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The
Enemy by Lee Child Rating: •• (Mildly Recommended) |
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Bad Apples The slow pace of Lee Child’s new Jack Reacher novel, The
Enemy, may drive some readers a little crazy. For a thriller, there’s a
lot more exposition, dialogue and description than seemed to be needed to
move the story along. Despite that problem, The
Enemy will please Reacher fans who have wanted
to read more from his Army days. In this novel, a few Army bad apples cause a
lot of trouble, and Reacher finds himself in the
thick of things with no winning way out. Here’s an excerpt from chapter 2, pp. 24-30: I put my own Class As on again and
called the motor pool for a sedan. I didn’t want to ride all the way to Lieutenant
Summer came out halfway through the twenty-eighth minute of her allotted
thirty. She paused a second and then walked toward the car. She looked good.
She was very short, but she moved easily, like a willowy person. She looked
like a six-foot catwalk model reduced in size to a tiny miniature. I got out
of the car and left the driver’s door open. Met her on the sidewalk. She was
wearing an expert sharpshooter badge with bars for rifle, small bore rifle,
auto rifle, pistol, small bore pistol, machine gun, and submachine gun
hanging on it. They made a little ladder about two inches long. Longer than
mine. I only have rifle and pistol. She stopped dead in front of me and came
to attention and fired off a perfect salute. “Sir,
Lieutenant Summer reports,” she said. “Take
it easy’ I said. “Informal mode of address, OK? Call me Reacher,
or nothing. And no saluting. I don’t like it.” She
paused. Relaxed. “OK,”
she said. I opened
the passenger door and started to get in. “I’m
driving?” she asked. “I
was up most of the night.” “Who
died?” “General
Kramer’ I said. “Big tank guy in She
paused again. “So why was he here? We’re all infantry.” “Passing
through,” I said. She
got in on the other side and racked the driver’s seat all the way forward.
Adjusted the mirror. I pushed the passenger seat back and got as comfortable
as I could. “Where to?” she said. “ “That’s where the widow is?” “Home for the holidays,” I said. “And we’re breaking the news? Like,
Happy New Year, ma’am, and by the way, your husband’s dead?” I nodded. “Lucky us.” But I wasn’t
really worried. Generals’ wives are as tough as they come. Either they’ve
spent thirty years pushing their husbands up the greasy pole, or they’ve
endured thirty years of fallout as their husbands have climbed it for
themselves. Either way, there’s not much left that can get to them. They’re
tougher than the generals, most of the time. Summer took her cap off and tossed it
onto the backseat. Her hair was very short. Almost shaved. She had a delicate
skull and nice cheekbones. Smooth skin. I liked the way she looked. And she
was a fast driver. That was for damn sure. She clipped her belt and took off
north like she was training for NASCAR. “Was it an accident?” she asked. “Heart attack,” I said. “His arteries
were bad.” “Where? Our VOQ?” I shook my head. “A crappy little motel
in town. He died with a twenty-dollar hooker wedged somewhere underneath
him.” “We’re not telling the widow that part,
right?” “No, we’re not. We’re not telling
anyone that part.” “Why was he passing through?” “He didn’t come to Bird itself. He was
transiting D.C. Frankfurt to Dulles, then National to LAX twenty hours later.
He was going out to Irwin for a conference.” “OK,” she said, and then she went very
quiet. We drove on. We got about level with the motel, but well to the west,
heading straight for the highway “Permission to speak freely?” she said. “Please,” I said. “Is this a test?” “Why would it be a test?” “You’re from the 110th Special Unit,
aren’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “I am.” “I
have an application pending.” “To
the 110th?” “Yes,”
she said. “So, is this a covert assessment?” “Of
what?” “Of
me,” she said. “As a candidate.” “I
needed a woman partner. In case the widow is a hugger. I picked you out at
random. The captain with the busted arm couldn’t have driven the car. And it
would be kind of inefficient for us to wait until we had a dead general to
conduct personnel assessments.” “I
guess,” she said. “But I’m wondering if you’re sitting there waiting for me
to ask the obvious questions.” “I’d
expect any MP with a pulse to ask the obvious questions, whether or not they
had a special unit transfer pending:’ “OK,
I’m asking. General Kramer had a twenty-hour layover in the D.C. area and he
wanted to get his rocks off and he didn’t mind paying for the privilege. So
why did he drive all the way down here to do it? It’s what, three hundred
miles?” “Two
hundred and ninety-eight,” I said. “And
then he’d have to drive all the way back.” “Clearly.” “So
why?” “You
tell me,” I said. “Come up with something I haven’t thought of myself and
I’ll recommend you for the transfer.” “You
can’t. You’re not my CO.” “Maybe
I am,” I said. “This week, anyway” “Why
are you even here? Is something happening I should know about?” “I
don’t know why I’m here’ I said. “I got orders. That’s all I know.” “Are
you really a major?” “Last
time I checked,” I said. “I
thought 110th investigators were usually warrant officers. Working plain
clothes or undercover.” “They
usually are.” “So
why bring you here when they could send a warrant officer and have him dress up as a major?” “Good
question,” I said. “Maybe one day I’ll find out.” “May
I ask what your orders were?” “Temporary
detached duty as “The
Provost Marshal isn’t on-post,” she said. “I
know,” I said. “I found that out. He transferred out the same day I
transferred in. Some temporary thing.” “So you’re acting CO.” “Like I said.” “MP XO isn’t a special unit job,” she
said. “I can fake it,” I said. “I started out
a regular MP, just like you.” Summer said nothing. Just drove. “Kramer,”
I said. “Why did he contemplate a six-hundred-mile round-trip? That’s twelve
hours’ driving time out of his twenty. Just to spend fifteen bucks on a room
and twenty on a whore?” “Why
does it matter? A heart attack is a heart attack, right? I mean, was there
any question about it?” I
shook my head. “Walter Reed already did the autopsy” “So
it doesn’t really matter where or when it happened.” “His
briefcase is missing.” “I
see,” Summer said. I
saw her thinking. Her lower eyelids flicked upward a fraction. “How
do you know he had a briefcase?” she said. “I
don’t. But did you ever see a general go to a conference without one?” “No,” she said. “You think the hooker
ran off with it?” I nodded. “That’s my working hypothesis right now.” “So, find the hooker.” “Who was she?”
Her eyelids moved again. “Doesn’t make sense,” she said. I
nodded again. “Exactly” “Four
possible reasons Kramer didn’t stay in the D.C. area. One, he might have been
traveling with fellow officers and didn’t want to embarrass himself in front
of them by having a hooker come to his room. They might have seen her in the
corridor or heard her through the walls. So he invented an excuse and stayed
in a different place. Two, even if he was traveling alone he might have been
on a DoD travel voucher and he was paranoid about a
desk clerk seeing the girl and calling The “But?” “Problems
one, two, and three could be answered by going ten or fifteen miles, maybe
less. Two hundred and ninety-eight is completely excessive. And whereas I’m
prepared to believe there are tastes that can’t be satisfied in D.C., I don’t
see how they’re more likely to be satisfied way out here in the North
Carolina boonies, and anyway I would guess such a thing would cost a lot more
than twenty bucks wherever you eventually found it.” “So
why did he take the six-hundred-mile detour?” She
didn’t answer. Just drove, and thought. I closed my eyes. Kept them closed
for about thirty-five miles. “He knew the girl,” Summer said. I
opened my eyes. “How?” “Some
men have favorites. Maybe he met her a long time ago. Fell for her, in a way
It can happen like that. It can almost be a love thing.” “Where
would he have met her?” “Right
there.” “Bird
is all infantry. He was Armored Branch.” “Maybe
they had joint exercises. You should check back.” I
said nothing. Armored and the infantry run joint exercises all the time. But
they run them where the tanks are, not where the grunts are. Much easier to
transport men across a continent than tanks. “Or
maybe he met her at Irwin,” Summer said. “In “What
kind of a hooker would like working military bases?” “The
kind that’s interested in money. Which is all of them,
presumably. Military bases support their local economies in all kinds
of ways.” I
said nothing. “Or
maybe she always worked Bird, but followed the infantry to Irwin when they
did a joint exercise out there one time. Those things can last a month or
two. No point in hanging around at home with no customers.” “Best
guess?” I said. “They
met in “She
doesn’t do anything special, not for twenty bucks.” “Maybe
he didn’t need anything special.” “We
could ask the widow.” Summer
smiled. “Maybe he just liked her. Maybe she made damn sure he did. Hookers
are good at that. They like repeat customers best of all. It’s much safer for
them if they already know the guy” I
closed my eyes again. “So?”
Summer said. “Did I come up with something you didn’t think of?” “No,”
I said. I fell asleep before we were out of
the state and woke up again nearly four hours later when Summer took the “Sorry”
she said. “You should check Kramer’s phone records. He must have called
ahead, to make sure she was around. He wouldn’t have driven all that way on
the off chance.” “Where
would he have called from?” “ “More
likely he used a pay phone at Dulles. But we’ll check.” “We?” “You can partner with me.” She said
nothing. “Like a test,” I said. “Is this important?” “Probably
not. But it might be. Depends what the conference is about. Depends what
paperwork he was taking to it. He might have had the whole ETO order of
battle in his case. Or new tactics, assessment of shortcomings, all kinds of
classified stuff.” “The Red Army is going to fold.” I nodded. “I’m more worried about red
faces. Newspapers, or television. Some reporter
finds classified stuff on a trash pile near a strip club, there’ll be major
embarrassment all around.” “Maybe the widow will know. He might
have discussed it with her:’ “We can’t ask her,” I said. “As far as
she’s concerned he died in his sleep with the blanket pulled up to his chin, and
everything else was kosher. Any worries we’ve got at this point stay strictly
between me, you, and Garber.” “Garber?” she said. “Me, you, and him,” I said. I saw her smile. It was a trivial case,
but working it with Garber was
a definite stroke of luck, for a person with a 110th Special Unit transfer
pending. The
Enemy is a book that you can take to the beach, read for hour, take a
swim, read again, put aside, and pick up later. Or, it’s perfect for an
airplane trip. Steve
Hopkins, June 25, 2004 |
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ã 2004 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the July 2004
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The
Enemy.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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