Gone Tomorrow (Jack Reacher Series #13)

Gone Tomorrow (Jack Reacher Series #13)

by Lee Child

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#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “High-powered, intricately wrought suspense.”—Janet Maslin, The New York Times
“Hold on tight. . . . This novel will give you whiplash as you rabidly turn pages. . . . May be [Lee Child’s] best.”—USA Today
New York City. Two in the morning. A subway car heading uptown. Jack Reacher, plus five other passengers. Four are okay. The fifth isn’t. And if you think Reacher isn’t going to get involved . . . then you don’t know Jack.
Susan Mark, the fifth passenger, had a big secret, and her plain little life was being watched in Washington, and California, and Afghanistan—by dozens of people with one thing in common: They’re all lying to Reacher. A little. A lot. Or just enough to get him killed. A race has begun through the streets of Manhattan, a maze crowded with violent, skilled soldiers on all sides of a shadow war. For Jack Reacher, a man who trusts no one and likes it that way, the finish line comes when you finally get face-to-face and look your worst enemy in the eye.
“Propulsive . . . [Child is] an expert at ratcheting up tension.”—Los Angeles Times
“A top-notch thriller.”—Booklist (starred review)
“Edgy . . . thoroughly engrossing.”—The Miami Herald

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780440243687
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 03/23/2010
Series: Jack Reacher Series
Pages: 576
Sales rank: 27,647
Product dimensions: 7.56(w) x 4.32(h) x 1.38(d)

About the Author

Lee Child is the author of nineteen New York Times bestselling Jack Reacher thrillers, ten of which have reached the #1 position. All have been optioned for major motion pictures; the first, Jack Reacher, was based on One Shot. Foreign rights in the Reacher series have sold in almost a hundred territories. A native of England and a former television director, Lee Child lives in New York City.


Birmingham, England

Date of Birth:


Place of Birth:

Coventry, England


Sheffield University

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Suicide bombers are easy to spot. They give out all kinds of tell-tale signs. Mostly because they're nervous. By definition they're all first-timers.

Israeli counterintelligence wrote the defensive playbook. They told us what to look for. They used pragmatic observation and psychological insight and came up with a list of behavioral indicators. I learned the list from an Israeli amy captain twenty years ago. He swore by it. Therefore I swore by it too, because at the time I was on three weeks' detached duty mostly about a yard from his shoulder, in Israel itself, in Jerusalem, on the West Bank, in Leb anon, sometimes in Syria, sometimes in Jordan, on buses, in stores, on crowded sidewalks. I kept my eyes moving and my mind running free down the bullet points.

Twenty years later I still know the list. And my eyes still move. Pure habit. From another bunch of guys I learned another mantra: Look, don't see, listen, don't hear. The more you engage, the longer you survive.

The list is twelve points long if you're looking at a male suspect. Eleven, if you're looking at a woman. The difference is a fresh shave. Male bombers take off their beards. It helps them blend in. Makes them less suspicious. The result is paler skin on the lower half of the face. No recent exposure to the sun.

But I wasn't interested in shaves.

I was working on the eleven-point list.

I was looking at a woman.

I was riding the subway, in New York City. The 6 train, the Lexington Avenue local, heading uptown, two o'clock in the morning. I had gotten on at Bleecker Street from the south end of the platform into a car that was empty except for five people. Subway cars feel small and intimate when they're full. When they're empty they feel vast and cavernous and lonely. At night their lights feel hotter and brighter, even though they're the same lights they use in the day. They're all the lights there are. I was sprawled on a two-person bench north of the end doors on the track side of the car. The other five passengers were all south of me on the long bench seats, in profile, side on, far from each other, staring blankly across the width of the car, three on the left and two on the right.

The car's number was 7622. I once rode eight stops on the 6 train next to a crazy person who talked about the car we were in with the same kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for sports or women. Therefore I knew that car number 7622 was an R142A model, the newest on the New York system, built by Kawasaki in Kobe, Japan, shipped over, trucked to the 207th Street yards, craned onto the tracks, towed down to 180th Street and tested. I knew it could run two hundred thousand miles without major attention. I knew its automated announcement system gave instructions in a man's voice and information in a woman's, which was claimed to be a coincidence but was really because the transportation chiefs believed such a division of labor was psychologically compelling. I knew the voices came from Bloomberg TV, but years before Mike became mayor. I knew there were six hundred R142As on the tracks and that each one was a fraction over fifty-one feet long and a little more than eight feet wide. I knew that the no-cab unit like we had been in then and I was in now had been designed to carry a maximum of forty people seated and up to 148 standing. The crazy person had been clear on all that data. I could see for myself that the car's seats were blue plastic, the same shade as a late summer sky or a British Air Force uniform. I could see that its wall panels were molded from graffiti-resistant fiberglass. I could see its twin strips of advertisements running away from me where the wall panels met the roof. I could see small cheerful posters touting television shows and language instruction and easy college degrees and major earning opportunities.

I could see a police notice advising me: If you see something, say something.

The nearest passenger to me was a Hispanic woman. She was across the car from me, on my left, forward of the first set of doors, all alone on a bench built for eight, well off center. She was small, somewhere between thirty and fifty, and she looked very hot and very tired. She had a well-worn supermarket bag looped over her wrist and she was staring across at the empty place opposite with eyes too weary to be seeing much.

Next up was a man on the other side, maybe four feet farther down the car. He was all alone on his own eight-person bench. He could have been from the Balkans, or the Black Sea. Dark hair, lined skin. He was sinewy, worn down by work and weather. He had his feet planted and he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Not asleep, but close to it. Suspended animation, marking time, rocking with the movements of the train. He was about fifty, dressed in clothes far too young for him. Baggy jeans that reached only his calves, and an oversized NBA shirt with a player's name on it that I didn't recognize.

Third up was a woman who might have been West African. She was on the left, south of the center doors. Tired, inert, her black skin made dusty and gray by fatigue and the lights. She was wearing a colorful batik dress with a matching square of cloth tied over her hair. Her eyes were closed. I know New York reasonably well. I call myself a citizen of the world and New York the capital of the world, so I can make sense of the city the same way a Brit knows London or a Frenchman knows Paris. I'm familiar but not intimate with its habits. But it was an easy guess that any three people like these already seated on a late-night northbound 6 train south of Bleecker were office cleaners heading home from evening shifts around City Hall, or restaurant service workers from Chinatown or Little Italy. They were probably set for Hunts Point in the Bronx, or maybe all the way up to Pelham Bay, ready for short fitful sleeps before more long days.

The fourth and the fifth passengers were different.

The fifth was a man. He was maybe my age, wedged at forty-five degrees on the two-person bench diagonally opposite me, all the way across and down the length of the car. He was dressed casually but not cheaply. Chinos, and a golf shirt. He was awake. His eyes were fixed somewhere in front of him. Their focus changed and narrowed constantly, like he was alert and speculating. They reminded me of a ballplayer's eyes. They had a certain canny, calculating shrewdness in them.

But it was passenger number four that I was looking at.

If you see something, say something.

She was seated on the right side of the car, all alone on the farther eight-person bench, across from and about halfway between the exhausted West African woman and the guy with the ball player's eyes. She was white and probably in her forties. She was plain. She had black hair, neatly but unstylishly cut and too uniformly dark to be natural. She was dressed all in black. I could see her fairly well. The guy nearest to me on the right was still sitting forward and the V-shaped void between his bent back and the wall of the car made my line of sight uninterrupted except for a forest of stainless-steel grab bars.

Not a perfect view, but good enough to ring every bell on the eleven-point list. The bullet headings lit up like cherries on a Vegas machine.

According to Israeli counterintelligence I was looking at a suicide bomber.

Chapter Two

I dismissed the thought immediately. Not because of racial profiling. White women are as capable of craziness as anyone else. I dismissed the thought because of tactical implausibility. The timing was wrong. The New York subway would make a fine target for a suicide bombing. The 6 train would be as good as any other and better than most. It stops under Grand Central Terminal. Eight in the morning, six at night, a crowded car, forty seated, 148 standing, wait until the doors open on packed platforms, push the button. A hundred dead, a couple of hundred grievously injured, panic, infrastructure damage, possibly fire, a major transportation hub shut down for days or weeks and maybe never really trusted again. A significant score, for people whose heads work in ways we can't quite understand.

But not at two o'clock in the morning.

Not in a car holding just six people. Not when Grand Central's subway platforms would hold only drifting trash and empty cups and a couple of old homeless guys on benches.

The train stopped at Astor Place. The doors hissed open. No one got on. No one got off. The doors thumped shut again and the motors whined and the train moved on.

The bullet points stayed lit up.

The first was the obvious no-brainer: inappropriate clothing. By now explosive belts are as evolved as baseball gloves. Take a three-foot by two-foot sheet of heavy canvas, fold once longitudinally, and you have a continuous pocket a foot deep. Wrap the pocket around the bomber, and sew it together in back. Zippers or snaps can lead to second thoughts. Insert a stockade of dynamite sticks into the pocket all the way around, wire them up, pack nails or ball bearings into the voids, sew the top seam shut, add crude shoulder straps to take the weight. Altogether effective, but altogether bulky. The only practical concealment, an oversized garment like a padded winter parka. Never appropriate in the Middle East, and plausible in New York maybe three months in twelve.

But this was September, and it was as hot as summer, and ten degrees hotter underground. I was wearing a T-shirt. Passenger number four was wearing a North Face down jacket, black, puffy, shiny, a little too large and zipped to her chin.

If you see something, say something.

I took a pass on the second of the eleven points. Not immediately applicable. The second point is: a robotic walk. Significant at a checkpoint or in a crowded marketplace or outside a church or a mosque, but not relevant with a seated suspect on public transportation. Bombers walk robotically not because they're overcome with ecstasy at the thought of imminent martyrdom, but because they're carrying forty extra pounds of unaccustomed weight, which is biting into their shoulders through crude suspender straps, and because they're drugged. Martyrdom's appeal goes only so far. Most bombers are browbeaten simpletons with a slug of raw opium paste held between gum and cheek. We know this because dynamite belts explode with a characteristic doughnut-shaped pressure wave that rolls up the torso in a fraction of a nanosecond and lifts the head clean off the shoulders. The human head isn't bolted on. It just rests there by gravity, somewhat tied down by skin and muscles and tendons and ligaments, but those insubstantial biological anchors don't do much against the force of a violent chemical explosion. My Israeli mentor told me the easiest way to determine that an open-air attack was caused by a suicide bomber rather than by a car bomb or a package bomb is to search on an eighty-or-ninety-foot radius and look for a severed human head, which is likely to be strangely intact and undamaged, even down to the opium plug in the cheek.
The train stopped at Union Square. No one got on. No one got off. Hot air billowed in from the platform and fought the interior air conditioning. Then the doors closed again and the train moved on.

Points three through six are variations on a subjective theme: irritability, sweating, tics, and nervous behavior. Although in my opinion sweating is as likely to be caused by physical overheating as by nerves. The inappropriate clothing, and the dynamite. Dynamite is wood pulp soaked with nitroglycerine and molded into baton-sized sticks. Wood pulp is a good thermal insulator. So sweating comes with the territory. But the irritability and the tics and the nervous behavior are valuable indicators. These people are in the last weird moments of their lives, anxious, scared of pain, woozy with narcotics. They are irrational by definition. Believing or half-believing or not really believing at all in paradise and rivers of milk and honey and lush pastures and virgins, driven by ideological pressures or by the expectations of their peers and their families, suddenly in too deep and unable to back out. Brave talk in clandestine meetings is one thing. Action is another. Hence suppressed panic, with all its visible signs.

Passenger number four was showing them all. She looked exactly like a woman heading for the end of her life, as surely and certainly as the train was heading for the end of the line.
Therefore point seven: breathing.

She was panting, low and controlled. In, out, in, out. Like a technique to conquer the pain of childbirth, or like the result of a ghastly shock, or like a last desperate barrier against screaming with dread and fear and terror.

In, out, in, out.
Point eight: suicide bombers about to go into action stare rigidly ahead. No one knows why, but video evidence and surviving eyewitnesses have been entirely consistent in their reports. Bombers stare straight ahead. Perhaps they have screwed their commitment up to the sticking point and fear intervention. Perhaps like dogs and children they feel that if they're not seeing anyone, then no one is seeing them. Perhaps a last shred of conscience means they can't look at the people they're about to destroy. No one knows why, but they all do it.

Passenger number four was doing it. That was for sure. She was staring across at the blank window opposite so hard she was almost burning a hole in the glass.

Points one through eight, check. I shifted my weight forward in my seat.

Then I stopped. The idea was tactically absurd. The time was wrong.

Then I looked again. And moved again. Because points nine, ten, and eleven were all present and correct too, and they were the most important points of all.

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

“The ever-resourceful and vengeful Reacher takes on nearly a score of the bad guys in an exciting climax to an enthralling book…complete with cover-ups and numerous intriguing twists.”—Library Journal, starred review

“A superb New York novel…. Child grounds his hero’s hard body and hard-drive brain in believable detail, and he sets the action against a precisely described landscape.” —Booklist, starred review

“All good thriller writers know how to build suspense and keep the pages turning, but only better ones deliver tight plots as well, and only the best allow the reader to match wits with both the hero and the author. Bestseller Child does all of that in spades.... [He] sets things up subtly and ingeniously, then lets Reacher use both strength and guile to find his way to the exciting climax.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review


The Fan Letter by Lee Child

They say the past is another country, and in my case it really was: provincial England at the end of the fifties and the start of the sixties, the last gasp of the post-war era, before it surrendered to the tectonic shift sparked by the Beatles. My family was neither rich nor poor, not that either condition had much meaning in a society with not much to buy and not much to lack. We accumulated toys at the rate of two a year: one on our birthdays, and one at Christmas. We had a big table radio (which we called "the wireless") in the dining room, and in the living room we had a black and white fishbowl television, full of glowing tubes, but there were only two channels, and they went off the air at ten in the evening, after playing the National Anthem, for which some families stood up, and sometimes we saw a double bill at the pictures on a Saturday morning, but apart from that we had no entertainment.

So we read books. As it happens I just saw some old research from that era which broke down reading habits by class (as so much was categorized in England at that time) and which showed that fully fifty percent of the middle class regarded reading as their main leisure activity. The figure for skilled workers was twenty-five percent, and even among laborers ten percent turned to books as a primary choice.

Not that we bought them. We used the library. Ours was housed in a leftover WW2 Nissen hut (the British version of a Quonset hut) which sat on a bombed-out lot behind a church. It had a low door and a unique warm, musty, dusty smell, which I think came partly from the worn floorboards and partly from the books themselves, of which there were not very many. I finished with the children's picture books by the time I was four, and had read all the chapter books by the time I was eight, and had read all the grown-up books by the time I was ten.

Not that I was unique - or even very bookish. I was one of the rough kids. We fought and stole and broke windows and walked miles to soccer games, where we fought some more. We were covered in scabs and scars. We had knives in our pockets - but we had books in our pockets too. Even the kids who couldn't read tried very hard to, because we all sensed there was more to life than the gray, pinched, post-war horizons seemed to offer. Traveling farther than we could walk in half a day was out of the question - but we could travel in our heads ... to Australia, Africa, America ... by sea, by air, on horseback, in helicopters, in submarines. Meeting people unlike ourselves was very rare ... but we could meet them on the page. For most of us, reading - and imagining, and dreaming - was as useful as breathing.

My parents were decent, dutiful people, and when my mother realized I had read everything the Nissen hut had to offer - most of it twice - she got me a library card for a bigger place the other side of the canal. I would head over there on a Friday afternoon after school and load up with the maximum allowed - six titles - which would make life bearable and get me through the week. Just. Which sounds ungrateful - my parents were doing their best, no question, but lively, energetic kids needed more than that time and place could offer. Once a year we went and spent a week in a trailer near the sea - no better or worse a vacation than anyone else got, for sure, but usually accompanied by lashing rain and biting cold and absolutely nothing to do.

The only thing that got me through one such week was Von Ryan's Express by David Westheimer. I loved that book. It was a WW2 prisoner-of-war story full of tension and suspense and twists and turns, but its biggest "reveal" was moral rather than physical - what at first looked like collaboration with the enemy turned out to be resistance and escape. I read it over and over that week and never forgot it.

Then almost forty years later, when my own writing career was picking up a head of steam, I got a fan letter signed by a David Westheimer. The handwriting was shaky, as if the guy was old. I wondered, could it be? I wrote back and asked, are you the David Westheimer? Turned out yes, it was. We started a correspondence that lasted until he died. I met him in person at a book signing I did in California, near his home, which gave me a chance to tell him how he had kept me sane in a rain-lashed trailer all those years ago. He said he had had the same kind of experience forty years before that. Now I look forward to writing a fan letter to a new author years from now ... and maybe hearing my books had once meant something special to him or her. Because that's what books do - they dig deeper, they mean more, they stick around forever.

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Gone Tomorrow 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 473 reviews.
grumpydan More than 1 year ago
Lee Child does it again. Jack Reacher finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or is it the rights place at the right time. Either way, he is there to resolve what could a disastrous problem for a presidential wannabe. "Gone Tomorrow" does not disappoint. There are twists and turns and things that make you wonder. There is also a lot of action and unfortunately, graphic death. You would think that with each new Jack Reacher novel that Mr. Child would run out of ideas to excite the true fan, but not yet. I think Jack Reacher will be collecting social security before these stories run out. Great job, Lee Child.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm a huge Lee Child fan and so had high expectations for Gone Tomrrow. It lived up to my expectations. Not the best of his books, but definitely a great read. Child's iconic hero, Jack Reacher, is in rare form and once again has to punch, kick, think, and shoot his way out of bad luck and trouble. This book is fast paced and addictive. The story is plausible and the mystery keeps you guessing until the end. Like all good thrillers, there's few plot twists that you never see coming. All in all, I recommend this book as a great way to spend a lazy weekend.
T-RadSR More than 1 year ago
Lee Child does it again with this latest Reacher story. Some of these Reacher stories are better than others but they are all consistently very entertaining. Fast read with great dialogue. I can't wait for the next in the series. I started the series in the middle, now I am going back to read from the beginning. Keep em' coming Lee! I like the ones better in the third person. "Reacher said nothing."
LeeCarper More than 1 year ago
Title: Gone Tomorrow Author: Lee Child Publisher: Bantam Dell Publication Date: 19 May, 2009 Reviewer: Lee Carper Lee Child's latest novel, GONE TOMORROW, starts off with a bang -literally- and doesn't let go. Boarding subway car 7622 at two o'clock in the morning, Reacher, an ex-military cop who forever remains vigilant to his surroundings, memorized the Israeli counterintelligence spot-list twenty years ago and to this day cannot forget the behavioral indicators. A woman sitting on the train catches his attention. Reacher's mind whirrs, taking him through that check-list. One by one she meets the criteria. Eleven points out of eleven. Suicide bomber. Reacher quickly makes a decision that sets off a string of events with deadly consequences. As usual, he finds himself wrapped in a quagmire with many players, not the least of which involves various departments of the government. I admit I don't normally tend to enjoy thrillers with too many details, but I make the exception for Lee Child's novels. For me, the details make Reacher come alive. In GONE TOMORROW, the author takes us for another wild ride, and this book is highly recommended.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I am not a big reader so for me to like a book it has to grab me. This book did just that. Great story that will keep interested.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anyone familiar with Lee Child's Jack reacher thrillers will have no problem getting right into 'Gone Tomorrow'. Right from the opening subway ride, readers will be ripping through its pages, trying to keep up with the action, sorting through its cast of fairly well delineated characters, and hoping against hope that Jack will actually have to do a little cardio or something to keep in such fine fighting trim. The author makes very good use of New York as his primary setting, with various points of interest almost jumping off the page . All in all, a fine addition to this series.
MemphisBo More than 1 year ago
I've read and loved all of the Reacher novels. Any story about a big, tough but smart guy who likes to fight is a fun read. This story was just ok for me. Started off strong, really slow middle, and I really can't believe how he ended it. The focal point changed about 2/3 through the book and we got a whole new perspective, and NEVER got to see it resolved. Not sure if I'll read another Reacher novel, as this really reminded me of Nothing to Lose, with a really slow middle and a very sudden ending. It's like the story is still going 2 pages from the end and then it's just over all of a sudden. Very weird.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One month ago I stumbled across "A Wanted Man", #17 in the Reacher series. Up until then I had never heard of Lee Child or Jack Reacher. I have read all 17 since then and am waiting for the next one. I have't read 17 books in the past 17 years and now 17 in a month. I just can put him down. "Gone Tomorrow" will keep you guessing and hold your attention right up to the end.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have read all of Lee Child's books and find him to be a great writer. The problem is he gets to long winded for me. A simple act like someone answering a phone can last two or three pages. It starts to get boring when he has to describe everything until the reader gets crazy from boredom.
Emmy12 More than 1 year ago
This was a great read. I started reading on a Friday night and couldn't put the book down until I finished on Sunday night.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I was introduced to the character of Jack Reacher by a woman I met in a bookstore. I can't thank her enough. This character is the kind of man that you want on your side if you are in trouble. Love the character, love the books. Thanks Mr. Child.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have read every one of the Jack Reacher series and they continue to be totally addicting. I can't wait for another one!
crazybatcow on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
An excellent installment of the Reacher series!Lots of intrigue and mystery and thriller action, and, at a point or two, some concern as to whether or not Jack Reacher will make it through!There's some nice violence (and some not so nice) and Jack even manages to get some 'loving', though this was done in a paragraph - no details provided. Lots of butt-kicking, chases, hiding & seeking and... well, basically it's a very good Reacher episode.
LiteraryFeline on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Like John Sanford, Lee child is one of the authors I have wanted to try for a while now but never seemed to get around to reading. When Gone Tomorrow came my way, I couldn't resist--even if it meant jumping into a series 13 books in. Fortunately, Gone Tomorrow is one of those series books that stands alone just fine. Although, I have to admit that I'm even more curious about Jack Reacher's past now. Imagine living your life in such simplicity that you travel at will, have no home, no luggage, with just a toothbrush and your wallet in your pocket.That's the way we first meet Jack Reacher in Gone Tomorrow. Ex-military, he is extremely skilled and observant. And so when he oberves a lone woman sitting in a subway car, meeting the criteria of a possible suicide bomber, Reacher has no choice but to take notice. After mulling the idea of what to do over in his head, he approaches the woman cautiously, not sure what to expect.From that moment on, the story that unfolds is full of unexpected twists and turns and multi-layered. Reacher finds himself the target of both the bad and the good guys. The novel reminded me of a Greg Rucka novel, with the tough, no nonsense hero at its helm. It's purely entertaining even if not entirely believable--and that's okay. It was easy to fall into Jack Reacher's world for a short while and ride the subways of New York along with him. I was hooked from page one.At this point, I am not really sure what I think of Jack Reacher himself. I would like to have seen a more vulnerable side to him, I think. There is no doubt he is intelligent. He does his own thing, no matter the consequences, wanting to get to the truth of a situation. He is just as likely to use his brain as his fist, and there's no shortage of good fight scenes in the book. He definitely isn't someone I would want to mess with--or necessarily invite over for lunch.As much fun as I had reading Gone Tomorrow, I cannot say whether or not this will become a series I will love. I am eager to start with book one in the series, however. I have a feeling Jack will grow on me, and I hear those earlier books in the series are not to be missed.
MichaelGroesbeck on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is the third "Jack Reacher" that I have read. I was not disappointed. Another great read.
SallyRose on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I had never read a Lee Child book before and did not know what I was missing. It is also a series that is written to start with an end book without loss of continuity. Jack Reacher has a rugged Clint Eastwood aura but not a physical enity to this reader. He is an ex-military man with no ties to anywhere or anyone. An enigma.In gone tomorrow he sees a woman on the subway, in New York, that looks to be a suicide bomber. She has all the characteristic tells. His military training makes it imperative that he confront her as gentle as is possible.This will open Pandora¿s box of all Government agencies with initials and political figures.
ctfrench on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Jack Reacher, riding a New York subway in the early morning hours, notices a woman passenger acting strangely. Reacher watches her, ticking off the 12 points identifying her as a suicide bomber. When Reacher approaches her, she pulls a gun and kills herself. Since Reacher was the last one to speak to the woman, he¿s taken to the police station for questioning. When the feds show up, Reacher suspects there¿s more to this story than a depressed woman committing suicide. This is confirmed when he¿s approached by governmental and foreign organizations wanting to know what the woman passed to him before she died. Curious about what everyone is looking for, Reacher begins his own investigation which puts him at odds with law enforcement and leads him to the White House and its past connection to the Soviet war in Afghanistan during the `80s.Lee Child¿s 13th offering in the Reacher series is a tense thriller with plenty of bad guys and ample graphic violence. Reacher is a dangerous man confident in his abilities and with his own sense of justice. He isn¿t timid when dealing with the FBI, Homeland Security, the Department of Defense, and terrorists, all of whom are after him. His brusque, at times edifying narrative, as always, carries the plot forward in an intriguing, entertaining way, and readers will root for Reacher to take care of matters in the way only Reacher can.
YogiABB on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
"Gone Tomorrow" by Lee Child is another Jack Reacher novel. Jack Reacher is an ex Army MP who is tough as nails, smart as a whip, and fierce. He carries everything he owns without a bag. When he buys new clothes, he throws away the old.Legions of bad guys have found that when you mess with Jack you are messing with fire.This time some punks from the middle east decide to mess with him. About 20 of them. They should have brought more help. It doesn't go well for them.I can't tell you much else without spoiling the fun.I rate this 3 stars out of 4. It was a little slow to get started.
shawnd on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This action thriller kicks off in an attention grabbing and interesting way as Reacher lists through an Israeli list of 11 signals that a woman might be a suicide bomber, as he slowly realizes he is sitting in a subway car with one. The novel shoots off from there, as Reacher slowly realizes individuals in the subway car are part of a much larger story that dates back many years and implicates a Congressman, global organizations, and has suddenly attracted the attention, manpower, resources and energy of federal and state agencies. Reacher somehow always tends to be at odds with these agencies and makes much more progress unraveling the hidden realities and conflict.The itinerant Reacher plays out his efforts in Manhattan, in subways, public parks, hotels and brownstones. The characters seem mostly true to life, although less developed than they could be, while Reacher is very developed in a sophisticated, humble, American way and like-able, and truly the star attraction of the cast. The plot concept as it plays itself out is decent at best, forgivable at worst and leaves questions that are fundamental. However, these challenges don't touch the pace, the personality, the thought and action that makes it a rewarding read.
jjmiller50fiction on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This was my first novel by Mr. Child, and it will not be my last. I found that from the very first chapter he carried me right along; I was at the end of the book sooner than I wanted to be. He was quite inventive in constructing both the overall plot and the details of it; I was frequently surprised and delighted by a new twist.I am partial to novels by Len Deighton books and by Nelson DeMille. I found points of similarity between Mr. Child's work and works by both these authors. Mr. Child and Mr. DeMille both write well about a sort of person one meets in a real military career - the better sort of professional, the sort one hopes is often to be found. Mr. Child also makes you stop and rethink what you thought you saw earlier, as Len Deighton so often did. There are things to think about, it's not simply all action and mayhem. At t he same time, the pace of the narrative and the (shall we say) results-oriented approach taken by his Jack Reacher character reminded me of Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer. This guy is not Hamlet. Those who like Mr. Deighton or Mr. DeMille might find this book to their taste, too.Some authors fake it, and some do their homework and get things right. Lee Child is in the second group. In this book there is a rather deftly constructed bit of plot based on US Army regulations concerning awards. I'm fussy about details; I looked up his AR citation and he has the AR number just right and the reference within it is real. That gave me much more confidence in the plausibility of other parts that I couldn't so easily check.If you like action books, I think you'll like this one.
nbmars on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is the 13th in the Jack Reacher thriller series, which feature a superhero/killing machine who, fortunately, works on the side of the good guys, and isn¿t bothered by any ethical scruples when ¿the ends justify the means.¿Jack Reacher is a retired U.S. Army military policeman from the elite 110th investigative unit, in which he served for thirteen years. He won the Superior Service Medal, the Legion of Merit, and the Soldier¿s Medal, but couldn¿t hack the discipline and hierarchy. Now he travels around with no permanent home or relationships, and no luggage except a fold-up toothbrush. He prides himself in his technological ignorance and lack of encumbrances. Occasionally he showers by bribing hotel maids to use rooms before they are cleaned. He buys cheap clothes and throws them away when he is done wearing them. We don¿t know where he sleeps or how he grooms himself (if indeed he ever does). Nevertheless, he seems to have no trouble in getting women to have sex with him, and although he is now in his forties, he can take on any number of opponents of any skill level and vanquish them all.In this book, Reacher witnesses the suicide of a woman on a subway train, and decides that it is his job to get to the bottom of who she was and why she did it. It turns out to be a very complicated matter of national security. What a remarkable coincidence that Jack Reacher was on the scene! In the end, it is Reacher alone against a terrorist cell of 22 people, but I won¿t spoil it for you by telling you which side wins! (LOL)Discussion: You may ask, if Jack Reacher is so hot to eliminate bad people, why didn¿t he just stay with the military police? The answer is authority: he doesn¿t want to answer to it. And responsibility and permanence are anathema to him also. (In one humorous passage, he muses that, when he was twenty-two, ¿a four-day relationship would have seemed long to me. Practically like engagement, or marriage.¿ Older now, his tolerance level seems even lower!)All of these aspects of Reacher can be annoying, but it is his ¿superhuman¿ abilities that put him towards the cartoon end of the character spectrum. On the other hand, if Child suggested that Reacher had Asperger¿s Syndrome, Jack¿s odd combination of quantitative skills and social aversion might seem more plausible.Evaluation: After a number of Jack Reacher books, I just want to grab Jack by the shirt and say ¿Get a job! Start a blog or something! Use deodorant!¿ But I seem to be the only woman who wants to grab his shirt for any other reason than to pull it off and jump in the sack with him¿
hobreads on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Impressive lone-former-military-guy-nomad-action-hero book. I've read several of the vague loner-hero archetype series and found Lee Child to be the best so far. His hero, Jack Reacher, has flaws, of course, but not ones there purely for plot development.Likewise, you may assume from formula that the secondary character introduced early, or the macguffin element given thorough description will end up being important at the end, and here's where Child thankfully proves formula wrong. The reader, and even the main character, isn't always right. Not everyone makes it out alive/unharmed and that's refreshing.If you like the loner-hero type of series, try Reacher. Recommended.
TerryWeyna on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Jack Reacher has been one of my heroes for about the last decade, ever since I first discovered Lee Child¿s protagonist in his long-running series of thrillers. In much the same way that Robert B. Parker¿s Spenser and Marcia Muller¿s Sharon McCone became so real to me that they were practically friends of the family. This loner, who owns nothing but the clothes on his back, a portable toothbrush and an ATM card to a bank account that keeps him in funds, always seems to find trouble ¿ and to fix it.In recent years, Reacher¿s adventures have gotten a bit less compelling, seemed a bit too similar to one another, and sometimes fell over the edge into nihilistic violence that were just a bit too much for my taste. This devolution seemed complete in Gone Tomorrow, in which Child seemed to have been bitten by the ¿bestseller bug¿ that afflicts so many ultra-successful thriller writers: short chapters (usually three to five pages long) with short paragraphs, plenty of sentence fragments as stand-alone paragraphs to build tension, and a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter. It makes for a quick read, true, and Gone Tomorrow was definitely decorating the bestseller lists when it came out a little more than a year ago, but it¿s the junk food of the literature banquet. If Child started out giving us the gourmet version of a thriller, now he was writing the equivalent of a fast-food burger.Gone Tomorrow starts when Reacher is riding a subway car in Manhattan and sees a woman who shows all the signs of being a suicide bomber. From there, it lurches into an investigation of terrorism in which Child is taken into the confidence of several different law enforcement agencies and tasked with averting an enormous threat to the United States almost single-handedly. Reacher promises to get the job done, no matter what it takes.Gone Tomorrow improves as it goes along, but the whole novel feels like Child has reached the limits of what he can do with Reacher. He¿s an excellent character with an interesting background, and his military knowledge never fails to add great color to strongly plotted books, but based on the evidence of Gone Tomorrow, I would say that it¿s time for him to go into retirement.Perhaps that¿s why I broke my habit of years and did not purchase a signed copy of the 2010 Reacher novel, but instead got on the waiting list at the library for my shot at it. I may reverse that decision, because 61 Hours is a fine book, a return to form for Child ¿ maybe even as good as some of the earliest in the series. It is so good for many reasons, including its unexpected and unresolved ending; Reacher¿s failure to have no-strings-attached sex with the nearest available female; and Reacher¿s seeming cluelessness this time around, as opposed to his usual secret inside knowledge that allows him and him alone to solve the mystery. Certainly it¿s not the fairly lame device of counting down from 61 hours until the climax.The story is set in South Dakota in the middle of the winter. I¿ve been in South Dakota at that time of year, and I assure you that the cold there is nothing to mess with. Reacher, who usually manages to get himself to southern climes during the winter months, is completely unprepared for the arctic air and the far below zero windchills. The weather plays an important role in this book, and it¿s actually nice to see that Reacher struggles with it, a lot. He¿s also in a place where his lack of wheels is a serious problem; he can¿t always get to where he¿s needed in the blink of an eye, and he can¿t take care of everything with a single well-placed punch. It¿s refreshing to see that Reacher is human after all.Reacher winds up in South Dakota because a bus he¿s on crashes in the middle of a blizzard, and he has no way to move on until a replacement bus gets there ¿ which won¿t be for several days. All of the motels and hotels in town are at capacity because it¿s visiting day at the new federal prison, so the passengers have to be fobb
TheoClarke on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
With long series there is a risk that the books will fall into a predictable formula. Child does repeat certain tropes but with this novel he changes his game by inflating Reacher's opponents. Reacher stumbles on much bigger game than the company town's private army from the preceding novel; this time he takes on international terrorists. And it works.
woodsathome on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Sometimes readers fear picking up a book that is a continuation of a series. I live that although this is something like the thirteenth Jack Reacher book, a new reader will never feel lost.The action is compelling and the narrative moves forward at a nice clip. I also love that the plot twists are not so predictable - I was surprised at several points in the book.The true reason to read this, however, is to enjoy character Childs creates. Jack Reacher is at once superbly competent and a luddite. He can tell you the twelve signs of a terrorist, but doesn't know that a cell phone ping can be used as a locater. He is truly flawed and therefore all the more compelling.