Цитата #126 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

“Who are we talking about?” I said. “Who got killed?”

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“Christ, Reacher, you’re a big help, you know that?” he said.

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“I’m not surprised,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

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There was another pause. Now I knew something about Molly Beth Gordon. I’d spent a lot of time on computer passwords. Any military cop does. I’d studied the pyschology. Most users make bad choices. A lot of them write the damn word on a Post-it note and stick it on the monitor case. The ones who are too smart to do that use their spouse’s name, or their dog’s name, or their favorite car or ball player, or the name of the island where they took their honeymoon or balled their secretary. The ones who think they’re really smart use figures, not words, but they choose their birthday or their wedding anniversary or something pretty obvious. If you can find something out about the user, you’ve normally got a better than even chance of figuring their password.

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He looked up. Waited a long moment before replying.

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