The Visitor (Jack Reacher) [Hardcover]

Before Lee Child's Jack Reacher became a wanderer, stumbling into desperate situations and sorting them out with his two fists and sharp brain, he used his skill for the US Army's military police. When he is accused of a series of killings--women who left the army after sexual harassment proceedings found with their hearts stopped in baths full of camouflage paint--he has to use his skills to clear his name, and to do the Army and FBI's work for them. The near-impossible perfection of Reacher's physique and brain are met here by a puzzle that almost meets the same standard of perfection--the reason he is suspected is simply that perfect detectives are handy patsies for perfect murders, and Reacher is, besides, a man whom those in authority find making them itch...

"As a rule, the Bureau and the military don't get along too well."
"Well, there's a big surprise. Who the hell do you guys gel along with."
..."You know how it is. Military hates the Bureau, the Bureau hates CIA, everybody hates everybody else...So we need a go-between."
Reacher shrugged.
"I don't know anybody like that. I've been out too long."

Lee Child's remorselessly perverse ingenuity is working overtime in this, his fourth book, though like most great puzzles or tricks, his secrets depend a little heavily on mere misdirection. A book this driven by the central character's laconic aggression ought not to be quite as smart as this is, or quite as likeable--Lee Child's clever formula is to make that paradox work. --Roz Kaveney

Lee Child's unputdownable thriller starring Jack Reacher features a chilling serial killer. --This text refers to the Audio CD edition.

Two women, victims of sexual harassment, left the army under dubious circumstances. Both are now dead. Jack Reacher knew them both. A perfect psychological match, he is arrested, but is released when another woman is murdered. Everyone fears a serial killer is on the loose and Reacher finds himself heavily involved in the investigation.

Lee Child’s latest unputdownable thriller starring Jack Reacher features a chilling serial killer. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Sergeant Amy Callan and Lieutenant Caroline Cook have a lot in common. Both were army high-flyers. Both were acquainted with Jack Reacher. Both were forced to resign from the service.

Now they’re both dead.

Both were found in their own home, naked, in a bath full of paint. Both apparent victims of an army man. A loner, a smart guy with a score to settle, a ruthless vigilante.

A man just like Jack Reacher.

--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

LEE CHILD is British, but after he was made redundant from his job in television, he moved with his family from Cumbria to the United States to start a new career as a writer of American thrillers. He now divides his time between France and New York. All his novels feature the maverick Jack Reacher, and all have been international bestsellers. --This text refers to the Audio CD edition.

People say that knowledge is power. The more knowledge, the more power. Suppose you knew the winning numbers for the lottery? All of them? Not guessed them, not dreamed them, but really knew them? What would you do? You would run to the store, is what. You would mark those numbers on the playslip. And you would win.

Same for the stock market. Suppose you really knew what was going to go way up? You're not talking about a hunch or a gut feeling here. You're not talking about a trend or a percentage game or a whisper or a tip. You're talking about knowledge. Real, hard knowledge. Suppose you had it? What would you do? You would call your broker, is what. You would buy. Then later you'd sell, and you'd be rich.

Same for basketball, same for the horses, whatever, anything. Football, hockey, next year's World Series, any kind of sports at all, if you could predict the future, you'd be home and dry. No question. Same for the Oscars, same for the Nobel Prize, same for the first snowfall of winter. Same for anything.

Same for killing people.

Suppose you wanted to kill people. You would need to know ahead of time how to do it. That part is not too difficult. There are many ways. Some of them are better than others. Most of them have drawbacks. So you use what knowledge you've got, and you invent a new way. You think, and you think, and you think, and you come up with the perfect method.

You pay a lot of attention to the set-up. Because the perfect method is not an easy method, and careful preparation is very important. But that stuff is meat and drink to you. You have no problem with careful preparation. No problem at all. How could you, with your intelligence? After all your training?

You know the big problems will come afterward. How do you make sure you get away with it? You use your knowledge, is how. You know more than most people about how the cops work. You've seen them on duty, many times, sometimes close up. You know what they look for. So you don't leave anything for them to find. You go through it all in your head, very precisely and very exactly and very carefully. Just as carefully as you would mark the lottery slip you knew for sure was going to win you a fortune.

People say that knowledge is power. The more knowledge, the more power.

Which makes you just about the most powerful person on earth. When it comes to killing people. And then getting away with it.

Life is full of decisions and judgements and guesses, and it gets to the point where you're so accustomed to making them you keep right on making them even when you don't strictly need to. You get into a what if thing, and you start speculating about what you would do if some problem was yours instead of somebody else's. It gets to be a habit. It was a habit Jack Reacher had in spades. Which was why he was sitting alone at a restaurant table and gazing at the backs of two guys twenty feet away and wondering if it would be enough just to warn them off or if he would have to go the extra mile and break their arms.

It was a question of dynamics. From the start the dynamics of the city meant that a brand new Italian place in Tribeca like the one Reacher was in was going to stay pretty empty until the food guy from the New York Times wrote it up or an Observer columnist spotted some celebrity in there two nights in a row. But neither thing had happened yet and the place was still uncrowded, which made it the perfect choice for a lonely guy looking to eat dinner near his girlfriend's apartment while she worked late at the office. The dynamics of the city. They made it inevitable Reacher would be in there. They made it inevitable the two guys he was watching would be in there, too. Because the dynamics of the city meant any bright new commercial venture would sooner or later get a visit on behalf of somebody wanting a steady three hundred bucks a week in exchange for not sending his boys in to smash it up with baseball bats and axe handles.

The two guys Reacher was watching were standing close in to the bar, talking quietly to the owner. The bar was a token affair built across the corner of the room. It made a neat sharp triangle about seven or eight feet on a side. It was not really a bar in the sense that anybody was ever going to sit there and drink anything. It was just a focal point. It was somewhere to keep the liquor bottles. They were crowded three deep on glass shelves in front of sandblasted mirrors. The register and the credit-card machine were on the bottom shelf. The owner was a small nervous guy and he had backed away into the point of the triangle and was standing with his backside jammed against the cash drawer. His arms were folded tight across his chest, defensively. Reacher could see his eyes. They were showing something halfway between disbelief and panic and they were darting all around the room. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.