The Shark Mutiny (Admiral Arnold Morgan Series#5) [NOOK Book]

Overview

An oil tanker mysteriously explodes in the Persian Gulf. Then a second . . . and a third. To the President's National Security Adviser Admiral Arnold Morgan it is more than a tragic coincidence—it is a brazen act of aggression that must not stand. In partnership with Iran, the Chinese navy has mined the Strait of Hormuz, intending to hold the world's oil supply hostage. Now eighty percent of America's active sea power is being mobilized—including U.S.S. Shark, an aging nuclear submarine on its final tour of ...

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The Shark Mutiny (Admiral Arnold Morgan Series#5)

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Overview

An oil tanker mysteriously explodes in the Persian Gulf. Then a second . . . and a third. To the President's National Security Adviser Admiral Arnold Morgan it is more than a tragic coincidence—it is a brazen act of aggression that must not stand. In partnership with Iran, the Chinese navy has mined the Strait of Hormuz, intending to hold the world's oil supply hostage. Now eighty percent of America's active sea power is being mobilized—including U.S.S. Shark, an aging nuclear submarine on its final tour of duty—to dismantle a deadly alliance between two powerful enemies. But something goes terribly wrong during a bold retaliatory SEAL assault on China's Indian Ocean power plants—a disaster that spawns death, disbelief, rage . . . and rebellion. And with a volatile world on the brink of catastrophic conflict, the commanders of a nuclear boat in the twilight of glory must confront a nightmare as devastating as it is unthinkable: mutiny!

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
After oil tanker after oil tanker blows up in the Strait of Hormuz, an American naval fleet is dispatched to the Persian Gulf to root out the culprits. The mindfield kill zone they discover places national security in jeopardy. And then, halfway around the world, China makes its move...
Stephen Coonts
Robison is on of the crown princes of the ...thriller.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
The fifth in a series of naval techno-thrillers that includes Nimitz Class and H.M.S. Unseen, Robinson's latest offers little more than tired anti-Beijing paranoia and chest-thumping adulation of U.S. military might. It is the year 2007, and the U.S. national security adviser, Adm. Arnold Morgan (the curmudgeonly patriot who has graced all of Robinson's previous novels), is unhappily marking time. He has been persuaded to stay on past his planned retirement date by a jittery Joint Chiefs of Staff worried about the aging Republican president ("a complete flake"). Bored now because "the goddamned world's gone quiet," Morgan and a junior intelligence officer named Ramshawe are almost relieved to discover that devious Chinese admirals, familiar from previous installments, have teamed up with the mad mullahs of Tehran to hatch a dastardly plot: they have set up a massive minefield across the Strait of Hormuz at the mouth of the Persian Gulf, directly in the path of the world's oil tankers; destroying them will drive world oil prices through the stratosphere and derail the global economy. Of course, the navy's chain of command gets in the way of those alert enough to smell a rat, and Ramshawe's warnings go unheeded until tankers start going boom. At that point, Morgan deploys the bulk of naval forces to the Gulf, and the U.S. and China go to the brink again. Robinson's description of submarine operations is not as detailed as Tom Clancy's, and his portrayal of SEALs is not as realistically gritty as Richard Marcinko's, but he does pick up handily on real world tensions. Whether or not he triumphs and here he does not neither he nor his hero show signs of slowing down. (May 22) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061832925
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 10/13/2009
  • Series: Admiral Arnold Morgan Series , #5
  • Sold by: HARPERCOLLINS
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 512
  • Sales rank: 90,812
  • File size: 682 KB

Meet the Author

Patrick Robinson is the author of seven international bestselling suspense thrillers, including Nimitz Class and Hunter Killer, as well as several nonfiction bestsellers. He divides his time between Ireland and Cape Cod.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One



The White House. Washington, D.C.
January 23, 2007.


Admiral Arnold Morgan was alone in his office contemplating the two major issues in his life at this particular lunchtime. The first was his decision to stay on as the National Security Adviser to the President for one more year, against all of his better judgment.

The second was a Wagnerian-sized roast beef sandwich, fortified with heavy mayonnaise and mustard into a feast he would never have dared to order had his secretary and wife-to-be, the gorgeous Kathy O'Brien, been anywhere near the precincts of 1400 Pennsylvania Avenue. Happily she was out until 4 P.M.

The Admiral grinned cheerfully. He saw the sandwich as a richly deserved gastronomic reward for having succumbed to weeks of being badgered, harassed., coaxed and ultimately persuaded to remain in this office by some of the most powerful figures in American politics and the military.

His decision to hang in there had been wrung out of him, after nine weeks of soul-searching. The decision to hit a roast beef sandwich el grando, before Ms. O'Brien came sashaying back into the office, had been made with much less anguish. Nine weeks' less.

The Admiral, 61 years old now, was still, miraculously, in robust health, and not more than 8 pounds heavier than he had been as a nuclear submarine commander 27 years previously. Immaculately tailored, wearing a maroon-and-gold Herme's tie Kathy had given him for Christmas, he tucked a large white linen napkin into his shirt collar and bit luxuriously into his sandwich.

Through the window he could see it was snowing like hell. ThePresident was, shrewdly, visiting Southern California where the temperature was a sunlit 78 degrees, and right here in the West Wing of the White House there was absolutely nothing happening of any interest whatsoever to the most feared and respected military strategist on the planet Earth.

"I still have no idea what the hell I'm doing here," he muttered to himself. "The goddamned world's gone quiet, temporarily. And I'm sitting here like a goddamned lapdog waiting for our esteemed but flakey leader to drag himself out of some fucking Beverly Hills swimming pool."

Flakey. A complete flake. The words had been used about the President, over and over at that final meeting at the home of Admiral Scott Dunsmore, the wise and deceptively wealthy former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Arnold Morgan could not understand what the fuss was about. Plenty of other NSAs had resigned, but, apparently, he was not permitted that basic human right.

Christ, everyone had been there. And no one had even informed him. He'd walked, stone-cold, into a room containing not only General Scannell, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, but two former chairmen, plus the Chief of Naval Operations, and the Commandant of the United States Marines. The Defense Secretary was there, two senior members of the Senate Armed Services Committee, including the vastly experienced Senator Ted Kennedy, whose unwavering patriotism and endless concern for his country make him always a natural leader among such men. Altogether there were four current members of the National Security Council in attendance.

Their joint mission was simple: to persuade Admiral Morgan to withdraw his resignation, and to remain in office until the Republican President's second term was over. A few weeks previously, at the conclusion of a particularly dangerous and covert Naval operation in China, the President had demonstrated such shocking self-interest and lack of judgment that he could no longer be trusted to act in the strict interests of the USA.

The world was presently a volatile place, and no one needed to remind Admiral Morgan of that. But the man in the Oval Office was prone to appoint "yes-men" to influential positions, and now in the final two years of his presidency he tended to think only of himself and his image and popularity.

Without Admiral Morgan's granite wall of reality and judgment in the crucible of international military affairs, the men in Admiral Dunsmore's house that day were greatly concerned that a terrible and costly mistake might occur.

Looking back, Arnold Morgan could not remember precisely who had put into words the hitherto unspoken observation that the President was a "goddamned flake, and getting worse." But he remembered a lot of nodding and no laughter. And he remembered their host, Admiral Dunsmore, turning to his old friend, the Senator from Massachussetts, and saying, "The trouble is he's interested in military matters. And we cannot trust him. Talk to Arnold, Teddy. You'll say it better than anyone else."

He had, too. And at the conclusion of a short but moving few words from the silver-tongued sage of Hyannisport, Admiral Morgan had nodded, and said, curtly, "My resignation is withdrawn."

And now he was "back at the factory." And he was ruminating on the general calm that had existed in the world's known trouble spots for the past month. The Middle East was for the moment serene. Terrorists in general seemed still to be on their Christmas break. India and Pakistan had temporarily ceased to threaten each other. And China, the Big Tiger, had been very quiet since last fall. Indeed, according to the satellite photographs, they were not even conducting fleet exercises near Taiwan, which made for a change. As for their new Xia III, there was no sign of the submarine leaving its jetty in Shanghai.

The only halfway-interesting piece of intelligence to come Admiral Morgan's way since Christmas was a report put together by the CIA's Russian desk. According to one of their field operators in Moscow, the Rosvoorouzhenie factory on the outskirts of the city was suddenly making large quantities of moored mines. This was regarded as unusual since Rosvoorouzhenie's known expertise was in the production of seabed mines, the MDM series, particularly the lethal one-and-three-quarter-ton, ship-killing MDM-6, which can be laid through the torpedo tubes of a submarine.

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First Chapter

Chapter One



The White House. Washington, D.C.
January 23, 2007.


Admiral Arnold Morgan was alone in his office contemplating the two major issues in his life at this particular lunchtime. The first was his decision to stay on as the National Security Adviser to the President for one more year, against all of his better judgment.

The second was a Wagnerian-sized roast beef sandwich, fortified with heavy mayonnaise and mustard into a feast he would never have dared to order had his secretary and wife-to-be, the gorgeous Kathy O'Brien, been anywhere near the precincts of 1400 Pennsylvania Avenue. Happily she was out until 4 P.M.

The Admiral grinned cheerfully. He saw the sandwich as a richly deserved gastronomic reward for having succumbed to weeks of being badgered, harassed., coaxed and ultimately persuaded to remain in this office by some of the most powerful figures in American politics and the military.

His decision to hang in there had been wrung out of him, after nine weeks of soul-searching. The decision to hit a roast beef sandwich el grando, before Ms. O'Brien came sashaying back into the office, had been made with much less anguish. Nine weeks' less.

The Admiral, 61 years old now, was still, miraculously, in robust health, and not more than 8 pounds heavier than he had been as a nuclear submarine commander 27 years previously. Immaculately tailored, wearing a maroon-and-gold Herme's tie Kathy had given him for Christmas, he tucked a large white linen napkin into his shirt collar and bit luxuriously into his sandwich.

Through the window he could see it was snowing like hell. ThePresident was, shrewdly, visiting Southern California where the temperature was a sunlit 78 degrees, and right here in the West Wing of the White House there was absolutely nothing happening of any interest whatsoever to the most feared and respected military strategist on the planet Earth.

"I still have no idea what the hell I'm doing here," he muttered to himself. "The goddamned world's gone quiet, temporarily. And I'm sitting here like a goddamned lapdog waiting for our esteemed but flakey leader to drag himself out of some fucking Beverly Hills swimming pool."

Flakey. A complete flake. The words had been used about the President, over and over at that final meeting at the home of Admiral Scott Dunsmore, the wise and deceptively wealthy former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Arnold Morgan could not understand what the fuss was about. Plenty of other NSAs had resigned, but, apparently, he was not permitted that basic human right.

Christ, everyone had been there. And no one had even informed him. He'd walked, stone-cold, into a room containing not only General Scannell, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, but two former chairmen, plus the Chief of Naval Operations, and the Commandant of the United States Marines. The Defense Secretary was there, two senior members of the Senate Armed Services Committee, including the vastly experienced Senator Ted Kennedy, whose unwavering patriotism and endless concern for his country make him always a natural leader among such men. Altogether there were four current members of the National Security Council in attendance.

Their joint mission was simple: to persuade Admiral Morgan to withdraw his resignation, and to remain in office until the Republican President's second term was over. A few weeks previously, at the conclusion of a particularly dangerous and covert Naval operation in China, the President had demonstrated such shocking self-interest and lack of judgment that he could no longer be trusted to act in the strict interests of the USA.

The world was presently a volatile place, and no one needed to remind Admiral Morgan of that. But the man in the Oval Office was prone to appoint "yes-men" to influential positions, and now in the final two years of his presidency he tended to think only of himself and his image and popularity.

Without Admiral Morgan's granite wall of reality and judgment in the crucible of international military affairs, the men in Admiral Dunsmore's house that day were greatly concerned that a terrible and costly mistake might occur.

Looking back, Arnold Morgan could not remember precisely who had put into words the hitherto unspoken observation that the President was a "goddamned flake, and getting worse." But he remembered a lot of nodding and no laughter. And he remembered their host, Admiral Dunsmore, turning to his old friend, the Senator from Massachussetts, and saying, "The trouble is he's interested in military matters. And we cannot trust him. Talk to Arnold, Teddy. You'll say it better than anyone else."

He had, too. And at the conclusion of a short but moving few words from the silver-tongued sage of Hyannisport, Admiral Morgan had nodded, and said, curtly, "My resignation is withdrawn."

And now he was "back at the factory." And he was ruminating on the general calm that had existed in the world's known trouble spots for the past month. The Middle East was for the moment serene. Terrorists in general seemed still to be on their Christmas break. India and Pakistan had temporarily ceased to threaten each other. And China, the Big Tiger, had been very quiet since last fall. Indeed, according to the satellite photographs, they were not even conducting fleet exercises near Taiwan, which made for a change. As for their new Xia III, there was no sign of the submarine leaving its jetty in Shanghai.

The only halfway-interesting piece of intelligence to come Admiral Morgan's way since Christmas was a report put together by the CIA's Russian desk. According to one of their field operators in Moscow, the Rosvoorouzhenie factory on the outskirts of the city was suddenly making large quantities of moored mines. This was regarded as unusual since Rosvoorouzhenie's known expertise was in the production of seabed mines, the MDM series, particularly the lethal one-and-three-quarter-ton, ship-killing MDM-6, which can be laid through the torpedo tubes of a submarine.

The Shark Mutiny. Copyright © by Patrick Robinson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing 1 – 19 of 16 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 2, 2011

    highly recommend

    Patrick Robinson really know what he is writing about. From the first page to the last it is all action.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 25, 2005

    Patrick Robinson is the best about.

    Another brilliant book I have been hooked on the P.R's books for many years, nothing beats his brilliant writting. I read many many books but P.R wins hands down,he is away ahead of Tom Clancy and others. Lets hope he never stops writting.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 6, 2002

    A real page burner

    You can burn through the pages as it's the same old tired military jargon in most of the book. I find it rather sad that the biggest 'conflict' that can be believed is the conflict-of-interest that has the big tough admiral at the White House with his governement-paid secretary as a confident at the office and in bed.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 29, 2002

    Only 12 but I'm hooked

    Patrick Robinson is the best author around. I'm only 12, so the first pages daunted me with the jargon. But after 10 pages or so I felt like I was in the office at the White House or in the command room of the sub. The whole book is written to perfection, with genuine characters and of course the suspense that makes you pick up the book, and not put it down.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 15, 2001

    Robinson takes you close enough to smell the salt

    A twisting spinning ride through the world of politics powerplays and submarine warfare, with just the right amount of high explosive.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 4, 2001

    NO SHARKS BUT A WHALE OF A NOVEL

    THE SHARK MUTINY IS SIMPLY THE BEST BOOK I'VE READ IN YEARS. MR. ROBINSON HAS THE INNATE ABILITY TO ADDRESS COMPLEX GEOPOLITICAL AND MILITARY SITUATIONS; WHICH TO MOST, HAVE BECOME FAIRLY MUNDANE AND INJECT THE READER WITH RENEWED INTEREST IN WORLD POLITICS AND HISTORY. THE U.S.S. SHARK, A SUBMARINE, CAREFULLY LINGERS BELOW A MUCH MORE COMPLEX STORYLINE OF CATASTROPHIC WORLD EVENTS, POLITICAL AND MILITARY MANIPULATION, BRAVE WARRIORS AND THE DANGERS OF INEPT LEADERSHIP DURING A CRISIS. A REWARDING,EMOTIONAL NOVEL THAT WILL HAVE YOU THINKING ABOUT THE CHARACTERS, YOUR LIFE AND CURRENT POLITICAL AND WORLD TRENDS FOR MONTHS

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    Posted March 7, 2009

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