Crashersby Dana Haynes, David Ledoux
In this fresh and utterly compelling thriller, a team of "Crashers" must find the source of a deliberate plane crash—before another one takes place.
Whenever a plane goes down in the U.S., a "Go Team" made up of experts is assembled by the NTSB to investigate. Those people - each of them a leading expert in a specific area - are known as informally as
In this fresh and utterly compelling thriller, a team of "Crashers" must find the source of a deliberate plane crash—before another one takes place.
Whenever a plane goes down in the U.S., a "Go Team" made up of experts is assembled by the NTSB to investigate. Those people - each of them a leading expert in a specific area - are known as informally as "Crashers."
When a passenger plane, a Vermeer One Eleven, slams into the ground outside Portland, Oregon, a team is quickly assembled to investigate the cause. Under the leadership of the IIC (Investigator in Charge), Leonard "Tommy" Tomzak, a pathologist who recently quit the NTSB who also happened to be in the area when the Vermeer One Eleven went down, the team gets to work as fast as possible. Assembled by Susan Tanaka, the inter-governmental liason from the NTSB on this crash, the team includes: Kathryn "Kiki" Duvall (voice recorder specialist), known as a"sonar witch" who can hear things that others can't and can pinpoint an accent from anywhere in the world; John Roby (Mad Bomber), former cop and bomb expert, who can detect the use of an incendiary device simply by smelling the air; Walter Mulroney (Structures), looks more like a cowboy than an engineer but can rebuild just about any plane from the bolts up; along with Peter Kim (Power Plant) and Isaiah Grey (Operations). Usually the team has months to determine the cause of a crash. But this time it's different. This time, the plane was brought down deliberately, without leaving a trace, and this was only a trial run.
In LA, Daria Gibron - a former Shin Bet agent, now under the protection of the FBI- spots a group of suspicious-looking men. Missing her former life of action, she attaches herself to them only to learn that, somehow, they were responsible for the plane crash and are preparing for another action. While her FBI handler tries to find her and save her, Daria risks her life to try to get close enough to learn what's going on and thwart the coming terrorist action. But time is running out and her cover story is running thin.
A fresh and utterly compelling thriller, an original mix of action, investigation and a brilliant cast of characters that grabs the reader in the way few novels can and fewer do.
"You absolutely must read Crashers. I literally couldn't put this book down. Dana Haynes is a gifted writer who grabs you on page one and doesn't let you go until the final page. This is going to be one of the best and most breathless reads of the summer.” Nelson DeMille, author of The Lion
“Outstanding! Crashers combines the ferocious action you usually see on a movie screen with a fascinating look at the way a major airline crash is investigated. Crashers is guaranteed to be one of the year's best thrillers.” Phillip Margolin, author of Supreme Justice
“Imagine an entire season of ""24"" crammed into a single book. That's what you get with Crashers, a fast-paced, twisty thriller that just begging to be made into a movie.” April Henry, co-author of Face of Betrayal and Hand of Fate
“Crashers is a supersonic jet of a thriller, loaded with compelling detail and page-turning suspense and action.” Jeff Abbott, author of Panic and Trust Me
“Dana Haynes delivers big-time with Crashers, a spectacular, timely, un-put-down-able, near-perfect thriller whose every page sizzles with action, intrigue, information and intelligence. If you're a thriller fan, or even just a lover of fine writing and terrific story-telling, do yourself a favor and buy this book.” John Lescroart, author of Betrayal
“This thriller debut is filled with excitement and knowledge of NTSB procedures and problems. Highly recommended - just don't eat during the crash-scene investigation.” Library Journal (starred review)
“Compelling…The forensic details fascinate but aren't for the weak of stomach…The slam-bang crash landing of a conclusion will leave readers anxiously awaiting the promised sequel.” Publishers Weekly
“Action-oriented readers will embrace this new thriller… well paced… plenty of tension.” Booklist
Outstanding! Crashers combines the ferocious action you usually see on a movie screen with a fascinating look at the way a major airline crash is investigated.
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Read an Excerpt
DENNIS SILVERMAN AND MEGHAN Danvers woke up almost simultaneously.
As the rest of Portland, Oregon, was getting ready for dinner or making the commute home, Dennis and Meghan rolled out of their beds. They had never met and would never meet. They were just two people waking up in Portland, Oregon, on a sunny and glorious late-afternoon Monday in March. Dennis, in the spendy, gentrified Pearl District, third floor of a confectionary factory turned into half-a-million-dollar condos. Meghan, in the Residence Inn at Portland International Airport.
Dennis had been so keyed up, he’d slept barely three hours. He started his day by scanning a half-dozen blogs on his homemade laptop, while he downed two Red Bulls and two Snickers, his traditional breakfast. MTV played in the background but he hardly noticed. He was so nervous, his hands shook. And every time he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he grinned.
This was going to be a day. A hell of a day. A day people would remember. A day the media whores would recount on its anniversary and people would ask: where were you when you heard?
Meghan awoke to the sound of a travel alarm. She drank bottled water she’d set out the night before, then went to work on one hundred crunches, one hundred push-ups with her bare feet up on one of the hotel-room chairs. CNN played in the background but she hardly noticed.
She showered, called her husband, James, in Reston, Virginia. They talked for exactly two minutes about nothing in particular. The baby was fine. The weather was crappy in Virginia. March 7, and there was black ice everywhere. Meghan pushed aside the hotel-room curtains and squinted into the lovely evening, the sun peeking over the West Hills, illuminating the radiant Mount Hood to the east, topped year-round in snow.
They said “I love you” and hung up.
PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
Ninety minutes later, Meghan Danvers found herself standing in the shadow of her very own jet airliner. It wasn’t “hers” hers, but she was the pi lot and the senior officer, so, as far as she was concerned, the mammoth Vermeer 111 was all hers.
She breathed in the slightly salty tang of the Columbia River, just a little to the north, and studied the wispy hints of clouds that dotted the sky. One octa, she said to herself: only one eighth of the way toward being overcast.
“It’s a looker.” Russ Kazmanski noted the boss’s attention on the sky.
“Sweet,” Meghan said. She wore the navy Eisenhower jacket and matching trousers of CascadeAir. Tall and willow thin, the uniform hung nicely on her athletic frame. Russ wore the same, although he was short and paunchy, and she doubted that he had ever ironed his trousers.
“Almost no wind up top,” she said. “Day like this, must be what it’s like flying in outer space.”
Russ squinted up at her, smiling. He knelt in the shadow of the landing gear of the colossal 111, about the size of a Boeing 737. Above their heads, the retractable gangplank of Terminal C4 began inching out, touching the skin of their four-engine wide-body. “You a NASA wannabe, Skip?”
“Damn straight.” Meghan canted her head, running her hand through her hair, which she wore tightly cropped. She was African American; Russ was white. It dawned on her that less than one generation ago, no white pilot—especially one eleven years her elder—would have called a black woman “Skip.” “Stewardess,” maybe.
He grinned. “No kidding?”
“I almost made the program, eight or nine years ago. I never told you that?”
“Nope.” The laptop at Russ’s knee chimed. It sat on the cool, gritty tarmac, its infrared emitter aimed at a portal in the underbelly of the jet, ten feet directly over his head. The emitter, shaped like a penlight and shining in the invisible range, was attached to the laptop by a gooseneck flex tube. The underbelly portal was marked GAMELAN. “They screwed up, not taking you. You’d’ve been a hit with the Flash Gordon set.”
She smiled at the kneeling man. “Why, Kazmanski. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Russ made a fist and blew into it. It had hit fifty-two today, but with the sun going down, the temperature was getting ready to fall like a Warner Bros. anvil.
Russ Kazmanski had been the copilot with Meghan Danvers for a week now, running a three-legged pattern from PDX to LAX to Sea-Tac and back again. They were two days away from a four-day layover in Los Angeles, before starting the rotation all over. Russ had enjoyed his week of flying the right-hand seat with the skip and looked forward to staying on this assignment.
“What’s the FDR say?” Meghan asked, and knelt, too, to get a better angle on the laptop screen linked by micro wave to the flight data recorder. There was a solid, almost masculine quality to her movements, Russ noted. Like most pi lots, she exuded confidence. Both kneeling, it was easier to speak over the sounds of the food-services truck that had just arrived.
“Nine hundred and seventy-one telltales are green-for-go,” he said, tapping the keyboard at his feet, which was reading information from the Gamelan flight data recorder. “And we got two yellow. No reds.”
“The yellows?” Meghan craned her neck to see from Russ’s angle.
“Nothing major. The Gamelan says we need to have one of the nodes of the transponder looked at within the next seven thousand five hundred miles, or five cycles.” A cycle is one leg of a journey; a takeoff, flight, and landing. “Also, we got a little blip on the port elevator. The box says check it within seven cycles.”
Meghan shook her head. “That is the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“No shit.” Back in the day, checking out almost 2,000 systems would’ve taken a weekend. The new flight data recorder being released by Gamelan Industries made the preflight check in twenty minutes. Russ began disassembling the transmitter. “Let’s hear it for technology. This gadget is made right here in Portland, you know.”
He closed the laptop, picked it up. His knees popped as he stood straight.
“Okay, I’m on the walkaround,” Meghan said. “You want to start on the preflight?”
“I’m on it.” He glanced around, admired the cerulean sky and the snowy slopes of Mount Hood. They were an hour away from sunset and the mountain glowed like it was radioactive. “I could retire here.”
“Tell me that when it’s raining,” Meghan Danvers said, and began walking around her three-story-tall bird.
REST STOP, INTERSTATE 5
Dennis Silverman didn’t bother hiding. He drove his Outback off the interstate and into the rest area. Harsh white lights on very tall poles illuminated the blacktop area. The only other vehicles in sight in were two double-long truck-and-trailer rigs, a handful of RVs and campers, and one dilapidated Volkswagen Bug with a couple of twenty-somethings in tie-dyed shirts and raggedly cuff ed jeans, leaning on the hood and poring over a badly folded map of the Pacific Northwest. They looked like they’d just stepped out of 1972. Proof of a fold in the time stream, Dennis thought.
He was about equal distance between Portland and Salem, the state capital. A serrated copse of Douglas firs separated the rest area from I-5 but did a poor job of keeping down the drone of highway traffic. Dennis had come here many other times in the last few months. The first few weeks, he’d parked at one end and waited, then at the other end for a little while. He’d finally found exactly the spot he needed. He checked his waterproof, pressure-proof watch; he’d gone online twice that morning to make sure his watch was on the money. He had used a U.S. Navy Web site to confirm the time. There was very little room for error in this game.
Satisfied, he strolled to the rear of the Outback, opened the hatch, and pulled out a laptop computer and a device that looked like a long microphone attached to a short tripod. He returned to the front of his SUV and hiked himself up onto the hood, feeling the heat of the engine through his trousers. He set up the tripod on the hood next to him, attached it to the laptop via a USB port, popped the lid, and booted up. The twenty-somethings had stopped trying to read the map and were making out. The truck drivers cared for little that happened outside their cabs. If the RV crowd was paying attention, Dennis couldn’t tell. And he wasn’t all that concerned anyway.
A couple of squirrels were nosing around, three parking spaces away. Dennis dug a Ziploc bag out of his REI ski jacket and sprinkled walnuts on the ground. Three more squirrels hopped in his direction.
As the laptop screen began to glow, he grinned and removed his wire-rimmed glasses, cleaning them on the untucked bottom of his Farscape T-shirt, which hung below the ski jacket. He’d thought about dressing up for the occasion, knowing something momentous was about to happen, even if no one else did. It’s important to look businesslike when you’re about to change history. But in the end he left the house with his one suit, one dress shirt, and one tie hanging forgotten from the hook on the bathroom door. He’d made it halfway to the rest stop before he remembered. He smiled, realizing that when he told the story of this day, he’d be wearing a really sharp suit.
He glanced at the hippies and the truckers. Let them stare. Sure, he was about to commit a crime. And in Oregon, it was a capital offense. But so what? No one here today would recognize his crime, or realize that anything bad was going on. Hell, Dennis thought, there wasn’t even a good word for the crime he was about to commit. They’d have to come up with a name for it. Maybe they’d call it a silverman. Maybe he was about to commit first-degree silverman.
The images on the screen clarified themselves. Dennis tapped madly at the keyboard, making no mistakes, no type-overs or go-backs. He’d done this a thousand times in practice and he knew exactly what he was doing.
Time to change the world.
CASCADEAIR FLIGHT 818, GATE C4, PDX
Fifteen minutes later, Annie Colvin, the chief flight attendant for Flight 818, rapped on the cabin door and poked her head in. “Got ’em corralled,” she said, in the tone a preschool teacher uses to announce that naptime has commenced. “Ready when you are.”
In the left-hand seat, Meghan Danvers nodded and looked back over her shoulder. “Thanks. Tower’s giving us the hold sign but we’re up next.”
Annie Colvin started to back out, then stopped. “Anybody want anything before I buckle up?”
Meghan said, “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Russ Kazmanski turned as far as he could in the cumbersome copilot’s chair. “I’ll take some coffee, if you’ve got it brewed up.”
“Hang on,” she said and backed out.
“Decaf!” Russ called, hoping she heard him. “That’s all I need, the jangles.”
“Careful,” Meghan warned playfully, and rolled her eyes, the color of nutmeg, toward the ceiling panel equidistant between their seats. The cockpit voice recorder was housed above that panel. “Big Brother’s listening.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t mention the ganja, mon.”
He grinned, but Meghan frowned. “Not funny, partner. CascadeAir doesn’t even allow joking about that.”
“I know,” he said soothingly. It had been a joke, and they both knew it. In the past six or seven years, a corporate policy of zero tolerance for alcohol and drug use had turned into a siege mentality. Substance-abuse posters were mandatory in all crew lounges, and pamphlets offering help and counseling seemed to arrive in employees’ mail almost monthly.
Annie Colvin came back with the coffee; it was not in the plastic that passengers got, but a proper china cup. “Here you go,” she said and handed it over the high-backed chair. “Decaf all right?”
He noticed that she’d put in milk and had provided a spoon and a saucer to put it on. He winked back at her. “Great, thanks. We’re—Hold it.”
Annie saw both pi lots tilt their heads a fraction of an inch, hearing something over their headsets.
Meghan said, “Roger that, tower.”
“Okay, we’re rolling,” Russ said to Annie. “We’ll see you topside.”
She said, “Bye,” and headed back to her foldout seat in the galley.
Russ stowed the coffee cup and saucer on the recessed panel at his right knee, where it was out of the way. He knew the skipper was a real stickler for protocol, but the softly curved shroud was made of vinyl laminate over thermoformed plastic, all perfectly waterproof. In fact, the surface was intended for food and drinks during flight.
The moon shone down, illuminating the tarmac runway. A dull glow emanated from the south: downtown Portland. The moonlight made Mount Hood a little pink. The Vermeer 111’s harsh white lights turned night into day, bled all the color out of the grass to the left and right of the runway.
Meghan queued her jet up to the line, ready to roll. She toggled her microphone. “ATC, this is CascadeAir Eight One Eight, in the blocks and ready to sprint.”
The air traffic control voice that came back was surprisingly West Virginian for Oregon. “Ah, roger that, Eight One Eight. Y’all got limitless ceiling to night and little wind. You are cleared for takeoff on runway two eight lima. Have yourselves a good one.”
“CascadeAir Eight One Eight, roger that.” Meghan nudged the Vermeer 111 out into the wide runway. “Thanks for the hospitality, Portland. We’ll see you next week. Eight One Eight out.”
They began to pick up speed. Meghan glanced over just as Russ glanced at her. They winked at each other; kids with big, multimillion-dollar toys. Russ said, “Power’s set.”
“All right, then. Read ’em off.”
“Seventy-five knots,” Russ chanted. “One hundred . . . one twenty.”
“Vee one,” the captain said. V-codes represent aircraft speed, and V1 is the decision speed. Hit that speed and you’re committed to taking off.
Which they did. Smoothly.
Russ said, “Positive climb.”
“Okay, gear up.”
He hit the landing-gear handle. They could hear the mechanism clamor beneath them. Both waited to hit a layer of turbulent air, as so often happens, and Russ casually put a hand over the coffee cup that Annie had brought him. When it happened that evening, it was as soft as the gentlest breeze. They doubted any of the passengers felt it.
“LNAV on auto?” Meghan said.
“Got it.” The copilot put the lateral navigation controls on autopilot. “You’ve got good climb thrust.”
Meghan waited for a moment, watching the lights of the city spread out beneath her. “VNAV.”
Russ put the vertical navigation system on autopilot. “Gotcha.”
“Good. Flaps go to one, gear handle off,” she said, and they began chanting the after-takeoff checklist. For every term she used, Russ repeated it back at her, like a call-and-response sermon. Landing gear up and off. Flaps up. Checked up. Altimeter okay. Center autopilot on.
Meghan gently turned the sleek, massive aircraft, bringing it into a southerly direction. Russ reached for his coffee cup.
“Like a baby’s butt,” he said.
Meghan allowed herself a proud smile. “Damn straight.”
Flight 818 found its course and began picking up speed. It was still climbing to cruise altitude as it passed over a rest area off Interstate 5.
. . .
With the press of a knuckle buster—shift, option, apple, and the letter X—the handmade computer on the hood of the Outback emitted a silly, cartoonish sound. Dennis Silverman had chosen the noise because he thought it was funny. He smiled at the noise now, almost drowned out by the sound from the airliner passing overhead. He smiled down at the squirrels.
Dennis logged off the computer, closed the cover, disconnected the emitter and tripod. He was careful not to step on the twitching forms of the poisoned squirrels as he hopped down off the hood.
He did so love to play with poisons.
Excerpted from Crashers by Dana Haynes.
Copyright © 2010 by Dana Haynes.
Published in 2010 by Minotaur Books.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.
Meet the Author
Dana Haynes was, for more than twenty years, a journalist and editor at several newspapers in Oregon. Under the name Conrad Haynes, he published three traditional mysteries in the late '80s. He works for a local community college and lives in Portland, Oregon. Crashers is his first thriller. David Ledoux has narrated a range of audiobooks, for which he has won and been nominated for several Audie and Earphones Awards. His work includes reading Jonathan Franzen's Freedom, Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants, and Douglas Copeland's Hey Nostradamus!
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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I could not put this book down! Was it the best book I ever read? No, but it was certainly one of the most suspenseful and thrilling, and I spent the entire day with my nose pressed to the pages. I found it so interesting to read about the details that go into an investigation of an airplane crash. The author accomplished this without boring me to death with technical details. I enjoyed all of the characters and thought the villains were great without being over the top. It's hard for me to pick a favorite character, because they were all great. The ending got a little too far out there for me, but I enjoyed this book so much that I can easily overlook any "unbelievable" events. If you're looking for a fast-paced, suspenseful read with great characters, you will NOT be disappointed with this book. I really hope that the author writes additional books about the further adventures of this cast of characters!
One of the better thrillers I have read in a long time. The characters were so well developed that I was dissapointed there were no previous books featuring them. The book had layers of storylines as well. It kept you hooked from beginning to end.
WOW! What an airplane and roller coaster ride, both at the same time. Dana Haynes has written a terrific story by telling the reader about the crash of a large airliner and how the many people that form the group called "Crashers" gather from all over the United States to investigate thoroughly such a crash. At first this was not thought of as a terrorist act so the group does its thing as they do for a normal crash complete investigation (if any airplane crash could be normal). You as the reader are in every part of this trip from finding each specialist in their field of airplanes to the gathering of every piece of evidence regarding the plane, the crew, the manufacturers, and the passengers. Some may be out of the country but they are summoned quickly as every minute is so important in any crash investigation. You also are with the terrorists as you learn how they brought this plane down and their plans for more crashes for reasons you learn later in the book. Dennis Silverman is one of the key people in the investigation since the corporation that he works for manufactured the new and most modern "black box" carried in this flight. The crash itself occurred in Oregon. You start as you are flying and piloting the airliner on an approach to land when all goes wrong. Believe me when I say you will feel as though you are in the crew's seats. There were a few survivors but they were no help giving any information to assist the investigation. When the torn apart airplane body started to cool down, the "Crashers" entered the plane and, once again the descriptions make you feel like you could be inside trying to find body parts and plane parts and getting nauseous from particles of humans, blood, and bones as they are found. Dr. Leonard 'Tommy' Tomzak had retired from the Crashers but he was the closest to the crash site and felt it was his duty to assist, but instead became the leader of the entire investigation. As the many specialists of their field checked in at the site or by other means of communication, Tommy took over and instructed all what and where to do their thing. All the local and state police and fire departments were on site to assist as much as they could. Arrangements were made for a huge new UPS facility nearby to serve as the reconstruction area for the plane parts. First words or photographs noted every painful detail; then huge trucks and lifting equipment were found to lift and move the scattered airplane parts. A second airplane that was exactly the same as the crashed one was brought in and placed in the same huge hanger for comparison and detailed re-assembly. Many investigators were assembled from more fields than most of us have heard of. They worked together so well that all felt Tommy was doing a great job even though he had retired-HAD the meaningful word! I will not go into all the names involved but you can easily identify them as you read. The author has done a great writing job that keeps the reader in the story without confusing them. When the chance of a second crash is brought to the teams' attention, things moved even faster. This had to be prevented and the reason for the first crash had to be discovered even faster. Dana Haynes, please give us some more of your writing in this style. We need more authors to write as you wrote "Crashers" that will teach a highly important function of a group such as the Crashers while entertaining us and leaving us into your book
This thriller by hot-as-hell author Dana Haynes will knock you back in your chair until you've finished the last, explosive page!
A good thriller is one that keeps you anticipating the outcome up until the very last page; it's one where you don't know who will live or die, and who the bad guy is until the author tells you. Dana Haynes' first thriller is one of the good ones. The only problem I have with it is that I'm done reading. Crashers is about a group of investigators with the NTSB who are in charge of discovering why a plane has crashed every time one goes down. Fresh from quitting the group after an eighteen month investigation failed to find a solution, Tommy Tomzak is thrust into the lead when he's the first person with experience to make it to a devastating plane crash in Oregon. Fearing this new crash will turn into another unsolvable mystery, Tommy is reluctant to take the lead. Things get worse for him when clues start to pop up that this plane crash may not have been an accident. Crashers is the great kind of thriller where we read from both sides of the coin; we know the plane was taken down by a geek with a laser and a laptop, but we don't know who helped him or what his endgame is. We bite our nails as Tommy and the NTSB "crashers" try to investigate the cause of the crash, waiting for them to see what we see, to discover the bits and pieces we know. This is not to say Crashers doesn't leave anything to mystery, because it certainly does; Haynes' gives us just enough to keep us craving more. A great page-turner, an intense edge-of-your-seat thriller, that is Crashers. Haynes' writing is so visual I could see everything in my mind. The best part is that I just read he's working on a sequel!
Debated on even buying this book, now I am glad I did. I never reached a point where I was bored, or lost interest. Hopefully there will be more by this Author.
This author did not do her homework. A good story but her facts regarding Air Traffic Control (ATC) procedures, rules and phraseologies are 100% wrong and have no connection to reality. She doesn't know that passenger aircraft must have an IFR clearance from ATC which includes route and altitude assignment and are controlled by En Route Air Traffic Control Centers of which there are 21 Centers in the U.S. and not controlled by local Control Towers except for airport operations. In the case of this novel, that would have been Seattle, Oakland and Los Angeles Centers on the West Coast and New York in the east. Also, planes don't fly through clouds and rain without an Instrument (IFR) Clearance as there are other IFR aircraft being under ATC control in those clouds. If this part of the story was so unfactual, I have to wonder about facts and procedures mentioned for other goverment agencies. And, last but not least, Ford Motor Company does not make an F110 pickup--- how about an F150? I hope this lady will some time to do research for her next novel.
Even though I work on planes all day, and had to remember that this was fiction a few times, I still really enjoyed this one. Good character development, and a good story line (there again...it is fiction!)
great book. read it in two days. i will keep this author on my must read list. can not go wrong with this book. hope the second one is as good.
Excellent book. It starts out with action from page one and ends just the same. You need to keep reading to find out what happens next. The characters are believable and the plot is believable. The ending after solving the the crash mystery could have been better, but still a great first book, look forward to the next one and hope that the characters in this book return.
I loved it from page 1. You really do not want to stop to sleep. A true page turner with characters so real. A little larger than life but I did not care.
In an effort to do a bunch of research concerning the number one agent on my list and the thriller genre in general, I’ve been reading non-stop. I came across Crashers as one of the books my dream agent sold to MacMillan, but I have to say I was so disappointed in this book. The description of the book had me picking it up right after I bought it. I was really intrigued about learning what happens when a plane goes down, policy, procedures, etc. You have the typical elements of a thriller: short, snappy dialogue, action, high stakes and a ticking clock. However, for me, that wasn’t enough. Being an individual that has no piloting knowledge whatsoever, I didn’t have a problem with the incorrect research for piloting an airplane in this book, but I can see why a few pilots left bad reviews on the subject. Research is always key in any book. What I did have a problem with was so many point of views and characters being called by their full names all the time. It was really difficult for me to follow along and I honestly didn’t get a chance to care about any of the characters because of it. I felt distanced from them. For this reason, I couldn’t even finish the book. I think I made it about half way before I just gave up and said, “I don’t care if they all die.” There are other books in this series and I’m afraid they’re going to have the same formatting. Sometimes it works for readers, sometimes it doesn’t. This kind of book didn’t work for me.
Thrilling, excellent book. Learned what the NTSB goes through when they are called on-site. Got involved with the characters, was shocked and surprised a few times. Ending was a little far fetched, but still a very good read. Couldn't wait to see how it was all going to end. Makes me want to read Mr. Haynes other books.
I enjoyed the charachters and liked the way it switched back in forth between them. Kind of reminded me of the TV show 24 in the way that it moved from one persons persepctive to another at about the same point in time.
Could not put this one down!! Characters were believable; fadt paced and well written with some great one-liners!! Refreshing change from terrorism plots.
Page turner and i learned a lot about the science of the ntsb. Fascinating stuff and a great story to boot. You wont be disappointed.
This book puts the reader right on the scene with the characters in the book. Keeps you right on the edge of your seat, right up to the end! Can't wait for more books from this author!
At first I was not gonna buy the book. Real glad I did. There were times I couldn't put it down.