The Third Bullet (Bob Lee Swagger Series #8) [NOOK Book]

Overview

Bob Lee Swagger is back in a thriller fifty years in the making . . .

It’s not even a clue. It’s a whisper, a trace, a ghost echo, drifting down through the decades via chance connections so fragile that they would disintegrate in the puff of a breath. But it’s enough to get legendary former Marine sniper Bob Lee Swagger interested in the events of November 22, 1963, and ...
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The Third Bullet (Bob Lee Swagger Series #8)

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Overview

Bob Lee Swagger is back in a thriller fifty years in the making . . .

It’s not even a clue. It’s a whisper, a trace, a ghost echo, drifting down through the decades via chance connections so fragile that they would disintegrate in the puff of a breath. But it’s enough to get legendary former Marine sniper Bob Lee Swagger interested in the events of November 22, 1963, and the third bullet that so decisively ended the life of John F. Kennedy and set the stage for one of the most enduring controversies of our time.

Swagger begins his slow night stalk through a much-traveled landscape. But he’s asking questions that few have asked before: Why did the third bullet explode? Why did Lee Harvey Oswald, about to become the most hunted man on earth, risk it all by returning to his rooming house to secure a pistol he easily could have brought with him? How could a conspiracy that went unpenetrated for fifty years have been thrown together in the two and a half days between the announcement of the president’s route and the assassination itself?

As Bob investigates, another voice enters the narrative: knowing, ironic, almost familiar, that of a gifted, Yale-educated veteran of the CIA Plans Division. Hugh Meachum has secrets and the means and the will to keep them buried. When weighed against his own legacy, Swagger’s life is an insignificant expense—but to blunt the threat, he’ll first have to ambush the sniper.

As each man hunts the other across today’s globe and through the thickets of history, The Third Bullet builds to an explosive climax that will finally prove what Bob Lee Swagger has always known: it’s never too late for justice.
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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

What begins as a suspicious fatal hit-and-run case becomes something far more momentous in this eighth novel starring Bob Lee Swagger. Almost before he knows it, this savvy master sniper finds himself locked into an assignment involving the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Now in mass-market paperback and NOOK Book.

Steve Donoghue
&#8230[a] taut, efficient yarn…Plots and counterplots take our aging, limping hero to Russia and back through a hail of gunfire. The whole thing ends with a shootout in rural Connecticut that's so tense you'll burn your dinner rather than stop reading.
Publishers Weekly
In bestseller Hunter’s solid eighth thriller featuring master sniper Bob Lee Swagger (after 2010’s Dead Zero), Swagger is living an isolated existence in a small Idaho town, where a widow seeking justice for her husband seeks him out. Novelist James Aptapton was killed by a hit-and-run driver in Baltimore, but his journalist wife, Jean Marquez, suspects the killing was intentional. For motive, she points to recent research Aptapton conducted in Dallas, where he was following up on reports that a coat stained with gun-cleaning fluid was found hidden in the Dal-Tex Building next door to the infamous Texas Book Depository. On November 22, 1963, that building could have housed a sniper other than Oswald. After accepting Marquez’s request for help, Swagger plunges into the byzantine world of conspiracy theory. Hunter develops some new angles on the JFK assassination, and as usual keeps the details about ballistics and weaponry accessible. Agent: Esther Newberg, ICM. (Jan.)
Washington Post
“Hunter is extremely well-versed on guns and ballistics, and Swagger is nothing short of a legend. . . . it’ll be catnip to conspiracy-minded readers . . . The whole thing ends with a shootout in rural Connecticut that's so tense you'll burn your dinner rather than stop reading.”
Bookreporter.com
“Some of Hunter’s best writing can be found here, along with new revelations about Swagger . . . . Then, of course, there is the investigation into Kennedy’s death on that fateful day in Dallas and its conclusions. Hunter raises some thought-provoking questions, and while the ‘who’ in the equation may still be in doubt, the answers to the ‘what’ and ‘how’ may be contained in this work, which is labeled as ‘fiction’ but could be much more.”
Entertainment Weekly
“Former Marine sniper Bob Lee Swagger tackles the granddaddy of all conspiracy theories—the 1963 Kennedy assassination—in his latest adventure. . . . The author’s obsessive attention to the events of Nov. 22 yields a stunningly plausible theory that will have readers holding the book in one hand and Googling satellite photos of Dealey Plaza and the Texas School Book Depository with the other.”
Fort Worth Star-Telegram
“Hunter’s action-packed new thriller, The Third Bullet . . . introduces a shockingly plausible alternative to the Lee Harvey Oswald-‘lone gunman’ explanation.”
Booklist
“For nearly 50 years, the world has been obsessing over the assassination of JFK, from grassy knolls to magic bullets. Finally, though, there’s somebody on the case who likes to act more than talk: Bob Lee Swagger. . . . like Stephen King in 11/22/63, Hunter has used the assassination to forge a terrific thriller.”
Booklist (starred review)
“For nearly 50 years, the world has been obsessing over the assassination of JFK, from grassy knolls to magic bullets. Finally, though, there’s somebody on the case who likes to act more than talk: Bob Lee Swagger. . . . like Stephen King in 11/22/63, Hunter has used the assassination to forge a terrific thriller.”
#1 New York Times bestselling author of A Wanted Man and The Affair

“The Swagger novel we've all been waiting for, and the Swagger novel Stephen Hunter was born to write . . . a magnificent thriller—and it might even be true.”
Lee Child
#1 New York Times bestselling author of The Drop and The Black Box

The Third Bullet is as riveting as it is ambitious. It's Stephen Hunter's best so far.”
Michael Connelly
#1 New York Times bestselling author of Kill Shot

“Like an elite sniper, Stephen Hunter zeroes in on one of the most infamous shots ever fired and delivers a mind-bending thriller that answers the question ‘What if?’ in astonishingly plausible detail. The Third Bullet is his best Bob Lee Swagger thriller yet.”
Vince Flynn
#1 New York Times bestselling author of A Wanted Man and The Affair - Lee Child
“The Swagger novel we've all been waiting for, and the Swagger novel Stephen Hunter was born to write . . . a magnificent thriller—and it might even be true.”
#1 New York Times bestselling author of Kill Shot - Vince Flynn
“Like an elite sniper, Stephen Hunter zeroes in on one of the most infamous shots ever fired and delivers a mind-bending thriller that answers the question ‘What if?’ in astonishingly plausible detail. The Third Bullet is his best Bob Lee Swagger thriller yet.”
#1 New York Times bestselling author of The Drop and The Black Box - Michael Connelly
The Third Bullet is as riveting as it is ambitious. It's Stephen Hunter's best so far.”
New York Times bestselling author of The Disciple - Stephen Coonts
“Stephen Hunter is the bullseye ace of the modern thriller, a cerebral mix of mystery, blood, brutality, treachery and suspense. The Third Bullet is Hunter at the absolute apex of his art. Come on—it's time to hunt!”
From the Publisher
“The Swagger novel we've all been waiting for, and the Swagger novel Stephen Hunter was born to write . . . a magnificent thriller—and it might even be true.”

“Like an elite sniper, Stephen Hunter zeroes in on one of the most infamous shots ever fired and delivers a mind-bending thriller that answers the question ‘What if?’ in astonishingly plausible detail. The Third Bullet is his best Bob Lee Swagger thriller yet.”

“Former Marine sniper Bob Lee Swagger tackles the granddaddy of all conspiracy theories—the 1963 Kennedy assassination—in his latest adventure. . . . The author’s obsessive attention to the events of Nov. 22 yields a stunningly plausible theory that will have readers holding the book in one hand and Googling satellite photos of Dealey Plaza and the Texas School Book Depository with the other.”

“Hunter is extremely well-versed on guns and ballistics, and Swagger is nothing short of a legend. . . . it’ll be catnip to conspiracy-minded readers . . . The whole thing ends with a shootout in rural Connecticut that's so tense you'll burn your dinner rather than stop reading.”

“Hunter’s action-packed new thriller, The Third Bullet . . . introduces a shockingly plausible alternative to the Lee Harvey Oswald-‘lone gunman’ explanation.”

“For nearly 50 years, the world has been obsessing over the assassination of JFK, from grassy knolls to magic bullets. Finally, though, there’s somebody on the case who likes to act more than talk: Bob Lee Swagger. . . . like Stephen King in 11/22/63, Hunter has used the assassination to forge a terrific thriller.”

“Bestseller Hunter’s solid eighth thriller featuring master sniper Bob Lee Swagger . . . plunges into the byzantine world of conspiracy theory. Hunter develops some new angles on the JFK assassination.”

“Some of Hunter’s best writing can be found here, along with new revelations about Swagger . . . . Then, of course, there is the investigation into Kennedy’s death on that fateful day in Dallas and its conclusions. Hunter raises some thought-provoking questions, and while the ‘who’ in the equation may still be in doubt, the answers to the ‘what’ and ‘how’ may be contained in this work, which is labeled as ‘fiction’ but could be much more.”

The Third Bullet is as riveting as it is ambitious. It's Stephen Hunter's best so far.”

“Stephen Hunter is the bullseye ace of the modern thriller, a cerebral mix of mystery, blood, brutality, treachery and suspense. The Third Bullet is Hunter at the absolute apex of his art. Come on—it's time to hunt!”

New York Times bestselling author of First Blood - David Morrell
“One of the hardest things for a writer to do is establish an identity, but there is no mistaking Stephen Hunter’s thrillers. They have a unique insight into what it takes to be a hero, combined with an unequaled lyrical, even poetic approach to the ballistics, tactics, and firearms of a gunfight. Hunter’s novels (what a great last name, given his themes) combine authenticity with fascinating, compelling, real-feeling characters, and in The Third Bullet, he even adds a further dimension, experimenting with structure while embedding literary quotations. To me, he's a model of what a thriller author can be.”
New York Times bestselling author of Force of Nature - C.J. Box
“Only Stephen Hunter, with his brilliant knowledge of firearms, could have produced The Third Bullet and offered up a plausible explanation for one of our nation’s greatest mysteries. Despite the explosive subject matter, there is a jauntiness approaching pure joy in both the reading and the storytelling. This book will be huge.”
New York Journal of Books - Dick Lochte
“Mr. Hunter, as adept at spinning a yarn as Swagger is at hitting a bull’s-eye, has had the freedom to not only theorize, but also to create characters and situations designed to answer most of the questions raised by skeptics over the years. This transparency permits his clever, smartly constructed, and well-researched plot to fit the known bits and pieces of what happened on that dark day in Dallas into a completed jigsaw puzzle that shows readers precisely why the crime was committed—and who did it. No big surprise: It’s not Lee Harvey Oswald. . . . Ever since Swagger’s first appearance in Point of Impact (1993), the author has provided his hero with antagonists worthy of the name. Meachum is a cut above the usual, not merely aristocratic, arrogant, powerful and resourceful, but unexpectedly humane, at times whimsical and sentimental and, for much of the book, surprisingly compassionate—especially when considering the enormity of his crime. In short, to modify the Tom Wolfe title, he is a villain in full.”
Sandra Brown
“Stephen Hunter’s novel on the assassination of JFK is captivating, compelling, and thoroughly engrossing. The history has been painstakingly researched. The plot is classic Hunter: twisty, gritty, and fast-paced but tempered by the humanity of Bob Lee Swagger. In short, The Third Bullet is riveting storytelling for fans of fiction or non.”
Breitbart.com
“Hunter is at the top of the list when it comes to modern thriller writers.”
Library Journal
Bob Lee Swagger (Dead Zero) was 17 when John F. Kennedy was assassinated, but now he has the opportunity to find out what really happened that terrible day in Dallas. Though he's become a cranky old man, he remains a cunning, lethal adversary. When a woman claims that her husband was killed because he was writing a book about JFK, Swagger doesn't believe her. But when someone tries to kill Swagger using the same MO, the chase is on. Swagger investigates and realizes there might have been a second shooter, but who was he and why did he do it? VERDICT A fresh take on JFK's assassination makes for the ultimate thriller, and Hunter writes with great skill. Although maybe a little too meticulous and technical for many, it is still highly recommended for JFK fans, conspiracy theorists, and anybody who likes good writing and a engaging thriller. [See Prepub Alert, 7/15/12; 2013 marks the 50th anniversary of Kennedy's assassination.—Ed.]—Robert Conroy, Warren, MI
Kirkus Reviews
Bob Lee Swagger comes out of retirement to solve the murder of John F. Kennedy. Lots of people are killed in hit-and-run accidents, but Jean Marquez isn't so sure that her husband was one of them. In the weeks before his untimely death, James Aptapton, an alcoholic writer and gun fanatic whose hero, Billy Don Trueheart, will surely ring a bell for fans of Hunter (Soft Target, 2011, etc.), had been bitten by the JFK conspiracy bug, and his widow has come to Idaho to ask Swagger what he thinks. He thinks he'll pass until she drops one last detail: The ancient raincoat found in an elevator mechanism compartment in the Dal-Tex Building, just yards from the Texas Book Depository, showed signs of being run over by a bicycle. Hunter is at his best in unmasking problems with the evidence against Lee Harvey Oswald as the lone gunman--why did the third bullet he allegedly fired at the president explode without leaving any recognizable traces? Why did Oswald cock his rifle once more after the kill shot? Why, after shooting Officer J.D. Tippit three times, did he stop to administer an unnecessary coup de grace?--and proposing an alternative scenario that provides logical answers. But neither the conspiracy he invents nor the people who act it out, from Russian gangsters and oligarchs to a rogue CIA officer determined to protect the nation from Kennedy's policies and the tight little crew he gathers around him, are credible for a moment, and his decision to alternate sections of the chief conspirator's tell-all journals with Swagger's dogged pursuit of him produces less tension than bemusement. If it weren't for the promised firepower at the showdown, all but the staunchest conspiracy buffs would give up midway. An uneven thriller that's unpersuasive as revisionist history but has its points as a hard-knuckled critique of conventional wisdom on the assassination and a portrait of the hapless Oswald.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781451640250
  • Publisher: Simon & Schuster
  • Publication date: 1/15/2013
  • Series: Bob Lee Swagger Series , #8
  • Sold by: SIMON & SCHUSTER
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 496
  • Sales rank: 9,360
  • File size: 4 MB

Meet the Author

Stephen Hunter
Stephen Hunter has written seventeen novels. The retired chief film critic for The Washington Post, where he won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Distinguished Criticism, he has also published two collections of film criticism and a nonfiction work, American Gunfight. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
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Read an Excerpt

Third Bullet


  • Baltimore

The sidewalk before him bucked and heaved, blown askew by high winds howling through the night.

Oh, wait. No. Let’s edit that. There was no bucking and heaving. Ditto with the “blown askew” and the “high winds howling through the night.”

It just seemed so to Aptapton, because the winds that toyed with the stability of the sidewalk blew—“howled”—only through his own mind. They were zephyrs of vodka, and they’d substantially loosened his grip on the solidity of the little chunk of earth that lay between the bar he’d just exited and the house where he lived, a few hundred yards ahead.

Aptapton: alcoholic, writer, success, melancholiac, and gun guy, was in a zone that might be called greater than a buzz but less than a full staggering drunk. He was one sheet to the wind, you might say, happyhappyhappyhappy, as three vodka martinis will do to a fellow with only moderate capacity for drink, and what lay ahead, although slightly challenging, didn’t really seem insurmountable. After all, he had to walk only another few feet, cross the street, and then—

Digression. Pause for autobiographical interlude. It’s allowed when under the influence. One thing suggests another, and in this case the suggestion is appropriate.

The street was called Light, and that suggested a kind of hopeful conclusion to the evening. Light as in light of heart, light of spirit, light at end of tunnel, light as in amusing, fey, witty, light as symbol of hope and life. But also: Light as in Light for All, as a famous newspaper, located a mile or so up the very same Light Street, had proclaimed on a daily basis for 175 years or so, twenty-six of which he’d spent in its employ and where his wife to this day toiled.

Yes, he was that James Aptapton, minor local journo celeb who’d gone on to minor fame as a writer for money of hardcover books about gunfights and the stoic heroes who won them, and now he found himself at sixty-five improbably successful (in a small way) and awkwardly pleased to be himself. He had it all: beautiful wife, a couple of mil, a nice house in a fabulous part of town, a minor reputation (enough to take some pleasure in), a grand future, a munificent multibook contract, a really cool project ahead, and a lot of guns.

The reason for the three vodka martinis was liberation, not celebration. His wife was absent, ha ha ha, too bad for her. She was at some newsroom woman thing, birthday party, maybe—why did women take birthdays so seriously, by the way?—and so he’d wandered on his own to the nearby bistro, had a burger with a Bud and then V.1, which weakened his resolve to resist V.2, which shattered his resolve to resist V.3. Fortunately, there’d been no V.4, or he’d be asleep in the men’s room.

Now.

Where was I before digression?

What place is this?

Where am I now?

Ha ha ha ha.

Oh yes: home is the hunter. He. Was. Walking. Home.

The street slanted, then rolled. Ahead, it humped up, then dipped down to permit a view of the valley. It rocked. It rolled. It shook, it rattled, it coiled, it double-bubbled, boiled, and troubled.

He laughed.

Do you find yourself amusing? his wife always asked, and the truth was, yes, he did find himself amusing.

The mood, like the geography, chemically amplified by red potato crushed by kulak descendants, was quite good. That James Aptapton had been recognized. It happened. Rare, but not without precedent for your minor-league non-qual-lit celeb.

“Mr. Aptapton?”

Halfway through V.3, he’d looked up to see an earnest young fellow, possibly the assistant manager.

“I just wanted to say, I’ve read all your books. My dad turned me on to them. I really, really love them.”

“Well,” said Aptapton, “say, thanks so much.”

The young man sat and gushed Aptapton love for a bit, and Aptapton tried to give him a meaningful Aptapton experience. The transaction worked out well for both of them, in fact, and at the bottom of V.3, a pause in the praise gave Aptapton the time to gracefully excuse himself, bid Tom? maybe Jack? possibly Sam? good-bye and make his exit. So his mood was mellow and radiant. He’d cross Light Street here, and only the narrow alley called Churchill lay between himself and horizontality in bed, his destination.

The Russian watched from the stolen black Camaro parked on Light. This looked to be the night. He’d been stalking for three days now, in his patient, professional way, and part of his talent lay in understanding exactly when the arrangements favored him and when they did not.

Thus, a police scanner played out its truncated cop-speak ten-code and laconic locality identifiers, and it suggested no police presence here in the immediate Federal Hill area. Thus, it was late enough that the action in this night-town district had played itself out and the streets, though glistening with dew, were largely empty, and only periodic parties of drunken twentysomethings rolled this way and that. Thus, finally, the target had emerged, functionally reduced by alcohol intake and self-love, and bobbed his way along the street.

The Russian saw a man in jeans and a tweed coat with a pair of writer-like glasses, Trotsky out of Orwell by way of Armani or some such. You saw glasses like that in New York. The man had a round, pleased face, bearded after Hemingway and to disguise jowls, narcissism blasting out of him more powerfully than any other human attribute. Expensive shoes. Nice shoes. A well-turned-out fellow.

Barring the unforeseen arrival of some whimsical force that favors thriller writers above all others in the world, it was probably going to happen tonight. The Russian did not believe in whimsical forces: he believed only in the power of a fast car to break the spine of a poor unsuspecting fool like this one a hundred times out of a hundred times. He had seen it, he had done it, he had the nerve and the cool and the coldness of heart to do such damage without a lot of emotional involvement. He was a professional and well paid.

The target for tonight, joints loosened by the alcohol, managed to get himself across Light Street without falling. He navigated with that overcontrol typical of the drunk. Great forward movement, momentum building, but without the capacity of adaptation; he arrived at where he tended, not at where he aimed, and at the last, lurching moment, he bumbled through a sideways correction, a sort of exaggerated funny-walk bit.

All of this meant nothing to the Russian, who found nothing funny. He noted distances, angles, and surfaces as a way of computing acceleration rates into speed on impact. The Russian prosaically jacked two wires together in the torn-out key unit of the dashboard, and the beast of a car stirred to life. He was not showy or stylized, so there was no gunning of the engine to allow the horses under the hood to roar and the exhaust pipes to bellow steamy toxins. He eased into first, nudged his way into the empty street, and waited just a bit, because he needed at least three seconds of acceleration time in the alley to get to fifty miles per hour, which was the killing impact.

On either side, there was nothing but Baltimore. At the mouth of Churchill, a church to one side and a typical Baltimore row house meant for the miniature people of the 1840s to the other, Aptapton re-aimed himself and pressed onward down the concourse. It was listed as a street in city records but had been constructed as an alley many years ago, its tiny brick dwellings serving as servants’ quarters or backyard administrative units for the larger houses that faced outward to prouder, wider streets. For a hundred years this back way had probably been the province of pig and horse shit commingled with blood and Negro or immigrant sweat, where the invisible servers lived to sustain the opulent ease of those in the big houses. Then it became the inevitable slum, but that condition never quite went terminal, as the dwellings were too cute for demolition. Now, of course, gentrification had come in the form of museum-quaint cobblestones, which gleamed moistly as if at an art director’s bidding, little mock-gaslight streetlamps, lots of gardening and painting and each tiny building essentially remanufactured from the inside out, so that they had become nesting sites for the young urban hip. Aptapton, that Aptapton, began to amuse himself by inventing sexual perversions he imagined were ongoing on either side of Churchill. Then he heard the sound of a car engine.

Agh. This meant he’d have to re-adjust his somewhat sloppily functioning internal gyro and get himself off the cobblestones and onto the little shelf of sidewalk. He heard basso profundo, deep-chest utters, and turned.

He made out the streamlined form of the Camaro one hundred feet away and felt himself seized in its illumination. A friendly type always, he raised a hand and smiled, and indicated that he yielded to superior power and would manfully attempt to arrive upon the threshold of the curb. At the same time the whole thing reminded him of something, and it froze him in place as his mind examined its files.

Finally, it came to him: an image from one of his own books.

Didn’t he do one where the bad guy, some kind of car genius, used Camaros and Chargers and Trans-Ams to take people out? He’d thought he ought to get away from guns for a bit, and so he’d moved on to the high-pro muscle car as weapon of choice. Nobody seemed to like it very much, however. He’d also tried swords in one, to much chagrin. He was a gun guy, so he did best when he stuck to his guns.

Anyway, this was setting up sort of like a scene in Thunder’s Evening, as the one had been called, and he had to laugh (“Are you amused by yourself?”) at the thing at the end of the alley, hazy in the glare of its headlights but sleek and black and damp, the odd refraction of street- and houselights playing magically off its shiny skin, film noir to the very end.

It’s from my id! he thought.

In the next second it accelerated.

It came at a speed he’d never imagined possible, as if it had gone into warp drive, blurring the stars, and well before this information could be processed, he was airborne.

He was airborne.

There was no pain, though the blow he’d been delivered must have been a mighty thud. Again, when he rejoined Earth in a heap of breakage and ruin, there was no pain. He lay askew on the cobblestones, thinking, Oh, she’s going to be so mad at me, because he knew he was in big trouble with his wife.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 68 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(17)

4 Star

(20)

3 Star

(10)

2 Star

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1 Star

(11)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 68 Customer Reviews
  • Posted January 16, 2013

    Stayed up all night reading, then read it again. My eyes are ble

    Stayed up all night reading, then read it again. My eyes are bleeding, but it was worth it! Terrific story, except for Hugh Meacham's motivation. Hunter forgot about National Security Memorandum No. 263 -- JFK's decision to pull all American ground troops out of Vietnam, issued Oct. 11, 1963. It hadn't been publicly announced, but as a CIA operative, the fictional Meacham would have known about it. I wonder if Meacham (a fake name for someone who was very possibly a real person) wasn't unknowingly being played by his CIA mentor. In reality, Kennedy had recently fired CIA Director Allen Dulles -- is that the equivalent of the fictional cuckolding? The Dulles brothers, Allen and John Foster, were dirty enough to not only plot and carry out a murder at the Executive Level, but then get away with it.
    Hunter's assassination theory is spot-on with possible reality, and makes more sense than anything I've read. He even gives a nice wave to Stephen King's 11/22/63. But Bob Lee Swagger's injuries and age push the limits of story believability when he's forced into a savage physical confrontation. I loved the book and don't want Swagger retired, but the poor guy can't keep going on this way.
    I recommend readers buy the book, enjoy the story, then make sure you know the actual details of this grimmest moment in American history. Hunter knows his guns and his plot line answers most of the sad old questions we've kicked around for 50 years.
    "Who" is explained. "Why" is still kicking around out there.

    5 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted February 28, 2013

    I have been a Swagger fan for a long time. king This book was du

    I have been a Swagger fan for a long time. king This book was dull and boring. I could not even finish it. Far too much side tracking and little Swagger action. Hope the next one is more like the "old" Swagger.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted March 20, 2013

    Interesting theory

    The second person format for much of book was different than I expected and it was slower reading than other Swagger Series.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 11, 2013

    My husband and I are big Stephen Hunter fans. As soon as one of

    My husband and I are big Stephen Hunter fans. As soon as one of his books come out we can't wait to get our hands on it to read. So of course we were ex cited  for The Third Bullet. However, I couldn't even make myself finish this book. The book was too wrought with details and other information that made the story boring. I hoped that as I continued through the book that it would get better but it didn't. I finally started reading the book from the back to the front to try and get myself engaged. Didn't happen. 

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2013

    Huum

    Mediocre ... Unfortunately..the pace was to slow and conclusions easily derived at. Moreover..there was far too little action to keep my interest. I hope Swagger has one more good adventure left in him.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 2, 2013

    I gave up after 70-80 pages. Had no clue where the story arc wa

    I gave up after 70-80 pages. Had no clue where the story arc was or where it was going. Couldn't keep the characters straight. The premise had me very interested, but the writing never pulled me in enough to finish the book. Maybe his other books are better, but this one didn't work for me.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 24, 2013

    One of the worst books Hunter has written.  Slow and boring. He

    One of the worst books Hunter has written.  Slow and boring. He must have had a contract to produce a book or he got paid by the word. 
    Too many words, running on and on and on.  I'm a Bob Lee fan and this did not do him justice.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 21, 2014

    Loved this book!

    This book captured my imagination and presented a well thought out new idea concerning the biggest conspiracy theory of all time . I thought it was brilliant. My only point of contention is Bob Lee is ageing so quickly but I guess we all are :)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 8, 2014

    ???

    Hi sun (dissapers)

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 8, 2014

    Sun

    Laughs. "Okey."

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 8, 2014

    Demetria

    Smies. "Shhhh." Diappears.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 17, 2013

    Bob Lee !!!

    Very thought provoking. Put aside that these books are just awesome! tHIS ONE JUST GETS YOU THINKING!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 21, 2013

    Swagger?

    Definately a Swagger story that you would ever recognize if you have followed his exploits through the years. A good story noless. I had problems keeping it straight, written in the first person and the third person narrative. New for Hunter. A good twist on the thousands of ideas of what really happened in Dallas so many years ago. Actually a small part for Swagger till the end. Readable but lets get Swagger back to what we know him best for, whopping the bad guys, bad.

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  • Posted March 8, 2013

    Very Highly Recommended

    I have not read any of the Bob Lee Swagger Series before reading The Third Bullet, but am going to read all. Reading them prior, in order, before this book may be helpful but not required. If you're an amateur Kennedy assasination sleuth you'll really enjoy reading this. Hunter brings a whole new perspective on the shooting, that of a sniper, and brings up points that I don't believe have ever been considered. It may not change your thinking about LHO being the lone gunman, but it has supported my belief that he could not have been the only shooter.You decide.

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  • Posted March 7, 2013

    Love the Stephen Hunter books

    With the whole JFK business, I was prepared for this to be even more bizarre than the Samurai one. Pleasantly surprised. Very good read.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 5, 2013

    An imaginative and sort of plausible take on the Kennedy assassi

    An imaginative and sort of plausible take on the Kennedy assassination and among Hunter's best.  Lots of ballistic related
    technical stuff, which was fun, and a description of the Dallas scene of the crime, then and now, which put you there perfectly.  I favor
    the Earl Swagger stories a bit more than the Bob Lee ones but like them all, a lot.  This didn't disappoint. 

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  • Posted February 28, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Very Plausible and Well-Crafted Assassination Plot. The rest o

    Very Plausible and Well-Crafted Assassination Plot.


    The rest of the book ... plodding and self-serving.
    This book would have been a 5-star if it had just been 200 or so pages, "written" by the mastermind of the plot.  The theoretical assassination plot was very well thought-out, completely plausible and a great read.   All the Swagger portions were bloated, plodding, self-indulgent, uninteresting and could at least for me, have never appeared.  But because they do, I rated this book 3-stars.   If you're interested in the conspiracy portion, just start at page 193 and just follow the trail of the plotter throughout the remainder of the book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 22, 2013

    Highly Recommend

    Really enjoyed reading this book. I had a hard time putting it down. The only down side to it, is that I am a woman and all the gun and bullet info in the story was way over my head. It was a well put together JFK conspiracy story. I love mysteries and I love the Bob Lee Swagger series.

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  • Posted February 18, 2013

    Good bookto scan as it is way too wordy and redundant---I wish I

    Good bookto scan as it is way too wordy and redundant---I wish I had read the abridged version as the unabridged drags on and o n at tinmes, going nowhere. The villain isthe most ineteresting character in the book and it becomes more his storythat is told --As revealed at the end,





    Swagger, the hero, has a much sumlar motivation is his pursuit of resolving the plot.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 18, 2013

    Great Book, Stephen hunter is a great writer.

    As always, when it comes to guns and bullets, Hunter is the expert. Very intriguing book, very believable snd scary,too. If you read any books on JFK, this one is a must, and makes more sense.

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