Worth Dying For

head and a plastic fob shaped liked a big number one. Reacher said, ‘Now back away. Keep going until I tell you to stop.’
    They walked backward, and Reacher walked forward with them, keeping pace, eight steps, ten, and then Reacher arrived at where their Colts had fallen and said, ‘OK, stop.’ He ducked down and picked up one of the guns. He ejected the magazine and it fell to the ground and he saw it was full. He picked up the other gun. Its magazine was one short.
    ‘Who?’ he asked.
    The guy on the left said, ‘The other one.’
    ‘The other what?’
    ‘The Iranians. You got one, we got the other. We’re on the same side here.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Reacher said. He moved on towards the small pile of pocket junk and picked up the car key. He pressed thebutton set in the head and he heard the Chevy’s doors unlock. He said, ‘Get in the back seat.’
    The guy on the left asked, ‘Do you know who we are?’
    ‘Yes,’ Reacher said. ‘You’re two jerks who just got beat.’
    ‘We work for a guy named Rossi, in Las Vegas. He’s connected. He’s the kind of guy you can’t mess with.’
    ‘Forgive me if I don’t immediately faint with terror.’
    ‘He’s got money, too. Lots of money. Maybe we could work something out.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘There’s a deal going down here. We could cut you in. Make you rich.’
    ‘I’m already rich.’
    ‘You don’t look it. I’m serious. Lots of money.’
    ‘I’ve got everything I need. That’s the definition of affluence.’
    The guy paused a beat, and then he started up again, like a salesman. He said, ‘Tell me what I can do to make this right for you.’
    ‘You can get in the back seat of your car.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because my arms are sore and I don’t want to drag you.’
    ‘No, why do you want us in the car?’
    ‘Because we’re going for a drive.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘I’ll tell you after you get in.’
    The two men glanced at a spot in the air halfway between them, not daring to let their eyes meet, not daring to believe their luck. An opportunity. Them in the back, a solo driver in the front. Reacher tracked them with the Glock, all the way to the car. One got in on the near side, and the other looped around the trunk. Reacher saw him glance onward, at the road, at the open fields beyond, and then Reacher saw him give up on the impulse to run. Flat land. Nowhere to hide. A modern nine-millimetre sidearm, accurate out to fifty feet or more. The guy opened his door and ducked his head and folded himself inside. The Impala was not a small car, but it was no limousine in the rear. Both guys had their feet trapped under the front seats, and even thoughthey were neither large nor tall, they were both cramped and close together.
    Reacher opened the driver’s door. He put his knee on the seat and leaned inside. The guy who had spoken before asked, ‘So where are we going?’
    ‘Not far,’ Reacher said.
    ‘Can’t you tell us?’
    ‘I’m going to park next to the Ford you burned.’
    ‘What, just up there?’
    ‘I said not far.’
    ‘And then what?’
    ‘Then I’m going to set this car on fire.’
    The two men glanced at each other, not understanding. The one who had spoken before said, ‘You’re going to drive with us in the back? Like, loose?’
    ‘You can put your seat belts on if you like. But it’s hardly worth it. It’s not very far. And I’m a careful driver. I won’t have an accident.’
    The guy said, ‘But,’ and then nothing more.
    ‘I know,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll have my back turned. You could jump me.’
    ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘But you won’t.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘You just won’t. I know it.’
    ‘Why wouldn’t we?’
    ‘Because you’ll be dead,’ Reacher said, and he shot the first guy in the forehead, and then the second, a brisk double tap, no pause,
bang bang
, no separation at all. The rear window shattered and blood and bone and brain hit the remains of the glass, delayed, slower than the bullets, and the two guys settled peacefully, slower still, like afterthoughts, like old people falling asleep, but with open eyes and fat beads of purple welling out of the neat holes in their brows, welling and lengthening and becoming slow lazy trickles that ran down to the bridges of their noses.
    Reacher backed out of the car and straightened up and lookednorth. Nine-millimetre Parabellums. Fine ammunition. The two slugs were probably hitting the ground right about then, a mile farther on,