Fatal Error

by F. Paul Wilson Narrated by Christopher Price

Overview

“Ground Zero is not only packed with action and revelations but told so well that fans will want the next two books now.... Wilson's writing has never been sharper.... It's truly going to make his fans giddy.” -Bookgasm

Munir Habib's life has become a nightmare. His tormentor has warned Munir not to report the kidnapping of his family, or they will pay a terrible price. But a friend realizes something is terribly wrong and tells Munir he doesn't have to go to the cops. There's a guy who fixes situations like this-Repairman Jack.

Jack is backed into helping Munir despite his ongoing involvement in the cosmic shadow war between the Ally and the Otherness. Or perhaps because of it. He's chafing at being forced into the defensive role of protecting the Lady, the physical embodiment of the consciousness of the planet Earth.

Meanwhile, the Septimus Order and the Kickers are seemingly working in concert on a plot to extinguish the Lady and open the way for the Otherness to take over our reality. To top it off, Dawn Pickering finally goes into labor and delivers a baby she only glimpses as it's whisked away. She's terrified by what she sees. Later she's told the baby died, but she doesn't believe it. Neither does Weezy Connell. Neither does Jack.

All these interlocking plots mean doom for humanity. But Jack never gives up or gives in.

“The name is Jack, Repairman Jack, and it's a name worth looking up next time you want a great supernatural thriller.” -Fangoria

Editorial Reviews

Kirkus Reviews

Repairman Jack fixes our world for the 14th time (Ground Zero, 2009, etc.)—one more to go.

"The penultimate Repairman Jack novel," Wilson labels this in an Author's Note. "I'm ending the series with number fifteen." Maybe that's why 14 has such a skimped, stepsister feel to it. True enough, series fans will find the familiar cast—good guys and evil-doers alike—more or less intact, but it's all somehow muted, as if time is being marked while the big bang gathers force in the wings. Sure, monomaniacal Rasalom, aka the One, still wants to end history—whatever that really means—and the secretive, sinister Order continues to do One's doomsday bidding with maximum efficiency. But where's the passion? Even an idea as grandiloquent as Internet-smashing dwindles in the telling here. The Internet is duly smashed, the Order brings it down worldwide, but the resultant chaos is short-lived, short-shrifted and, as a consequence, manages to seem inconvenient rather than catastrophic. Fourteen's most suspenseful—and gut-wrenching—section happens early on. Munir Habib, an American citizen born in Saudi Arabia, awakes one day to the nightmarish realization that his wife and little boy have been kidnapped by an Arab-hater. Ransom isn't the object. Munir's suffering is. A series of bizarre tasks are set before him, which he performs to the humiliating letter while knowing how probable it is he'll never again see his beloved wife and child alive. Clearly, this is a Repairman Jack moment. He's contacted, he arrives, he sorts things out for the deserving Munir—and readers will love the take-no-prisoners way he does it. But at this point there is still more than half a book to go.

Obviously, Wilson wants to save the best for last, but that leaves the underfed penultimate novel in need of a literary Repairman Jack.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170261567
Publisher:	Brilliance Audio
Publication date:	10/22/2013
Series:	Repairman Jack Series , #14
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

MONDAY This page intentionally left blank

1

Munir stood on the curb, facing Fifth Avenue with Central Park behind him. He unzipped his fly and tugged himself free. His reluctant member shriveled at the cold slap of the winter wind, as if shrinking from the sight of all these passing strangers.

At least he hoped they were strangers.

Please let no one who knows me pass by. Or, Allah forbid, a policeman.

He stretched its flabby length and urged his bladder to empty. That was what the madman had demanded of him, so that was what he had to do. He’d drunk two quarts of Gatorade in the past hour to ensure he’d be full to bursting, but he couldn’t go. His sphincter was clamped shut as tightly as his jaw.

Off to his right the light at the corner turned red and the traffic slowed to a stop. A woman in a cab glanced at him through her window and started when she saw how he was exposing himself. Her lips tightened and she shook her head in disgust as she turned away. He could almost read her mind: A guy in a suit exposing himself on Fifth Avenue—the world’s going to hell even faster than they say.

But it has become hell for me, Munir thought.

He saw her pull out a cell phone and punch in three numbers. That could only mean she was calling 911. But he had to stay and do this.

He closed his eyes to shut out the line of cars idling before him, tried to block out the tapping, scuffing footsteps of the shoppers and strollers on the sidewalk behind him as they hurried to and fro. But a child’s voice broke through.

“Look, Mommy. What’s that man—?”

“Don’t look, honey,” said a woman’s voice. “It’s just someone who’s not right in the head.”

Tears became a pressure behind Munir’s sealed eyelids. He bit back a sob of humiliation and tried to imagine himself in a private place, in his own bathroom, standing over the toilet. He forced himself to relax, and soon it came. As the warm liquid streamed out of him, the waiting sob burst free, propelled equally by shame and relief.

He did not have to shut off the flow. When he opened his eyes and saw the glistening, steaming puddle before him on the asphalt, saw the drivers and passengers and passersby staring, the stream dried up on its own.

I hope that is enough, he thought. Please let that be enough.

But he was not dealing with a sane man, and he had to please him. Please him or else . . .

He looked up and saw a young blond woman staring down at him from a third-floor window in a building across the street. Her repulsed expression mirrored his own feelings. Averting his eyes, he zipped up and fled down the sidewalk, all but tripping over his own feet as he ran.

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