From the Publisher
“The Exile starts out like gangbusters and quickly engages the reader.” Denver Post
“High–octane thriller writing with an almost visceral impact.” Publishers Weekly on The Exile
“Folsom can flat-out write an action scene.” Kirkus Reviews on The Exile
“Fast-paced, exciting adventure . . . With a sturdy hero and a despicably clever villain, the novel grabs readers from the opening scenes and rarely lets them loose. It does exactly what it set out to do: deliver breathless excitement.” Booklist on The Exile
“Hold on tight - from the first scene Folsom spins a tale of page-turning suspense.” W. E. B. Griffin on The Exile
“Once you start The Exile, forget sleep. It's fierce, complex suspense is fast as a 9 mm slug and tight as a hangman's noose.” Stephen Coonts
“More twists and turns than a strand of DNA.” William Peter Blatty, author of The Exorcist on The Exile
“A masterful epic, The Exile has the sweep and power of The DaVinci Code---a global enigma of world-shattering proportions and a blistering pace that will singe your trembling fingers!” Douglas Preston, New York Times bestselling author of The Codex
“A sweeping novel, crossing California, France, Switzerland, and England as a young California cop takes on a criminal mastermind.” Barbara D'Amato, Edgar Award winning author of Death of A Thousand Cuts on The Exile
“You only have to read the explosive opening to know your in the hands of a natural storyteller. What sets Folsom apart is the expert handling of a large and varied cast of characters, and the imaginative sweep of a tale that goes from the mean streets of LA to dazzling centers of international power.” Andrew Klavan, Edgar Award-winning author of Don't Say a Word and True Crime on The Exile
“Folsom returns with another winner. . . . Unexpected twists and catastrophe on a global scale . . . Folsom should have another best seller on his hands.” Library Journal on The Exile
“Folsom's most moving novel to date . . . also his bloodiest.” Bookpage on The Exile
Folsom (The Day After Tomorrow) begins his epic-sized new thriller smashingly, as cops from an elite LAPD squad stake out a train to arrest a killer and find themselves up against the mysterious Raymond, who leads them a murderous dance through the streets of the city, massacres several of them and is then apparently killed himself in a climactic shootout. For its first 200 pages, this is high-octane thriller writing with an almost visceral impact. But already there are dark hints of plot troubles to come. Young up-and-coming cop John Barron, Raymond's nemesis, is found to have a beautiful sister mentally paralyzed by the shock of their parents' long-ago murder, and Raymond begins to receive mysterious phone calls from a sinister baroness talking about his destiny. These kitschy elements dominate the story as it moves over to Europe, Barron builds himself a new life in England with a sexy aristocrat, sister Rebecca emerges from her cocoon as a Princess Di-like figure and the murderous Raymond, now with a new identity, has a key role involving a major upheaval in world politics. Folsom still brings off some entertaining scenes, but the plot becomes so lumbering and improbable (wait till you find out who Rebecca's suave Latin lover is) that even a final burst of action at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg cannot bring back the excitement that launched the book. As for the utterly unprepared-for ending, it breaks at least a dozen popular fiction rules at once. Agent, Robert Gottlieb. (Aug. 17) Forecast: If only Folsom could've maintained the pace and drama of the book's first third, this would be a winner; as it is, word of mouth about the remainder of the overlong novel is likely to dampen reader enthusiasm. $250,000 marketing campaign. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Bloated international thriller, knee-deep in cops, rogues, and Romanovs, starts fast-and stumbles. But what a riveting curtain-raiser: an elite LAPD squad-young John Barron its newest member-pursues a mad-dog killer named Raymond Thorne. In the aftermath of this vividly rendered and bloody gunfight-Folsom (Day of Confession, 1998, etc.) can flat-out write an action scene-John is asked to do something he considers beyond the pale, and his refusal turns his life around. Suddenly, he's persona non grata with certain lynch-minded members of the LAPD, so much so that he's forced to flee to London, taking with him his 19-year-old sister Rebecca, an emotional basket case as the result of a psyche-shattering hit suffered when she was a child. John sets her up in London's excellent Balmore Clinic, then wastes no time falling in love with Clementine Simpson, the rich, titled, incredibly sexy Englishwoman he meets there. Encouraged by her, John (Nick now) discovers in himself a latent inclination toward-um. . . landscape gardening, enrolls at the University of Manchester, and settles down to pursue a course. Rebecca, meanwhile, has so fully recovered her health that she learns to speak French, Italian, Spanish, and Russian-in five months! Ah, if only the repellent Raymond Thorne could remain as dead as everyone has assumed he was. But, no, surgically reconstructed, he reappears with hitherto-unsuspected connections that tie him directly to that sturdiest of Russian royal family mysteries. (If you're thinking Anastasia, you're wrong but not by a lot.) Inevitably, Raymond and John-Nick meet in hand-to-hand combat, with the fate of loved ones and a dark, dreary, very Russian conspiracy hanging in thebalance. Take away the action scenes-surprisingly few for all these pages-and what's left is a collection of cartoony characters and some head-scratching plot elements. $250,000 ad/promo. Agency: Trident Media Group
Read an Excerpt
TWENTY YEARS LATER.
Amtrak Station, the desert community of Barstow, California. Tuesday, March 12, 4:20 A.M.
John Barron crossed toward the train alone in the cool of the desert night. He stopped at car number 39002 of the Amtrak Su-perliner Southwest Chief, waiting as a mustachioed conductor helped an elderly man with bottle-thick glasses up the steps. Then he boarded the train himself.
Inside, in the dim light, the conductor wished him good morning and punched his ticket, pointing him past sleeping passengers toward his seat two-thirds of the way down the car. Twenty seconds later he put his small carry-on bag into the overhead rack and sat down in the aisle seat beside an attractive young woman in sweatshirt and tight jeans curled up against the window, asleep.
Barron glanced at her, then settled back, his eyes more or less on the car door through which he had entered. A half minute later he saw Marty Valparaiso come on board, give the conductor his ticket, and take a seat just inside the front door. Several moments passed, and he heard a blast of train whistle. The conductor closed the door, and the Chief began to move. In no time the lights of the desert city gave way to the pitch-black of open land. Barron heard the whine of diesel engines as the train picked up speed. He tried to picture what it might look like from above, the kind of aerial shot you might see in a movieof a giant, half-mile-long, twenty-seven-car snake, gliding west through the predawn desert darkness toward Los Angeles.
Copyright © 2004 by Allan Folsom