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From the depths of the Indian Ocean, a horrific plague has arisen to devastate humankind—unknown, unstoppable . . . and merely a harbinger of the doom that is to follow.
Operatives of the shadowy covert organization SIGMA Force, Dr. Lisa Cummings and Monk Kokkalis search for answers to the bizarre affliction aboard a cruise liner transformed into a makeshift hospital. But a sudden and savage attack by terrorist hijackers turns the mercy ship into a floating bio-weapons lab.
Time is an enemy as a worldwide pandemic grows rapidly out of control. As the seconds tick closer to doomsday, SIGMA's commander, Gray Pierce, must join forces with a beautiful assassin who tried to kill him—following the trail of the most fabled explorer in history into the terrifying heart of an astonishing mystery buried deep in antiquity and in humanity's genetic code.
Humankind's ultimate betrayal will come from within . . .
The special-ops trained scientists of Sigma Force battle the criminals of the shadowy Guild in bestseller Rollins's lively third Sigma Force thriller (after Black Order). An ancient and deadly plague, the Judas Strain (which afflicted Marco Polo), has suddenly re-emerged. Gray Pierce, a Sigma operative, and Seichan, a Guild defector, pursue clues to the nature of the plague to the Vatican, Istanbul (with a fine shootout in the Hagia Sophia mosque), Marco Polo's tomb and, finally, Cambodia's Angkor Wat. Meanwhile, Guild members hijack a cruise ship full of plague victims (to provide experimental subjects for the weaponizing of the plague), and Gray's parents are taken hostage (though the senior Grays prove feistier than their kidnappers reckon). Sophisticated the plot isn't, but Rollins includes more than enough action and suspense to keep readers turning pages. 8-city author tour. (July)
Copyright 2007 Reed Business InformationThis exciting but complex and overlong sequel to Rollins's Black Orderrevolves around the government's super-secret Sigma Group, which consists of scientists and military types determined to prevent terrorists from devastating the country and the planet. This time, life on Earth is threatened by the recurrence of an ancient and incredibly vicious and lethal virus, the Judas Strain, which may have been responsible for eco-disasters in millennia past. Sigma is out to halt the virus, but Sigma has an enemy, an equally shadowy group of terrorists called the Guild. Ironically, both want to prevent a catastrophe, but Sigma wants to save humanity, while the Guild wants to control it. Action abounds on almost every page, as the characters from the previous novel range over the globe. There are murders, disfiguring diseases, pirates, cannibals, and, oh yes, people who glow in the dark. As with all Rollins books, this book is great good fun, if readers suspend their disbelief and sense of logic. Recommended for larger thriller collections.
—Joy Humphrey
James Rollins is the New York Times bestselling author of international thrillers, translated into more than forty languages. His Sigma series has been lauded as one of the "top crowd pleasers" (New York Times) and one of the "hottest summer reads" (People magazine). In each novel, acclaimed for its originality, Rollins unveils unseen worlds, scientific breakthroughs, and historical secrets—and he does it all at breakneck speed and with stunning insight.
Author biography courtesy of HarperCollins.
"I often get asked if I still practice veterinary medicine. While I don't practice full-time, I still do volunteer. I work with a group that traps stray cats, brings them to the shelter, where I spend a day spaying and neutering them. It's basically eight hours of removing genitalia. It's a hobby."
"I am a TV junkie. I have two Tivos and they are constantly full."
"My first job was to flip pizzas. I once got a pie spinning that was ten feet across. I had to spin it on my back to keep it going. Yet, I still love pizza."
"Two hobbies I love -- caving and scuba diving -- are also essential research for my novels. Case in point:
I've always been an avid cave explorer, from the vast systems in Missouri to the lava tubes of Hawaii to the tighter squeezes of the California foothills. But one of my most frightening episodes also allowed me to better describe claustrophobia in my novels. While climbing out of the fairly technical wild cavern, involving lots of rope work, I managed to jam myself midway up a narrow vertical chute. Hung up on my ascending gear midway up the chute, I found myself unable to move up or down. My chest was squeezed between two walls, my left knee turned the wrong way. I could not maneuver, and there was not enough room to get a rescue climber to me. I was trapped. I remember the team leader, leaning down from above, shining his helmet lamp at me. ‘You either find a way to un-jam yourself, or you stay there forever.'
So over the course of a long hour -- wriggling, sweating, cursing, and clawing -- I managed to creep a millimeter at a time out of the jam. After this event, I had a better understanding for panic and the determination born of pure desperation, essential ingredients for to writing thrilling fiction.
But spelunking through caves was not my only ‘research' lesson. Two decades ago, I also took up scuba diving and went on dive trips all around the world: Monterey Bay, Hawaii, South Pacific, Australia. I particularly remember one trip to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. I was informed by the dive master to beware of the many hazards found in the region. ‘On land, Australia has seven of the ten deadliest snakes. The seas are worse. Box jellyfish can kill in minutes. Local sea snakes are some of the most toxic. But worst of all is the stone fish. It looks like a stone, but its spines are loaded with paralytic poison. So be careful what you touch.'
And down we all went, buddied up in pairs, enthusiastic and excited. I dropped toward the reef and adjust my buoyancy until I'm floating just above the reef. All around spread amazing sights: giant clams, a flurry of colored fish, an astounding variety of coral. But I miscalculated my buoyancy, my weight shifted, and I planted a hand into the sand to stabilize my tumble, careful of the razor-sharp coral. Inches from my thumb, a jagged rock suddenly sprouted fins and swam away. I met the gaze of my buddy diver. His wide eyes firmed up the identification. The deadly stone fish. And I had almost slapped my hand on its back. As the fish scurried away, I understood at that exact moment how little Nature cared about the life of a scuba-diving novelist. Down here, Nature ruled. We were only visitors.
This mix of respect and terror is brought to life in my latest novel, The Judas Strain."
Chapter One
1293
Midnight
Island of Sumatra
Southeast Asia
The screams had finally ceased.
Twelve bonfires blazed out in the midnight harbor.
"Il dio, li perdona..." his father whispered at his side, but Marco knew the Lord would not forgive them this sin.
A handful of men waited beside the two beached longboats, the only witnesses to the funeral pyres out upon the dark lagoon. As the moon had risen, all twelve ships, mighty wooden galleys, had been set to torch with all hands still aboard, both the dead and those cursed few who still lived. The ships' masts pointed fiery fingers of accusation toward the heavens. Flakes of burning ash rained down upon the beach and those few who bore witness. The night reeked of burned flesh.
"Twelve ships," his uncle Masseo mumbled, clutching the silver crucifix in one fist, "the same number as the Lord's Apostles."
At least the screams of the tortured had ended. Only the crackle and low roar of the flames reached the sandy shore now. Marco wanted to turn from the sight. Others were not as stout of heart and knelt on the sand, backs to the water, faces as pale as bone.
All were stripped naked. Each had searched his neighbor for any sign of the mark. Even the great Khan's princess, who stood behind a screen of sailcloth for modesty, wore only her jeweled headpiece. Marco noted her lithe form through the cloth, lit from behind by the fires. Her maids, naked themselves, had searched their mistress. Her name was Kokejin, the Blue Princess, a maiden of seventeen, the same age as Marco had been when he started thejourney from Venice. The Polos had been assigned by the Great Khan to safely deliver her to her betrothed, the Khan of Persia, the grandson of Kublai Khan's brother.
That had been in another lifetime.
Had it been only four months since the first of the galley crew had become sick, showing welts on groin and beneath the arm? The illness spread like burning oil, unmanning the galleys of able men and stranding them here on this island of cannibals and strange beasts.
Even now drums sounded in the dark jungle. But the savages knew better than to approach the encampment, like the wolf shunning diseased sheep, smelling the rot and corruption. The only signs of their encroachment were the skulls, twined through the eye sockets with vines and hung from tree branches, warding against deeper trespass or foraging.
The sickness had kept the savages at bay.
But no longer.
With the cruel fire the disease was at last vanquished, leaving only this small handful of survivors.
Those clear of the red welts.
Seven nights ago the remaining sick had been taken in chains to the moored boats, left with water and food. The others remained on shore, wary of any sign among them of fresh affliction. All the while, those banished to the ships called out across the waters, pleading, crying, praying, cursing, and screaming. But the worst was the occasional laughter, bright with madness.
Better to have slit their throats with a kind and swift blade, but all feared touching the blood of the sick. So they had been sent to the boats, imprisoned with the dead already there.
Then as the sun sank this night, a strange glow appeared in the water, pooled around the keels of two of the boats, spreading like spilled milk upon the still black waters. They had seen the glow before, in the pools and canals beneath the stone towers of the cursed city they had fled.
The disease sought to escape its wooden prison.
It had left them no choice.
The boats—all the galleys, except for the one preserved for their departure—had been torched.
Marco's uncle Masseo moved among the remaining men. He waved for them to again cloak their nakedness, but simple cloth and woven wool could not mask their deeper shame.
"What we did..." Marco said.
"We must not speak of it," his father said, and held forth a robe toward Marco. "Breathe a word of pestilence and all lands will shun us. No port will let us enter their waters. But now we've burned away the last of the disease with a cleansing fire, from our fleet, from the waters. We have only to return home."
As Marco slipped the robe over his head, his father noted what the son had drawn earlier in the sand with a stick. With a tightening of his lips, his father quickly ground it away under a heel and stared up at his son. A beseeching look fixed upon his visage. "Never, Marco... never..."
But the memory could not be so easily ground away. He had served the Great Khan, as scholar, emissary, even cartographer, mapping his many conquered kingdoms.
His father spoke again. "None must ever know what we found... it is cursed."
Marco nodded and did not comment on what he had drawn. He only whispered. "Città dei Morti."
His father's countenance, already pale, blanched further. But Marco knew it wasn't just plague that frightened his father.
"Swear to me, Marco," he insisted.
Marco glanced up into the lined face of his father. He had aged as much during these past four months as he had during the decades spent with the Khan in Shangdu.
"Swear to me on your mother's blessed spirit that you'll never speak again of what we found, what we did."
Marco hesitated.
A hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing to the bone. "Swear to me, my son. For your own sake."
He recognized the terror reflected in his fire-lit eyes... and the pleading. Marco could not refuse.
"I will keep silent," he finally promised. "To my deathbed and beyond. I so swear, Father."
Marco's uncle finally joined them, overhearing the younger man's oath. "We should never have trespassed there, Niccolò," he scolded his brother, but his accusing words were truly intended for Marco.
Silence settled between the three, heavy with shared secrets.
His uncle was right.
Marco pictured the river delta from four months back. The black stream had emptied into the sea, fringed by heavy leaf and vine. They had only sought to renew their stores of fresh water while repairs were made to two ships. They should never have ventured farther, but Marco had heard stories of a great city beyond the low mountains. And as ten days were set for repairs, he had ventured with twoscore of the Khan's men to climb the low mountains and see what lay beyond. From a crest, Marco had spotted a stone tower deep within the forest, thrusting high, brilliant in the dawn's light. It drew him like a beacon, ever curious.
Still, the silence as they hiked through the forest toward the tower should have warned him. There had been no drums, like now. No birdcalls, no scream of monkeys. The city of the dead had simply waited for them.
It was a dreadful mistake to trespass.
And it cost them more than just blood.
The three stared out as the galleys smoldered down to the waterlines. One of the masts toppled like a felled tree. Two decades ago, father, son, and uncle had left Italian soil, under the seal of Pope Gregory X, to venture forth into the Mongol lands, all the way to the Khan's palaces and gardens in Shangdu, where they had roosted far too long, like caged partridges. As favorites of the court, the three Polos had found themselves trapped—not by chains, but by the Khan's immense and smothering friendship, unable to leave without insulting their benefactor. So at long last, they thought themselves lucky to be returning home to Venice, released from service to the great Kublai Khan to act as escorts for the lady Kokejin to her Persian betrothed.
Would that their fleet had never left Shangdu...
"The sun will rise soon," his father said. "Let us be gone. It is time we went home."
"And if we reach those blessed shores, what do we tell Teobaldo?" Masseo asked, using the original name of the man, once a friend and advocate of the Polo family, now styled as Pope Gregory X.
"We don't know he still lives," his father answered. "We've been gone so long."
"But if he does, Niccolò?" his uncle pressed.
"We will tell him all we know about the Mongols and their customs and their strengths. As we were directed under his edict so long ago. But of the plague here...there remains nothing to speak of. It is over."
Masseo sighed, but there was little relief in his exhalation. Marco read the words behind his deep glower.
Plague had not claimed all of those who were lost. His father repeated more firmly, as if saying would make it so. "It is over."
Marco glanced up at the two older men, his father and his uncle, framed in fiery ash and smoke against the night sky. It would never be over, not as long as they remembered.
Marco glanced to his toes. Though the mark was scuffled off the sand, it burned brightly still behind his eyes. He had stolen a map painted on beaten bark. Painted in blood. Temples and spires spread in the jungle.
All empty.
Except for the dead.
The ground had been littered with birds, fallen to the stone plazas as if struck out of the skies in flight. Nothing was spared. Men and women and children. Oxen and beasts of the field. Even great snakes had hung limp from tree limbs, their flesh boiling from beneath their scales.
The only living inhabitants were the ants.
Of every size and color.
Teeming across stones and bodies, slowly picking apart the dead.
But he was wrong... something still waited for the sun to fall.
Marco shunned those memories.
Upon discovering what Marco had stolen from one of the temples, his father had burned the map and spread the ashes into the sea. He did this even before the first man aboard their own ships had become sick.
"Let it be forgotten," his father had warned then. "It has nothing to do with us. Let it be swallowed away by history."
Marco would honor his word, his oath. This was one tale he would never speak. Still, he touched one of the marks in the sand. He who had chronicled so much...was it right to destroy such knowledge?
If there was another way to preserve it... As if reading Marco's thoughts, his uncle Masseo spoke aloud all their fears. "And if the horror should rise again, Niccolò, should someday reach our shores?"
"Then it will mean the end of man's tyranny of this world," his father answered bitterly. He tapped the crucifix resting on Masseo's bare chest. "The friar knew better than all. His sacrifice..."
The cross had once belonged to Friar Agreer. Back in the cursed city, the Dominican had given his life to save theirs. A dark pact had been struck. They had left him back there, abandoned him, at his own bidding.
The nephew of Pope Gregory X.
Marco whispered as the last of the flames died into the dark waters. "What God will save us next time?"
The Judas Strain. Copyright © by James Rollins. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.Chapter One
1293
Midnight
Island of Sumatra
Southeast Asia
The screams had finally ceased.
Twelve bonfires blazed out in the midnight harbor.
"Il dio, li perdona..." his father whispered at his side, but Marco knew the Lord would not forgive them this sin.
A handful of men waited beside the two beached longboats, the only witnesses to the funeral pyres out upon the dark lagoon. As the moon had risen, all twelve ships, mighty wooden galleys, had been set to torch with all hands still aboard, both the dead and those cursed few who still lived. The ships' masts pointed fiery fingers of accusation toward the heavens. Flakes of burning ash rained down upon the beach and those few who bore witness. The night reeked of burned flesh.
"Twelve ships," his uncle Masseo mumbled, clutching the silver crucifix in one fist, "the same number as the Lord's Apostles."
At least the screams of the tortured had ended. Only the crackle and low roar of the flames reached the sandy shore now. Marco wanted to turn from the sight. Others were not as stout of heart and knelt on the sand, backs to the water, faces as pale as bone.
All were stripped naked. Each had searched his neighbor for any sign of the mark. Even the great Khan's princess, who stood behind a screen of sailcloth for modesty, wore only her jeweled headpiece. Marco noted her lithe form through the cloth, lit from behind by the fires. Her maids, naked themselves, had searched their mistress. Her name was Kokejin, the Blue Princess, a maiden of seventeen, the same age as Marco had been when he startedthe journey from Venice. The Polos had been assigned by the Great Khan to safely deliver her to her betrothed, the Khan of Persia, the grandson of Kublai Khan's brother.
That had been in another lifetime.
Had it been only four months since the first of the galley crew had become sick, showing welts on groin and beneath the arm? The illness spread like burning oil, unmanning the galleys of able men and stranding them here on this island of cannibals and strange beasts.
Even now drums sounded in the dark jungle. But the savages knew better than to approach the encampment, like the wolf shunning diseased sheep, smelling the rot and corruption. The only signs of their encroachment were the skulls, twined through the eye sockets with vines and hung from tree branches, warding against deeper trespass or foraging.
The sickness had kept the savages at bay.
But no longer.
With the cruel fire the disease was at last vanquished, leaving only this small handful of survivors.
Those clear of the red welts.
Seven nights ago the remaining sick had been taken in chains to the moored boats, left with water and food. The others remained on shore, wary of any sign among them of fresh affliction. All the while, those banished to the ships called out across the waters, pleading, crying, praying, cursing, and screaming. But the worst was the occasional laughter, bright with madness.
Better to have slit their throats with a kind and swift blade, but all feared touching the blood of the sick. So they had been sent to the boats, imprisoned with the dead already there.
Then as the sun sank this night, a strange glow appeared in the water, pooled around the keels of two of the boats, spreading like spilled milk upon the still black waters. They had seen the glow before, in the pools and canals beneath the stone towers of the cursed city they had fled.
The disease sought to escape its wooden prison.
It had left them no choice.
The boats—all the galleys, except for the one preserved for their departure—had been torched.
Marco's uncle Masseo moved among the remaining men. He waved for them to again cloak their nakedness, but simple cloth and woven wool could not mask their deeper shame.
"What we did..." Marco said.
"We must not speak of it," his father said, and held forth a robe toward Marco. "Breathe a word of pestilence and all lands will shun us. No port will let us enter their waters. But now we've burned away the last of the disease with a cleansing fire, from our fleet, from the waters. We have only to return home."
As Marco slipped the robe over his head, his father noted what the son had drawn earlier in the sand with a stick. With a tightening of his lips, his father quickly ground it away under a heel and stared up at his son. A beseeching look fixed upon his visage. "Never, Marco... never..."
But the memory could not be so easily ground away. He had served the Great Khan, as scholar, emissary, even cartographer, mapping his many conquered kingdoms.
His father spoke again. "None must ever know what we found... it is cursed."
Marco nodded and did not comment on what he had drawn. He only whispered. "Città dei Morti."
His father's countenance, already pale, blanched further. But Marco knew it wasn't just plague that frightened his father.
"Swear to me, Marco," he insisted.
Marco glanced up into the lined face of his father. He had aged as much during these past four months as he had during the decades spent with the Khan in Shangdu.
"Swear to me on your mother's blessed spirit that you'll never speak again of what we found, what we did."
Marco hesitated.
A hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing to the bone. "Swear to me, my son. For your own sake."
He recognized the terror reflected in his fire-lit eyes... and the pleading. Marco could not refuse.
"I will keep silent," he finally promised. "To my deathbed and beyond. I so swear, Father."
Marco's uncle finally joined them, overhearing the younger man's oath. "We should never have trespassed there, Niccolò," he scolded his brother, but his accusing words were truly intended for Marco.
Silence settled between the three, heavy with shared secrets.
His uncle was right.
Marco pictured the river delta from four months back. The black stream had emptied into the sea, fringed by heavy leaf and vine. They had only sought to renew their stores of fresh water while repairs were made to two ships. They should never have ventured farther, but Marco had heard stories of a great city beyond the low mountains. And as ten days were set for repairs, he had ventured with twoscore of the Khan's men to climb the low mountains and see what lay beyond. From a crest, Marco had spotted a stone tower deep within the forest, thrusting high, brilliant in the dawn's light. It drew him like a beacon, ever curious.
Still, the silence as they hiked through the forest toward the tower should have warned him. There had been no drums, like now. No birdcalls, no scream of monkeys. The city of the dead had simply waited for them.
It was a dreadful mistake to trespass.
And it cost them more than just blood.
The three stared out as the galleys smoldered down to the waterlines. One of the masts toppled like a felled tree. Two decades ago, father, son, and uncle had left Italian soil, under the seal of Pope Gregory X, to venture forth into the Mongol lands, all the way to the Khan's palaces and gardens in Shangdu, where they had roosted far too long, like caged partridges. As favorites of the court, the three Polos had found themselves trapped—not by chains, but by the Khan's immense and smothering friendship, unable to leave without insulting their benefactor. So at long last, they thought themselves lucky to be returning home to Venice, released from service to the great Kublai Khan to act as escorts for the lady Kokejin to her Persian betrothed.
Would that their fleet had never left Shangdu...
"The sun will rise soon," his father said. "Let us be gone. It is time we went home."
"And if we reach those blessed shores, what do we tell Teobaldo?" Masseo asked, using the original name of the man, once a friend and advocate of the Polo family, now styled as Pope Gregory X.
"We don't know he still lives," his father answered. "We've been gone so long."
"But if he does, Niccolò?" his uncle pressed.
"We will tell him all we know about the Mongols and their customs and their strengths. As we were directed under his edict so long ago. But of the plague here...there remains nothing to speak of. It is over."
Masseo sighed, but there was little relief in his exhalation. Marco read the words behind his deep glower.
Plague had not claimed all of those who were lost. His father repeated more firmly, as if saying would make it so. "It is over."
Marco glanced up at the two older men, his father and his uncle, framed in fiery ash and smoke against the night sky. It would never be over, not as long as they remembered.
Marco glanced to his toes. Though the mark was scuffled off the sand, it burned brightly still behind his eyes. He had stolen a map painted on beaten bark. Painted in blood. Temples and spires spread in the jungle.
All empty.
Except for the dead.
The ground had been littered with birds, fallen to the stone plazas as if struck out of the skies in flight. Nothing was spared. Men and women and children. Oxen and beasts of the field. Even great snakes had hung limp from tree limbs, their flesh boiling from beneath their scales.
The only living inhabitants were the ants.
Of every size and color.
Teeming across stones and bodies, slowly picking apart the dead.
But he was wrong... something still waited for the sun to fall.
Marco shunned those memories.
Upon discovering what Marco had stolen from one of the temples, his father had burned the map and spread the ashes into the sea. He did this even before the first man aboard their own ships had become sick.
"Let it be forgotten," his father had warned then. "It has nothing to do with us. Let it be swallowed away by history."
Marco would honor his word, his oath. This was one tale he would never speak. Still, he touched one of the marks in the sand. He who had chronicled so much...was it right to destroy such knowledge?
If there was another way to preserve it... As if reading Marco's thoughts, his uncle Masseo spoke aloud all their fears. "And if the horror should rise again, Niccolò, should someday reach our shores?"
"Then it will mean the end of man's tyranny of this world," his father answered bitterly. He tapped the crucifix resting on Masseo's bare chest. "The friar knew better than all. His sacrifice..."
The cross had once belonged to Friar Agreer. Back in the cursed city, the Dominican had given his life to save theirs. A dark pact had been struck. They had left him back there, abandoned him, at his own bidding.
The nephew of Pope Gregory X.
Marco whispered as the last of the flames died into the dark waters. "What God will save us next time?"
The Judas Strain. Copyright © by James Rollins. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.How is it this is the only title by author James Rollins I've read? And why did I read the one right in the middle of the series? Luckily, it was so good, I can enjoy reading this one again as I go through the entire series.
The Judas Strain is as an odd book. The plot is simple, but complex. The characters are over-the-top, but believable. The text is intelligent, but easy-reading. Full on entertainment in its most pleasant form. I can't wait to read it again. But to you, I recommend reading them in order. That's always best.
5 out of 5 people found this review helpful.
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Posted November 24, 2011
I have read all of the Sigma Force series and they are all fast paced and can't put down books. Once you start to read you just can't put it down.
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.
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Posted July 14, 2011
The author has done an excellent job researching and weaving together science and history, as he repeatedly does in his thrillers. It got me to get online and do some of my own research. I love how Rollins can intrigue the reader in this way.
However, the over-arching plot of each of his novels is the same, this book not excluded. Even worse, in a series like this, no matter if every chapter ends with a main character's life threatened, you know they really aren't going to die. That wasn't such a problem with his individual tales.
And how many times can one man use the word, "scintillating"?
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted November 23, 2009
I Also Recommend:
The experiences one can have with a James Rollins novel seems to fluctuate between every novel that he writes. While Rollins stroke gold with his thriller Map of Bones, he blemished any solid reputation he earned from that title with the underwhelming Black Order. So, it would be a given then that one should be skeptical about his latest project. However, it is quite a relief to inform you that James Rollins has indeed crafted a thrilling little piece of escapist fiction in the form of the Judas Strain.
The Judas Strain starts off with a series of seemingly random events throughout the world; a vacationing couple become infected by a nasty little disease, a museum curator gets killed, and a motorcyclist crashes into lead character Commander Gray Pierce's garage (Pierce being, for newcomers to Rollin's stories, a covert operative for SIGMA, a secret branch of the United State's DARPA program).
But surprise, because all of these events are all connected, as each event was a result of the appearance of an incredibly lethal bacteria in the oceans that drive people insane and makes them glow in the dark. Um... right, maybe Mr. Rollins had a bit too much to drink when he came up with this one.
However, the action soon picks up as Commander Pierce and a handful of other characters,including femme fatale and Map of Bones star Seichan, start up on a journey to discover the location of Marco Polo's lost fleet of ships, as they conveniently contain the means to acquire the vaccine for this global threat.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the plot to this novel is a bit far fetched. Not as far fetched to the level of Map of Bone's supersonic gold radiation mass murder, but it's still up there with the odd bunch.
Nevertheless, Rollins does an amazing job of drawing the reader in with his expert storytelling ability. He knows how to keep the reader engaged without resorting to the Dan Brown cliche of a cliffhanger every other chapter. The suspense that is built up throughout the novel will keep you up reading well into the night. The way in which Rollins conveys his story is masterful; even the "boring" bits of the book have this almost uncanny level of tension about them.
However, The Judas Strain doesn't delve much deeper than delivering a piece of escapist fiction. The standard Rollins theme of "modern technology comes from understanding the past" comes out in full force here, and the novel doesn't really bring anything fundamentally new to the literary table.
Also, James Rollins needs to work on developing his characters to match the well done characters of Commander Gray Pierce and his enemy/comrade in arms/love interest Seichan. Rollins portrays Pierce as a man torn between duty and emotions constantly throughout the book, and constantly places Pierce in situations that mess with the readers emotions. Rollins goal was to have Commander Pierce be a memorable, likable character, and he succeeded in spades. By the end of the novel, he is a much deeper, sentimental character than he was at the beginning.
So while The Judas Strain may not reinvent the escapist fiction wheel and may absolutely confuse some with it's over the top plot, Rollin's excellent writing style conveys a sense of tension not often seen in literature and that alone is worth reading the book for. It's not the best book out there, and Map of Bones still trumps it, but the Judas Strain is a solid read.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted October 26, 2009
Rollins just continues to role them out. Another delightful read blending "it could happen" with life's realities.
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.Becca_Pendragon
Posted July 27, 2009
I am a little more than halfway through but I find this book hard to put down once I pick it up. It is fast-paced and full of action, but it also makes you think about weighty issues. I love this kind of mix in the stories I read.
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.Anonymous
Posted August 31, 2007
I've been reading James Rollins since Excavation came out and he is one of my favorite authors. But ever since The DaVinci code came out he has tried to write to that style of popularity. I would love for him to go back to writing original stories with new characters and leave Sigma behind. They are enjoyable reads but I can only read about church conspiracies and such for so long. I never really got into a groove with this book and it took me a while to read. With that said I gave the book 4 stars partially because of the content and also because I love the author and have been with him since the beginning.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted August 27, 2011
No text was provided for this review.
Anonymous
Posted June 24, 2011
You will not be able to put this book down
1 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.Anonymous
Posted July 10, 2010
I Also Recommend:
thoroughly enjoyed this page turner. I was sad to get to the end and am ready to read more by this author
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.avid-readerJG
Posted February 24, 2010
Rollins characters are bigger than life - both bad and good ones. This story about a worldwide threat of mutant, nearly inextinguishable germs puts life on earth in a new perspective. I can't wait to read the sequel...but I won't spoil it by revealing why.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Sweeting
Posted February 20, 2010
I Also Recommend:
I love pretty much all of the Sigma series books and this one is no exception. I enjoy how the author puts it all together and how the details unfold.
1 out of 1 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 February 20, 2010
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The plot idea is dramatic and interesting but to the reader the story line becomes lost until the very end. Without engaging you with the characters and their subplots it becomes all about the plot. By the end of the book you really don't care either way about any of the characters because you know very little about them. It was an interesting premise in which to base a story on but the fantasy element lost me in the end.
1 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.Anonymous
Posted January 28, 2010
This was my first James Rollins read and it was just fantastic!! I did not want to put it down and that is a great thing. I'm definately going to read his other books now.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.mellisjr23
Posted January 16, 2010
Rollins' mix of science and fiction make the page turning plot and dynamic characters even more fun to follow. Once you start reading, you'll be on he edge of your seat and hard pressed to set this book down.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Sue_Con
Posted August 26, 2009
I listened to the audio book twice and would love to know what others think happened to Susan at the end. Obviously she was transformed but I didnt really get what was actually happening to her or the others around her. I'd love to hear anyone's theories. Feel free to email me.
Otherwise I loved the idea that Monk may have survived. A great read!
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Wallflower_Bookworm
Posted May 28, 2013
This was the 1st book from James Rollins' Sigma series that I picked up, and I went back and got the rest as soon as I finished reading The Judas Strain. Being a science nerd, I especially love how technical and realistic Rollins gets with his stories, and the reasonable doubt that he gives in how, just maybe, something like this could actually happen. He also does a fantastic job in creating and depicting the various characters of Sigma and the Guild, and interweaving the relationships between them. *Highly recommended for ANYONE who is a fan of mystery thrillers* Some of the language in the book can be a little jargon-y for people who are generally not familiar with the fields of microbiology, genetics, epidemiology and the like, but he does a great job overall of explaining them. 5+/5
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted May 8, 2013
Touching on human potential made this book intriguing for me. It was a great read - what with pirates, cannibals, a potential pandemic - so many things to grip your interest! A great read.
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Posted February 13, 2013
Typical Rollins book. Great storyline and continuing great characters! Recommended to all who love action and suspense!
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted November 20, 2012
I loved it
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Overview
From the depths of the Indian Ocean, a horrific plague has arisen to devastate humankind—unknown, unstoppable . . . and merely a harbinger of the doom that is to follow.
Operatives of the shadowy covert organization SIGMA Force, Dr. Lisa Cummings and Monk Kokkalis search for answers to the bizarre affliction aboard a cruise liner transformed into a makeshift hospital. But a sudden and savage attack by terrorist hijackers turns the mercy ship ...