Day of Confession [NOOK Book]

Overview

A heart-thumping whirlwind of action, suspense & murder that reaches deep into the highest levels of Vatican power & uncovers a demonic scheme to massacre hundreds of thousands of Chinese in an attempt to establish a new Holy Roman Empire on the Chinese mainland in the twenty-first century.
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Day of Confession

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Overview

A heart-thumping whirlwind of action, suspense & murder that reaches deep into the highest levels of Vatican power & uncovers a demonic scheme to massacre hundreds of thousands of Chinese in an attempt to establish a new Holy Roman Empire on the Chinese mainland in the twenty-first century.
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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
The Barnes & Noble Review
Allan Folsom took readers by storm with his novel The Day After Tomorrow, a harrowing tale of Nazis and mysteries that was a blockbuster a few years back. Now he's followed it up with a more mature work (but nonetheless, still a blockbuster) with epic conflict and narrow escapes. This time out, the Vatican — with its secrets, wealth, and spirituality — is in the eye of Folsom's literary hurricane. Folsom twists and turns a plot until the mysteries and thrills begin exploding around the reader, and the pages turn as if by some unseen wind. His chapters are short enough to capture even the shortest attention span, and his characters loom larger than life as they are hurled through this intriguing story.

It's the 75th birthday celebration of Pope Leo XIV, and the media and masses are out in droves to watch the Pope and his cardinals troop through the basilica of St. John. But an assassin is watching, and when the parade of religious leaders gets close enough, he shoots at the Pope's right-hand man, killing him. Then we are whisked from Italy to the home of Harry Addison in Los Angeles. Harry is a megasuccessful entertainment lawyer, known for his peaceable solutions to issues in a town of sharks. His brother Danny leaves a cryptic request for help on his answering machine. But Harry is across town, at the premiere of the new hit movie that one of his young clients wrote and directed. Danny and Harry haven't spoken for years, but they share an intense bond from childhood. When Harry gets the phone message, he erases it, not understanding its importance. But when hehearsthat his brother has been killed in the terrorist bombing of a bus, he flies to Italy to collect Danny's remains.

Arriving in Rome, Harry runs into a terror more threatening than a bomb — Danny is suspected of having been the man who murdered the cardinal, and Harry, who is suspected of being his accomplice, is picked up for questioning.

Harry finds himself in a labyrinth of half-spoken truths, where he can't quite find out what is going on around him as the Italian police play good cop-bad cop with him. Danny became a priest in his 30s, but when he was younger he got into some trouble and entered the Marines before finding religion. He was a good marksman, and the police suspect that Harry supplied him with the money necessary to buy the expensive weapons found at his home. But when Harry goes to view the body at the morgue, surprise! His brother had a prominent physical abnormality, which the corpse doesn't; it can't be Danny, even though a church official claims it is. Now, convinced that his brother is not dead, Harry suspects that some huge conspiracy surrounds the circumstances of both the assassination and the bus bombing. And just when he thinks things can't get worse, Harry is once again grabbed for questioning — leading to a chain of events that leaves a policeman dead, with Harry's prints on the gun that did the deed.

In true Harrison Ford style, Harry becomes a fugitive. His run from the law, however, lands him in the hands of kidnapper Thomas Kind. Anything but kind, Thomas has plans for Harry. After a grueling interrogation at the hands of Kind's mysterious crew, Harry is shot in the head and left for dead. This, folks, is where the story only begins to blast off.

All right, so the book seems overripe at times with improbabilities. It is both a thriller and a romp — and definitely good old-fashioned entertainment, as Vatican conspiracies mount, as both good and evil choose sides, and as a dark plan to force China to submit to the Vatican emerges. But as with The Day After Tomorrow, Folsom manages to narrow these improbabilities and bring them to startling life. This is a hit from the get-go and rollicking, page-turning fun.

—Douglas Clegg

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
A world-famous assassin, a power-hungry villain, a beleaguered hero, a plot to take over the largest country on earth. Folsom's frantically paced follow-up to his bestselling The Day After Tomorrow throws together all the raw materials of a first-rate thriller and proves that ingredients alone do not a meal make. Four days after Cardinal Rosario Parma is assassinated in Rome, hotshot L.A. entertainment lawyer Harry Addison gets a frantic phone message from his estranged brother, Danny, a Vatican priest. Shortly thereafter, Harry hears that Danny has died in a bus explosion. When he flies to Rome to claim the body, he discovers that Danny is the prime suspect in Parma's murder -- and that he's still alive. The novel then follows two parallel plots. Harry tries to find Danny and clear his name; meanwhile, the sinister Cardinal Umberto Palestrina, who thinks he's the reincarnation of Alexander the Great, plots to make China the site of a new Holy Roman Empire.

It's that Alexander the Great touch that pushes an already teetering story line over the edge, where everything is explained by shorthand (the estrangement between the Addison brothers) or circular logic (Palestrina is feared and powerful because he inspires fear and wields power). There's a lot of action, mostly to hide the fact that the cardboard characters generate as little sympathy as the thousands of Chinese deaths that are Step One in Palestrina's master plan. Instead of being disturbing or controversial, Folsom's mix of religion and politics approaches comic-book parody.

Library Journal
A dead priest accused of murder himself is the key to a secret Vatican scheme to build a new Holy Roman Empire in China. From the author of The Day After Tomorrow.
Library Journal
A dead priest accused of murder himself is the key to a secret Vatican scheme to build a new Holy Roman Empire in China. From the author of The Day After Tomorrow.
Kirkus Reviews
A pair of plucky Americans saves the Vatican from itself in a thriller long on pages and short on probability. Harry Addison, a successful young Hollywood entertainment lawyer, finds a message on his answering machine that unsettles his well-ordered world. It's from his brother, Vatican priest Father Daniel Addison—the brother Harry hasn't spoken to in eight years or seen in ten. And yet the message is a plea for help: 'I'm scared,' Daniel says, without specifying why. A day later, before Harry can respond, Daniel is killed in a bus explosion. The circumstances are mysterious, and when Harry goes to Rome to claim the body, he's further shaken by what he learns: (1) that Daniel was the leading suspect in the assassination of a Vatican cardinal, one of the Pontiff's inner circle, and (2) that he himself is being fingered as an accomplice.

It's at this point that Folsom's imagination overheats and things go haywire in the Grand Guignol manner.

As a sampling of shocks and horrors, try these: a Vatican cardinal who's a megalomaniac and another who's a murderer; a nun whose concupiscent fantasizing foreshadows the rescinding of her vows; a Vatican-inspired conspiracy aimed at bringing China to its knees as a first step toward restoring the Holy Roman Empire. Or how about the top Vatican cop hiring the world's most deadly terrorist? Object: the systematic elimination of anyone who endangers the conspiracy or even gets a sniff of its existence. And, finally, there's the high-tech firefight in Vatican City during which dead bodies pile up faster than papal bulls used to and our heroic Hollywood entertainment lawyer outperforms Rambo. Second-novelist Folsom(The Day After Tomorrow), who seems to have a penchant for overstuffing novels, buries an interesting, at times poignant, fraternal relationship beneath a paper avalanche. In suspense fiction, less can be more.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446548762
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 11/16/2008
  • Sold by: Hachette Digital, Inc.
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 210,845
  • File size: 2 MB

First Chapter


The Characters

Harry Addison
Father Daniel Addison--Harry's younger brother, a priest in the Vatican
    and private secretary to Cardinal Marsciano
Nursing sister Elena Voso

Hercules, a dwarf

The Vatican

Giacomo Pecci, Pope Leo XIV
The pope's Uomini di fiducia, "Men of trust"
    Cardinal Umberto Palestrina
    Cardinal Nicola Marsciano
    Cardinal Joseph Matadi
    Monsignor Fabio Capizzi
    Cardinal Rosario Parma
Father Bardoni, an aide to Cardinal Marsciano

The Vatican Police

Jacov Farel, head of the Vatican Police

The Italian Police

Homicide Detective Otello Roscani
Homicide Detective Gianni Pio
Homicide Detective Scala
Homicide Detective Castelletti

Gruppo Cardinale--The special task force set up by decree of the
    Italian Ministry of the Interior to investigate the murder of
    the cardinal vicar of Rome

Marcello Taglia, Gruppo Cardinale Chief Prosecutor

The Chinese

Li Wen, a state water-quality inspector
Chen Yin, a merchant of cut flowers
Yan Yeh, president of the People's Bank of China
Jiang Youmei, Chinese ambassador to Italy
Zhou Yi, Jiang's foreign minister
Wu Xian, general secretary of the Communist Party

The Freelancers

Thomas Jose Alvarez-Rios Kind, international terrorist
Adrianna Hall, World News Network correspondent
James Eaton, first secretary to the counselor for Political Affairs, United States Embassy, Rome
Pierre Weggen, Swiss investment banker
Miguel Valera, a Spanish communist


Chapter One

Los Angeles. Thursday, July 2, 9:00 P.M..

THE VOICE ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE resonated with fear.

    "Harry it's your brother, Danny.... I...don't mean to call you like this...after so much time.... But...there's...no one else I can talk to.... I'm scared, Harry.... I don't know what to do...or...what will happen next. God help me. If you're there, please pick up--Harry are you there?--I guess not.... I'll try to call you back."

    "Dammit."

    Harry Addison hung up the car phone, kept his hand on it, then picked it up again and pushed REDIAL. He heard the digital tones as the numbers redialed automatically. Then there was silence, and then the measured "buzz, buzz," "buzz, buzz" of the Italian phone system as the call rang through.

    "Come on, Danny, answer..."

    After the twelfth ring Harry set the receiver back in its cradle and looked off, the lights of oncoming traffic dancing over his face, making him lose track of where he was--in a limousine with his driver on a race to the airport to make the ten-o'clock red-eye to New York.

    It was nine at night in L.A., six in the morning in Rome. Where would a priest be at six in the morning? An early mass? Maybe that's where he was and why he wasn't answering.

    "Harry, it's your brother, Danny.... I'm scared.... I don't know what to do.... God help me."

    "Jesus Christ." Harry felt helplessness and panic at the same time. Not a word or a note between them in years, and then there was Danny's voice on Harry's answering machine, jumping out suddenly among a string of others. And not just a voice, but someone in grave trouble.

    Harry had heard a rustling as though Danny was starting to hang up, but then he had come back on the line and left his phone number, asking Harry to please call if he got in soon. For Harry, soon was moments ago, when he'd picked up the calls from his home machine. But Danny's call had come two hours earlier, at a little after seven California time, just after four in the morning in Rome--what the hell had soon meant to him at that time of day?

    Picking up the phone again, Harry dialed his law office in Beverly Hills. There had been an important partners' meeting. People might still be there.

    "Joyce, it's Harry. Is Byron--?"

    "He just left, Mr. Addison. You want me to try his car?"

    "Please."

    Harry heard the static as Byron Willis's secretary tried to connect with his car phone.

    "I'm sorry, he's not picking up. He said something about dinner. Should I leave word at the house?"

    There was a blur of lights, and Harry felt the limo lean as the driver took the cloverleaf off the Ventura Freeway and accelerated into traffic on the San Diego, heading south toward LAX. Take it easy, he thought. Danny could be at mass or at work or out for a walk. Don't start driving yourself or other people crazy when you don't even know what's going on.

    "No, never mind. I'm on my way to New York. I'll get him in the morning. Thanks."

    Clicking off, Harry hesitated, then tried Rome once more. He heard the same digital sounds, the same silence, and then the now-familiar "buzz, buzz," "buzz, buzz" as the phone rang through. There was still no answer.


Chapter Two

Italy. Friday, July 3, 10:20 A.M..

FATHER DANIEL ADDISON DOZED LIGHTLY in a window seat near the back of the tour bus, his senses purposefully concentrated on the soft whine of the diesel and hum of the tires as the coach moved north along the Autostrada toward Assisi.

    Dressed in civilian clothes, he had his clerical garments and toiletries in a small bag on the overhead rack above, his glasses and identification papers tucked into the inside pocket of the nylon windbreaker he wore over jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Father Daniel was thirty-three and looked like a graduate student, an everyday tourist traveling alone. Which was what he wanted.

    An American priest assigned to the Vatican, he had been living in Rome for nine years and going to Assisi for almost as long. Birthplace of the humble priest who became a saint, the ancient town in the Umbrian hills had given him a sense of cleansing and grace that put him more in touch with his own spiritual journey than any place he'd ever been. But now that journey was in shambles, his faith all but destroyed. Confusion, dread, and fear overrode everything. Keeping any shred of sanity at all was a major psychological struggle. Still, he was on the bus and going. But with no idea what he would do or say when he got there.

    In front of him, the twenty or so other passengers chatted or read or rested as he did, enjoying the cool of the coach's air-conditioning. Outside, the summer heat shimmered in waves across the rural landscape, ripening crops, sweetening vineyards, and, little by little, decaying the few ancient walls and fortresses that still existed here and there and were visible in the distance as the bus passed.

    Letting himself drift, Father Daniel's thoughts went to Harry and the call he'd left on his answering machine in the hours just before dawn. He wondered if Harry had even picked up the message. Or, if he had, if he'd been resentful of it and had not called back on purpose. It was a chance he had taken. He and Harry had been estranged since they were teenagers. It had been eight years since they'd spoken, ten since they'd seen each other. And that had been only briefly, when they'd gone back to Maine for the funeral of their mother. Harry had been twenty-six then, and Danny twenty-three. It was not unreasonable to assume that by now Harry had written his younger brother off and simply no longer gave a damn.

    But, at that moment, what Harry thought or what had kept them apart hadn't mattered. All Danny wanted was to hear Harry's voice, to somehow touch him and to ask for his help. He had made the call as much out of fear as love, and because there had been nowhere else to turn. He had become part of a horror from which there was no return. One that would only grow darker and become more obscene. And because of it, he knew he might very well die without ever being with his brother again.

    A movement down the aisle in front of him shook him from his muse. A man was walking toward him. He was in his early forties, clean shaven, and dressed in a light sport coat and khaki trousers. The man had gotten on the bus at the last moment, just as it was pulling out of the terminal in Rome. For a moment Father Daniel thought he might pass and go into the lavatory behind him. Instead, he stopped at his side.

    "You're American, aren't you?" he said with a British accent.

    Father Daniel glanced past him. The other passengers were riding as they had been, looking out, talking, relaxing. The nearest, a half dozen seats away.

    "--Yes ..."

    "I thought so." The man grinned broadly. He was pleasant, even jovial. "My name is Livermore. I'm English if you can't tell. Do you mind if I sit down?" Without waiting for a reply, he slid into the seat next to Father Daniel.

    "I'm a civil engineer. On vacation. Two weeks in Italy. Next year it's the States. Never been there before. Been kind of asking Yanks as I meet them where I should visit." He was talky, even pushy, but pleasant about it, and that seemed to be his manner. "Mind if I ask what part of the country you're from?"

    "--Maine..." Something was wrong, but Father Daniel wasn't sure what it was.

    "That would be up the map a bit from New York, yes?"

    "Quite a bit..." Again Father Daniel looked toward the front of the bus. Passengers the same as before. Busy with what they were doing. None looking back. His eyes came back to Livermore in time to see him glance at the emergency exit in the seat in front of them.

    "You live in Rome?" Livermore smiled amiably.

    Why had he looked at the emergency exit? What was that for? "You asked if I was American. Why would you think I lived in Rome?"

    "I've been there off and on. You look familiar, that's all." Livermore's right hand was in his lap, but his left was out of sight. "What do you do?"

    The conversation was innocent, but it wasn't. "I'm a writer..."

    "What do you write?"

    "For American television..."

    "No, you don't." Abruptly Livermore's demeanor changed. His eyes hardened, and he leaned in, pressing against Father Daniel. "You're a priest."

    "What?"

    "I said you're a priest. You work at the Vatican. For Cardinal Marsciano."

    Father Daniel stared at him. "Who are you?"

    Livermore's left hand came up. A small automatic in it. A silencer squirreled to the barrel. "Your executioner."

    At the same instant a digital timer beneath the bus clicked to 00:00. A split second later there was a thundering explosion. Livermore vanished. Windows blew out. Seats and bodies flew. A scything piece of razor-sharp steel decapitated the driver, sending the bus careening right, crushing a white Ford against the guardrail. Bouncing off it, the bus came crashing back through traffic, a screaming, whirling, twenty-ton fireball of burning steel and rubber. A motorcycle rider disappeared under its wheels. Then it clipped the rear of a big-rig truck and spun sideways. Slamming into a silver-gray Lancia, the bus carried it full force through the center divider, throwing it directly into the path of an oncoming gasoline tanker.

    Reacting violently, the tanker driver jammed on his brakes, jerking the wheel right. Wheels locked, tires shrieking, the enormous truck slid forward and sideways, at the same time knocking the Lancia off the bus like a billiard ball and sending the burning coach plunging off the highway and down a steep hill. Tilting up on two wheels, it held for a second, then rolled over, ejecting the bodies of its passengers, many of them dismembered and on fire, across the summer landscape. Fifty yards later it came to a rest, igniting the dry grass in a crackling rush around it.

    Seconds afterward its fuel tank exploded, sending flame and smoke roaring heavenward in a fire storm that raged until there was nothing left but a molten, burned-out shell and a small, insignificant wisp of smoke.


Chapter Three

Delta Airlines flight 148, New York to Rome.
Monday, July 6, 7:30 A.M.
.

DANNY WAS DEAD, AND HARRY WAS ON HIS way to Rome to bring his body back to the U.S. for burial. The last hour, like most of the flight, had been a dream. Harry had seen the morning sun touch the Alps. Seen it glint off the Tyrrhenian Sea as they'd turned, dropping down over the Italian farmland on approach to Rome's Leonardo da Vinci International Airport at Fiumicino.

    "Harry, it's your brother, Danny.... "

    All he could hear was Danny's voice on the answering machine. It played over and over in his mind, like a tape on a loop. Fearful, distraught, and now silent.

    "Harry, it's your brother, Danny.... "

    Waving off a pour of coffee from a smiling and pert flight attendant, Harry leaned back against the plush seat of the first-class cabin and closed his eyes, replaying what had happened in between.

    He'd tried to call Danny twice more from the plane. And then again when he checked into his hotel. Still, there had been no answer. His apprehension growing, he'd called the Vatican directly, hoping to find Danny at work, and what he'd learned, after being passed from one department to another and being spoken to in broken English and then Italian and then a combination of both, was that Father Daniel was "not here until Monday."

    To Harry that had meant he was away for the weekend. And no matter his mental state, it was a legitimate reason why Danny was not answering his phone. In response, Harry had left a message on his answering machine at home, giving his hotel number in New York in the event Danny called back as he said he would.

    And then Harry had turned, with some sense of relief, to business as usual and to why he had gone to New York--a last-minute huddle with Warner Brothers distribution and marketing chiefs over this Fourth of July weekend's opening of Dog on the Moon, Warner's major summer release, the story of a dog taken to the moon in a NASA experiment and accidentally left there, and the Little League team that learns about it and finds a way to bring him back; a film written and directed by Harry's twenty-four-year-old client Jesus Arroyo.

    Single and handsome enough to be a movie star, Harry Addison was not only one of the entertainment community's most eligible bachelors, he was also one of its most successful attorneys. His firm represented the cream of multimillion-dollar Hollywood talent. His own list of clients had either starred in or were responsible for some of the highest-grossing movies and successful television shows of the past five years. His friends were household names, the same people who stared weekly from the covers of national magazines.

    His success--as the daily Hollywood trade paper Variety had recently put it--was due to "a combination of smarts, hard work, and a temperament markedly different from the savagely competitive young warrior agents and attorneys to whom the `deal' is everything and whose only disposition is `take no prisoners.' With his Ivy League haircut and trademark white shirt and dark blue Armani suit, the Harry Addison approach is that the most beneficial thing for everyone is to cause as little all-around bleeding as possible. It's why his deals go through, his clients love him, the studios and networks respect him, and why he makes a million dollars a year."

    Dammit, what did any of that mean now? His brother's death overshadowed everything. All he could think of was what he might have done to help Danny that he hadn't. Call the U.S. Embassy or the Rome police and send them to his apartment. Apartment? He didn't even know where Danny lived. That was why he had started to call Byron Willis, his boss and mentor and best friend, from the limo when he'd first heard his brother's message. Who did they know in Rome who could help? was what he had intended to ask but hadn't because the call had never gone through. If he had, and if they had found someone in Rome, would Danny still be alive? The answer was probably no because there wouldn't have been time.

    Christ.

    Over the years how many times had he tried to communicate with Danny? Christmas and birthday cards formally exchanged for a short while after their mother's death. Then one holiday missed, then another. Finally nothing at all. And busy with his life and career, Harry had let it ride, eventually accepting it as the way it was. Brothers at opposites. Angry, at times even hostile, living a world apart, as they always would. With both probably wondering during the odd quiet moment if he should be the one to take the initiative and find a way to bring them back together. But neither had.

    And then Saturday evening as he'd been in the Warners New York offices celebrating the huge numbers Dog on the Moon was realizing--nineteen million dollars with Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday still to come, making a projected weekend gross of thirty-eight to forty-two million--Byron Willis had called from Los Angeles. The Catholic archdiocese had been trying to reach Harry and was reluctant to leave word at his hotel. They'd traced Willis through Harry's office, and Byron himself had chosen to make the call. Danny was dead, he'd said quietly, killed in what appeared to be a terrorist bombing of a tour bus on the way to Assisi.

    In the emotional gyration immediately afterward, Harry canceled his plans to return to L.A. and booked himself on a Sunday-evening flight to Italy. He would go there and bring Danny home personally. It was the last and only thing he could do.

    Then, on Sunday morning, he'd contacted the State Department, requesting the U.S. Embassy in Rome arrange a meeting between himself and the people investigating the bombing of the bus. Danny had been frightened and distraught; maybe what he had said might help shed some light on what had happened and who had been responsible. Afterward, and for the first time in as long as Harry could remember, he had gone to church. And prayed and wept.

BENEATH HIM, HARRY HEARD the sound of the landing gear being lowered. Looking out, he saw the runway come up and the Italian countryside fly past. Open fields, drainage ditches, more open fields. Then there was a bump and they were down. Slowing, turning, taxiing back toward the long, low sunlit buildings of Aeroporto Leonardo da Vinci.

THE UNIFORMED WOMAN behind the glass at Passport Control asked him to wait and picked up the telephone. Harry saw himself reflected in the glass as he waited. He was still in his dark blue Armani suit and white shirt, the way he was described in the Variety article. There was another suit and shirt in his suitcase, along with a light sweater, workout gear, polo shirt, jeans, and running shoes. The same bag he had packed for New York.

    The woman hung up and looked at him. A moment later two policemen with Uzi submachine guns slung over their shoulders walked up to her. One stepped into the booth and looked at his passport, then glanced at Harry and motioned him through.

    "Would you come with us, please?"

    "Of course."

    As they walked off, Harry saw the first policeman ease the Uzi around, his right hand sliding to its grip. Immediately two more uniformed police moved in to walk with them as they crossed the terminal. Passengers moved aside quickly, then turned to look back when they were safely out of the way.

    At the far side of the terminal they stopped at a security door. One of the policeman punched a code into a chrome keypad. A buzzer sounded, and the man opened the door. Then they went up a flight of stairs and turned down a corridor. A moment later they stopped at another door. The first policeman knocked, and they entered a windowless room where two men in suits waited. Harry's passport was handed to one of them, and the uniforms left, closing the door behind them.

    "You are Harry Addison--"

    "Yes."

    "The brother of the Vatican priest Father Daniel Addison."

    Harry nodded. "Thank you for meeting me..."

    The man who held his passport was probably forty-five, tall and tanned, and very fit. He wore a blue suit, over a lighter blue shirt with a carefully knotted maroon tie. His English was accented but understandable. The other man was a little older and almost as tall but with a slighter build and salt-and-pepper hair. His shirt was checkered. His suit, a light brown, the same as his tie.

    "I am Ispettore Capo Otello Roscani, Polizia di Stato. This is Ispettore Capo Pio."

    "How do you do..."

    "Why have you come to Italy, Mr. Addison?"

    Harry was puzzled. They knew why he was there or they wouldn't have met him as they had. "--To bring my brother's body home.... And to talk with you people."

    "When had you planned to come to Rome?"

    "I hadn't planned to come at all..."

    "Answer the question, please."

    "Saturday night."

    "Not before?"

    "Before? No, of course not."

    "You made the reservations yourself?" Pio spoke for the first time. His English had almost no accent at all, as if he were either American himself or had spent a lot of time in the U.S.

    "Yes."

    "On Saturday."

    "Saturday night. I told you that." Harry looked from one to the other. "I don't understand your questions. You knew I was coming. I asked the U.S. Embassy to arrange for me to talk to you."

    Roscani slid Harry's passport into his pocket. "We are going to ask you to accompany us into Rome, Mr. Addison."

    "Why?--We can talk right here. There's not that much to tell." Suddenly Harry could feel sweat on his palms. They were leaving something out. What was it?

    "Perhaps you should let us decide, Mr. Addison."

    Again, Harry looked from one to the other. "What's going on? What is it you're not telling me?"

    "We simply wish to talk further, Mr. Addison."

    "About what?"

    "The assassination of the cardinal vicar of Rome."

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 6, 2001

    THRILLER JOY RIDE THROUGH ITALY!

    This was the first Allan Folsom novel that I've read. It certainly won't be the last. 'Day of Confession' was one of the most memorable books that I've ever read, and I read very often. I love the way Folsom intertwines different storylines and brings them all together in a clean and exciting way. The lead-ins are done perfectly from chapter to chapter. The length of the book is of no consequence. Once the reader reads the very beginning, he/she will be taken in-hook, line, and sinker. The story reads very fast, and it literally was hard to put down. Not lost in all this, the plot and characters are gripping and emotion-evoking. All in all, this was one book that delivers 'edge of your seat' reading from page one and doesn't let up til the back cover.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 24, 2014

    Highly Recommended

    I like all aspects of Barnes & Noble's eBooks. The text editing could use a little help!

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  • Posted October 18, 2011

    Disappointing

    This book was mediocre compared to "The Day After Tomorrow". The transitions from one subplot to the next were like repeated tripping on sidewalk cracks. I didn't find the characters particularly interesting nor were their ability to get out of difficult situations believable. However, I will try another novel by this author. I think that the author has the potential to put out another "kick ass" novel like "The Day After Tomorrow".

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 9, 2003

    I've seen better....(and worse....)

    An OK read, with some plot twists, most of which were unpredictable, although none were good enough to make you go, 'Darn! I never expected that!' The last hundred pages were utterly boring and a waste of time, with the exception of the last few pages. I would say this book is NOT worth reading, for all it is.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 26, 2001

    The best ever

    If you like conspiracy, corruption, and foreign lands.. this is your book. It's absolutely one of the best works ever and if you need a good read .. this is it

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2000

    A COMPELLING NON-STOP READ

    A GREAT FOLLOW-UP FOR A RECENT RECALL OF an exciting visit to wonderful Rome.

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    Posted March 27, 2011

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    Posted April 5, 2012

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    Posted December 24, 2011

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