Reacher waited for quiet and pumped the gun, a solid crunch-crunch, probably the most intimidating sound in the world.
Oooh, the ?15th Jack Reacher novel. I wasn't so keen on the last two, but this one is a return to form (at least, I mean, the sort of form I like) with the seemingly immortal Jack Reacher emerging nigh-unscathed from all sorts of completely improbably trouble -- despatching the bad guys, saving the townsfolk (especially the women), fixing his own broken nose with a whack against a wall, and then strolling off into the wide, wide spaces of America.
This one hit the spot like a Reacher punch to the chest:
[He] lay completely still. Not breathing. No visible pulse. No signs of life. The standard first-aid remedies taught by the army medics were artificial respiration and external chest compressions, eighty beats a minute, as long as it took, but Reacher’s personal rule of thumb was never to revive a guy who had just pulled a gun on him. He was fairly inflexible on the matter.
This particular Reacher book was also funny; almost tongue-in-cheek. I've missed humour in the last few books. It's a nice feeling when a series you've sort of given up on, comes back with a bang.
Rating: 3/5.