Hidden in the valley‘s night, Reacher scanned Dan Lazar’s compound through the rifle scope. The snazzy helicopter stood out, a moonbeam highlighting the griffin coat-of-arms. Aluminum skin dimpled with bullet holes, not enough to bring it down earlier. It’s poisonous cargo had to be kept intact, otherwise death would waft through the sleep of those in the city below.
Reacher punched the numbers into his cellphone.
Lazar growled, “What?”
“You can’t win this one.”
“I have a Snark missile cruising above your house.”
“Bastard! OK…you win.”
“Withdraw your guards, give Killer Yapp the disarm codes. I’ll let you live.”
Dan Lazar has a compound? Who knew!