- Editorial Reviews
- Product Details
- Related Subjects
- Read an Excerpt
- What People Are Saying
- Meet the author
If Princess Diana had been murdered, what sort of man would have killed her?
The pseudonymous Cain, a British journalist, has come up with a clever premise for his first novel. One summer night in 1997, Samuel Carver, an extremely capable assassin who only targets bad guys, is in a Paris tunnel ready to make a hit. He causes a speeding black Mercedes to smash into a stone pillar, leaving the car's principal passenger, a dangerous terrorist, he's been told, undoubtedly dead. Moments later, Carver himself is on the run from a Russian thug. Only after escaping the Russian does Carver realize he's caused the death of Princess Diana. Carver vows revenge on those who set him up. A number of spy organizations are involved as well as several intermediaries, all of whom Carver must work his way through before finding who's behind the conspiracy. A likable hero and nicely detailed action help offset a predictable and at times overwrought romance between Carver and the Russian's female accomplice. Hopefully, Cain will keep the mayhem and soft-pedal the love interest in his next Samuel Carver thriller. (Feb.)Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
In this clever debut novel, the pseudonymous Cain, an award-winning British journalist, successfully tackles a larger-than-life, real-world event. Samuel Carver is the titular character who will arrange a death (usually made to look accidental) for the right price. Like other fictional assassins, he lives by a certain code. Yes, he'll kill someone when he's hired for the job, but he only takes on certain jobs. And the people he arranges accidents for are universally bad-until his most recent job. What was supposed to be the end to an evil terrorist is instead the accident that shocks the world, and Carver is now on the run from the people who hired him and several other agencies, because this "accident" is the 1997 car crash that killed Princess Diana. Nicely paced and well researched, this is a thriller that genuinely thrills and makes the reader wonder, if only for a moment, What if? Recommended for all public libraries. [See Prepub Alert, LJ10/15/07.]
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
- Penguin Group (USA) Incorporated
- Publication date:
- Edition description:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.26(w) x 5.74(h) x 1.57(d)
- Age Range:
- 18 Years
Read an Excerpt
The time was a quarter-past midnight. Samuel Carver stood astride the Honda, waiting to go into action. He glanced down at the black metal tube, clipped to the bike behind his right leg. It looked like a regular, long-barrelled flashlight, the kind that police or security guards use. It was, in fact, a portable diode pump laser, otherwise known as a dazzler. Developed as a non-fatal weapon for US police forces, but taken up with deadly enthusiasm by special forces around the world, it emitted a green-light beam at a frequency of 532 nanometers. Its nickname, though, was misleading. When this light shone in somebody's eyes, they weren't just dazzled. They were incapacitated.
A green-laser beam left anyone who looked at it disoriented, confused and temporarily immobile. The human brain couldn't process the sheer amount of light data flooding through the optic nerves. So it acted like any other overloaded computer. It crashed.
Night or day, rain or shine, a dazzler was an accident's best friend.
It would only be a matter of seconds now. Carver was positioned by the exit of an underpass that ran beneath an embankment on the northern side of the Seine. If he turned his head fractionally to the right, he could look across the river at the glittering spire of the Eiffel Tower darting up into the night sky. It was past midnight, but there were still a few pleasure-boats out on the water. If Carver had been the slightest bit interested, he'd have seen the lovers standing arm inarm by the rails, looking out at the City of Light. But Carver had other things to think about. He was looking towards the far side of the underpass. All he cared about was the traffic.
The time had come. He took a deep breath, then let the air out slowly, dropping his shoulders, easing the muscles, twisting his neck and rotating his head to loosen the top of his spinal cord. Then he looked back at the road.
Several hundred metres away, beyond the entrance of the underpass, he saw a black Mercedes. It was travelling fast. Way too fast.
Behind the Merc was the reason for its desperate speed. A motorbike was chasing it, buzzing around the big black car like a wasp around a buffalo. There was a passenger riding pillion, carrying a camera, leaning away from his seat and firing his flashgun, apparently oblivious to his own safety. He looked for all the world like a paparazzo, risking his neck for an exclusive shot.
'Nice work,' thought Carver, watching the speed team doing their job. He started his bike and got ready to move.
For a second, he imagined the passengers in the car, urging their driver to pull away from the relentless pursuit of the bike.
Everything was going to plan. Carver rolled downhill, towards the road leading from the underpass.
As he reached the junction with the main road, a grey Citroen BX hatchback emerged from the underpass. Carver let it go, noting the two Arab men in the driver's and passenger's seats. Another car went by, a Ford Ka. Then Carver rode his bike out into the middle of the road.
He crossed to the far side of the carriageway, then turned the Honda into the flow of the oncoming traffic and dashed forward about a hundred metres to the mouth of the underpass. There was a line of pillars down the middle of the road. They supported the tunnel roof and separated the two directions of traffic. He stopped by the last pillar and reached down to unclip his dazzler.
Something caught Carver's eye.
At the mouth of the underpass, coming towards him, was a battered white Fiat Uno. It was doing the legal speed, 50 kilometres per hour, and therefore going less than half as fast as the car and bike racing towards its tail.
Carver's eyes narrowed as he pulled out the laser. His mouth gave a quick twitch of silent irritation. This wasn't part of the plan.
The Mercedes and the motorbike were closing on the little white car at breakneck speed. There were a hundred metres between them. Fifty. Twenty.
The Merc came roaring up behind the Fiat in the right hand lane, then swung left, trying to overtake it. The bike-rider had no option. He had to go round the other way, squeezing between the right-hand side of the Fiat and the tunnel wall. Somehow, he shot through without a scratch, rocketing out the far side of the Fiat.
The Merc wasn't so lucky. The front of the car, on the passenger's side, caught the Fiat from behind. The Merc smashed through the Fiat's rear lights and crumpled the thin metal of the Fiat's rear panels.
The tunnel walls echoed to the cacophony of screaming engines, smashing plastic and tortured metal. But inside his helmet, Carver felt isolated, unaffected by the chaos that was rushing towards him. He could see the driver of the Mercedes struggling to regain control as his vehicle careered across the road. The guy was good. Somehow the car straightened out. Now it was coming straight towards Carver.
Carver stood as immobile as a matador facing a charging black bull. He raised the laser, aimed at the windscreen of the car and pressed the switch.
The blast of light was instantaneous. A beam of pure energy exploded across the ever-narrowing gap between Carver and the onrushing Merc. It took only a fraction of a second then the beam was gone.
The Mercedes lurched to the left. Somewhere, deep in the unconscious, animal part of the driver's brain, some sort of alarm signal must have registered. He slammed his foot on the brakes, desperately trying to stop the car.
He had no chance. The two-ton Mercedes smashed into one of the central pillars, instantly decelerating from crazy speed to total immobility. But there was just too much speed, too much weight, too much momentum. The shattered car bounced off the pillar and slewed across the road, spinning round as it went. It finally came to a halt in the middle of the road, facing back the way it had just come.
The front of the Merc looked like a Dinky toy hit by a baseball bat, with a gigantic U-shaped depression where the bonnet and engine-bay had been. The windscreen was shattered, as was every other window. The driver's-side front wheel had splayed out from the side. On the other side, the wheel had been jammed into the bodywork. The roof had been ripped from the passenger side, jammed down into the passenger compartment and shifted two feet to the left. The pressure from front and top had forced all four doors open.
There was no sign of movement from the passenger compartment. Carver knew that the chances of anyone surviving that kind of an impact were minimal. In the corner of his eye he saw a car drive past him, on the other side of the road, going into the tunnel, past the Mercedes.
Meanwhile, the Fiat was completing its journey out of the tunnel. Carver caught a glimpse of shock and terror on the driver's face. Then he noticed something else. There was a dog in the front seat. It had its tongue out, panting happily, oblivious to the destruction disappearing behind it.
Carver strapped the laser back on the petrol-tank of his bike. He was tempted to go down and check the wreckage to make sure the target was dead, but there was little point. In the unlikely event that anyone had survived such a devastating impact, there was nothing Carver could do about it without leaving some sort of forensic trace. And even if Ramzi Hakim Narwaz was still alive, he wasn't going to be plotting terrorist activities any time soon.
It was time to go. At the far end of the tunnel, Carver could see a couple of pedestrians, standing and watching, unable to decide whether to walk any further towards the scene of the accident. In the distance he could hear the mosquito whine of motorbike engines. People were coming. They would have cameras. They would be followed by cops, ambulances, fire engines.
Carver didn't want to be around when they got there. He needed to get away before anyone figured out that this wasn't just an unfortunate accident. He swung the tail of his bike round 180 degrees and headed back up the exit ramp of the Alma Tunnel.
What People are saying about this
"An adrenaline-fueled thriller that doesn't stoop to prurient gimmicks. . . . Cain keeps the scenery breathtaking and the action heart-stopping."
-The Philadelphia Inquirer
"This is the best first thriller I have read since The Day of the Jackal, and that was a long time ago. With one mighty bound, Tom Cain has vaulted over Archer and Grisham and stands close on Fredrick Forsyth's tail."
Meet the Author
Tom Cain is the pseudonym of an award-winning journalist, with 25 years’ experience working for Fleet Street newspapers, as well as major magazines in Britain and the US. During the course of his career he has conducted in-depth interviews with senior politicians, billionaire entrepreneurs, Olympic athletes, movie stars, supermodels and rock legends. He has investigated financial scandals on Wall Street, studio intrigues in Hollywood and corrupt sports stars in Britain. The first Western journalist to cross the border into Serbia after the US bombing campaign of 1999, he has lived in Moscow, Washington, D.C. and Havana, Cuba. He edited four magazines, published over a dozen books, wrote film-scripts and was translated into some 20 languages, before beginning the ‘Accident Man’ series of thrillers. No Survivors continues the story of Samuel Carver, a former British special forces officer who now ‘does very bad things to even worse people.’
Tom Cain lives with his family in Sussex, England. In his spare time he is a fanatical supporter of West Ham United FC and the Washington Redskins; a fan of 24, Life on Mars, Flashman, Elmore Leonard, Oldboy and The Black Book; a lousy guitarist but a half-decent singer; and an enthusiastic, but unsubtle gardener.
Canadian readers may be interested to hear that Tom Cain is the brother-in-law of Steven Erikson, the Vancouver-based author of the ‘Mazalan Book of the Fallen’ series of fantasy novels.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
If you loved The DaVinci Code, you will love this one. The story is so true-to-life, that you almost start thinking it is true! Even the reason someone would want the People's Princess eliminated rang true. This was an excellent read, great story, good characters and of course, exciting European locales. I see this being made into a movie. Let's just hope they don't pick Tom Hanks again to play the lead. You will love this one!
This book was very intriging. Reminded me of Lee Child's character, Jack Reacher. Please continue this character Samuel Carver, I think your on to something. And don't forget Alix!!!!!
Tom Cain's new serial character, Sam Carver, creates 'accidents' to assassinate people--for a price. He pays attention to details, notices everything, and always succeeds. Unless his handler turns on him. This is the story of Sam becoming the hunted, how he uses his unique skill set to avoid his own death, track down his would-be murderers and survive to live another day. Along the line, he finds love and redemption. Overall, a satisfying read with all those little intelligent twists that I love in a story.
Thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
An interesting concept using the death of Princess Diana. However, Cain seems to have taken much of his background from Barry Eisler, who can really write an astounding assassin novel complete with great character development, exciting tradecraft, and fascinating locale. Let's see if Cain's next book can accomplish those objectives.
this book was awesome and i couldn't stop reading it.. Definitely buy it
The Accident Man, Tom Cain's first novel, provides an interesting plot premise in that on August 31, 1997 a professional assassin is hired to arrange an 'accident' to a man and woman driving below a bridge in Paris. Unknown to the Accident Man the woman is Princess Diana. However, Cain fails miserably in his ability to create credible characters and dialogue. I can't remember the last book I read when the characters were so stick-like and cartoonish and the dialogue was so unrealistic. As a thriller lover, I usually can overlook most writing flaws as long as the plot execution is satisfying. This, for me, was not the case as the plot was very predictable with almost no surprises. Sad to say, the biggest thrill for me was when I finally finished this highly disappointing book. Do yourself a big favor and skip The Accident Man.
In 1997 free lance assassin Samuel Carver receives money and instructions to perform a hit on a dangerous terrorist that must look like an accident. On the night of 31 August he sets up his operation to occur in a Paris tunnel. A speeding black Mercedes enters the tunnel only to have the driver seemingly lose control and crash into a supporting pillar. A passenger dies in the wreckage. Tom feels good not because of mission accomplished but a nasty killer is dead. However, his euphoria ends immediately when a Russian assassin tries to kill him. He escapes barely even as he knows those who hired him wanted him dead, but cannot fathom why until he learns the identity of the deadly terrorist he killed. Samuel murdered Princess Diana. Stunned by the set up and feeling remorse, he also knows they will keep coming after him to silence him because an accident not a homicide must be the official finding in the death of the Princess. Carver realizes how difficult it will prove to find out who wanted Diana dead and him out of the way as he works for several espionage agencies, but though they will cover their aholes, he vows to find and kill the mastermind. --- This is a fascinating concept that works due to the lead protagonist who in spite of his occupation as a hit man feels remorse once he realizes who he killed he only goes after killers. The story line is at its best when Samuel struggles with his efforts to investigate the top espionage agencies who hire him. A romantic subplot between the hit man and a Russian operative seems out of place, as the hero has enough to contend with. Still thriller readers will appreciate the exhilarating THE ACCIDENT MAN. --- Harriet Klausner