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Act of Revenge (Butch Karp Series #11)

Act of Revenge (Butch Karp Series #11)

3.0 6
by Robert K. Tanenbaum

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“Tanenbaum is one lawyer who can write with the best of them.”
—Joseph Wambaugh, New York Times bestselling author of Hollywood Hills

“Tanenbaum is one hell of a writer.”
New York Post

“He has become a master of this genre, and Act of Revenge may be his most exciting and best effort to


“Tanenbaum is one lawyer who can write with the best of them.”
—Joseph Wambaugh, New York Times bestselling author of Hollywood Hills

“Tanenbaum is one hell of a writer.”
New York Post

“He has become a master of this genre, and Act of Revenge may be his most exciting and best effort to date.”
—Vincent Bugliosi, New York Times bestselling author of Helter Skelter

A classic, pulse-pounding thriller from the legendary Robert K. Tanenbaum, Act of Revenge plunges the popular author’s long-running series protagonists, New York City Chief Assistant District Attorney Butch Karp and family, into the lethal heart of a bloody turf war between the Mafia and ruthless Chinese gangsters.  An elite member of America’s contemporary crime fiction and thriller royalty—a master whose work stands tall among the novels of John Sanford, Lee Child, Robert Crais, and Brad Meltzer—Tanenbaum entertains magnificently, displaying true storytelling muscle with Act of Revenge.

Editorial Reviews

Orlando Sentinel
Act Of Revenge not only thrills but also entertains.
Vincent Bugliosi
Robert Tanenbaum's very distinguished prosecutorial background allows him to bring the raw reality of big-city true crime to his fictional crime thrillers. He has become a master of his genre, and Act Of Revenge may be his most exciting and best effort to date.
Bozeman Chronicle
A suspenseful thriller.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Veteran author Tanenbaum (Reckless Endangerment) pens a lethal family outing for series protagonist Butch Karp, his vigilante wife, Marlene Ciampi, and their linguistic prodigy daughter, Lucy, in this take-no-prisoners tale of mob violence, Asian incursion and political corruption that spans decades. All become embroiled in a labyrinth of interconnected plot lines and intersecting lives during an Asian gangsters plan to take over Italian mob turf in Little Italy next to Chinatown. Chief Assistant District Attorney Karps team is stumped when the usual mob suspects dont pan out in the killing of Eddie Catalano, a capo for Big Sally Bollano, don of the Mafia crime family, but he has bigger problems when two Hong Kong triad biggies are murdered in Chinatown. Karps daughter, Lucy, witnesses the killings, but refuses to talk because it would endanger the Chinese family she grew up with. Pressure mounts when Lucy is roughed up by Vietnamese goons before being saved by the mysterious Tran, Marlenes devoted Vietnamese muscle. Meanwhile, Marlene is hired by the wife of Little Sally Bollano, nutcase son of the mob boss, to prove that her fathers suicide when she was 16 was really murdera job that twists into the Chinatown killings, ignites the Bollano family, exposes a corrupt judge and almost costs Marlene her life. The closed society of Chinatown proves a formidable barrier to police probes and only Lucy and Tran can make headway and flush the killer when attacks on the Karp family get starkly personal. Former New York City homicide chief and trial attorney Tanenbaum has crafted a believably twisted gem of a gangster tale with visceral action and smooth comic relief in a technicolor, Big Apple setting that waxes nostalgic for the gentleman killers of yesteryear. Lucy is an engaging adolescent addition and Karps quirky extended family provides enough depth for years of sequels. (May)
Kirkus Reviews
Fasten your seat belts for the bumpiest ride in Butch Karp's long career with the New York D.A.'s office: a case that expands till it gobbles up his wife and daughter. Butch's latest brief is the execution of Salvatore Bollano capo regime Eddie Catalano, whose rival Joe Pigetti, the obvious candidate for pulling off the hit, has an alibi this wide. While Butch duels with US Attorney Thomas Colombo over who talks to whom about what with which guarantees, his wife, domestic-abuse-vigilante Marlene Ciampi, is busy with her own nest of hornets far from the usual turf of her security agency: the widow of Jumping Jerry Fein, who dived from the observation deck of the Empire State Building 20 years ago, suddenly wants the case reopened. (Why now? wonders Marlene. And why do so many people object?) Busiest of all, though, is Butch and Marlene's daughter Lucy, 12, who was witness to a murder at the Asia Mall. Now the shooter is very interested in Lucy and the two friends who were with her, Mary Ma and Asia Mall offspring Janice Chen. In real life, or in Tanenbaum's last novel (Irresistible Impulse, 1997), these three cases would never come within a mile of each other; here, they're wound together tightly enough to make most readers beg for Motrin. As usual, Tanenbaum pulls off a hundred effective scenes in a dozen different tones—his affection for Butch's knockabout, have-it-all family is neatly balanced by his brisk malice in showing them and their legion of well-armed allies facing down killers and kidnappers and TV hosts—but the mind-boggling plot, which Marlene compares to an Elizabethan revenge tragedy even while complications are still getting phoned in, drowns indouble-crosses, legal maneuvers, and killings. And it's no surprise when the climax shows Marlene under deadly attack by two parties who don't even know of each other's existence. It all adds up to too much of a very good thing indeed.

Product Details

HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
Butch Karp Series , #11
Product dimensions:
4.20(w) x 7.50(h) x 1.50(d)

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

In and out, was his thought as he stood in the dusty storeroom of the Asia Mall. The targets would be there, and I'll be here, and the Vietnamese guy would come in through the rear entrance, off of Howard Street, down that little hallway, and do it. Then the Vietnamese guy would leave the way he came in, and I'll walk out through the store. The man strolled back and forth, pacing off the distances, humming softly. He was a slight Chinese man in a cheap blue suit, and a white nylon short-sleeved shirt buttoned to the top. On his feet he wore twelve-dollar Kinney loafers over white cotton socks. Nobody would have looked twice at him on any street in Chinatown, which was one of the things he now counted on. Walking out through the mall, through the throngs of Asian people buying cheap clothes, household items, and fabrics, and out into Canal Street. No one would ever have seen him with the men from Hong Kong.

A rattle announced a stock clerk coming in from the store with a hand truck. The man in the blue suit stayed where he was, and the stock clerk looked right through him, hoisted a carton of woks onto his truck, and departed. The stock clerk had seen the man any number of times, on the street or in the mall talking to the boss, and he had also never seen him before in his life, depending on who was asking.

After the stock clerk left, the man clapped his hands hard, three times, as they do before a shrine to frighten the demons who tend to lurk by shrines, and listened carefully after each clap. This section of the stockroom was composed largely of ceiling-high shelves made of steel pipes, rough planks, and chicken wire, stuffed plumpwith pillows and beanbag chairs, making effective baffles for loud, sharp sounds. It was likely that no one in the mall would hear anything out of the ordinary. Smiling a vague and modest smile, the man in the blue suit came out of the storeroom. He asked the girl at the front counter for a pack of Salems, and she gave it to him. She did not ask him for any money, nor did he offer any. She was another of the very many people who did not recall ever seeing this man while doing him various favors. He walked out onto Canal Street, crowded with shoppers on this sunny Friday in early June, crowded by American standards, near empty by the standards the man had grown up with in China. This afternoon, in the back room of the Asia Mall, he would complete a plan five years in the making, a tower of mahjong tiles that required the delicate placing of a last exquisitely balanced piece to hold it together. With that last ivory click, his life would change.

The man walked down Canal toward Lafayette, smoking, his mind calm. He knew he was good at this, that his plan was sound and would bring forth the results he desired. Of course, the men from Hong Kong might not come at all, but that could not be helped. Everything else had been considered and accounted for, and it all would have worked exactly as planned, except for the little girl. And who could have imagined such a girl?

The girl, at about that moment, was up at Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons getting her head examined. Dr. Morris Shadkin, a small, youngish, plump man with a friendly pop-eyed look and unfashionable black sideburns, was doing the examining. The girl said, in an exaggerated nervous voice, "Okay, doc, don't beat around the bush. Am I . . . am I . . . going to make it?"

Shadkin looked up from the sonogram strips he was studying and adopted a grave mien. "I'm afraid not, Lucy," he intoned in a good replication of the voice used by the elderly scientists in fifties monster movies. "I'm afraid your brain will have to be removed for further study. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no problem, doc," said the girl. "Could I say good-bye to my dollies first?"

He laughed. "Yes, but be quick about it! This is big science. What do you think of this?" He handed her a couple of sonogram strips stapled together. "Check out 102 and 102b."

The girl looked at the patterns. "They look the same," she said.

"Yeah. Those are phoneme prints corrected for pitch and timbre. One of them is a native Cantonese speaker, and the other is you."

"So I speak perfect Cantonese. We knew that already."

"Hey, who's the doctor here? Now look at these, wise guy."

"What's this, the Russian?"

"Yeah, which you don't speak at all. Look at the sequence down the page." He pointed with a pencil. "This is the tape, this is you. See: rough at first, but you got a learning curve like a rocket, kid. Down there on the bottom it's nearly a perfect match."

"Oh, yes, I'm this big prodigy," said Lucy in affected boredom, "but will it bring me true happiness?"

Shadkin twiddled an imaginary cigar and bounced his eyebrows Groucho-like.

"Stick with me, kid, you'll be wearing diamonds. Want to see the EEG results?"

"From the thing with the green shower cap and the wires?"

"Yo, that." He tapped with the pencil at various places on a life-size plaster model of a human brain. "You seem to have an unusually active Wernicke's area. That's the chunk of brain we think is responsible for comprehension of language. Same with Heschl's gyri, which is right here. Now, we're no longer strict localizers, that is, we no longer think that there's a little smidgen of brain meat with 'car' on it and another with 'sassafras,' but it's pretty clear there are, even at this gross level, some differences between your EEG output and those of ordinary mortals. It's hard to explain right now. It's not a simple bilingualism. But as I understand it, you've always been bilingual in Cantonese."

"As far back as I can remember."

What People are Saying About This

Joseph Wambaugh
Tanenbaum is one lawyer who can write with the best of them.

Meet the Author

Robert K. Tanenbaum is one of the country's most successful trial lawyers, having never lost a felony case. He ran the Homicide Bureau and was Bureau Chief of the Criminal Courts for the New York District Attorney's Office and Deputy Chief Counsel to the Congressional Committee investigations into the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He has taught Advanced Criminal Procedure at the University of California at Berkeley, Boalt Hall School of Law. He is the author of twenty-two Butch Karp novels and two true-crime books.

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Act of Revenge (Butch Karp Series #11) 3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
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Annie887 More than 1 year ago
Originally published in 1999...when I read it the first time.