Evening school child whether to read in full. Lee Child Jack Reacher, or Night School

In 1996, Jack Reacher was still a Major in the military police, solving one crime after another and receiving well-deserved rewards. Suddenly, he was informed that he was heading ... to an evening school for advanced training. Surprised, Reacher arrived at his new duty station. It turned out that school and education are just a screen, a "smoke screen". In fact, he and a few other cool specialists from the FBI and the CIA have to perform a task of the highest importance. The intelligence services have received information that an American living in Hamburg, Germany, is to receive one hundred million dollars from Afghan terrorists. Why is he being paid such unrealistic money? What is he selling? And how to find it? Jack Reacher won't leave night school until he answers all these questions...

Chapter - 01 1

Chapter - 02 4

Chapter - 03 5

Chapter - 04 6

Chapter - 05 8

Chapter - 06 9

Chapter - 07 10

Chapter - 08 12

Chapter - 09 13

Chapter - 10 15

Chapter - 11 17

Chapter - 12 19

Chapter - 13 20

Chapter - 14 22

Chapter - 15 23

Chapter - 16 25

Chapter - 17 28

Chapter - 18 30

Chapter - 19 31

Chapter - 20 32

Chapter - 21 33

Chapter - 22 35

Chapter - 23 37

Chapter - 24 39

Chapter - 25 40

Chapter - 26 41

Chapter - 27 43

Chapter - 28 44

Chapter - 29 47

Chapter - 30 49

Chapter - 31 51

Chapter - 32 53

Chapter - 33 55

Chapter - 34 56

Chapter - 35 58

Chapter - 36 60

Chapter - 37 61

Chapter - 38 63

Chapter - 39 64

Chapter - 40 65

Chapter - 41 67

Chapter - 42 68

Chapter - 43 69

Now 70

Chapter - 44 70

Chapter - 45 71

Notes 72

Lee Child
Jack Reacher, or Night School

Dedicated with deep respect to the men and women around the world who truly do this

Chapter
01

In the morning, Jack Reacher was presented with an award, and in the afternoon he was sent back to study. It was the Order of the Legion of Honor, his second. Beautiful, on white enamel, with a purple ribbon. In accordance with the Army Regulations, paragraph 600-8-22, he is awarded for exceptional and outstanding achievements in the service of the United States in a position of responsibility. Reacher thought that, strictly speaking, he deserved it, but he had no doubt that he received the award for the same reason as the first time - a simple transaction and a negotiated gift.

Take the trinket and keep quiet about what you had to do for it. There really wasn't much to brag about. The Balkans, regular police work, searching for two locals who had military secrets. The names of both quickly became known, they were found, paid a visit to them and finished off with shots to the head. As part of the peace process. All interests are observed, and the passions in the region subsided a little. two weeks of life. Expended four rounds. The usual thing.

Paragraph 600-8-22 was surprisingly vague about exactly how awards should be presented; it was only stated that they should be issued with the appropriate formalities and ceremonies. Which usually meant a large room with gilded furniture and a bunch of flags. And the participation of an officer of a higher rank than the one who receives the medal. Reacher was a major with twelve years of experience, but this morning, in addition to him, three colonels and two brigadier generals were invited to the ceremony, and therefore it was conducted by a lieutenant general from the Pentagon, whom Jack knew from the days when he was a battalion commander in criminal Wanted in Fort Myer. He was not a fool and, no doubt, wondered: for what merits does a major of the military police receive the Order of the Legion of Honor? Reacher could see it in the look in his eyes, both ironic and extremely serious at the same time, because he was doing his duty. Take a trinket and shut up. He may have done something similar in the past. His ceremonial uniform on the left side of his chest was decorated with a whole fruit salad of multi-colored ribbons. Including two Legions of Honor.

The room corresponding to this formal event was located deep in Fort Belvor, Virginia, near the Pentagon, very convenient for a lieutenant general. And so did Reacher, since the base was right next to Rock Creek, where he'd been hanging out since he'd returned to America. And quite inconvenient for the officers who flew in from Germany.

For some time, those invited to the ceremony paced around the room, shaking hands, exchanging meaningless phrases, then everyone fell silent, lined up and stood at attention. They clearly saluted when they pinned awards on their chests or hung ribbons around their necks, shook hands again, exchanged a few words and moved from one group to another.

Reacher began to make his way to the door, trying to get away as soon as possible, but he was stopped by the lieutenant general, who shook his hand and held his elbow.

“I heard you got a new order,” he said.

“No one has told me about it yet,” Reacher said. - Till. Where did you find out?

- My senior sergeant. They love to chat. NCOs in our army have the most effective intelligence network. They always know everything, and I never cease to be surprised at this.

“And what did they say, where are they sending me?”

They don't know for sure, but not far. In any case, to a place that can be reached by car. It seems that a corresponding request has come to the garage.

"And when will I get the news?"

“Today, but when exactly, I don’t know.

“Thanks,” Reacher said. It's good to know things like this beforehand.

The general released his elbow, Jack reached the door and went out into the corridor, at which moment a sergeant 1st class braked sharply in front of him, who saluted him. He was out of breath, as if he had come running from a remote part of the complex where the real work was being done.

“General Garber conveys his best wishes to you, sir, and asks you to come to his office at your convenience,” the messenger said.

“Where are they going to send me, soldier?” Reacher asked.

“You can get there by car,” the sergeant replied, “but in our area it could be anything.

Garber's office was in the Pentagon, and Reacher drove there in a car with two captains who lived in Belvore but were on the evening shift at Ring B. Garber had his own private office on the second floor, inside two rings, guarded by a sergeant who sat at a table outside the door. When he saw Reacher, he stood up, walked him inside, and gave him a name, just like an old movie butler. Then he took a step to the side and was about to retire, but Garber stopped him, saying:

“Sergeant, I want you to stay.

He complied with the order and stood on the counter "at ease", legs wide apart on the shiny linoleum.

Witness.

“Sit down, Reacher,” Garber said.

Jack sat down on a chair with cylindrical legs that was intended for visitors, which sank under his weight and rolled back as if a strong wind was blowing.

“You have a new order,” Garber said.

– What and where? Reacher asked.

- You're going back to school.

Jack was silent.

– Disappointed? Garber asked.

That's what a witness was for, Reacher guessed. Official conversation. So good behavior is expected.

“As always, General, I am happy to go wherever the army sends me,” he replied.

- Which school?

– All the details of the new task have been taken to your office right now.

“And how long will I be gone?”

– Depends on your diligence. I guess as many as needed.

Jack Reacher, or Night School

Dedicated with deep respect to the men and women around the world who truly do this

* * *

Reacher began to make his way to the door, trying to get away as soon as possible, but he was stopped by the lieutenant general, who shook his hand and held his elbow.

“I heard you got a new order,” he said.

“No one has told me about it yet,” Reacher said. - Till. Where did you find out?

- My senior sergeant. They love to chat. NCOs in our army have the most effective intelligence network. They always know everything, and I never cease to be surprised at this.

“And what did they say, where are they sending me?”

They don't know for sure, but not far. In any case, to a place that can be reached by car. It seems that a corresponding request has come to the garage.

"And when will I get the news?"

“Today, but when exactly, I don’t know.

“Thanks,” Reacher said. It's good to know things like this beforehand.

“General Garber conveys his best wishes to you, sir, and asks you to come to his office at your convenience,” the messenger said.

Jack Reacher, or Night School

Dedicated with deep respect to the men and women around the world who truly do this

Reacher began to make his way to the door, trying to get away as soon as possible, but he was stopped by the lieutenant general, who shook his hand and held his elbow.

“I heard you got a new order,” he said.

“No one has told me about it yet,” Reacher said. - Till. Where did you find out?

- My senior sergeant. They love to chat. NCOs in our army have the most effective intelligence network. They always know everything, and I never cease to be surprised at this.

“And what did they say, where are they sending me?”

They don't know for sure, but not far. In any case, to a place that can be reached by car. It seems that a corresponding request has come to the garage.

"And when will I get the news?"

“Today, but when exactly, I don’t know.

“Thanks,” Reacher said. It's good to know things like this beforehand.

“General Garber conveys his best wishes to you, sir, and asks you to come to his office at your convenience,” the messenger said.

“Where are they going to send me, soldier?” Reacher asked.

“You can get there by car,” the sergeant replied, “but in our area it could be anything.

Copyright © 2016 by Lee Child

© Goldich V., Oganesova I., translation into Russian, 2017

© Edition in Russian, design. LLC "Publishing House" E ", 2017

Dedicated with deep respect to the men and women around the world who truly do this

Chapter
01

* * *

For some time, those invited to the ceremony paced around the room, shaking hands, exchanging meaningless phrases, then everyone fell silent, lined up and stood at attention.

They clearly saluted when they pinned awards on their chests or hung ribbons around their necks, shook hands again, exchanged a couple of words and moved from one group to another.

Reacher began to make his way to the door, trying to get away as soon as possible, but he was stopped by the lieutenant general, who shook his hand and held his elbow.

“I heard you got a new order,” he said.

“No one has told me about it yet,” Reacher said. - Till. Where did you find out?

- My senior sergeant. They love to chat. NCOs in our army have the most effective intelligence network. They always know everything, and I never cease to be surprised at this.

“And what did they say, where are they sending me?”

They don't know for sure, but not far. In any case, to a place that can be reached by car. It seems that a corresponding request has come to the garage.

"And when will I get the news?"

“Today, but when exactly, I don’t know.

“Thanks,” Reacher said. It's good to know things like this beforehand.

“General Garber conveys his best wishes to you, sir, and asks you to come to his office at your convenience,” the messenger said.

“Where are they going to send me, soldier?” Reacher asked.

“You can get there by car,” the sergeant replied, “but in our area it could be anything.

* * *

“Sergeant, I want you to stay.

He complied with the order and stood on the counter "at ease", legs wide apart on the shiny linoleum.

Witness.

“Sit down, Reacher,” Garber said.

Jack sat down on a chair with cylindrical legs that was intended for visitors, which sank under his weight and rolled back as if a strong wind was blowing.

“You have a new order,” Garber said.

– What and where? Reacher asked.

- You're going back to school.

Jack was silent.

– Disappointed? Garber asked.

That's what a witness was for, Reacher guessed. Official conversation. So good behavior is expected.

“As always, General, I am happy to go wherever the army sends me,” he replied.

- Which school?

– All the details of the new task have been taken to your office right now.

“And how long will I be gone?”

– Depends on your diligence. I guess as many as needed.

* * *

Reacher boarded the bus in the Pentagon parking lot and drove two stops to the bottom of the hill where Rock Creek's headquarters were located. Then he climbed up the slope and immediately went to his office. On the table, in the very center, lay a thin folder with his name and some numbers, entitled: "The influence of modern innovations in forensics on the coordination of agencies." Inside, he found slips of paper, still warm from the copier, and among them was an official order for temporary transfer to some place located on rented territory in a business park in McLean, Virginia. He was supposed to be there before five o'clock that day, in civilian clothes. He will live at the place of work. He will be provided with a personal vehicle. Without a driver.

Reacher tucked the folder under his arm and left the building. Nobody looked after him. He was not interested in anyone. No longer interested. He became a disappointment. The sergeant's intelligence network held its breath, but only managed to get an incomprehensible location and a stupid headline. So now it has turned into an empty space. Out of circulation. Out of sight, out of mind. Like a football player whose name is on the disabled list. In a month, someone might remember him for a second, wonder when he'll be back and if he'll be back at all, and then just as quickly forget.

The sergeant, who had been sitting at a table near the entrance looking bored, raised his head and immediately lowered it.

* * *

Reacher didn't have many civilian clothes, and some of them weren't exactly civilian. The trousers he wore off-duty—khakis from the Marines—were thirty years old. He knew a guy who knew another guy who worked in a warehouse. So, that second guy said that they had a whole bunch of things lying around that were mistakenly delivered during the presidency of Lyndon Johnson, but no one bothered to send them to the right address. The main gist of the story was that the old Marine Corps uniform trousers looked exactly like new ones from Ralph Lauren. However, Reacher didn't care at all what his pants looked like. However, five bucks is a very attractive price, and the trousers are quite good. Never worn, never worn by anyone, neatly folded; True, with a slight musty smell, but clearly capable of serving another thirty years.

The T-shirts he wore in his spare time had nothing to do with civilian clothes either; they were old, military, faded and thin from many washes. The only one really civilian was the jacket, a brown Levi's denim that was authentic in every way, right down to the label, but made by his ex-girlfriend's mother in a Seoul basement.

Reacher changed, put the rest of his belongings in a canvas bag and a carry-on, and carried it all outside, where a black Chevrolet Caprice was already parked. He decided that the car had previously been black and white and was in the service of the military police, but he retired, all identification marks were removed from him, and the holes from the antennas and the light bar on the roof were sealed with rubber plugs. The key was in the ignition. Reacher noted the worn seats, but the engine fired right up and the transmission and brakes were in perfect order. Jack turned the car around as if he were taking part in warship maneuvers and drove towards McLean, Virginia, windows rolled down and music turned on.

* * *

The business park was no different from many of its other identical counterparts - browns and beiges, discreet signs with inscriptions, neat lawns, evergreens and trees here and there, campuses with low two- and three-story buildings stretching to the very the borders of the empty land. The attendants hide behind simple names and stained glass windows of their offices and shops. Reacher found the right spot by the street number and stopped next to a billboard that reached his knees that said Educational Solutions Corporation in such a simple font that it looked like a child had written it.

There were two more Chevrolet Capris by the door, one black and one blue, both noticeably newer than the one Reacher had arrived in. And undoubtedly civilian ones, no rubber plugs and repainted doors for you. In general, government sedans, clean and shiny, each with two additional antennas, completely unnecessary if you want to listen to a football match report. And these additional antennas in both cases were different. On black - short, on blue - more authentic. Different wavelengths, two organizations.

Agency coordination.

Reacher parked nearby and, after leaving his things in the car, walked through the door and into the empty lobby, which was lined with long gray carpet, potted plants like ferns scattered here and there against the walls. Two doors led from the vestibule; on one was written: "Office", on the other: "Classroom". Jack opened it and saw at the far end a school greenboard and twenty tables arranged in four rows of five each. On the tables to the right there was a small shelf for papers and pencils.

Two men in suits sat at two tables. One in black, the other in blue, just like their cars. They both stared straight ahead, as if they had talked about something earlier, but they ran out of words. They were both about Reacher's age, Black Suit pale, with dark hair too long for someone who rides in a government car. The Blue Suit was also pale, with close-cropped colorless hair like an astronaut's. In addition, he also resembled an astronaut or a gymnast who had recently completed his sports career.

Reacher walked in and they both turned and stared at him.

- Who are you? – asked Dark-haired.

- Look who you like that,” Jack replied.

“Does your name depend on mine?”

- No, it depends on your name whether I will give you mine. Are your cars parked outside?

- And is it important?

- Makes you think.

- In what sense?

- They are different.

"Yes," Black Suit replied. “These are our cars. And yes, you are in a classroom with two representatives from two different agencies. School of cooperation. Here we will learn how to cooperate with other organizations. Just don't tell us you're one of them.

“Military police,” Reacher said. “But don't worry; I have no doubt that by five o'clock it will be full of civilians, you can forget about me and deal with them.

The guy with the short hair looked at him and said:

- No, I think we are the students, there will be no one else. I looked around and found only three bedrooms.

- What kind of school is this, in which there are only three students? Reacher was surprised. “I've never heard anything like it.

“Maybe we are teachers and the students live somewhere else.

"Yes, that sounds reasonable," said the Dark Haired One.

Reacher thought about it, remembering the conversation in Garber's office.

- They told me something about a promotion, but the feeling arose that it was about me, in the sense that the promotion was waiting for me. Then they said that if I worked hard, everything would work out very quickly. In general, I guess I'm not a teacher. What were your orders?

"About the same," said Short Hair.

The dark-haired man remained silent, only shrugged defiantly, as if he wanted to say that a person with a developed imagination could interpret his order as something of little interest.

“I'm Casey Waterman, FBI,” the short-haired guy introduced himself.

— Jack Reacher, US Army.

“John White, CIA,” Darkhair said.

They shook hands and fell into a silence similar to the one that had greeted Reacher when he walked in, because they didn't know what else to say. Jack sat down at a table at the back of the classroom. Waterman sat in front and to the left, White in front and to the right. Waterman remained perfectly still, but he was alert. He used the wait to conserve energy and strength, and Reacher realized that he had done this before and was a seasoned agent. Not a newbie at all. As, however, and White, despite the fact that in everything else he was his complete opposite. He twitched, constantly changed position, moved his arms and squinted, looking into space, looked at one point for a long time, then quickly shifted his eyes to another, sometimes frowned, turned to the left, then to the right, as if he was tormented by some thoughts and he could not find a way out. . Reacher guessed that White was an analyst, and after years of living in a world of unreliable data and double, triple, and quadruple bluffs, he had every right to look a little nervous.

All three were silent.

Reacher broke the silence after five minutes.

“Is there any story that you and I couldn’t get along?” I mean FBI, CIA and VP. I haven't heard of any major controversy. And you?

“I think you've come to the wrong conclusion,” Waterman said. “It's not about history, it's about the future. They know we're getting along great now. And they use it. Remember the name of the first part of the course. "Modern innovations in forensics and agency coordination". Innovation means they're going to save money and in the future we'll all have to collaborate even more with each other by sharing lab space. They're going to build one huge complex that they'll put us all in. At least I think so. And we are here to explain to us what we must do to achieve their goals.

“Bullshit,” Reacher said, “I don't know anything about labs and schedules. I have nothing to do with such things at all.

“Me too,” Waterman said. To be honest, this is my weak spot.

“This is much worse than bullshit,” White interjected. “This is a huge waste of time. There are many more things going on in the world that are of great importance.

He twitched again, fidgeting in his chair and wringing his hands.

“Did they make you leave some unfinished business to send here?” Reacher asked him.

- In general, no. I was waiting for a transfer after successfully completing one case. I thought it was a reward.

- Well, look at what is happening optimistically. You will be able to relax and unwind. Play golf. You do not need to learn anything, you already know how everything works. Besides, the CIA doesn't care about the labs, you don't use them.

I will be three months late for the work I have to start now.

– I cannot answer your question.

- And who was appointed instead of you?

“I can't say that either.

- A good analyst?

- Not too much. He may miss important things, perhaps fundamentally important. There is no way to predict how things will turn out.

What can't be predicted?

But it's important, right?

Much more important than what's here.

What case did you just close?

- I can't answer your question.

- Were these exceptional and outstanding achievements in the service of the United States in a responsible position?

- Or something like that?

– Yes, you can say that.

“But school is your reward.

“And mine,” said Waterman. - We're in the same boat. I can subscribe to every word he just said. I was expecting a raise, but not this at all.

- Raises for what? Or after what?

We've closed a big deal.

- What kind of?

- In fact, it was a hunt that lasted for many years, and the trail has long cooled down. But we have been successful.

– And rendered a service to the country?

- What are you about?

“I'm comparing the two of you and I don't see much difference between you. You are very good agents, you have a fairly high rank, you are considered loyal, trustworthy and reliable, so they entrust important tasks. But when you succeed, you get a rather unusual reward. This could mean two things.

- Namely? White asked.

“Perhaps what you have done is considered by some in certain circles to be…let's say ticklish. Maybe now there is a need to deny everything and you need to hide. Out of sight, out of mind.

White shook his head.

No, everyone was happy. And will be for the next few years. In an atmosphere of complete secrecy, I was presented with an award. And I got a personal letter from the Secretary of State. In any case, there is nothing to deny, because the operation was carried out secretly and no one knew anything about it.

Was there anything compromising about your hunt?

Waterman shook his head and asked:

- What about the second option?

- This is not a school.

– And what then?

“A place where agents are sent when they have just successfully completed some task.

Waterman immersed himself in a moment, pondering a new thought.

Are you the same as us? I see no reason for it to be otherwise. If two agents who are here are in the same position, then so is the third one.

“I'm just like you,” Reacher confirmed with a nod. “Just successfully completed a very big deal. That's for sure. This morning I received a medal on a ribbon, which was hung around my neck for a job well done. Everything is clean, do not dig. No delicate situations, and nothing to be ashamed of.

- And what was the task?

“I have no doubt that information about him is strictly classified, but from a reliable source I learned that someone broke into the house and killed the owner by shooting him in the head.

- One bullet in the forehead, the other behind the ear, a very reliable way, it never fails.

No, where is that house?

- I'm sure that this is also classified information, but, I believe, overseas. And a reliable source told me that the name of the murdered man contained many consonants and very few vowels. The next night, the same person did the same in another house. And all for a very good reason. Thus, he certainly counted on a more significant reward. At least as far as the next assignment is concerned. Perhaps even the right to choose.

“Exactly,” White said. And I certainly wouldn't choose This. I would go to do what I should be doing right now.

“It sounds like it’s a very interesting and complex case.

– Which is perfectly normal. As a reward, we want to receive a case that will become a challenge for us, and not a simple order. We want to move forward and upward.

- Exactly.

“Maybe that's what happened,” Reacher said. - Let me ask you a question. Remember how you got the order to come here. Was it written on paper or was it announced in a personal meeting with your superiors?

- When we will meet face to face. It couldn't be otherwise.

Was there a third person in the room?

“Actually, yes,” said White. “It was very humiliating. The assistant secretary came with some papers, and he asked her to stay. She just stood there and was silent.

Reacher looked at Waterman, who said,

- The same. My boss told his secretary to stay in the office. He usually doesn't. How did you know?

Because it was the same with me. Sergeant. Witness. A person who will talk about what he heard. That is their purpose. Junior staff and employees are constantly sharing gossip. So, after a couple of seconds, everyone knew that I wasn't in for anything particularly exciting. I got an order to take some pointless course with a stupid name. I immediately became yesterday's news and was no longer of interest. I ceased to exist altogether, disappearing into a bureaucratic haze. Perhaps you are too. Maybe the assistant secretaries and secretaries to the chiefs in the FBI have their own intelligence networks. And if so, then you and I have now turned into the three most invisible people on the planet. No one asks questions about us, we arouse no curiosity in anyone, no one even remembers us. There is no place in the world more boring than where we are at the moment.