undrgrnd Cliquez ici Baby NEWNEEEW nav-sa-clothing-shoes nav-sa-clothing-shoes Cloud Drive Photos cliquez_ici Rentrée scolaire Cliquez ici Acheter Fire Shop Kindle Paperwhite cliquez_ici Jeux Vidéo Bijoux Montres Montres boutique Tendance
Commencez à lire 61 Hours (Jack Reacher, Book 14) sur votre Kindle dans moins d'une minute. Vous n'avez pas encore de Kindle ? Achetez-le ici Ou commencez à lire dès maintenant avec l'une de nos applications de lecture Kindle gratuites.

Envoyer sur votre Kindle ou un autre appareil


Essai gratuit

Découvrez gratuitement un extrait de ce titre

Envoyer sur votre Kindle ou un autre appareil

Désolé, cet article n'est pas disponible en
Image non disponible pour la
couleur :
Image non disponible

61 Hours (Jack Reacher, Book 14) [Format Kindle]

Lee Child
4.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (11 commentaires client)

Prix conseillé : EUR 10,09 De quoi s'agit-il ?
Prix éditeur - format imprimé : EUR 7,54
Prix Kindle : EUR 5,58 TTC & envoi gratuit via réseau sans fil par Amazon Whispernet
Économisez : EUR 1,96 (26%)

App de lecture Kindle gratuite Tout le monde peut lire les livres Kindle, même sans un appareil Kindle, grâce à l'appli Kindle GRATUITE pour les smartphones, les tablettes et les ordinateurs.

Pour obtenir l'appli gratuite, saisissez votre adresse e-mail ou numéro de téléphone mobile.


Prix Amazon Neuf à partir de Occasion à partir de
Format Kindle EUR 5,58  
Relié --  
Broché EUR 8,53  
Broché EUR 5,87  
Broché --  
CD, Version coupée, Livre audio, CD EUR 12,28  
Cassette, Livre audio EUR 93,60  

Les clients ayant acheté cet article ont également acheté

Cette fonction d'achat continuera à charger les articles. Pour naviguer hors de ce carrousel, veuillez utiliser votre touche de raccourci d'en-tête pour naviguer vers l'en-tête précédente ou suivante.

Descriptions du produit


Chapter One

Five minutes to three in the afternoon. Exactly sixty-one  hours before it happened. The lawyer drove in and parked in the empty lot. There was an inch of new snow on the ground, so he spent a minute fumbling in the foot well until his overshoes were secure. Then he got out and turned his collar up and walked to the visitors’ entrance. There was a bitter wind out of the north. It was thick with fat lazy flakes. There was a storm sixty miles away. The radio had been full of it.

The lawyer got in through the door and stamped the snow off his feet. There was no line. It was not a regular visiting day. There was nothing ahead of him except an empty room and an empty X-ray belt and a metal detector hoop and three prison guards standing around doing nothing. He nodded to them, even though he didn’t know them. But he considered himself on their side, and they on his. Prison was a binary world. Either you were locked up, or you weren’t. They weren’t. He wasn’t.


He took a gray plastic bin off the top of a teetering stack and folded his overcoat into it. He took off his suit coat and folded it and laid it on top of the overcoat. It was hot in the prison. Cheaper to burn a little extra oil than to give the inmates two sets of clothes, one for the summer and one for the winter. He could hear their noise ahead of him, the clatter of metal and concrete and the random crazy yells and the screams and the low grumble of other disaffected voices, all muted by doglegged corridors and many closed doors.

He emptied his pants pockets of keys, and wallet, and cell phone, and coins, and nested those clean warm personal items on top of his suit coat. He picked up the gray plastic bin. Didn’t carry it to the X-ray belt. Instead he hefted it across the room to a small window in a wall. He waited there and a woman in uniform took it and gave him a numbered ticket in exchange for it.

He braced himself in front of the metal detector hoop. He patted his pockets and glanced ahead, expectantly, as if waiting for an invitation. Learned behavior, from air travel. The guards let him stand there for a minute, a small, nervous man in his shirt sleeves, empty-handed. No briefcase. No notebook. Not even a pen. He was not there to advise. He was there to be advised. Not to talk, but to listen, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to put what he heard anywhere near a piece of paper.

The guards beckoned him through. A green light and no beep, but still the first guard wanded him and the second patted him down. The third escorted him deeper into the complex, through doors designed never to be open unless the last and the next were closed, and around tight corners designed to slow a running man’s progress, and past thick green glass windows with watchful faces behind.

The lobby had been institutional, with linoleum on the floor and mint green paint on the walls and fluorescent tubes on the ceiling. And the lobby had been connected to the outside, with gusts of cold air blowing in when the door was opened, and salt stains and puddles of snowmelt on the floor. The prison proper was different. It had no connection to the outside. No sky, no weather. No attempt at décor. It was all raw concrete, already rubbed greasy where sleeves and shoulders had touched it, still pale and dusty where they hadn’t. Underfoot was grippy gray paint, like the floor of an auto enthusiast’s garage. The lawyer’s overshoes squeaked on it.

There were four interview rooms. Each was a windowless concrete cube divided exactly in half by a wall-to-wall desk-height counter with safety glass above. Caged lights burned on the ceiling above the counter. The counter was cast from concrete. The grain of the formwork lumber was still visible in it. The safety glass was thick and slightly green and was divided into three overlapping panes, to give two sideways listening slots. The center pane had a cut-out slot at the bottom, for documents. Like a bank. Each half of the room had its own chair, and its own door. Perfectly symmetrical. The lawyers entered one way, and the inmates entered the other. Later they left the same way they had come, each to a different destination.

The guard opened the door from the corridor and stepped a yard into the room for a visual check that all was as it should be. Then he stood aside and let the lawyer enter. The lawyer stepped in and waited until the guard closed the door behind him and left him alone. Then he sat down and checked his watch. He was eight minutes late. He had driven slow, because of the weather. Normally he would have regarded it as a failure to be late for an appointment. Unprofessional, and disrespectful. But prison visits were different. Time meant nothing to prisoners.

Another eight minutes later the other door opened, in the wall behind the glass. A different guard stepped in and checked and then stepped back out and a prisoner shuffled in. The lawyer’s client. He was white, and enormously overweight, marbled with fat, and completely hairless. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. He had wrist and waist and ankle chains that looked as delicate as jewelry. His eyes were dull and his face was docile and vacant, but his mouth was moving a little, like a simpleminded person struggling to retain complex information.

The door in the wall behind the glass closed.

The prisoner sat down.

The lawyer hitched his chair close to the counter.

The prisoner did the same.


The lawyer said, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

The prisoner didn’t answer.

The lawyer asked, “How are you?”

The prisoner didn’t answer. The lawyer went quiet. The air in the room was hot. A minute later the prisoner started talking, reciting, working his way through lists and instructions and sentences and paragraphs he had committed to memory. From time to time the lawyer said, “Slow down a bit,” and on each occasion the guy paused and waited and then started up again at the head of the previous sentence with no change in his pace and no alteration to his singsong delivery. It was as if he had no other way of communicating.

The lawyer had what he considered to be a pretty good memory, especially for detail, like most lawyers, and he was paying a lot of attention, because to concentrate on the process of remembering distracted him from the actual content of the instructions he was getting. But even so some small corner of his mind had counted fourteen separate criminal proposals before the prisoner finally finished up and sat back.

The lawyer said nothing.

The prisoner said, “Got all that?”

The lawyer nodded and the prisoner lapsed into a bovine stillness. Or equine, like a donkey in a field, infinitely patient. Time meant nothing to prisoners. Especially this one. The lawyer pushed his chair back and stood up. His door was unlocked. He stepped out to the corridor.

Five minutes to four in the afternoon.

Sixty hours to go.

The lawyer found the same guard waiting for him. He was back in the parking lot two minutes later. He was fully dressed again and his stuff was back in his pockets, all reassuringly weighty and present and normal. It was snowing harder by then and the air was colder and the wind was wilder. It was going dark, fast and early. The lawyer sat for a moment with his seat heating and his engine running and his wipers pushing berms of snow left and right on the windshield glass. Then he took off, a wide slow turn with his tires squeaking against the fresh fall and his headlight beams cutting bright arcs through the white swirl. He headed for the exit, the wire gates, the wait, the trunk check, and then the long straight road that led through town to the highway.

Fourteen criminal proposals. Fourteen actual crimes, if he relayed the proposals and they were acted upon, which they surely would be. Or fifteen crimes, because he himself would then become a co-conspirator. Or twenty-eight crimes, if a prosecutor chose to call each separate issue a separate conspiracy, which a prosecutor might, just for the fun of it. Or just for the glory. Twenty-eight separate paths to shame and ignominy and disbarment, and trial and conviction and imprisonment. Life imprisonment, almost certainly, given the nature of one of the fourteen proposals, and only then after a successful plea bargain. A failed plea bargain was too awful to contemplate.

The lawyer made it around the highway cloverleaf and merged into the slow lane. All around him was the thick gray of falling snow in the late afternoon. Not much traffic. Just occasional cars and trucks going his way, some of them faster and some of them slower, answered by occasional cars and trucks going the other way, across the divider. He drove one-handed and jacked up off the seat and took out his cell phone. Weighed it in his hand. He had three choices. One, do nothing. Two, call the number he had been told to call. Three, call the number he really should call, which under the circumstances was 911, with hasty backups to the local PD and the Highway Patrol and the county sheriffs and the Bar Association, and then a lawyer of his own.

He chose the second option, like he knew he would. Choice number one would get him nowhere, except a little later, when they came to find him. Choice number three would get him dead, slowly and eventually, after what he was sure would be hours or even days of hideous agony. He was a small nervous man. No kind of a hero.

He dialed the number he had been told to dial.

He checked it twice and hit the green button. He raised the phone to his ear, which in many states would be a twenty-ninth crime all its own.

But not in South Dakota.

Not yet.

Small mercies.

The voice that answered was one he had heard four times before. Coarse, and rough, and laced with a kind of rude animal menace. A voice from what the lawyer thought of as another...

Revue de presse

"[The] craftiest and most highly evolved of Lee Child’s electrifying Jack Reacher books… The truth about Reacher gets better and better." The New York Times

"Child is a superb craftsman of suspense, juggling several plots and keeping his herrings well-rouged….Best of all, this is a rare series book that reads like a stand-alone. Everything you need to know about Jack Reacher is contained within its pages. And chances are you'll want to seek out other Reacher adventures the moment you finish." —Entertainment Weekly (A-)

"Jack Reacher is much more like the heir to the Op and Marlowe than Spenser ever was."

"As usual, Child's writing is superb. Not only is this thriller believable, but the descriptions of the blizzard will make readers want to hug their furnaces. Fast paced and exciting, this is highly recommended for thriller fans." —Library Journal (starred review)
"Get prepared for teeth-chattering suspense….Child sets up one of his most ingenious plots in the Jack Reacher chronicles. A fiery finale will leave fans talking and speculating for weeks to come." —Madison County Herald
"Child deepens the mystery considerably, providing an explosive climax that will have you tearing out your hair until Reacher's next appearance." —Miami Herald

"Once again, Child spins a riveting, ticking-clock Jack Reacher adventure….It’s guarantees you’ll finish this one in less than 61 hours—and the jolter conclusion will shock and awe you." —Romantic Times Book Review

"Implausible, irresistible Reacher remains just about the best butt-kicker in thriller-lit."Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

"Child keeps his foot hard on the throttle...As always, Child delivers enough juicy details about the landscape, the characters, and Reacher’s idiosyncrasies to give the story texture and lower our pulse rates, if only momentarily...This is Child in top form, but isn’t he always?"Booklist (starred review)

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 2023 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 514 pages
  • Editeur : Transworld Digital (18 mars 2010)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B003D7C9TC
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (11 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°13.798 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
  •  Souhaitez-vous faire modifier les images ?

En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Découvrez des livres, informez-vous sur les écrivains, lisez des blogs d'auteurs et bien plus encore.

Quels sont les autres articles que les clients achètent après avoir regardé cet article?

Commentaires en ligne

Commentaires client les plus utiles
2 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 STERLING NARRATION OF THIS THRILLER 14 juin 2010
It seems there are no more words of praise to be heaped upon Dick Hill's readings. As audio book aficionados know he's a whiz at thrillers, although he does a variety of genres. Hill has been named a Golden Voice and a Voice of the Century by AudioFile magazine, and has a trio of Audie Awards. His name on an audio edition promises an exciting voice performance. He has said that he takes a visual approach to narrating books, noting "I have a visual picture of the scene" He's such a pro that even when the scene shifts from day to night he subtly shifts his voice to show the change. If he's not already on the top of your list of voice performers he surely will be after you hear him deliver this Jack Reacher thriller.

Just as Hill is at the top of his game so is Lee Child with this his 14th Reacher novel. Most are already hooked on this series - if you're not you will be after 13 hours of the best listening entertainment around.

Yep the iconic Reacher is back, the six footer who takes big risks and wins every fight. He has hands the size of "supermarket chickens" and a brawn to match. Toss in street savvy plus braininess and you have him. This time out we find him on a tour bus loaded with elderly passengers tooling across South Dakota until the bus skids off the road. No surprise that the weather in that state isn't exactly welcoming - blizzard conditions and the wind chill is diving to 50 below.

Bolton is the nearby town. Unfortunately the few motels are full because the relatives of those in a correctional facility have taken all the rooms. Residents welcome the elderly but not Reacher. What could possibly be going on in a town the size of Bolton?
Lire la suite ›
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Reacher fighting in Arctic temperatures 2 janvier 2012
Jack Reacher was a brilliant MP major until Uncle Sam retired him in a major downsizing campaign. Born on a West Berlin army base, he received his final marching orders on another army base. Since then JR has lived a nomadic life in the US, without livestock or baggage, buying a full set of clothes every 4 days.

This 14th adventure finds him in the ice-cold small town of Bolton, SD. Only John Sandford writing about Minnesota in winter, Martin Cruz Smith in his wintry Soviet/Russian thrillers starring Arkady Renko and Lionel Davidson in his masterpiece "Kolymsky Heights" situated in Siberia, rival LC's horrific account of moving about in South Dakota in extreme winter weather..

On this occasion, Lee Child elevates JR to new heights school-wise, adding more countries to his CV and more feats accomplished on active duty: his secret personal file has 73 separate entries about his efficient execution of duties (in and out of service) and his rare lapses of judgment or overreaction. Otherwise, readers and reviewers love him as the thinking man's action hero: great powers of induction and deduction, physical prowess and "knowing 5 seconds ahead of everyone else what is going on". Simple good manners and his wish to move on also endear him to local law enforcement.

This thriller targets secret buildings from WW II, such as a small brick house in the prairie west of Bolton SD, its contents guarded by a posse of speed-trading bikers on behalf a ruthless crime boss called Plato, from Brazil or Mexico. A truly chilling book with at least three undeserving casualties..But not an open and shut case. Lee Child truly shocked and enraged his fans by ending this tale with a simple sentence: to be continued. [The sequel is called “Worth fighting for” ]
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 unputdownable ! 8 janvier 2014
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
I just love this unconventional character and had the feeling to travel in that part of the USA, getting a real feeling of what life is like there .A gripping thriller.
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
5.0 étoiles sur 5 61 Stressful hours 7 avril 2015
Format:Relié|Achat vérifié
Je recommande ce livre de la série des Jack Reacher à tous les amoureux du héros. Le déroulement de l'histoire ne me semble pas aussi sophistiquée que celles déjà lues, néanmoins le suspense reste présent du début à la fin.
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Comme toujours avec Jack Reacher... 27 novembre 2014
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
...un suspense très entraînant, une lecture en anglais relativement accessible et même si on a des difficultés en anglais, le suspense est tel qu'on se force à faire des efforts pour continuer...jusqu'au bout.
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
3.0 étoiles sur 5 61hrs 30 juin 2013
Format:Poche|Achat vérifié
lee child is beginning to take his popularity to the extremes. this book is o/k. but the credibility suffers when you find out that one of his books has been made into a film by a very small actor. sad!
Avez-vous trouvé ce commentaire utile ?
Vous voulez voir plus de commentaires sur cet article ?
Ces commentaires ont-ils été utiles ?   Dites-le-nous

Discussions entre clients

Le forum concernant ce produit
Discussion Réponses Message le plus récent
Pas de discussions pour l'instant

Posez des questions, partagez votre opinion, gagnez en compréhension
Démarrer une nouvelle discussion
Première publication:
Aller s'identifier

Rechercher parmi les discussions des clients
Rechercher dans toutes les discussions Amazon

Rechercher des articles similaires par rubrique