The Storm: A Kurt Austin Adventure (NUMA Files Series)

( 130 )

Overview

The thrilling new novel in the New York Times bestselling Kurt Austin Adventures…

In the middle of the Indian Ocean, a NUMA research vessel is taking water samples when a crew member spots a patch of black oil ahead of them. But the substance is not oil.

Like a horde of army ants, a swarm of black particles from the spoiled sea suddenly attacks, killing everyone aboard while the ship goes up in flames.

A few ...

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The Storm: A Kurt Austin Adventure (NUMA Files Series)

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Overview

The thrilling new novel in the New York Times bestselling Kurt Austin Adventures…

In the middle of the Indian Ocean, a NUMA research vessel is taking water samples when a crew member spots a patch of black oil ahead of them. But the substance is not oil.

Like a horde of army ants, a swarm of black particles from the spoiled sea suddenly attacks, killing everyone aboard while the ship goes up in flames.

A few hours later, Kurt Austin and Joe Zavala are on their way to the Indian Ocean. What they find on the smoldering hulk of the ship will eventually lead them to discover the most audacious scheme they have ever encountered: a plan to permanently alter the weather on a global scale. The insidious plot will kill millions…and it has already begun.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

Even in the distance at sunset, the crewmember of the NUMA research ship in the Indian Ocean was able to spot the black sheen of oil directly in their path. But it wasn't oil; it was something far worse. That something killed everyone aboard the vessel, which went up in flames. Coming upon the smoldering hulk a few hours later, Kurt Austin and Joe Zavala don't yet know that they are beginning an investigation that will put them in the crosshairs of a global conspiracy with mass extinction on its mind. Now in mass-market paperback and NOOK Book.

Publishers Weekly
Global climate change poses a threat in bestseller Cussler’s exciting 10th thriller featuring Kurt Austin and the gang from the National Underwater and Marine Agency (after 2011’s Devil’s Gate, also coauthored with Brown). When everyone aboard a NUMA research vessel dies after their catamaran runs into a mysterious black oily substance in the Indian Ocean, where they were investigating water temperature anomalies, Kurt and partner Joe Zavala rush to find out what happened. Wealthy Yemeni Jinn al-Khaif, who’s behind the killings, has dumped billions of microbots into the sea to cool it and create weather patterns that will deliver rain to certain areas and prevent rain from falling in others. Jinn plans to become even richer by selling these weather patterns to governments. Kurt and Joe are out to stop him, and, as always, the fate of the world rests in their hands. A clever twist at the end shows Cussler still plotting at the top of his game. Agent: Peter Lampack, the Peter Lampack Agency. (June)
Kirkus Reviews
Cussler (Devil's Gate, 2011, etc.), with co-author Brown, dips into the NUMA Files for another Kurt Austin action-on-the-sea escapade. Austin and his friend Joe Zavala, are National Underwater and Marine Agency Special Assignments Team troubleshooters. Dirk Pitt, head of NUMA, dispatches the pair to uncover the fate of the three-person crew missing from a NUMA research vessel found adrift in the Indian Ocean. Austin and Zavala link up with Paul and Gamay Trout, husband and wife NUMA techie team, in the Maldives, and the group's examination of the vessel reveals the missing NUMA scientists were victims of "microbots"--"A hundred could fit on the head of a pin." There in the Maldives, Austin also rescues Leilani Tanner, sister of one of the dead scientists, from a kidnapping, and she tags along. The microbot trail soon leads to Yemen and Jinn al-Khalif, a Bedouin camel trader's son grown immensely wealthy through ruthless, bloody ambition. Jinn hired scientists to modify the microbots, the not-quite-ready invention of circuit-board-genius Elwood Marchetti, meant to consume ocean pollution. The microbots now not only eat organic matter, but also self-replicate into the trillions. Programmed to blanket the Indian Ocean, the nefarious plan is to alter the world's climate by lowering water temperatures. That means more rain in dry places, which will create immense profits for Jinn and his financial backers, assorted Chinese, Pakistani and Egyptian evildoers. The narrative ricochets from the Maldives, to Yemen, to Egypt (the Aswan Dam is in peril because Jinn didn't get his money from a corrupt general), and finally to Marchetti's gargantuan movable man-made island, Aqua-Terra, for a shoot-'em-and-explode-what's-left ending. That the microbots can consume human beings like so many oceangoing piranha makes for more than one hairs-breadth escape, but that Leilani is actually Zarrina, double agent for Jinn, nearly stymies Austin and Zavala. Classic Cussler: testosterone-driven action, over-the-horizon technical wizardry, beautiful and talented women and exotic locations.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780425259658
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
  • Publication date: 5/28/2013
  • Series: NUMA Files Series , #10
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 464
  • Sales rank: 117,963
  • Product dimensions: 4.20 (w) x 7.40 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

Clive  Cussler

CLIVE CUSSLER is the Grand Master of Adventure, and author or coauthor of more than fifty previous books in five bestselling series, including Dirk Pitt®, NUMA® Files, Oregon Files,  Isaac Bell, and Fargo. His most recent New York Times—bestselling novels are The Race, Poseidon's Arrow, and The Tombs. His nonfiction works include Built for Adventure: The Classic Automobiles of Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt, plus The Sea Hunters and The Sea Hunters II; these describe the true adventures of the real NUMA®, which, led by Cussler, searches for ships of historic significance. With his crew of volunteers, Cussler has discovered more than sixty ships, including the long-lost Confederate submarine Hunley. He lives in Arizona.

GRAHAM BROWN is the author of Black Rain and The Eden Prophecy. A pilot and an attorney, he lives in Arizona.

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


Prologue

Indian Ocean September 1943

The S.S. John Bury shuddered from bow to stern as it plowed through the rolling waters of the Indian Ocean. She was known as a “fast freighter,” designed to accompany warships and used to traveling at a decent clip, but with all boilers going full out the John Bury was moving at a pace she hadn’t seen since her sea trials. Damaged, burning, and trailing smoke, the John Bury was running for her life.

The ship crested a ten-foot wave, the deck pitched down and the bow dug into another swell. A wide swath of spray kicked up over the rail and whipped back across the deck, rattling what was left of the shattered bridge.

Topside, the John Bury was a mangled wreck. Smoke poured from twisted metal where rockets had pounded the superstructure. Debris littered the deck, and dead crewmen lay everywhere.

But the damage was above the waterline, and the fleeing ship would survive if it avoided any more hits.

On the dark horizon behind, smoke poured from other vessels that had been less fortunate. An orange fireball erupted from one, flashing across the water and briefly illuminating the carnage.

The burning hulks of four ships could be seen, three destroyers and a cruiser, ships that had been the John Bury’s escort. A Japanese submarine and a squadron of dive-bombers had found them simultaneously. As dusk approached, oil burned around the sinking vessels in a mile-long slick. It fouled the sky with dense black smoke. None of them would see the dawn.

The warships had been targeted and destroyed quickly, but the John Bury had only been strafed, hit with rockets and left to run free. There could be only one reason for that mercy; the Japanese knew of the top secret cargo she carried and they wanted it for themselves.

Captain Alan Pickett was determined not to let that happen, even with half his crew dead and his face gashed by shrapnel. He grabbed the voice tube and shouted down to the engine room.

“More speed!” he demanded.

There was no response. At last report a fire had been raging belowdecks. Pickett had ordered his men to stay and fight it, but now the silence left him gripped with fear.

“Zekes off the port bow!” a lookout called from the bridge wing. “Two thousand feet and dropping.”

Pickett glanced through the shattered glass in front of him. In the failing light he saw four black dots wheeling in the gray sky and dropping toward the ship. Flashes lit from their wings.

“Get down!” he shouted.

Too late. Fifty caliber shells stitched a line across the ship, cutting the lookout in half and blasting apart what was left of the bridge. Shards of wood, glass and steel flew about the compartment.

Pickett hit the deck. A wave of heat flashed over the bridge as another rocket hit ahead of it. The impact rocked the ship, peeling back the metal ceiling like a giant can opener.

As the wave of destruction passed, Pickett looked up. The last of his officers lay dead, the bridge was demolished. Even the ship’s wheel was gone, with only a stub of metal still attached to the spindle. Yet somehow the vessel chugged on.

As Pickett climbed back up, he spotted something that gave him hope: dark clouds and sweeping bands of rain. A squall line was moving in fast off the starboard bow. If he could get his ship into it, the coming darkness would hide him.

Holding on to the bulkhead for support, he reached for what remained of the wheel. He pushed with all the strength he had left. It moved half a turn, and he fell to the ground holding it.

The ship began to change course.

Pressing against the deck, he pushed the wheel upward and then brought it back down again for another full revolution.

The freighter was leaning into the turn now, drawing a curved white wake on the ocean’s surface, coming around toward the squall.

The clouds ahead were thick. The rain falling from them was sweeping the surface like a giant broom. For the first time since the attack began, Pickett felt they had a chance, but as the ship plowed toward the squall the awful sound of the dive-bombers turning and plunging toward him again put that in doubt.

He searched through the ship’s gaping wounds for the source of that noise.

Dropping from the sky directly in front of him were two Aichi D3A dive-bombers, Vals, the same type the Japanese had used with deadly effect at Pearl Harbor and months later against the British fleet near Ceylon.

Pickett watched them nose over and listened as the whistling sound of their wings grew louder. He cursed at them and pulled his sidearm.

“Get away from my ship!” he shouted, blasting at them with the Colt .45.

They pulled up at the last minute and roared past, riddling the ship with another spread of .50 caliber shells. Pickett fell back onto the deck, a shell clean through his leg, shattering it. His eyes opened, gazing upward. He was unable to move.

Waves of smoke and gray sky rolled above him. He was finished, he thought. The ship and its secret cargo would soon fall into enemy hands.

Pickett cursed himself for not scuttling the ship. He hoped it would somehow go down on its own before it could be boarded.

As his eyesight began to fail, the sound of more dive-bombers caught his ear. The roar grew louder, the banshee scream from their wings calling out and announcing the terrible inevitability of the end.

And then the sky above darkened. The air turned cold and wet, and the S.S. John Bury disappeared into the storm, swallowed up by a wall of mist and rain.

She was last reported by a Japanese pilot as burning but sailing under full power. She was never seen or heard from again.

Chapter One

Northern Yemen, near the Saudi border August 1967

Tariq al-Khalif hid his face behind a cloth of soft white cotton. The kaffiyeh covered his head and wrapped around his mouth and nose. It kept the sun, wind and sand from his weather-beaten features as it hid him from the world.

Only Khalif’s eyes showed, hard and sharp from sixty years in the desert. They did not blink or turn away as he stared at the dead bodies in the sand before him.

Eight bodies in all. Two men, three women, three children; stripped naked, all clothes and belongings gone. Most had been shot, a few had been stabbed.

As the camel train at Khalif’s back waited, a rider moved slowly up toward him. Khalif recognized the strong, young figure in the saddle. A man named Sabah, his most trusted lieutenant. A Russian-made AK-47 lay slung over his shoulder.

“Bandits for certain,” Sabah said. “No sign of them now.”

Khalif studied the rough sand at his feet. He noticed the tracks disappearing to the west, headed directly toward the only source of water for a hundred miles, an oasis called Abi Quzza—the “silken water.”

“No, my friend,” he said. “These men are not waiting around to be discovered. They hide their numbers by sticking to the hard ground, where no tracks are left, or they walk on the softest sand, where the marks soon fade. But here I can see the truth, they’re heading toward our home.”

Abi Quzza had belonged to Khalif’s family for generations. It provided life-giving water and a modicum of wealth. Date palms grew in abundance around its fertile springs, along with grass for the sheep and camels.

With the growing number of trucks and other forms of modern transportation, the caravans that paid for its gifts had begun to dwindle, and the role of camel-raising Bedouins like Khalif and his family were fading along with them, but they were not yet gone. For the clan to have any prospects at all, Khalif knew the oasis must be protected.

“Your sons will defend it,” Sabah said.

The oasis lay twenty miles to the west. Khalif’s sons, two nephews and their families waited there. A half dozen tents, ten men with rifles. It would not be an easy place to attack. And yet Khalif felt a terrible unease.

“We must hurry,” he said, climbing back onto his camel.

Sabah nodded. He slid the AK-47 forward to a more aggressive position and nudged his camel forward.

Three hours later they approached the oasis. From a distance they could see nothing but small fires. There were no signs of struggle, no ripped tents or stray animals, no bodies lying in the sand.

Khalif ordered the camel train to a halt and dismounted. He took Sabah and two others, moving forward on foot.

The silence around them was so complete, they could hear the crackle of wood in the fires and their own feet scuffling in the sand. Somewhere in the distance, a jackal began to yelp. It was a long way off, but the noise carried in the desert.

Khalif halted, waiting for the jackal’s call to fade. When it died away, a more pleasant sound followed: a small voice singing a traditional Bedouin melody. It came from the main tent and fl owed quietly.

Khalif began to relax. It was the voice of his youngest son, Jinn.

“Bring the caravan,” Khalif said. “All is well.”

As Sabah and the others went back to the camels, Khalif walked forward. He reached his tent, threw open the flap, and froze.

A bandit dressed in rags stood there, holding a curved blade to his son’s throat. Another bandit sat beside him, clutching an old rifle.

“One move and I slice his neck,” the bandit said.

“Who are you?”

“I am Masiq,” the bandit said.

“What do you want?” Khalif asked.

Masiq shrugged. “What don’t we want?”

“The camels have value,” Khalif said, guessing what they were after. “I will give them to you. Just spare my family.”

“Your offer is meaningless to me,” Masiq replied, his face twisting into a snarl of contempt. “Because I can take what I want, and because . . .”—he gripped the boy tightly—“except for this one, your family is already dead.”

Khalif’s heart tightened. Inside his tunic was a Webley- Fosbery automatic revolver. The self-cocking revolver was a sturdy weapon with deadly accuracy. It wouldn’t jam even after months in the desert sand. He tried to think of a way to reach it.

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he said, “just for him. And you can go free.”

“You have gold hidden here,” Masiq said as if it were a known fact. “Tell us where it is.”

Khalif shook his head. “I have no gold.”

“Lies,” the second bandit said.

Masiq began to laugh, his crooked teeth and decay-filled mouth making a horrific sound. Gripping the boy tightly with one arm, he raised the other as if to slice the boy’s neck. But the child slipped loose, lunged for Masiq’s fingers with his mouth and bit down hard.

Masiq cursed in pain. His hand snapped back as if he’d been burned.

Khalif’s own hand found the revolver and he blasted two shots right through his tunic. The would-be murderer fell backward, two smoking holes in his chest.

The second bandit fired, grazing Khalif’s leg, but Khalif’s shot hit him square in the face. The man fell without a word, but the battle had only just begun.

Outside the tent, gunfire began to echo through the night. Shots were being traded, volleys flying back and forth. Khalif recognized the sound of heavy bolt-action rifles, like the one in the dead thug’s hand, they were answered by the rattling sound of Sabah and his automatic rifle.

Khalif grabbed his son, placing the pistol in the young boy’s hand. He picked up the old rifle from beside one of the dead bandits. He plucked the curved knife from the ground as well and moved deeper into the tent.

His older sons lay there as if resting side by side. Their clothes were soaked with dark blood and riddled with holes.

A wave of pain swept over Khalif; pain and bitterness and anger.

With the gunfire raging outside, he stuck the knife into the side of the tent and cut a small hole. Peering through it, he saw the battle.

Sabah and three of the men were firing from behind a shield of dead camels. A group of thugs dressed like the bandits he’d just killed were out in the oasis itself, hiding behind date palms in knee-high water.

There did not seem to be enough of them to have taken the camp by force.

He turned to Jinn. “How did these men get here?”

“They asked to stay,” the boy said. “We watered their camels.”

That they’d played on the tradition of Bedouin generosity and the kindness of Khalif’s sons before killing them enraged Khalif further. He went to the other side of the tent. This time he plunged the knife into the fabric and drew it sharply downward.

“Stay here,” he ordered Jinn.

Khalif snuck through the opening and worked his way into the darkness. Moving in a wide arc, he curled in behind his enemies and slipped into the oasis.

Preoccupied with Sabah and his men at their front, the bandits never noticed Khalif flanking them. He came up behind them and opened fire, blasting them in the back from close range.

Three went down quickly and then a fourth. Another tried to run and was killed by a shot from Sabah, but the sixth and final thug turned around in time and fired back.

A slug hit Khalif’s shoulder, knocking him backward and

sending a jolt of pain surging though his body. He landed in the water.

The bandit rushed toward him, perhaps thinking him dead or too wounded to fight.

Khalif aimed the old rifle and pulled the trigger. The shell jammed in the breach. He grabbed the bolt and worked to free it, but his wounded arm was not strong enough to break loose the frozen action.

The bandit raised his own weapon, drawing a bead on Khalif’s chest. And then the sound of the Webley revolver rang out like thunder.

The bandit fell against a date palm with a puzzled look on his face. He slid down it, the weapon falling from his hands into the water.

Jinn stood behind the dead man, holding the pistol in a shaking grip, his eyes filled with tears.

Khalif looked around for more enemies, but he saw none. The shooting had stopped. He could hear Sabah shouting to the men. The battle was over.

“Come here, Jinn,” he ordered.

His son moved toward him, shaking and trembling. Khalif took him under one arm and held him.

“Look at me.”

The boy did not respond.

“Look at me, Jinn!”

Finally Jinn turned. Khalif held his shoulder tightly.

“You are too young to understand, my son, but you have done a mighty thing. You have saved your father. You have saved your family.”

“But my brothers and mother are dead,” Jinn cried.

“No,” Khalif said. “They are in paradise, and we will go on, until we meet them one day.”

Jinn did not react, he only stared and sobbed.

A sound from the right turned Khalif. One of the bandits was alive and trying to crawl away.

Khalif raised the curved knife, ready to finish the man, but then held himself back. “Kill him, Jinn.”

The shaking boy stared blankly. Khalif stared back, firm and unyielding.

“Your brothers are dead, Jinn. The future of the clan rests with you. You must learn to be strong.”

Jinn continued to shake, but Khalif was all the more certain now. Kindness and generosity had almost destroyed them. Such weakness had to be banished from his only surviving son.

“You must never have pity,” Khalif said. “He is an enemy. If we have not the strength to kill our enemies, they will take the waters from us. And without the waters, we inherit only wandering and death.”

Khalif knew he could force Jinn to do it, knew he could order him and the boy would follow the command. But he needed Jinn to choose the act himself.

“Are you afraid?”

Jinn shook his head. Slowly, he turned and raised the pistol.

The bandit glanced back at him, but instead of Jinn buckling, his hand grew steady. He looked the bandit in the face and pulled the trigger.

The gun’s report echoed across the water and out into the desert. By the time it faded, tears no longer flowed from the young boy’s eyes.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 130 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(73)

4 Star

(30)

3 Star

(14)

2 Star

(9)

1 Star

(4)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 130 Customer Reviews
  • Posted June 8, 2012

    Another exciting adventure...

    A very exciting sci-fi thriller on an international scale. This book had a little of everything from natives in outriggers to hordes of microbots. Both Kurt and Joe certainly had their hands full throughout this story, and came very close to being history. One of the best lately from this author. Showed a lot of imagination and planning to pull it off. I'm just sorry it is over.....

    8 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 16, 2012

    Highly Recommend!!!!

    Clive Cussler is one of my all time favorites...have read all of his books and wait impatiently for each new one!!!

    6 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted June 8, 2012

    Great book

    One of Cussler's better stories. A fast read because it was a real page turner. Do not know where he keeps getting his ideas from but keep them coming!!!

    4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 27, 2012

    Highly recommended

    Clive is a very good writer and he will keep in the book from page 1 to the end and leave you wanting more.

    3 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 21, 2012

    Just OK...just.

    Plot line seems like a recycle of other Cussler stuff . . . it was OK.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 3, 2012

    excellent as always - an easy READ

    I always enjoy a clive cussler book and this book was no different in that respect.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 28, 2012

    You can't miss this one!!!

    You can always count on Clive Cussler to give you suspense, action and histiry. I couldn't put it down.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 23, 2012

    I love all Cussler's book!

    Wish I could write one. HAVE NOT RECEIVED IT YET. Still on pre-order...

    2 out of 17 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 11, 2013

    Good read.

    Overall it is a very good book. I would recommend to any who likes a good thriller. Some areas were a little predictable but still exciting.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 28, 2012

    Good Read

    This book keeps you going from the very beginning. It is true Clive Cussler reading at its best. The characters are brought out in a plot that isn't that far out as some of his books tend to do. His action series are great, again not over the edge like some times he tends to do. I love to read his books and I would recommend this one to anyone who like adventure and a little mystery thrown in.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 25, 2012

    Highly Recommended

    I have read all of Clive Cussler's books with Dirk Pitt as the main character and I have always been biased toward Dirk. This is my second book with Kurt and Joe. I couldn't put the book down and I look forward to their next adventure. Kurt and Joe are on the same level as Dirk. Keep up the great writing.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 20, 2012

    Annonymous

    Great read. I highly recomend it. A typical Cussler thriller.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 14, 2012

    Read Clive Cussler

    Love to read his books. Always hold my interest and enjoyment. I wait for the next book with inpatients as I am always ready for the next new story.
    Nadine Rodriguez

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 10, 2012

    Classic Cusler

    Engaging and hard to put down

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 31, 2012

    Hummm

    Just too much money

    1 out of 14 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 31, 2012

    Wolfheart

    Laughs

    1 out of 14 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 27, 2012

    No rating since it is not yet released from publisher!

    I think you are jumping the gun a bit. You are asking me to review a book on may 27, 2012 and the book is scheduled to be released from publication on may 29, 2012. Very impractable.

    1 out of 24 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 4, 2014

    Adventure with Lots of Action

    This is great light reading. There are so many unusual and dangerous events that the book is hard to put down. The authors' technique of beginning the book with a historical event or person, then tying it in with the present day characters' circumstances adds to the appeal.

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  • Posted June 27, 2014

    Highly Recommended

    Great ride. Could really be an event in the near future with all the nanobots being designed.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 15, 2014

    Riverfall

    Nice (AHHHHHH!!!!)

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