbed to death in an old pumping station. He was seen going in with two others, but he never came out. He has been executed, the knife work professional, the killers vanished. Within minutes, the police are notified. Within hours, the FBI descends, laying claim to the victim without ever saying who he was or why he was there.   All Reacher wanted was a ride to Virginia. All he did was stick out his thumb. But he soon discovers he has hitched more than a ride. He has tied himself to a massive conspiracy that makes him a threat—to both sides at once.   In Lee Child’s white-hot thriller, nothing is what it seems, and nobody is telling the truth. As the tension rises, the twists come fast and furious, keeping readers guessing and gasping until the explosive finale. Praise for the Jack Reacher series “The truth about Reacher gets better and better. . . . This series [is] utterly addictive.” —Janet Maslin, The New York Times “Jack Reacher is today’s James Bond, a thriller hero we can’t get enough of. I read every one as soon as it appears.” —Ken Follett “Reacher is the stuff of myth. . . . One of this century’s most original, tantalizing pop-fiction heroes.” —The Washington Post “I’m a fan.” —James Patterson “The Reacher novels are easily the best thriller series going.” —NPR “Reacher is a man for whom the phrase moral compass was invented: His code determines his direction. . . . You need Jack Reacher.” — The Atlantic “I pick up Jack Reacher when I’m in the mood for someone big to solve my problems.” —Patricia Cornwell   “[A] feverishly thrilling series . . . You can always count on furious action.” — Miami Herald Lee Child is the author of more than two dozen New York Times bestselling Jack Reacher thrillers, with most having reached the #1 position, and the #1 bestselling complete Jack Reacher story collection, No Middle Name . Foreign rights in the Reacher series have sold in one hundred territories. A native of England and a former television director, Lee Child lives in New York City and Wyoming. Chapter 1 The eyewitness said he didn’t actually see it happen. But how else could it have gone down? Not long after midnight a man in a green winter coat had gone into a small concrete bunker through its only door. Two men in black suits had followed him in. There had been a short pause. The two men in the black suits had come out again. The man in the green winter coat had not come out again. The two men in the black suits had walked thirty brisk feet and climbed into a bright red car. Fire-engine red, the eyewitness called it. Vivid red. Fairly new. A regular four-door sedan, the eyewitness thought. Or maybe a five-door. Or a three-door. But definitely not a two-door coupe. A Toyota, the eyewitness thought. Or maybe a Honda. Or a Hyundai. Maybe a Kia. But whichever, the two men in the black suits had driven away in it. There was still no sign of the man in the green winter coat. Then blood had pooled out from under the concrete bunker’s door. The eyewitness had called 911. The county sheriff had shown up and gotten the story. He was good at hustling folk along while looking patient. It was one of his many talents. Eventually the eyewitness had finished up. Then the county sheriff had thought for a long moment. He was in a part of the nation where in every direction there were hundreds of square miles of emptiness just over the dark horizon. Where roads were long lonely ribbons. He was in roadblock country. So he had called the highway patrol, and then he had ordered up the helicopter from the state capital. He had put out an urgent APB on a bright red import carrying two men in black suits. Jack Reacher rode for ninety miles and ninety minutes with a woman in a dirty gray van, and then he saw bright vapor lights up ahead at the highway cloverleaf, with big green signs pointing west and east. The woman slowed the van, and stopped, and Reacher got out and thanked her and waved her away. She used the first ramp, west toward Denver and Salt Lake City, and he walked under the bridge and set up on the eastbound ramp, one foot on the shoulder and one in the traffic lane, and he stuck out his thumb and smiled and tried to look friendly. Which was not easy. Reacher was a big man, six feet five inches tall, heavily built, and that night as always he looked a little ragged and unkempt. Lonely drivers wanted pleasant and unthreatening company, and Reac