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Personal: (Jack Reacher 19) [Format Kindle]

Lee Child
4.1 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (14 commentaires client)

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Descriptions du produit


Chapter 1


Eight days ago my life was an up and down affair. Some of it good. Some of it not so good. Most of it uneventful. Long slow periods of nothing much, with occasional bursts of something. Like the army itself. Which is how they found me. You can leave the army, but the army doesn’t leave you. Not always. Not completely.


They started looking two days after some guy took a shot at the president of France. I saw it in the paper. A long--range attempt with a rifle. In Paris. Nothing to do with me. I was six thousand miles away, in California, with a girl I met on a bus. She wanted to be an actor. I didn’t. So after forty--eight hours in LA she went one way and I went the other. Back on the bus, first to San Francisco for a couple of days, and then to Portland, Oregon, for three more, and then onward to Seattle. Which took me close to Fort Lewis, where two women in uniform got out of the bus. They left an Army Times behind, one day old, right there on the seat across the aisle.


The Army Times is a strange old paper. It started up before World War Two and is still going strong, every week, full of yesterday’s news and sundry how--to articles, like the headline staring up at me right then: New Rules! Changes for Badges and Insignia! Plus Four More Uniform Changes On The Way! Legend has it the news is yesterday’s because it’s copied secondhand from old AP summaries, but if you read the words sideways you sometimes hear a real sardonic tone between the lines. The editorials are occasionally brave. The obituaries are occasionally interesting.


Which was my sole reason for picking up the paper. Sometimes people die and you’re happy about it. Or not. Either way you need to know. But I never found out. Because on the way to the obituaries I found the personal ads. Which as always were mostly veterans looking for other veterans. Dozens of ads, all the same.


Including one with my name in it.


Right there, center of the page, a boxed column inch, five words printed bold: Jack Reacher call Rick Shoemaker.


Which had to be Tom O’Day’s work. Which later on made me feel a little lame. Not that O’Day wasn’t a smart guy. He had to be. He had survived a long time. A very long time. He had been around forever. Twenty years ago he already looked a hundred. A tall, thin, gaunt, cadaverous man, who moved like he might collapse at any moment, like a broken stepladder. He was no one’s idea of an army general. More like a professor. Or an anthropologist. Certainly his thinking had been sound. Reacher stays under the radar, which means buses and trains and waiting rooms and diners, which, coincidentally or not, are the natural economic habitat for enlisted men and women, who buy the Army Times ahead of any other publication in the PX, and who can be relied upon to spread the paper around, like birds spread seeds from berries.


And he could rely on me to pick up the paper. Somewhere. Sooner or later. Eventually. Because I needed to know. You can leave the army, but the army doesn’t leave you. Not completely. As a means of communication, as a way of making contact, from what he knew, and from what he could guess, then maybe he would think ten or twelve consecutive weeks of personal ads might generate a small but realistic chance of success.


But it worked the first time out. One day after the paper was printed. Which is why I felt lame later on.


I was predictable.


Rick Shoemaker was Tom O’Day’s boy. Probably his second in command by now. Easy enough to ignore. But I owed Shoemaker a favor. Which O’Day knew about, obviously. Which was why he put Shoemaker’s name in his ad.


And which was why I would have to answer it.




Seattle was dry when I got out of the bus. And warm. And wired, in the sense that coffee was being consumed in prodigious quantities, which made it my kind of town, and in the sense that wifi hotspots and handheld devices were everywhere, which didn’t, and which made old--fashioned street--corner pay phones hard to find. But there was one down by the fish market, so I stood in the salt breeze and the smell of the sea, and I dialed a toll--free number at the Pentagon. Not a number you’ll find in the phone book. A number learned by heart long ago. A special line, for emergencies only. You don’t always have a quarter in your pocket.


The operator answered and I asked for Shoemaker and I got transferred, maybe elsewhere in the building, or the country, or the world, and after a bunch of clicks and hisses and some long minutes of dead air Shoemaker came on the line and said, “Yes?”


“This is Jack Reacher,” I said.


“Where are you?”


“Don’t you have all kinds of automatic machines to tell you that?”


“Yes,” he said. “You’re in Seattle, on a pay phone down by the fish market. But we prefer it when people volunteer the information themselves. We find that makes the subsequent conversation go better. Because they’re already cooperating. They’re invested.”


“In what?”


“In the conversation.”


“Are we having a conversation?”


“Not really. What do you see directly ahead?”


I looked.


“A street,” I said.




“Places to buy fish.”




“A coffee shop across the light.”




I told him.


He said, “Go in there and wait.”


“For what?”


“For about thirty minutes,” he said, and hung up.


No one really knows why coffee is such a big deal in Seattle. It’s a port, so maybe it made sense to roast it close to where it was landed, and then to sell it close to where it was roasted, which created a market, which brought other operators in, the same way the auto makers all ended up in Detroit. Or maybe the water is right. Or the elevation, or the temperature, or the humidity. But whatever, the result is a coffee shop on every block, and a four--figure annual tab for a serious enthusiast. The shop across the light from the pay phone was representative. It had maroon paint and exposed brick and scarred wood, and a chalkboard menu about ninety percent full of things that don’t really belong in coffee, like dairy products of various types and temperatures, and weird nut--based flavorings, and many other assorted pollutants. I got a plain house blend, black, no sugar, in the middle--sized go--cup, not the enormous grande bucket some folks like, and a slab of lemon pound cake to go with it, and I sat alone on a hard wooden chair at a table for two.


The cake lasted five minutes and the coffee another five, and eighteen minutes after that Shoemaker’s guy showed up. Which made him Navy, because twenty--eight minutes was pretty fast, and the Navy is right there in Seattle. And his car was dark blue. It was a low--spec domestic sedan, not very desirable, but polished to a high shine. The guy himself was nearer forty than twenty, and hard as a nail. He was in civilian clothes. A blue blazer over a blue polo shirt, and khaki chino pants. The blazer was worn thin and the shirt and the pants had been washed a thousand times. A Senior Chief Petty Officer, probably. Special Forces, almost certainly, a SEAL, no doubt part of some shadowy joint operation watched over by Tom O’Day.


He stepped into the coffee shop with a blank--eyed all--in--one scan of the room, like he had a fifth of a second to identify friend or foe before he started shooting. Obviously his briefing must have been basic and verbal, straight out of some old personnel file, but he had me at six--five two--fifty. Everyone else in the shop was Asian, mostly women and very petite. The guy walked straight toward me and said, “Major Reacher?”


I said, “Not anymore.”


He said, “Mr. Reacher, then?”


I said, “Yes.”


“Sir, General Shoemaker requests that you come with me.”


I said, “Where to?”


“Not far.”


“How many stars?”


“Sir, I don’t follow.”


“Does General Shoemaker have?”


“One, sir. Brigadier General Richard Shoemaker, sir.”




“When what, sir?”


“Did he get his promotion?”


“Two years ago.”


“Do you find that as extraordinary as I do?”


The guy paused a beat and said, “Sir, I have no opinion.”


“And how is General O’Day?”


The guy paused another beat and said, “Sir, I know of no one named O’Day.”


The blue car was a Chevrolet Impala with police hubs and cloth seats. The polish was the freshest thing on it. The guy in the blazer drove me through the downtown streets and got on I-5 heading south. The same way the bus had come in. We drove back past Boeing Field once again, and past the Sea--Tac airport once again, and onward toward Tacoma. The guy in the blazer didn’t talk. Neither did I. We both sat there mute, as if we were in a no--talking competition and serious about winning. I watched out the window. All green, hills and sea and trees alike.


We passed Tacoma, and slowed ahead of where the women in uniform had gotten out of the bus, leaving their Army Times behind. We took the same exit. The signs showed nothing ahead except three very small towns and one very large military base. Chances were therefore good we were heading for Fort Lewis. But it turned out we weren’t. Or we were, technically, but we wouldn’t have been back in the day. We were heading for what used to be McChord Air Force Base, and was now the aluminum half of Joint Base Lewis--McChord. Reforms. Politicians will do anything to save a buck.


I was expecting a little back--and--forth at the gate, because the gate belonged jointly to the army and the Air Force, and the car and the driver were both Navy, and I was absolutely nobody. Only the Marine Corps and the United Nations were missing. But such was the power of O’Day we barely had to slow the car. We swept in, and hooked a left, and hooked a right, and were waved through a second gate, and then the car was right out there on the tarmac, dwarfed by huge C-17 transport planes, like a mouse in a forest. We drove under a giant gray wing and headed out over open blacktop straight for a small white airplane standing alone. A corporate thing. A business jet. A Lear, or a Gulfstream, or whatever rich people buy these days. The paint winked in the sun. There was no writing on it, apart from a tail number. No name, no logo. Just white paint. Its engines were turning slowly, and its stairs were down.


The guy in the blazer drove a well--judged part--circle and came to a stop with my door about a yard from the bottom of the airplane steps. Which I took as a hint. I climbed out and stood a moment in the sun. Spring had sprung and the weather was pleasant. Beside me the car drove away. A steward appeared above me, in the little oval mouth of the cabin. He was wearing a uniform. He said, “Sir, please step up.”


The stairs dipped a little under my weight. I ducked into the cabin. The steward backed off to my right, and on my left another guy in uniform squeezed out of the cockpit and said, “Welcome aboard, sir. You have an all–-Air Force crew today, and we’ll get you there in no time at all.”


I said, “Get me where?”


“To your destination.” The guy crammed himself back in his seat next to his copilot and they both got busy checking dials. I followed the steward and found a cabin full of butterscotch leather and walnut veneer. I was the only passenger. I picked an armchair at random. The steward hauled the steps up and sealed the door and sat down on a jump seat behind the pilots’ shoulders. Thirty seconds later we were in the air, climbing hard.

Revue de presse

"Consistently pulse-raising...an exhilarating ride...Personal wrests back the sheer gusto of earlier novels; it's the best Reacher adventure in some considerable time." (Independent)

"This is the 19th Jack Reacher novel. I've read all the others. If you haven't, start now. You can binge-read them all in three weeks. But then you will be sad. Because you'll have to wait for a year for the next one. They are blissfully pedantic whodunnits. And also seriously violent thrillers....[Child] is so good. He makes "literary" writing seem orotund...He generates relentless momentum...Child's dedication to suspense...approaches the Hitchcockian." (Guardian)

"Packed with arcane and fascinating detail...Child's almost trademarked and seriously addictive clipped prose and dialogue keeps Personal clipping along at breakneck pace with the tension ratcheting up satisfactorily to the inevitably bloody conclusion." (Irish Independent)

"Told in characteristic Child style - fast prose, smart dialogue, extraordinary detail - and with the hero in full revenge mode,it throbs with energy from the start...a pleasure to welcome him back to [Lee Child's] native land." (Daily Mail)

"He's a dangerous man to know but every year I am desperate to renew my acquaintance with the one and only Jack Reacher....Child brings it all together brilliantly. And often tersely...It ends in crunching violence - but Reacher readers queueing up for their annual fix expect nothing less." (Sun)

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1903 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 369 pages
  • Editeur : Transworld Digital (28 août 2014)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ISBN-10: 0593073827
  • ISBN-13: 978-0593073827
  • ASIN: B00IK1J9QM
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.1 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (14 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°14.647 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)

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Commentaires en ligne

4.1 étoiles sur 5
4.1 étoiles sur 5
Commentaires client les plus utiles
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Sherlock Homeless 1 avril 2015
Format:Format Kindle
Publication of a new Jack Reacher (JR) is a moment of bliss and enjoyment extending for days for his many fans (m/f) worldwide. Always found his adventures in remote parts of the US less engaging than those in urban settings, but the rapid succession of the former helped the author slow down the aging of JR, who is still a super fit schemer and bruiser aged 54. This one promises to be one of Lee Child’s best, his best according to one quote, because at last, finally, etc., JR is deployed abroad again. Abroad is where JR grew up on Army bases and where he spent a large part of his MP-career.
This book takes him to Paris and London. Why? A world-class sniper took a shot at the French president from 1.300 meters. A new type of glass stopped the bullet. The event caused near panic is all intelligence services of the G-8, whose leaders meet in London in three weeks. Was the Paris event an audition? How many people worldwide can shoot so accurately? The combined G-8 intelligence services quickly provide 25 names, with 21 assuredly not having been in France or Paris. One of the four remaining snipers is American.
JR remembers him because he arrested him long ago in Colombia. Do 15 years of yoga and meditation in prison weaken or strengthen a sniper’s accuracy and hatred about his captor? Deep plot with many cliff hangers: are Brits better than Yanks at penetrating each other’s most secret communications? Are some criminal gangs in Britain operating above the law? Can JR and his 28-years old girl partner (a CIA novice on tranquilizers) prevent a sniper, perhaps two of them, from turning a G-8 summit into a bloodbath?
Finally, a comment on an assertion on p.1 and repeated later, saying that you can say goodbye to the army but that the army will not. Not forever, not completely.
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Deceiving 13 février 2015
Par GC
Format:Format Kindle
I didn't find the Jack Reacher I used to appreciate. The story is too messy, and the description of Paris with a majority of Vietnamese taxi drivers is kind of strange, I live in Paris.
I hope that the next Jack Reacher will improve.
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Personal 4 septembre 2014
Par bonnie
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
I wasn't as engrossed with this book compared to the I other Jack Reacher stories by L. Child. Hope the next Reacher book is more a "can't put down". One.
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Lee Child 1 octobre 2014
Par D. Pemble
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Not as good as any of the previous books in the Reacher series rather disappointed. Is Lee Child running out of story lines
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Captivating 9 septembre 2014
Par Te
Format:Format Kindle
Lee Child’s “Personal” is a well written with a gripping plot, an amazing characterization, an absorbing setting and well constructed dialogue. The story captured my full attention right from the early chapters and did not dampen my curiosity all the way to the end. This is suspense full and fast-paced novel occupies a place on my shelf with other books like Triple Agent Double Cross, The Da Vinci Code, and Fifty Shades of Grey.
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3.0 étoiles sur 5 Not so impressed 26 juin 2015
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Having read all of the Jack Reacher books, either Lee Child is becoming bored with the whole thing or I am. Maybe both. If there is a 20th novel, I will read it, only to make it a round number. After that, I think we both need to retire him off and stop putting ads in the Army News!
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Un super Lee Child et pour passer une nuit blanche 20 septembre 2014
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Je lis systématiquement les livres de Lee Child en anglais: c'est une excellente méthode pour s'améliorer dans cette langue. Il faut évidemment des bonnes bases. "Personal" est comme d'habitude super-bien documenté et raconté. Un livre qui fait passer une nuit blanche.
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Commentaires client les plus récents
3.0 étoiles sur 5 entertaining as usual for a Jack Reacher story but to a lesser extent...
I always enjoy reading Jack Reacher stories, I guess I am addicted at this point, but I found this one a bit flat compared to most of the previous stories, less punchy.
Publié il y a 1 jour par marco carilli
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Mon 1er Jack Reacher
Il s'agit de mon premier Jack Reacher. Facile à lire. Une intrigue bien ficelée qui nous emmène sur Paris puis Londres. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 5 mois par e_alain
4.0 étoiles sur 5 going through the motions
Not a classic reacher novel and you get the sense childs is going through the motions somewhat... But still a great read and very enjoyable
Publié il y a 8 mois par Daniel Erith
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Rien à voir avec Tom Cruise.
Rien à voir avec Tom Cruise, en effeet. Nous avons Jack Reacher grandeur nature, sans maquillage ni faux-fuyants. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 11 mois par daniel danoffre
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Brilliant
I really liked this book and would recommend anyone to read it if they've read previous Jack reacher or are new to this charactor
Publié il y a 13 mois par C Morgan
5.0 étoiles sur 5 personal
Le dix-neuvième opus est aussi passionnant que les dix-huit premiers. Je me surprends à attendre avec impatience chaque nouvelle aventure de Jack Reacher. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 13 mois par michel meynaud
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Lee Child se surpasse encore une fois
Lu en deux soirées. Chacun devrait avoir un meilleur ami comme Jack! En espérant que Lee Child n'attends pas trop longtemps pour le prochain!
Publié il y a 14 mois par Cousins Stephen
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