The Secret

Chapter 1

Keith Bridgeman was alone in his room when he closed his eyes. The morning medical rounds were over. Lunch had been delivered and eaten and cleared away. Other people s visitors had clattered along the corridor in search of relatives and friends. A janitor had swept and mopped and hauled off the day s trash. And finally a little peace had descended on the ward.

Bridgeman had been in the hospital for a month. Long enough to grow used to its rhythms and routines. He knew it was time for the afternoon lull. A break from getting poked and prodded and being made to get up and move around and stretch. No one was going to bother him for another three hours, minimum. So he could read. Watch TV. Listen to music. Gaze out of the window at the sliver of lake that was visible between the next pair of skyscrapers.

Or he could take a nap.

Bridgeman was sixty-­two years old. He was in rough shape. That was clear. He could debate the cause ­the kind of work he had devoted his life to, the stress he had suffered, the cigarettes and alcohol he had consumed ­but he couldn t deny the effect. A heart attack so massive that no one had expected him to survive.

Defying odds that great is tiring work. He chose the nap.

These days he always chose the nap.

Bridgeman woke up after only an hour. He was no longer alone. Two other people were in the room with him. Both were women. Maybe in their late twenties. They were the same height. The same slim build. One was on the left side of his bed, nearer to the door. The other was level with her on the right, nearer to the window. They were standing completely still. In silence. Staring at him. Their hair was pulled back, smooth and dark and tight. Their faces were expressionless like mannequins and their skin shone in the harsh artificial light as if it were molded from plastic.

The women were wearing white coats over hospital scrubs. The coats were the correct length. They had all the necessary pockets and

Lee Child and Andrew Child

Praise for the Jack Reacher series

The truth about Reacher gets better and better. . . . This series [is] utterly addictive. Janet Maslin, The New York Times

Jack Reacher is today s James Bond, a thriller hero we can t get enough of. I read every one as soon as it appears. Ken Follett

Reacher is the stuff of myth. . . . One of this century s most original, tantalizing pop-fiction heroes. The Washington Post

I m a fan. James Patterson

The Reacher novels are easily the best thriller series going. NPR

Reacher is a man for whom the phrase moral compass was invented: His code determines his direction. . . . You need Jack Reacher. The Atlantic

I pick up Jack Reacher when I m in the mood for someone big to solve my problems. Patricia Cornwell

[A] feverishly thrilling series . . . You can always count on furious action. Miami Herald