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Art critic Jeremy Grove is found dead, his face frozen in a mask of terror. His body temperature is grotesquely high; he is discovered in a room barricaded from the inside; the smell of brimstone is everywhere...and the unmistakable imprint of a claw is burned into the wall. As more bodies are discovered--their only connection the bizarre but identical manner of death--the world begins to wonder if the Devil has, in fact, come to collect his due. Teaming with Police Officer Vincent DAgosta (The Relic), Agent Pendergast is determined to solve this case that appears to defy everything except supernatural logic. Their investigation takes them from the luxury estates of Long Island to the crumbling, legend-shrouded castles of the Italian countryside, where Pendergast faces the most treacherous and dangerous adversary of his career.
Art critic Jeremy Grove is found dead, his face frozen in a mask of terror. His body temperature is grotesquely high; he is discovered in a room barricaded from the inside; the smell of brimstone is everywhere ... and the unmistakable imprint of a claw is burned into the wall. As more bodies are discovered--their only connection the bizarre but identical manner of death--the world begins to wonder if the Devil has, is fact, come to collect his due. Teaming with Police Officer Vincent D'Agosta, Agent Pendergast is determined to solve this case that appears to defy all logic. Their investigation takes them from the luxury estates of Long Island to the crumbling, legend-shrouded castles of the Italian countryside, where Pendergast faces the most treacherous and dangerous adversary of his career.
DOUGLAS PRESTON and LINCOLN CHILD are bestselling coauthors of 13 novels. Preston, a regular contributor to The New Yorker, worked for the American Museum of Natural History. He is an expert horseman who has ridden thousands of miles across the West. Child, a former book editor, is passionate about motorcycles, exotic parrots, and nineteenth-century English literature. The authors encourage readers to visit and send them e-mail at their Web site, www.prestonchild.com.
Preston's first job was as a writer for the American Museum of Natural History in New York -- an eight year stint that led to the publication of his first book, Dinosaurs in the Attic and introduced him to his future writing partner, Lincoln Child, then working as an editor at St. Martin's Press. The two men bonded, as they worked closely together on the book. As the project neared completion, Preston treated Child to a private midnight tour of the museum, an excursion that proved fateful. As Preston tells it, "...in the darkened Hall of Late Dinosaurs, under a looming T. Rex, Child turned to [me] and said: 'This would make the perfect setting for a thriller!'" Their first collaborative effort, Relic, would not be published until 1995, by which time Preston had picked up stakes and moved to Santa Fe to pursue a full-time writing career.
In addition to writing novels (The Codex, Tyrannosaur Canyon) and nonfiction books on the American Southwest (Cities of Gold, Ribbons of Time), Preston has collaborated with Lincoln Child on several post-Relic thrillers. While not strictly a series, the books share characters and events, and the stories all take place in the same universe. The authors refer to this phenomenon as "The Preston-Child Pangea."
Preston divides his time between New Mexico and Maine, while Child lives in New Jersey -- a situation that necessitates a lot of long-distance communication. But their partnership (facilitated by phone, fax, and email) is remarkably productive and thoroughly egalitarian: They shape their plots through a series of discussions; Child sends an outline of a set of chapters; Preston writes the first draft of those chapters, which is subsequently rewritten by Child; and in this way the novel is edited back and forth until both authors are happy. They attribute the relatively seamless surface of their books to the fact that "[a]ll four hands have found their way into practically every sentence, at one time or another."
In between, Preston remains busy. He is a regular contributor to magazines like National Geographic, The New Yorker, Natural History, Smithsonian, Harper's, and Travel & Leisure, and he continues with varied solo literary projects. Which is not to say his partnership with Lincoln Child is over. Fans of the bestselling Preston-Child thrillers can be assured there are bigger and better adventures to come.
His brother is Richard Preston, the bestselling author of The Hot Zone, The Cobra Event, The Wild Trees, and other novels and nonfiction narratives.
Preston is an expert horseman and a member of the Long Riders Guild.
He is also a National Geographic Society Fellow, has traveled extensively around the world, and contributes archaeological articles to many magazines.
In our interview, Preston shared some fun and fascinating personal anecdotes.
"My first job was washing dishes in the basement of a nursing home for $2.10 an hour, and I learned as much about the value of hard work there as I ever did later."
"I need to write in a small room -- the smaller the better. I can't write in a big room where someone might sneak up behind my back."
"My hobbies are mountain biking, horseback riding and packing, canoeing and kayaking, hiking, camping, cooking, and skiing."
Agnes carefully locked the car-it paid to be careful, even in this neighborhood-and, fumbling with the massive set of keys, found the right one and stuck it into the lock. The heavy sheet-metal gate swung inward, exposing a broad expanse of green lawn that swept three hundred yards down to the beach, flanked by two dunes. A red light on a keypad just inside the gate began blinking, and she entered the code with nervous fingers. She had thirty seconds before the sirens went off. Once, she had dropped her keys and couldn't punch in the code in time, and the thing had awakened practically the whole town and brought three police cars. Mr. Jeremy had been so angry she thought he would breathe fire. It had been awful.
Agnes punched the last button and the light turned green. She breathed a sigh of relief, locked the gate, and paused to cross herself. Then she drew out her rosary, held the first beadreverently between her fingers. Fully armed now, she turned and began waddling across the lawn on short, thick legs, walking slowly to allow herself time to intone the Our Fathers, the Hail Marys, and the Glory Bes in quiet Spanish. She always said a decade on her rosary when entering the Grove Estate.
The vast gray house loomed in front of her, a single eyebrow window in the roof peak frowning like the eye of a Cyclops, yellow against the steel gray of the house and sky. Seagulls circled above, crying restlessly.
Agnes was surprised. She never remembered that light on before. What was Mr. Jeremy doing in the attic at seven o'clock in the morning? Normally he didn't get out of bed until noon.
Finishing her prayers, she replaced the rosary and crossed herself again: a swift, automatic gesture, made with a rough hand that had seen decades of domestic work. She hoped Mr. Jeremy wasn't still awake. She liked to work in an empty house, and when he was up, everything was so unpleasant: the cigarette ashes he dropped just behind her mop, the dishes he heaped in the sink just after she had washed, the comments and the endless swearing to himself, into the phone or at the newspaper, always followed by a harsh laugh. His voice was like a rusty knife-it cut and slashed the air. He was thin and mean and stank of cigarettes and drank brandy at lunch and entertained sodomites at all hours of the day and night. Once he had tried to speak Spanish with her but she had quickly put an end to that. Nobody spoke Spanish to her except family and friends, and Agnes Torres spoke English perfectly well enough.
On the other hand, Agnes had worked for many people in her life, and Mr. Jeremy was very correct with her employment. He paid her well, always on time, he never asked her to stay late, never changed her schedule, and never accused her of stealing. Once, early on, he had blasphemed against the Lord in her presence, and she had spoken to him about it, and he had apologized quite civilly and had never done it again.
She came up the curving flagstone path to the back door, inserted a second key, and once again fumbled nervously with the keypad, turning off the internal alarm.
The house was gloomy and gray, the mullioned windows in front looking out on a long seaweed-strewn beach to an angry ocean. The sound of the surf was muffled here and the house was hot. Unusually hot.
She sniffed. There was a strange smell in the air, like a greasy roast left too long in the oven. She waddled into the kitchen but it was empty. The dishes were heaped up, and the place was a mess as usual, stale food everywhere, and yet the smell wasn't coming from here. It looked like Mr. Jeremy had cooked fish the night before. She didn't usually clean his house on Tuesdays, but he'd had one of his countless dinner parties the prior evening. Labor Day had come and gone a month before, but Mr. Jeremy's weekend parties wouldn't end until November.
She went into the living room and sniffed the air again. Something was definitely cooking somewhere. And there was another smell on top of it, as if somebody had been playing with matches.
Agnes Torres felt a vague sense of alarm. Everything was more or less as she had left it when she went away yesterday, at two in the afternoon, except that the ashtrays were overflowing with butts and the usual empty wine bottles stood on the sideboard, dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and someone had dropped soft cheese on the rug and stepped in it.
She raised her plump face and sniffed again. The smell came from above.
She mounted the sweep of stairs, treading softly, and paused to sniff at the landing. She tiptoed past Grove's study, past his bedroom door, continued down the hall, turned the dogleg, and came to the door to the third floor. The smell was stronger here and the air was heavier, warmer. She tried to open the door but found it locked.
She took out her bunch of keys, clinked through them, and unlocked the door. Madre de Dios-the smell was much worse. She mounted the steep unfinished stairs, one, two, three, resting her arthritic legs for a moment on each tread. She rested again at the top, breathing heavily.
The attic was vast, with one long hall off which were half a dozen unused children's bedrooms, a playroom, several bathrooms, and an unfinished attic space jammed with furniture and boxes and horrible modern paintings.
At the far end of the hall, she saw a bar of yellow light under the door to the last bedroom.
She took a few tentative steps forward, paused, crossed herself again. Her heart was hammering, but with her hand clutching the rosary she knew she was safe. As she approached the door, the smell grew steadily worse.
She tapped lightly on it, just in case some guest of Mr. Jeremy was sleeping in there, hungover or sick. But there was no response. She grasped the doorknob and was surprised to find it slightly warm to the touch. Was there a fire? Had somebody fallen asleep, cigarette in hand? There was definitely a faint smell of smoke, but it wasn't just smoke somehow: it was something stronger. Something foul.
She tried the doorknob, found it locked. It reminded her of the time, when she was a little girl at the convent school, when crazy old Sister Ana had died and they had to force open her door.
Somebody on the other side might need her assistance; might be sick or incapacitated. Once again she fumbled with the keys. She had no idea which one went to the door, so it wasn't until perhaps the tenth try that the key turned. Holding her breath, she opened the door, but it moved only an inch before stopping, blocked by something. She pushed, pushed harder, heard a crash on the other side.
Santa Maria, it was going to wake up Mr. Jeremy. She waited, but there was no sound of his tread, no slamming bathroom door or flushing toilet, none of the sounds that signaled his irascible rising.
She pushed at the door and was able to get her head inside, holding her breath against the smell. A thin screen of haze drifted in the room, and it was as hot as an oven. The room had been shut up for years-Mr. Jeremy despised children-and dirty spiderwebs hung from the peeling beadboard walls. The crash had been caused by the toppling of an old armoire that had been pushed up against the door. In fact, all the furniture in the room seemed to have been piled against the door, except for the bed. The bed, she could see, was on the far side of the room. Mr. Jeremy lay on it, fully clothed.
"Mr. Jeremy?"
But Agnes Torres knew there would be no answer. Mr. Jeremy wasn't sleeping, not with his charred eyes burned permanently open, the ashy cone of his mouth frozen in a scream and his blackened tongue-swelled to the size of a chorizo sausage-sticking straight up from it like a flagpole. A sleeping man wouldn't be lying with his elbows raised above the bed, fists clenched so hard that blood had leaked between the fingers. A sleeping man wouldn't have his torso scorched and caved in upon itself like a burned log. She had seen many dead people during her childhood in Colombia, and Mr. Jeremy looked deader than any of them. He was as dead as they come.
She heard someone speaking and realized it was herself, murmuring En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo ... She crossed herself yet again, fumbling out her rosary, unable to move her feet or take her eyes from the scene in the room. There was a scorched mark on the floor, right at the foot of the bed: a mark which Agnes recognized.
In that moment, she understood exactly what had happened to Mr. Jeremy Grove.
A muffled cry escaped her throat and she suddenly had the energy to back out of the room and shut the door. She fumbled with the keys and relocked it, all the while murmuring Creo en Dios, Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra. She crossed herself again and again and again, clutching the rosary and holding it up to her chest as she backed down the hall, step by step, sobs mingling with her mumbled prayers.
The cloven hoofprint burned into the floor told her everything she needed to know. The devil had finally come for Jeremy Grove.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Brimstone by Douglas Preston Lincoln Child Copyright © 2004 by Lincoln Child and Splendide Mendax, Inc.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Anonymous
Posted August 8, 2009
This is the last in the Pendergast series if you happen to be reading them in the order recommended by the authors. It is just as readable as a stand alone novel but if read in sequence it ties together many story lines from the previous 4 books, especially that involving the enigmatic Constance Greene.
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.RobertGaines
Posted March 19, 2010
Normally I am stingy in donating stars, but I truly believe Brimstone deserves 4 1/2. It captured me from the very beginning with the perfect modality of suspense wherein I feel the metronome ticking methodically while the action and suspencse is building. I have the feeling of surging interest driving forward, while held back by the author's pace. The reult is truly seductive tension and magnificent suspense. The only fault I found was in one transition (which I won't describe because it would ruin the plot for those who haven't read the book.) This transition, I felt could have been smoother. Maybe the authors were as impatient in writing it as I was in reading it. As a trivial matter, the authors should be spanked and sent to their rooms without dinner for using the double possessive e.g., it belonged to a friend of mine. "Belonged to" is possessive, and "of mine" is repetitious and uses a possessive pronoun as object of a preposition. This usage caused me to ponder if that section wasn't dicatated to a recorder rather than typed on a computer.
The authors should be congratulated for the research that went into the conceptual environment of the book. There is nothing hum-drum and I felt I learned quite a bit. Even the constructon of violins keeps interest bright. This is an elegant novel and a "DON'T MISS" book--for sure!
2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted October 19, 2009
Everybody who likes the books by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child should definitly read this one. Its one of their best books so far.
But even for new readers if you are looking for a page-turning thriller you wont be able to put this one down.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted August 1, 2009
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Preston and Child wear me out. Their plots are always intense - where do these two come up with plot-lines like this? Each Pendergast book I read just keeps getting more intense - and better than the last. I was so glad to see Lt. D'Agosta back - his character goes with with Pendergasts.........I'm ready for the next book of the series...
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Brimstone is the fifth fantastic read from the ingenious Preston and Child duo and it doesn't disappoint. I thought that the book was simply fantastic and extremely delectable, and the moment I finished it I felt a deep hunger to pounce on the next, if I had the sixth book in my possession I have no doubt that I would be unable to leave it alone. Meticulously researched, the novel travels from the streets of New York into the lush and romantic Italy, where Pendergast meets with a nemesis so grand, evil and intense that everyone has little doubt about it being the devil himself. I adore that these books have an aura of enigmatic and mystical proportions, anything is possible and everything somehow has an explanation.
The book is quite long but a lot of things happen and the chases, the intrigue and the clues take up a lot of time, making the entire story feel alive and throbbing with anticipation of what happens next. My favorite literary crush, FBI Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast is fabulous as usual, with plenty of tricks up his sleeves ( literally) and with his senses heightened to take on this hard challenge he takes charge at solving another unusual crime while risking his life. When a famous art critic dies under strange circumstances Pendergast doesn't tale long to start connecting small clues, they form into a cluster of horrifying secrets and involved more people who seem to die in similar fashion before anyone can get to them. There's a connection between the strange, rich people and the hellish ways in which they perished, but the closer they agent gets to the truth the more obstacles appear on his way, seems that not only is the devil out to get him but the mortals involved in protecting the secrets are as ruthless and vicious as they come. His research takes him and former NYPD officer Vincent D'Agosta to monasteries, castles and catacombs of ancient Italians, where the secrets are gravely guarded and finding the truth is tougher than anyone could have expected. I adored the last hundred pages, the tale really took a life of it's own and the ending was stunning, I am worried but hopeful, gah..books such as this one really take me somewhere else, and I can't wait to dive back in.
- Kasia S.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted June 8, 2006
This book intrigued me with a twisting, turning plot. the characters all had lifelike flaws, however, my favorite was Pendergast, an outstanding masterpiece. he is my favorite type of character intelligent, cool, and collected. I loved how all of the answers were not given at the end of the book there are mysterious things left to wonder about. for instance, who is Constance? where-and when- is she from? i cannot wait to see this and other questions answered in the next installation of the series.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted May 6, 2012
makes a nest
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Reviewed by Anne B. for Readers Favorite
How could a reader/listener go wrong with "Brimstone"? It has three factors that ensure it will be a thrill ride: 1. Douglas Preston, 2. Lincoln Child, and 3. Pendergast. Need I say more? For those of you not familiar with Child, Preston and Pendergast, let me enlighten you. Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston make a fabulous writing team. They have each penned tales alone and the books are great but when they form a team they are fabulous. This unstoppable duo has penned 18 books of which Pendergast appears in 12. Pendergast is my absolute favorite character from their novels. How they ever came up with him is beyond my imagination but I’m glad they did. FBI Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast is a tall thin man with snow white hair. He has been accused of being an albino. He is very wealthy and comes from a rather unique family. Pendergast tends to turn up on the scene when something supernatural appears to be at large.
In "Brimstone" Pendergast teams up with his best friend Police officer Vincent D’Agosta to solve a bizarre murder. It appears the devil himself is at work when the victim is found burned to a crisp from the inside out with a hoof print branded into the floor at the scene of the crime.
Preston and Child have a knack for unobtrusively resurrecting characters from previous books. Sometimes it is just the mention of a name and sometimes the character returns for a major role. With each return Pendergast and D’Agosta become more real, more fleshed out, more defined and more real. I have come to love Pendergast and feel as though I know him. Once again my favorite duo has delivered a spine tingling thriller. Don’t miss it.
Luvpetz
Posted March 7, 2012
This is a great book with many twists and turns and there is never a dull moment. The two authors are splendid writers that convey the characters and the locations in their books like no other.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Preston and Child are some of my favorite writters, and this book puts them on the top. This book kept me guessing and sitting on the edge of my seat. I lent this book to all of my friends and now they all read Preston and Child. They dont write books, they write magic.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.I very much enjoyed the story and of course characters, but I did not like the authors use of applying different languages and words that are not in the common vernacular. If one is familiar with the elitist life style there will be no problem relating with the many examples of this life style that the average reader might not find entertaining. If you can put up with words most people don't use nor much lees know the meaning to, the story is a great one.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted December 21, 2010
Each book in the Pendergast 'series' is amazing so far. I find myself unable to put them down once I begin to read. This is one of my favorite adventures.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Brimstone is a suspenceful read, a thriller that keeps the pages turning. Everytime I put this book down, I just couldn't wait to return to it and continue. A mystery, thriller with a cast of colorful characters. Masterfully set story that take you into the world of D'Agosta and Pendergast in their quest to solve the mystery of three murders.
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Posted August 17, 2010
I Also Recommend:
Worst book/author I've read in a long time. Don't waste a penny on this book. If some one gives it to you for free, don't waste your time.
0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted July 14, 2010
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Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.This book held my attention the whole time just like the other ones before it. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child make a great dou writing books. Toward the end when count Fosco expanded how he killed the group of Americans after they did there little cermony years earlier. The microwave gun was really creative.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted February 9, 2009
I Also Recommend:
I have read this series from the beginning in order (so I have not yet read Dance of Death, Book of the Dead and The Wheel of Darkness). So far, this is my favorite of the series (although Cabinet of Curiosities and Relic are up there). A real page-turner. Very suspenseful. Read it, you will not be disappointed.
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Posted December 19, 2008
I just finished reading Brimstone and was not able it put it down. The authors really hold you to the end. I recommend this book for those who love a good mystery.
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Posted August 25, 2008
I loved every character. great character development, suspence, plot, and a fast read.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted May 2, 2007
I have read several of the Pendergast series novels and this is probably my favorite. Even though it contains several of the same characters from other books, the storyline is unique. As usual with all the other books I have read by these two authors, the only problem I had was that I was dissapointed that the story was over. I usually end up going out and buying another one the same day and will regret when the time comes that I have read all of their books!
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Overview
Agent Pendergast returns in a new suspense thriller from New York Times bestselling authors Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child.Art critic Jeremy Grove is found dead, his face frozen in a mask of terror. His body temperature is grotesquely high; he is discovered in a room barricaded from the inside; the smell of brimstone is everywhere...and the unmistakable imprint of a claw is burned into the wall. As more bodies are discovered--their only connection the bizarre but identical manner of death--the world begins to wonder if the Devil has, in fact, come to collect his due. Teaming with Police Officer Vincent DAgosta (The Relic), Agent Pendergast is determined to solve this case that appears...