Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
While Patterson's thriller is slightly out-of-date with its Cold War setting, it remains dramatically contemporary in its vision of a stock market thrown into chaos when a group of saboteurs blows up several Wall Street institutions. Actor Fernandez's mellow reading allows the story to unfold unhurriedly, though too slowly for the first half. Arch Carroll, head of the CIA's antiterrorist division, and Caitlin Dylan, director of enforcement for the SEC, team up professionally, and later romantically, to locate the Wall Street terrorists before they strike again. Arch travels to Paris and back (unfortunately, Fernandez, who capably reproduces other accents, has a poor grasp of French pronunciation), as he finds himself on the trail of former colonel David Hudson and his ragtag band of vengeance-seeking Vietnam veterans. Based on the Warner mass market paperback (originally published as Black Market in 1987). (Apr.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.|
In this "wheels within wheels" thriller, a group of Vietnam veterans have formed a terrorist organization called Greenband. They warn the FBI that they plan to blow up random Wall Street buildings and demand that the area be evacuated. The government waits for ultimatums, but none is forthcoming. Later that day, many buildings on Wall Street are destroyed. New York Police Detective Archer Carroll is called in to work on the investigation, along with Caitlin Dillon, SEC enforcer and financial wizard. When huge numbers of stolen securities start to turn up on the worldwide black market, the motive for the bombings becomes apparent. Dillon works to stave off a collapse of the stock market while Carroll tries to track down the terrorists. The final confrontation reveals all the deception and manipulation, unraveling conspiracy of the highest order. Read with energy and mastery by Peter Jay Fernandez, the story is fast paced and seems to be based on solid research. Violence and foul language abound. Recommended for large collections.--Joanna Burkhardt, Univ. of Rhode Island, Coll. of Continuing Education Lib., Providence Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Read an Excerpt
Colonel David Hudson leaned his tall, athletic body against the squat, battered trunk of one of New York's Checker-style taxis.Raising one hand to his eye, Hudson loosely curled his fingers to fashion a "telescope." He began to watch morning's earliest light fall on the Wall Street scene.
He carefully studied 40 Wall Street where Manufacturers Hanover Trust had offices. Then, No. 23 Wall, which housed executive suites for Morgan Guaranty. The New York Stock Exchange Building. Trinity Church. Chase Manhattan Plaza.
Once he had it all vividly in sight, Colonel Hudson squeezed his fingers tightly together. "Boom," he whispered quietly.
The financial capital of the world completely disappeared behind his clenched right fist.
Seconds before 5:30 on that same morning, Sergeant Harry Stemkowsky, the man designated as Vets 24, sped down the steep, icicle-slick Metropolitan Avenue Hill in the Greenpoint section of Brooklyn.
He was riding in a nine-year-old Everest and Jennings wheelchair, from the Queens VA. Right now, he was pretending the chair was a Datsun 280-Z, silver metallic, with a shining T-roof.
"Aahh-eee-ahh!" He let out a banshee screech that pierced the deserted, solemnly quiet morning streets.
His long thin face was buried in the oily collar of a khaki Army fatigue parka replete with peeling sergeant's stripes, and his frizzy blond ponytail blew behind him like ribboning bike streamers. Periodically, he closed his eyes which were tearing badly in the burning cold wind. His tightly pinched face was getting as red as the gleaming Berry Street stoplight he was racing through with absolute abandon.
His forehead was burning, but he loved the sensation of unexpected freedom.
He thought he could actually feel streams of blood surge through both his wasted legs again.
Harry Stemkowsky's rattling wheelchair finally came to a halt in front of the all-night Walgreen's Drugstore.
Under the fatigue jacket and the two bulky sweaters he wore, his heart was hammering wildly. He was so goddamn excitedhis whole life was beginning all over again.
Today, Harry Stemkowsky felt he could do just about anything.
The drugstore's glass door, which he nudged open, was covered with a montage of cigarette posters. Almost immediately, he was blessed with a draft of welcoming warm air, filled with the smells of greasy bacon and fresh-perked coffee.
He smiled and rubbed his hands together in a gesture that was almost gleeful. For the first time in years he was no longer a cripple.
And for the first time in more than a dozen hard years Harry Stemkowsky had a purpose.
He had to smile. When he wrapped his mind around the whole deal, the full, unbelievable implications of Green Band, he just had to smile.
Right at this moment, Sergeant Harry Stemkowsky, the official messenger for Green Band, was safely at his firebase inside New York City. Now everything could begin.
Copyright by James Patterson"
What People are saying about this
From the Author:
love to lose myself in a thriller--especially the rare one that moves along like an out-of-control freight train. The thriller that actually got me started writing was The Day of the Jackal.
With Black Friday, I wanted to concoct a shamelessly manipulative story that the reader couldn't wait to finish, but didn't want to end. Now get on this freight train!