Sacred Stone (Oregon Files Series #2)

( 135 )

Overview

A power that could destroy the world A prize that men will kill to possess Juan Cabrillo must find it first...

Two opposing groups seek a 50,000-year-old radioactive meteorite known as the Sacred Stone. Muslim extremists have stolen a nuclear device and need the stone to give them the power to vaporize any city in the west. A megalomaniacal industrialist leads a group seeking to carry out the utter annihilation of Islam itself. And caught between the two militant factions is ...

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Sacred Stone (Oregon Files Series #2)

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Overview

A power that could destroy the world A prize that men will kill to possess Juan Cabrillo must find it first...

Two opposing groups seek a 50,000-year-old radioactive meteorite known as the Sacred Stone. Muslim extremists have stolen a nuclear device and need the stone to give them the power to vaporize any city in the west. A megalomaniacal industrialist leads a group seeking to carry out the utter annihilation of Islam itself. And caught between the two militant factions is Juan Cabrillo and his crew, who must do whatever they can to stop the impending doom...

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Eric the Red's A.D. 1000 discovery of a radioactive meteorite has present-day life-or-death ramifications in Cussler and Dirgo's second novel (after Golden Buddha) featuring the Oregon, a state-of-the-art warship disguised as a rusty tramp steamer and manned by some of the world's finest ex-military and intelligence operatives. Known collectively as the Corporation, the men and women of the Oregon-"mercenaries with a conscience"-offer their services to various countries and individuals with specialized security and military needs. The Corporation's chairman, series hero Juan Cabrillo, has several pressing concerns: supply security for the emir of Qatar, who is attending a conference in Iceland; track down a nuclear bomb that has gone astray; and pick up the aforementioned meteorite, which has just been found ensconced in a mysterious shrine. These jobs become dangerously complicated when industrialist Halifax Hickman, a man fueled by revenge and hatred, enters the picture. The meteorite, the atomic bomb and a vial of plague are to be used in attacks on holy sites-Israel's Dome of the Rock and Saudi Arabia's al-Haram mosque-and at an Elton John concert. It's a deadly game, but the brilliant Cabrillo is a master player, moving his pieces at lightning speed on several boards until he outmaneuvers his opposition in this action-packed page-turner. (Oct.) Forecast: This series will become a permanent and productive cog in the Cussler machine. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
KLIATT
The "Corporation" is a private security and covert operations group, made up of ex-military and CIA operatives. They are hired to find a nuclear bomb stolen from the Ukraine. This bomb will get into the hands of Al-Khalifa, an Islamic fanatic bent on smuggling the bomb into London to detonate it at the heart of the British financial and governmental district. At the same time the Corporation is asked to obtain a meteor that is highly radioactive and potentially can be used to create a "dirty bomb." By the time Juan Cabrillo, head of the Corporation, gets to the site of the meteor it has been stolen by someone. As the story unfolds it is discovered that an extremely wealthy American wants it as part of his plan to eliminate the core of the Islamic religion by destroying the sacred places of Islam. The motivation for this destruction is the death of his son, an American soldier killed by Islamic terrorists in Afghanistan. This novel is plot-driven, and the reader may find it difficult to keep track of all the players. The reader is placed in the position of facing current Middle East issues and stopping both extremist groups for the good of the world. Though the conflict is deadly, the graphic nature of the violence is held to a minimum, and in solving the dilemmas the authors display the morality and humanity of the Corporation in the way it protects the lives of innocents. KLIATT Codes: SA—Recommended for senior high school students, advanced students, and adults. 2004, Penguin, Berkley, 406p., Ages 15 to adult.
—Steve Dobosz
Kirkus Reviews
The multitudes of fans awaiting each new work the Mighty Cussler Factory pumps out must wonder which Cussler they'll get next. Will it be Cussler with poetic coauthor Paul Kemprecos (Serpent, 1999), filing a Dirk Pitt and NUMA thriller; Cussler with Craig Dirgo (Golden Buddha, 2003), filing an Oregon report for Corporation chairman Juan Cabrillo; or Cussler the Pure Thing (Trojan Odyssey, 2003), with his historical fantasias? Here, a radioactive meteorite that struck Earth 50,000 years ago was discovered in Greenland a mere thousand years ago by Eric the Red and his Vikings, who hid it in a cave. Now two rival factions want the meteorite to help build a superbomb that can wipe out a Western city. The first is a faction of Muslim terrorists from Ukraine, while the second faction, led by a crazed industrialist, wants to wipe out Islam. Only genius Juan Cabrillo's Corporation, with its marvel of seagoing technology, bristling with armaments and assisted by the CIA, can save the West as well as save the East from the West. But the meteorite is not the only rock in the tale, since the stolen Abraham's Stone (and what stone could be more sacred?) must also be secretly returned to the Kaaba at Mecca-while the good guys are threatened with beheading. The usual Cussler the Incredible, crammed with endless technological detail and ablaze with action.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780425198483
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA) Incorporated
  • Publication date: 10/5/2004
  • Series: Oregon Files Series , #2
  • Pages: 416
  • Sales rank: 347,723
  • Product dimensions: 9.00 (w) x 5.96 (h) x 0.91 (d)

Meet the Author

Clive  Cussler
Clive Cussler is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers. He splits his time between Telluride, Colorado and Paradise Valley, Arizona.

Craig Dirgo has been special projects director on many NUMA® expeditions since 1987 and now serves as a trustee. He also cowrote The Sea Hunters series.

Biography

Cussler began writing novels in 1965 and published his first work featuring his continuous series hero, Dirk Pitt, in 1973. His first non-fiction, The Sea Hunters, was released in 1996. The Board of Governors of the Maritime College, State University of New York, considered The Sea Hunters in lieu of a Ph.D. thesis and awarded Cussler a Doctor of Letters degree in May, 1997. It was the first time since the College was founded in 1874 that such a degree was bestowed.

Cussler is an internationally recognized authority on shipwrecks and the founder of the National Underwater and Marine Agency, (NUMA) a 501C3 non-profit organization (named after the fictional Federal agency in his novels) that dedicates itself to preserving American maritime and naval history. He and his crew of marine experts and NUMA volunteers have discovered more than 60 historically significant underwater wreck sites including the first submarine to sink a ship in battle, the Confederacy's Hunley, and its victim, the Union's Housatonic; the U-20, the U-boat that sank the Lusitania; the Cumberland, which was sunk by the famous ironclad, Merrimack; the renowned Confederate raider Florida; the Navy airship, Akron, the Republic of Texas Navy warship, Zavala, found under a parking lot in Galveston, and the Carpathia, which sank almost six years to-the-day after plucking Titanic's survivors from the sea.

In September, 1998, NUMA - which turns over all artifacts to state and Federal authorities, or donates them to museums and universities - launched its own web site for those wishing more information about maritime history or wishing to make donations to the organization. (www.numa.net).

In addition to being the Chairman of NUMA, Cussler is also a fellow in both the Explorers Club of New York and the Royal Geographic Society in London. He has been honored with the Lowell Thomas Award for outstanding underwater exploration.

Cussler's books have been published in more than 40 languages in more than 100 countries. The author lives in Arizona.

Biography courtesy of Penguin Group (USA)

Good To Know

Cussler worked for many years in advertising and was responsible for coming up with Ajax's "White Knight" commercial catchphrase, "It's stronger than dirt."

The Board of Governors of the Maritime College, State University of New York, considered Cussler's 1996 nonfiction book, The Sea Hunters, equivalent to a Ph.D. thesis and awarded Cussler a Doctor of Letters degree in 1997.

Cussler is a fellow in the Explorers Club of New York and the Royal Geographic Society in London, and has been granted the Lowell Thomas Award for outstanding underwater exploration.

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    1. Hometown:
      Phoenix, Arizona
    1. Date of Birth:
      July 15, 1931
    2. Place of Birth:
      Aurora, Illinois
    1. Education:
      Pasadena City College; Ph.D., Maritime College, State University of New York, 1997

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

LIEUTENANT CHRIS HUNT rarely talked about his past, but the men he served with had gathered a few clues from his demeanor. The first was that Hunt had not grown up in some backwoods hillbilly haven and used the army to see the world. He was from Southern California. And, if pressed, Hunt would volunteer he was raised in the Los Angeles area, not wanting to disclose that he grew up in Beverly Hills. The second thing the men noticed was that Hunt was a natural leader-he was neither patronizing nor put on an air of superiority, but neither did he try to hide the fact that he was competent and smart.

The third thing the men found out today.

A chill wind was blowing down from the mountains into the Afghanistan valley where the platoon under Hunt's command was breaking camp. Hunt and three other soldiers were wrestling with a tent they were folding for storage. While the men were bringing the ends together longways, Sergeant Tom Agnes decided to ask about the rumor he had heard. Hunt handed him the side of the tent so Agnes could fold it into halves.

"Sir," Agnes said, "rumor has it you graduated from Yale University-that true?"

All the men were wearing tinted ski goggles but Agnes was close enough to see Hunt's eyes. A flicker of surprise, followed by resignation, flashed quickly. Then Hunt smiled.

"Ah," he said quietly, "you've found out my terrible secret."

Agnes nodded and folded the tent in half. "Not exactly a hotbed for military recruiting."

"George Bush went there," Hunt said. "He was a navy pilot."

"I thought he was in the National Guard," Specialist Jesus Herrara, who was taking the tent from Agnes, said.

"George Bush Senior," Hunt said. "Our president also graduated from Yale, and yes, he was a National Guard jet pilot."

"Yale," Agnes said. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here?"

Hunt brushed some snow from his gloves. "I volunteered," he said, "just like you."

Agnes nodded.

"Now let's finish breaking down this camp," Hunt said, pointing to the mountain nearby, "and head up there and find that bastard who attacked the United States."

"Yes, sir," the men said in unison.

Ten minutes later, with fifty-pound packs on their backs, they started up the mountain.

IN A TOWN where beautiful women abound, at age forty-nine Michelle Hunt still caused men to turn their heads. Tall, with hazel hair and bluegreen eyes, she was blessed with a figure that required neither constant dieting nor endless exercise to appear trim. Her lips were full and her teeth straight, but it was her doelike eyes and flawless skin that gave the strongest visual impression. And while she was a beautiful woman, that was as common in Southern California as sunshine and earthquakes.

What drew people closer to Michelle was something that cannot be created by a surgeon's knife, honed through dress or manicure, or developed through ambition or change. Michelle had that thing that made both men and women like her and want to be around her-she was happy, content and positive. Michelle Hunt was herself. And people flocked to her like bees to a flower in bloom.

"Sam," she said to the painter who had just finished the walls in her art gallery, "you do such nice work."

Sam was thirty-eight years old and he blushed.

"Only my best for you, Ms. Hunt," he said.

Sam had painted her gallery when it had opened five years before, her Beverly Hills house, her condo in Lake Tahoe and now this remodel. And every time she made him feel appreciated and talented.

"You want a bottle of water or a Coke or something?" she asked.

"I'm okay, thanks."

Just then an assistant called from the front of the gallery that she had a telephone call, and she smiled, waved and began to walk away.

"That's a lady," Sam said under his breath, "a lady."

Walking to the front of the gallery, where her desk faced out onto Rodeo Drive, Michelle noticed that one of the artists she represented was coming through the front door. Here her amiability had also paid off in spades-artists are a fickle and temperamental lot, but Michelle's artists adored her and rarely changed galleries. That and the fact that she had started her business fully funded had contributed greatly to her years of success.

"I knew today was going to be good," she said to the bearded man. "I just didn't know it would be because my favorite artist would be paying me a visit."

The man smiled.

"Just let me take this telephone call," she said, "and we'll talk."

Her aide corralled the artist toward an area with couches and a wet bar off to one side. As Michelle slid into her desk chair and reached for the telephone, the aide took the artist's drink order and a few seconds later began packing ground espresso into the machine to draw him a cappuccino.

"Michelle Hunt."

"It's me," a gravelly voice said.

The voice was one that needed no introduction. He had swept her off her feet when she was a young woman of twenty-one, freshly arrived from Minnesota, seeking a new life of fun and sun in 1980s Southern California. After an on-again, off-again relationship, necessitated both by his inability to be bound to a relationship, as well as his frequent absences for business, she had borne his son at age twenty-four. And though his name never appeared on the birth certificate-nor had Michelle and he actually lived together before or since-the pair had remained close. At least as close as the man allowed anyone ever to come.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I've been okay."

"Where are you?"

It was the standard question she asked him to break the ice. Over the years the answers had ranged from Osaka to Peru to Paris to Tahiti.

"Hang on," the man said easily. He stared at a moving map on a forward wall near the cockpit of his jet. "Six hundred and eighty-seven miles from Honolulu on the way to Vancouver, British Columbia."

"Going skiing?" she asked. The sport was something they had enjoyed together.

"Building a skyscraper," he answered.

"You're always up to something."

"True," he noted. "Michelle, I called because I heard our boy has been sent to Afghanistan," he said quietly.

Michelle had been unaware-the deployment was still secret and Chris had not been able to disclose his destination when he'd been dispatched.

"Oh my," she blurted, "that's not good."

"That's what I thought you'd say."

"How'd you find out?" Michelle asked. "I'm always amazed by your ability to ferret out information."

"It's not magic," the man said. "I have so many senators and other politicians in my pocket I've had to buy larger pants."

"Any word on how it's going?"

"I guess the mission is proving harder than the president envisioned," he said. "Chris is apparently leading a hunter-killer squad to locate the bad guys. Limited contact so far-but my sources claim it is cold and dirty work. If he doesn't contact you for a while, don't be surprised."

"I'm afraid for him," Michelle said slowly.

"Do you want me to put in a fix?" the man asked. "Have him pulled out and sent stateside?"

"I thought he made you agree never to do that."

"He did," the man admitted.

"Then don't."

"I'll call you when I know more."

"Are you going to be down this way soon?" Michelle asked.

"I'll call you if I am," the man said. "Now I'd better go-I'm starting to get static on the satellite line. Must be sunspots."

"Pray our boy is safe," she said.

"I might do more than that," the man said as the call ended.

Michelle replaced the receiver in its cradle and sat back. Her ex-beau was not one to show worry or fear. Still, his concern for his son had been palpable and personal. She could only hope his worry was misplaced, and that Chris would come home soon.

Rising from the desk, she walked toward the artist. "Tell me you have something good," she said easily.

"Outside in the van," the artist said, "and I think you'll like it."

FOUR HOURS AFTER sunrise, one thousand feet higher up the ridge from the camp where they had spent the night, Hunt's platoon met a determined enemy. The fire came from a series of caves just above and to the east. And it came all at once. Rifle fire, rocket-propelled grenades, mortars, handgun fire rained down. The enemy dynamited the mountain to create rock slides, pelting the ground below, and they had mined the ground where Hunt's troops sought refuge.

The enemy's goal was to wipe out Hunt's team all at once-and they would come close.

Hunt had taken refuge behind a series of boulders. Bullets were ricocheting off the rocks to all sides, sending chips flying through the air and striking his men. There was nowhere to hide, no way to advance, and their retreat had been cut off by a rock slide.

"Radio," Hunt shouted.

Half his team was twenty yards ahead, another quarter ahead and to the left. Luckily, his radio operator had stayed close to the lieutenant. The man edged toward Hunt on his back to protect the radio. For his effort he received a wound to his kneecap when a bullet grazed his raised knee as the man pushed himself closer. Hunt dragged him the rest of the way.

"Antencio," Hunt shouted to a man a few feet away, "take care of Lassiter's wound."

Antencio scurried over and began cutting away the radio operator's pants. He found the opening was not deep and began to wrap a bandage around the knee as Hunt flicked on the radio and adjusted the dial.

"You're going to be okay, Lassiter," he said to the radio operator. "I'm going to get us some help in here posthaste. Then we'll have you medevaced."

The fear in the soldiers' faces was obvious. For most of them, as for Hunt, this was their first time in battle. As their leader, he needed to take control and form a plan.

"Control, Control, Advance Three," Hunt yelled into the microphone, "need positive support, grid three zero one eight. Taking heavy fire."

"Advance Three," a voice said immediately, "report situation."

"We're pinned down," Hunt said, "and they have the high ground. Situation critical."

Hunt glanced up as he was talking. A dozen bearded men in flowing robes were starting down the hill. "Get some fire up there, men," he screamed to the forward half of his team. A second later a volley of shots rang out.

"Advance Three, we have a Spectre two minutes out and inbound. Four whirlies-two carriers and two gunships-will be off the ground in three. It'll take them another ten minutes to reach your site."

Hunt could hear the whine of the massive propeller-driven gunship racing up the canyon miles below them. He peeked over the rock to see eight of the enemy still advancing down the hill. Raising himself, he shot off a rocket-propelled grenade. A whoosh then a thump as the charge flew through the air and ignited. He followed up with a volley of automatic weapon fire.

"Advance Three, acknowledge."

"Advance Three, affirmative," Hunt yelled into the microphone.

Where there had been eight there were now just four. They were only twenty yards from his forward team. Hunt swiveled his bayonet and locked it in place. The forward team seemed paralyzed. They were young, unseasoned and about to be overrun. A mortar landed close to the boulders and exploded. The area was showered with powdered rock and dust. From higher up the mountain another group of the enemy started down the hill. Hunt stood up and started firing. He sprinted the twenty yards ahead to his men and met the advancing enemy head-on.

Three's a charm, and that's how many Hunt shot dead in the gut. The last one he bayoneted, as his clip was empty. Tasking his sidearm from his holster, he finished the man off, then slid to the ground, replaced his clip and rose and started firing again.

"Back it up, men," he shouted, "behind the boulders."

Two by two his men retreated to the relative safety of the boulders to the rear, while the men remaining kept fire on an advancing enemy. The enemy was high on distilled poppy, misplaced religious zeal and the narcotic khat leaves they were chewing. The slope was red with the blood of their fallen comrades but still they advanced.

"Advance Three," the radio squawked.

Antencio reached for the radio. "This is Advance Three," he said. "Our C.O. is away from the radio, this is Specialist 367."

"We've located a B-52 at another target," the voice said. "We've diverted her to assist."

"Affirm-I'll tell the lieutenant."

But Antencio would never have a chance to relay the message.

Only Hunt and a grizzled old sergeant were left at the forward site when the AC-130 arrived on station. A second later a wall of lead began pouring from the 25-, 40- and 105-millimeter guns that poked from her sides.

The sergeant had seen a Spectre live-fire before and he wasted no time. "Let's back it up, sir," he shouted to Hunt, "we have a few seconds of cover."

"Go, go, go," Hunt said, yanking the sergeant upright and pushing him toward safety. "I'm right behind you."

The Spectre crabbed sideways from the recoil of her firing guns. A few seconds later the pilot pulled her up and out to turn and make another pass through the narrow canyon. As the gunship ended her turn and lined up for her second run, seven of the enemy still advanced. Hunt covered his sergeant's retreat.

He killed five of the enemy with a combination of a rocket-propelled grenade and a concentrated field of fire. But two made it close to Hunt's position. One shot him in the shoulder as he turned to retreat.

The second one slit his throat with a wicked-looking curved knife.

Starting down in the dive for the fire run, the pilot of the AC-130 saw Hunt being killed and radioed it to the other aircraft. Hunt's troops saw it as well-and the sight removed their fear and replaced it with rage. As the AC-130 lined up for the pass, the troops rose and charged another wave that had just left the cave and was advancing downhill. Pushing forward as a team, they reached their fallen leader and erected a protective circle around his body. They waited for the enemy to advance, but as if by magic, or sensing the fury of the American troops, the enemy began to turn and retreat.

TWENTY THOUSAND FEET above them and less than ten minutes from the target, the pilot of the B-52 flicked off the microphone and replaced it in its cradle.

"Did you all hear that?" he said quietly on the intercom to his crew.

The plane was silent save for the drone from the eight engines. The pilot didn't need an answer-he knew they'd all heard what he had heard.

"We're going to turn this mountain into dust," he said. "When the enemy comes for the bodies, I want them to need to collect them with a sponge."

• *

FOUR MINUTES LATER the helicopters came for Advance Three.

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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 135 )
Rating Distribution

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(55)

4 Star

(40)

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(23)

2 Star

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(10)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 137 Customer Reviews
  • Posted May 18, 2009

    {:{

    Loved Dirk Pitt novels, but this one was just TOO busy. At times good reading but mostly 2 or 3 sentences and a change of scene.TOO many balls in the air at once. I got within 40 pages of the end and just gave up. Couldn't follow all the characfers and plot lines. Don't waste your time on this one. Avid reader, GROGTX

    3 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 31, 2012

    Always love the oregan series

    One of the things i often enjoy about cussler's work is how he shows the so-called "bad guys" in a layered way that gives you something to think about. Another solidly written enjoyable book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 12, 2012

    Good Read

    This is definitely a step up from Cusslers first book on the Oregon files. A lot more cohesive. Hopefully he cuts down on the number of characters a little in other books in this series (I'm reading them in order). Plenty of action.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 26, 2010

    Cussler always gives you a good read

    I like the Oregon files better than the Pitt series. I like the characters and how theyve been developed.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 5, 2009

    This special ship helps to save the world

    Can't put it down. Can't wait to see what will happen next.

    1 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 27, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Cussler Stamp

    If you are a Cussler fan this is standard fare in the Oregon Files. A good read, but not a page burner. The plot is right out of today's headlines and is well developed.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 23, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    Best Clive Cussler I have Read So Far

    This was a great read. It is the third of the Oregon files I have read and enjoyed it very much. The last 50 or so pages were extremely exciting. I like the short chapters and the fact that the author keeps a large number of balls in the air at the same time. The Oregon Series is an interesting contrast to the Dirk Pitt series and the Kurt Austin/NUMA series since there is a bunch of hero characters instead of a single one or two with Dirk and Kurt's sidekicks. I am definitely a Clive Cussler booster.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 5, 2007

    Another classic from a master storyteller

    There has been much criticism surrounding the factual details within this book. Sure, the book clearly shows how the authors have never studied a map of the UK, and perhaps some people might get annoyed at the inaccuracies of train station announcements, but these are just small details and can be forgiven seeing as this is not real life, but a work of fiction! So what if the book puts Edinburgh west of Glasgow, it's not a geography book, but an adventure novel set in a make believe world. It would be nice if facts could be researched, but I feel that many publishers put such stringent deadlines on these mass paperback authors that they simply don't have the time to fact check the smaller things. It's also obvious that most of this book is written by Craig Dirgo, and that Cussler's name is on it because he invented the character in a Dirk Pitt novel. The style is very different from his others, and it does tend to jump about and it's sometimes hard to keep up. However, all this aside, the book is an enjoyable read and it did keep me wanting to turn the pages to see what happens next, which is always the mark of a good author. I put another unfinished book down to read this Cussler book, and did not regret it. Which goes to show that his work is still a cut above the rest.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 20, 2013

    Elder's Den

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2013

    Zoey

    Wow

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2013

    AHhhhhhhhh

    Kenneth stop

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2013

    KENS' STORY ~CHAPTER NINE~

    (((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 10, 2012

    darkclaw

    From her to the end will b caves ~darkclawe

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 8, 2012

    recommende reading

    Clive does it once more- this is a good ebook.

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  • Posted December 16, 2011

    Not to bad of a Book, Not Dirk Pitt!!

    Good fast read, not typical Cussler Attitude.

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  • Posted October 25, 2011

    Adventure, travel and good characters!

    I enjoy the respectful character developement of Cussler stories. He is one of the best adventure writer I have read. I enjoy looking at Google earth and traveling with him.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 8, 2011

    Couldn't even finish this one..

    I'm a big Cussler fan.. have been for years. This book is just not up to his usual standards. I have to wonder if Mr. Cussler had any role in its creation, other than collecting a fee for allowing his name to go on the cover. What a disappointment!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 17, 2011

    check this one out

    This is one of the best Cussler's I have read in quite some time.

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  • Posted December 10, 2008

    Oh, was this a surprise

    I've read numerous Clive Cussler books (Dirk Pitt and Kurt Austin series) and absolutely love them. I hadn't read any of the Oregon Files series until this book, and I couldn't believe it was written by the same person. This book should be titled "Clive Cussler Lite". I finished it because I seldom put a book down until it reaches a conclusion, but I came close on several instances. Terrible! No real tension, way too many characters, no danger. Nothing to get the reader interested. Extremely disappointing.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 2, 2008

    Girls Love Cussler, Too

    I am a huge Cussler fan- have read every Dirk Pitt several times. I have enjoyed the other Oregon Files, but this one, not so much. Cussler books are not for realists, that's the fun of them. But this one stretched credibility too much even for a hard-core fan like me. 'Saving the day with foam?' Read it, but don't go in with high expectations. I'm thinking Cussler should sever ties with Craig Dirgo.

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