Winter Territory_A Get Jack Reacher Novel

by Scott Blade

  The pilot circled one last time and then yawed and prepared to fire the machine guns at the house and destroy everyone inside.

  Chapter 45

  “Stop!” Shepard said.

  He pointed at a figure standing tall near the side of the house. The pilot removed his finger from the trigger and looped the chopper around to get a closer look.

  Then they saw Reacher and the others on horseback. They darted off into the trees. The horses moved more slowly in the snow then they would’ve on flat ground.

  “Follow them!” Shepard ordered.

  The pilot didn’t flinch; he seamlessly moved the chopper up a little higher and sped off in the direction that Reacher had been headed.

  Shepard peered out the window and caught glimpses of the three of them running away through the trees. They were dark shadows, moving fast, but were mostly visible in the darkness.

  The chopper stayed at a steady speed. They flew after Reacher for a good ten minutes. The air around the rotors was slightly gusty, but conditions were close to optimal for a chase. No way would Reacher outrun them on a horse. Maybe in the summer, on flat ground with trees to cover their escape this plan would have worked, but no way was it going to save them from Shepard now.

  The air outside the helicopter was relatively calm, but icy. The steel exterior of the aircraft was cold to the touch, but inside Shepard and his crew were warm.

  They swiveled and turned and flew forward, catching glimpses of Reacher and the other two through the trees.

  They tracked after Reacher for another ten minutes, climbing higher and higher because the terrain turned mountainous.

  They slowed and Shepard peered down again.

  The pilot asked, “Where did they go?”

  Shepard searched and then he saw them dart off again from the trees.

  Three dark figures moved to the north.

  “There!” Shepard said and pointed.

  The pilot pivoted in his seat and swung the chopper around. They flew off after them for another 30 seconds until they stopped and stared.

  The trees had opened up into a clearing. Shepard, the pilot, and the other two guys in his crew watched through the chopper’s windows as Reacher stopped the horses. He dismounted his horse and swatted at its rear.

  He was completely alone. The other two horses had no riders. Reacher had led them away from the house.

  Chapter 46

  Amita and Mike Jacobs waited in the bathroom on the second floor of the house. They did exactly as Reacher had told them. He had said to go upstairs and lie in the bathtub. If Shepard started to fire the chopper’s gun on the house like he had at the previous house that Jacobs had been hiding out in, then the bathtub was the safest place from gunfire.

  The house had an old cast iron tub and it was huge. It was probably from the 18th century. Very durable. If anything could provide cover from M50 ammunition it would be that tub. However, Reacher doubted even old, durable iron would be resilient from M50 ammunition, but his plan was to not to allow the chopper to shoot at the house.

  Chapter 47

  The scar across Shepard’s face turned pure white like it reflected the rage that sat in his stomach at that moment. Reacher, a teenager, had duped him with the oldest trick in the book. He had led them away from Jacobs and the woman cop with a trick that probably outdated the dinosaurs. Shepard’s guys looked at each other and made no comments about the situation. They knew better. One comment about it and he’d throw them out of the chopper. One of them even craned his head forward between the seats and peered down.

  The ground was 100 feet below them, at least. The fall would kill him or break his back at a minimum. So he stayed quiet.

  Shepard said, “Kill that bastard!”

  The pilot smiled and jerked the trigger back on the machine gun in a way that went against his training. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it, had been engrained into him from years of military service, but he felt that this was a jerking trigger kind of situation.

  The Vulcan machine gun started to twist and then spin. A second before the first rotation, it sprayed out bullets. The sound wasn’t like a loud gunshot from the movies. It was a very mechanical noise like a rotor turning and spinning. Then there was the deafening sound of bullets bursting from the barrels.

  The muzzle flash was bright and orange. From a straight-on view of the barrel, the orange appeared as a bright, orange halo. Of course, no one who had ever seen a straight-on hail of bullets from a Vulcan machine gun had ever lived to describe what it looked like to another living soul.

  The bullets sprayed in a wide cone from the gun and tore through the trees. Wood splintered and cracked. Branches swayed and cleft in multiple fractures as the bullets ripped through everything. The banks of snow puffed apart as bullets buried themselves deep in the ground. Snow exploded up into the air like bursts of fireworks as the bullets nailed the trees and shook everything loose.

  Shepard smiled, thinking that Reacher must be dead.

  Chapter 48

  Cameron Reacher was like his father in many ways, some of which he didn’t even know yet. But one thing that he did know was that being like his father meant something particular. It meant that he was pretty good at a lot of things, and one of them was staying alive.

  There was one thing that separated him from his father. Jack Reacher had been a force for good, traveling around and helping the helpless, but Jack Reacher hadn’t been on a mission. He had been a man who drifted and wandered aimlessly, with no real destination.

  Cameron Reacher had a great advantage in this area because he was a Reacher, like his father, but he was a Reacher on a quest. And he had no plans of dying here in the northern territory of Wyoming and certainly not by a hail of gunfire from a madman like CIA Agent Alex Shepard.

  Reacher hugged close to the huge trunk of a tree that he was certain was dead anyway. The bark was solid black and felt like it was free from life.

  He heard the cracking, mechanical sound of a chain gun as the bullets let loose from the chopper.

  The bullets fired out and rocketed past him. All around him bark exploded off the trees and snow burst into the air and fogged up any kind of visibility that had once existed.

  He hugged tight to the tree and thought about what would happen if he ever did find Jack Reacher. Would he hug him as tightly as he had the tree? Would he feel like the tree? Hard and lifeless?

  Then suddenly, Reacher felt relieved that the horses had run in the opposite direction from the gunfire. At least those poor animals were safe from Shepard and his insanity.

  The bullets, the crackling machine, and the orange fire that haloed around the muzzle seemed to go on forever. Reacher’s eardrums rattled in his head from the sound. His bones vibrated and his skin warmed up from the heat expended from the bullets and gunfire.

  He had never really felt fear. Being scared wasn’t something that applied to Reachers, but in that moment he felt it. He wasn’t afraid to die. He was afraid that he would die before he could fulfill his mother’s task. Before he could find Jack Reacher.

  The bullets pierced the trees around him and surged through everything. The gunfire went on and on, until finally the machine gun ran out of bullets.

  Reacher heard the gun rattle emptily as the cylinders rotated and stopped.

  That was when he smiled. He knew guns and he knew that the Vulcan machine gun mounted on the chopper generally took about 15 minutes to reload. And 15 minutes in a firefight was a long time. Battles had changed hands. Advantages had changed sides. And wars were fought and won in less time.

  He peered out and tried to locate the chopper’s position. He spotted it easily. It was less than 20 yards away from him and maybe 50 feet above the ground.

  He had two options: run or stay. If he snuck away at first and then took off running, he might just make it and get away from Shepard.

  All hope was dashed when all of a sudden he saw Shepard’s next move.

  The helicopter hovered a
nd the side door slid open. A long, black rope fell out and scraped the ground. One of Shepard’s guys leaped out of the opened door and rappelled, face first toward the ground. A second guy came out and covered his friend’s descent with his Heckler and Koch G36. The silenced barrel moved from side to side. No chance of Reacher taking a shot at the descending guy. Not with his buddy covering him. And even if he could shoot the guy, there was no guarantee of taking him out. Both guys appeared to be in some heavy SWAT gear. Probably had some serious Kevlar on.

  Reacher would have to step out from behind the tree. Fast. One. And fire. Hit the guy in the head. That would kill him. Dead. The distance wasn’t a problem for such a fast shot, but the snow still filled the air and made the shot hard because the guy wasn’t completely in focus, not to mention that they weren’t motionless targets; rappelling down a rope isn’t a still movement. Reacher was staring through the gloom and it was thick.

  Before Reacher could plan a second tactic, the guy was on the ground. He knelt and pointed his gun out and swept the area, looking for Reacher.

  The second guy leapt out of the open door next and rappelled the rope fast. Shepard came out last.

  Now Reacher had three CIA-trained opponents with superior firepower, air support, and night vision goggles.

  He ducked back behind the tree and looked down at the G36. He suddenly felt outgunned.

  Chapter 49

  Shepard took the lead.

  He paced in a hunched fashion, which looked awkward, one of his guys thought. But Shepard was from a different generation of soldiers. The way that his generation had been taught to approach a hostile environment had been to shoot first. His guy had been trained to stay safe first. Keep the gun low, to avoid friendly fire. It was a concept that Shepard probably had never even been taught at all.

  The guy to the right and behind Shepard crept along, covering the right flank.

  The three men walked for about 20 yards into the forest and the gloom.

  The chopper had recoiled and rose higher into the sky. The pilot hovered around and circled the area to give them a bird’s-eye view.

  Shepard was the only one with an earpiece and radio that gave him direct communication with the pilot. The other guy held the grenades and the one on the right had backup magazines. This guy was in charge of carrying extra supplies, which made him feel like the least important member of the squad, but it was better than being dead. He had his G36, his Glock, and a Ka-Bar 1280 Combat Kukri Blade with black Kraton G handle. The blade was 8 ½ inches long. And very sharp. It was an unusual knife because of the long blade that curved inward. It was a heinous-looking invention. But it was his lucky knife and he had served with it for years.

  He looked back at Shepard and saw that he was giving the signal for them to split up.

  Shepard would go straight, the left guy left, and, of course, he’d cover the right quadrant.

  Generally, the rule had always been to go up to 35 yards and no farther, but in this case, he bet that the rule was “don’t come back until Reacher is dead.”

  He moved to the right. Heard the wind howl and echo through the trees and fresh bullet holes. It gusted and blew across his face. He walked on for 30 yards. Then 35. Then he felt that voice in the back of his head saying, “Too far. Too far.”

  He stopped and peered back over his shoulder. He could still see his partner’s back. Then he about-faced and moved forward.

  The gloom was getting thicker so he reached up and pulled down his goggles, clicked on the night vision. The device hummed in that distinguishable way that was exclusive to night vision goggles.

  His field of vision turned green and bright. The gloom was still thick in the goggles, but he could see much better. He’d especially notice if anything moved.

  He continued on.

  The gloom seemed to get thicker. It engulfed him. He turned back and looked for his partners. No sign of them. Their snow-colored gear backfired on them in this situation because they couldn’t see each other either. In fact, they were even limited on the directions that they could fire. If he fired his weapon in a southern cone, he might hit his friend or worse, Shepard. That would be bad for him. Very bad.

  So he turned forward again and moved on.

  Chapter 50

  Reacher watched the guy. He remained in the shadows and followed the guy with his eyes. No movement from the rest of his body. Reacher had found a man-sized hole at the base of a tree. It felt like a shallow grave now that he was in it. He had jumped in it and pulled snow down toward him as best he could. He was packed in enough to hide his bulk.

  He watched as the clumsy mercenary approached. The guy seemed terrified. Reacher knew this because he knew the terror in the guy’s demeanor and walk like a lion knows it from his prey.

  Reacher wanted to open fire on him, kill him where he stood, but he couldn’t. He had no silencer on the G36. He had left it behind. Not that a sound suppressor would’ve helped. The gloom was so thick that the muzzle flash would’ve been like a bright bolt of lightning cracking through the sky and giving away his position.

  Reacher could smell the cold, watery scent of snow and the remaining smoke from the Vulcan’s gunfire. It hung in the air—pungent and acrid.

  Reacher watched the guy move in closer to him. The guy didn’t step close enough for Reacher to grab him, which had been his plan. Grab the guy fast. Drop him to his knees and silence him. But the guy was too far away. Yet, something even better presented itself. The guy had passed Reacher without even a second look.

  Reacher pulled himself slowly out of the hole and began to creep up behind the guy. The snow quieted his steps. He crept and did what he was good at—sneaking up on bad guys.

  Ten feet from the guy, Reacher saw the Ka-bar knife sheathed at the small of the guy’s back. With five fluid, deadly moves and one agonizing one, the guy was dead. One. Reacher stepped forward. Two. He clasped his enormous hand over the guy’s mouth. Three. He unsheathed the Ka-bar. Four. He stabbed it deep into the guy’s neck, severing straight through his vestibular and vocal folds. And five. He jerked the blade straight out and let go of the guy. Six. The guy gurgled and rolled around violently on the ground until blood ran out of him and he had no more left to struggle.

  Reacher could’ve helped him. Killed him quick, but in the end he thought about the dead dog from earlier.

  Reacher liked dogs. So instead of helping the guy, he watched him die.

  After the guy was dead, Reacher spit on his dead corpse.

  The other guy had walked the farthest away from Shepard. He wasn’t scared of some teenage kid. He was scared of Shepard. So he swept his area thoroughly and found no sign of anyone. No footprints. No noise. In fact his quadrant seemed to have gotten the most damage from the gunfire. So if Reacher had been hiding in here, he was most certainly dead. And if he had survived the firefight, he would’ve been hit by a bullet for sure. No doubt about that. The spray was everywhere. Reacher’s blood would’ve been on the snow and he would’ve been crying like a baby or dead. But there was none of this. So the guy figured that Reacher was either dead or in one of the other directions.

  He was just about to give up, when he heard a whisper. He turned. His night vision goggles showed a huge green figure standing in front of him. He thought that it was a bear, but there were no claws. Just one big, long one. And before he could react, Reacher stabbed him straight into the neck, just above where the collarbone dipped down. And with his other hand he swiped the guy’s G36 away from him.

  The second guy went down like a puppet with the strings cut. His hand clawed and scratched at his throat as he tried to pull the knife out.

  Reacher stepped over him and stomped down on the Ka-bar’s hilt and buried the blade straight through the back of the guy’s neck like a nail.

  Then the guy stopped moving and Reacher spit on his corpse as well. After all, he wasn’t sure who had killed the dog. No reason to discriminate now.

  He knelt down and pulled the Ka-bar
out of the guy’s neck and wiped the blood off on the guy’s jacket. Then he searched the guy. He found nothing of interest except a pouch with three grenades. They were fragmentary grenades. They were the size of a snowball, just like when he was a kid with his mother, only these grenades were heavier than some frozen snowballs.

  Chapter 51

  The concept of a fragmentation grenade is that it is basically packed with deadly projectiles that explode outward after the pin has been pulled and the device is thrown. It is an elementary, old military weapon. The military fragmentation grenade is the very definition of the phrase: If it ain’t broke, why fix it?

  Reacher took the silencer out of his pocket and trashed it. It was useless. Instead he replaced it with a grenade. There were a half of dozen grenades on the dead guy, but why bog himself down with extra weight? So he took one and shoved it in his pocket.

  Reacher scanned the cloudy area and saw nothing but trees and smoke. There was no sign of Shepard.

  He crept along the footpath made by the last dead guy and followed it back to its origin, where the three mercenaries landed from the chopper. Once Reacher got there, he paused and scanned the area again. Still no sign of movement, but he saw Shepard’s footprints in the snow. That was the good thing about tracking someone in the snow; footprints are obvious. However, Reacher was a Reacher and far from a fool. He wasn’t about to get double bluffed by his own tactic from earlier. And Alex Shepard was a professional veteran of the CIA. He was no fool. Reacher didn’t trust any kind of obvious trail that was left for him by Shepard; so he decided to take a new approach. Instead of engaging Shepard in the dark, he headed toward the sound of the helicopter’s rotors.

  The closer he got to the chopper’s position the more the smoke and snow lifted up off the ground because of the jet wash from the rotors’ violent spin.

  Reacher stayed clear of the helicopter’s spotlight and out of the pilot’s view. He took the long way around. Slowly and steadily, he walked, staying behind trees and snow banks. Then as he got closer to it, he scrambled between the trees.

  Reacher looked up at the helicopter. It was a frightening thing. Black, with a shimmer that looked almost like chrome; the machine certainly had been used to terrify villagers in Syria and other parts of the Middle East. But this wasn’t the Middle East and Reacher knew that he was the thing to be feared here in the dark.