The Third Option (Mitch Rapp Series #2)

( 648 )

Overview

Fresh from retaking a battle-scarred White House after a vicious terrorist attack on the president, Mitch Rapp, the CIA's top counterterrorism operative, is sent on his final mission. His target: a well-known German industrialist who has been selling highly sensitive equipment to one of the world's most notorious sponsors of terrorism. As Rapp meticulously prepares to take the man out, he has no idea that there are forces within his own government that are plotting to use him.

...

See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (156) from $1.99   
  • New (1) from $45.00   
  • Used (155) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$45.00
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(178)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
Brand new.

Ships from: acton, MA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
The Third Option (Mitch Rapp Series #2)

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$9.99
BN.com price
This digital version does not exactly match the physical book displayed here.
Marketplace
BN.com

All Available Formats & Editions

Overview

Fresh from retaking a battle-scarred White House after a vicious terrorist attack on the president, Mitch Rapp, the CIA's top counterterrorism operative, is sent on his final mission. His target: a well-known German industrialist who has been selling highly sensitive equipment to one of the world's most notorious sponsors of terrorism. As Rapp meticulously prepares to take the man out, he has no idea that there are forces within his own government that are plotting to use him.

Thomas Stansfield, the aged director of the CIA, is dying of cancer—and he and the president have chosen as his successor Dr. Irene Kennedy, the director of the CIA's Counterterrorism Center. There are others in Washington, however, who could not imagine a more unwelcome choice, and they are willing to resort to extreme measures to prevent Kennedy from taking the reins of the world's most powerful intelligence agency.

The conspirators have devised a bold plan that will damage the president and ruin Kennedy's career, allowing them to put someone they can control at the helm of the CIA. Unfortunately for them, they have made one horrible miscalculation: they have chosen Mitch Rapp as their pawn.

Their worst nightmare is about to be realized. They have enraged one of the most lethal and efficient killers the CIA has ever produced—and he will stop at nothing until he finds out who set him up.

With action that sizzles from the opening paragraph and insider details that bring the story to vivid life, The Third Option showcases a New York Times bestselling author who is just hitting the peak of his extraordinary storytelling powers.

About the Author:

Vince Flynn is a graduate of the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota. His previous books, Term Limits and Transfer of Power are available from Pocket Books. He lives in the Twin Cities, where he is working on a series of political thrillers.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
As a follow-up to his New York Times bestselling political thriller featuring CIA counterterrorism operative Mitch Rapp, Transfer of Power, Vince Flynn offers The Third Option, a high-octane barn-burner featuring the ever-impressive, ever-resilient Rapp. This time out, Rapp's goal is to whack a wealthy German industrialist whose biggest client is one of the world's most deadly terrorists; in the process, however, he must also contend with a potentially destructive force (destructive to him, that is) within his own government.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
A CIA counterterrorist gets caught in the middle of a deadly Beltway power play in Flynn's (Balance of Power) latest political thriller. Long on one-dimensional characters, action scenes and espionage details, it falls short on comprehensible plotting. Battle-scarred protagonist Mitch Rapp returns to take on a sensitive new assignment in Europe, only to have things go awry when his two CIA colleagues turn on him following the assassination of a wealthy German count who has been selling arms to Saddam Hussein. Rapp survives their double-dealing, but he is forced to go underground to decipher the labyrinthine chain of political connections and to learn who was trying to have him killed. Back in Washington, a similar game of spy-versus-spy is being conducted by the elderly, dying director of the CIA and his chosen successor. Rapp eventually surfaces to help his bosses, but things get personal for the ace counterterrorist when Rapp's bride-to-be is kidnapped as part of the ongoing political maneuvers. Flynn sweats the small stuff to bring his conspiracy to life, but he also introduces enough secondary characters to populate two novels, and he frequently stalls the narrative momentum by providing an overwhelming level of detail regarding various high-tech gadgets and espionage operations. The biggest disappointment, though, comes at the end, when the book is exposed as a shameless setup for a sequel. Flynn is a popular writer, but his third thriller won't do much to enhance his critical reputation or his sales. Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Fans of Tom Clancy will enjoy this work of international intrigue. Hero Mitch Rapp is a counterterrorism specialist working on his last mission for the CIA, unofficially of course. Eager to retire and spend the rest of his days with his newly discovered soul mate, Rapp's mission suddenly goes very bad. He quickly finds himself evading a massive manhunt while attempting to figure out exactly what went wrong. His persistence eventually leads him to Capitol Hill and a satisfyingly sinister plot. Narrator Nick Sullivan provides a steady pace through Flynn's economic prose; his presentation is engaging and articulate. Definitely worth purchasing. Ray Vignovich, West Des Moines P.L. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
A plodding thriller in which all the good hit men shoot all the bad hit men, but everything else misfires. Mitch Rapp, specialist in counterterrorism, "the most talented and courageous" man the CIA Director has ever seen, is back—doing what his limitless talent and lion-like courage enables him to do best: assassinate people. This time out the target is that unprincipled German industrialist Count Heinrich Hagenmiller, a snake in the grass who's been selling masses of nuclear stuff to the even better-known reprobate Saddam Hussein. Can't have that kind of antisocial behavior, acting CIA Director Irene Kennedy sniffs, and dispatches her most adroit killer to the Count's lush, ill-gotten estate to solve the problem. Mitch does so, of course, but in the process of subtracting the Count he almost gets eliminated himself by Ruth and Jim Jensen, members of Mitch's killing team who've planned a special surprise for their boss. Luckily, Mitch is wearing his Kevlar liner, and luckily, rogue hit people are dumb enough to pump their 9-mm parabellum rounds into his chest, not his invitingly un-armored head. But what's going on here? Why would the Jensens, virtual strangers to Mitch, take so dim a view of him? Before he can ask, they're dead—rubbed out by still another team of rogue hit men before still another team of good hit men can latch on to them. Investigating, Mitch finds conspiracy beneath conspiracy—internecine warfare involving congressmen, senators, the secretary of state, the president, a couple of alphabet agencies, and enough hair-trigger hit men to populate a Mafia convention. Could all the resultant slaughter just be a political ploy aimed at undercutting President Hayes's hefty approval rating? Hard to believe. Weak writing, implausible characters, threadbare plotting. It's Flynn's third time out (Transfer of Power), but he still hasn't found the charm.
From the Publisher
Booklist Flynn's high-energy prose—generates plenty of suspense.

Booklist Flynn hits his stride in this thriller about high-end Washington politics...[he] has an exciting, Ludlum-like series going here.

Library Journal Flynn's latest thriller...is an old-school spy story...updated with heavy helpings of international intrigue and domestic politicking and betrayal....Fans of Ludlum and Clancy will want to check it out.

Pioneer Press (St. Paul) Flynn has a knack for jumping from continent to continent, character to character, with just the right proportion of space and action, sort of like old-fashioned Saturday-matinee serial films.

Amazon.com This is a strong, swift thriller....Flynn sustains the dramatic tension from the opening paragraph to the last.

Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780671047320
  • Publisher: Pocket Star
  • Publication date: 8/28/2001
  • Series: Mitch Rapp Series , #2
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 432
  • Product dimensions: 6.72 (w) x 10.88 (h) x 1.03 (d)

Meet the Author

Vince Flynn
Vince Flynn is a graduate of the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota. While writing Term Limits, he worked as a bartender at O'Gara's in Saint Paul, and still resides in the Twin Cities, where he is working on a series of political thrillers.

His two previous books, Term Limits and Transfer of Power, were both New York Times bestsellers

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

The Third Option


  • Through the darkness the man moved from tree to tree, working his way toward the large house. The nineteenth-century estate, forty miles south of Hamburg, Germany, spanned one hundred and twelve acres of beautiful rolling forest and farmland and was designed after the Grand Trianon at Versailles in France. It had been commissioned by Heinrich Hagenmiller in 1872 to win further favor with William I of Prussia, the newly crowned German emperor. Portions of it had been sold off over the years as it became too expensive to maintain so much land.

The man walking silently through the woods had already studied hundreds of photographs of the property and its owner. Some of the photos were snapped from satellites orbiting the earth thousands of miles up, but most were taken by the surveillance team that had been in place for the last week.

The assassin had arrived from America only this afternoon and wanted to see with his own eyes what he was up against. Photographs were a good start, but they were no substitute for being there in person. The collar of his black leather jacket was flipped up around his neck to ward off the bite of the cold fall evening. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since sunset.

For the second time since leaving the cottage, he stopped dead in his tracks and listened. He thought he had heard something behind him. The narrow path he trod was covered with a fresh bed of golden pine needles. It was a cloudy night, and with the thick canopy above, very little light reached the place where he stood. He moved to the path’s edge and slowly looked back. Without his night-vision scope, he could see no more than ten feet.

Mitch Rapp had been trying not to use the scope. He wanted to make sure he could find his way down the path without it, but something was telling him he wasn’t alone. Rapp extracted a 9-mm Glock automatic from his pocket and quietly screwed a suppresser onto the end of it. Then he grabbed a four-inch tubular pocket scope, flipped the operating switch on, and held it up to his right eye. The path before him was instantly illuminated with a strange green light. Rapp scanned the area, checking not only the path but his flanks. The pocket scope penetrated the dark shadows that his eyes could not. He paid particular attention to the base of the trees that bordered the path. He was looking for the telltale shoe of someone who was seeking to conceal himself.

After five minutes of patiently waiting, Rapp began to wonder if it wasn’t a deer or some other creature that had made the noise. After five more minutes, he reluctantly gave in to the conclusion that he had heard an animal of the four-legged variety rather than two. Rapp put the pocket scope away but decided to keep his gun out. He had not made it to the ripe old age of thirty-two by being careless and sloppy. Like any true professional, he knew when the time was right to take chances and when to cut and run.

Rapp continued down the path for another quarter of a mile. He could see the lights of the house up ahead and decided to go the rest of the way through the underbrush. Silently, he maneuvered through the thickets, bending branches out of his way and ducking under others. As he approached the edge of the forest, he heard the snap of a twig under his foot and quickly moved to his left, placing a tree directly between himself and the house. A kennel of hunting dogs, not more than a hundred yards away, erupted in alarm. Rapp silently swore at himself and remained perfectly still. This was why he needed to check things out on his own. Amazingly, no one had told him that there were dogs. The canines grew louder, their barks turning to howls, and then a door opened. A deep voice yelled in German for the beasts to be quiet. The man repeated himself two more times, and finally the dogs settled.

Rapp slid an eye out from behind the tree and looked at the kennel. The hunting dogs were wired, pacing back and forth. They would be a problem. Not as bad as trained guard dogs, but their senses were still naturally keen. He stood at the edge of the forest listening and watching, taking everything in. He didn’t like what he saw. There was a lot of open space between the forest and the house. There were some gardens that he could weave his way through, but it would be hard to stay silent on the paths of crushed rock. The dogs would make approaching from the south very difficult. Surveillance cameras covered the other avenues, and there was twice the open space to traverse. The only good news was that there were no pressure pads, microwave beams, or motion sensors to deal with.

Officially, Mitch Rapp had nothing to do with the U.S. government. Unofficially, he had been working for the CIA since graduating from Syracuse University more than a decade ago. Rapp had been selected to join a highly secretive counterterrorism group known as the Orion Team. The CIA had honed Rapp’s raw athleticism and intelligence into a lethal efficiency. The few people he allowed to get close to him knew him as a successful entrepreneur who had started a small computer consulting business that required frequent travel. To keep things legitimate, Rapp often did conduct business while abroad, but not on this trip. He had been sent to kill a man. A man who had already been warned twice.

Rapp studied the area for almost thirty minutes. When he had seen enough, he started back, but not down the path. If someone was in the woods, there was no sense in walking right into a trap. Rapp quietly picked his way through the underbrush for several hundred yards to the south. He stopped three times and checked his compass to make sure he was headed in the right direction. From the intelligence summary, he knew there was another footpath due south of the one he had come in on. Both paths entered the estate from a narrow dirt road and ran roughly parallel to each other.

Rapp almost missed the second footpath. It appeared less frequented than the first one and was overgrown. From there he worked his way back to the curving dirt road. When he reached it, he knelt down and extracted his pocket scope. For several minutes he scanned the road and listened. When he was sure no one else was about, he began walking south.

Rapp had been doing this for almost ten years, and he was ready to get out. In fact, this probably would be his last job. He had met the right woman the previous spring, and it was time to settle down. The CIA did not want to let him go, but that was tough. He had already given enough. Ten years of doing what he did for a living was a lifetime. He was lucky to be getting out in one piece and with a marginally sound mind.

A little more than a mile down the road, Rapp came upon a small cottage. The shades were drawn, and smoke drifted from the chimney. He approached the door, knocked twice, paused for a second, and then knocked three more times. It opened two inches, and an eye appeared. When the man saw that it was Rapp, he opened the door all the way. Mitch stepped into the sparsely furnished room and began to unbutton his leather jacket. The man who had let him in locked the door behind him.

The cottage had knotty pine walls that had been painted white and three-inch plank floorboards that were covered with shiny green paint. Brightly colored oval throw rugs were scattered about the floor, and the furniture was old and solid. The walls were adorned with local folk art and some old black-and-white photographs. Under normal circumstances it would be a great place to spend a cozy fall weekend reading a good book by the fire and taking long walks through the forest.

At the kitchen table a woman sat wearing headphones. On the table in front of her was about a quarter of a million dollars in high-tech surveillance equipment. All of the gear was contained in two beat-up black Samsonite suitcases. If anyone were to stop by the cottage, the cases could be closed and moved off the table in seconds.

Rapp had never met the man and woman before. He knew them only as Tom and Jane Hoffman. They were in their mid-forties, and as far as Rapp could tell, they were married. The Hoffmans had stopped in two countries before arriving in Frankfurt. Their tickets had been purchased under assumed names with matching credit cards and passports provided by their contact. They were also given their standard fee of ten thousand dollars for a week’s work, paid up-front in cash. They were told someone would be joining them and, as always, not to ask any questions.

All of their equipment was waiting for them when they arrived at the cottage, and they started right in on the surveillance of the estate and its owner. Several days after arriving at the cottage, they were paid a visit by a man known to them only as the professor. They were given an additional twenty-five thousand dollars and were told they would receive another twenty-five thousand dollars when they completed the mission. He had given them a quick briefing on the man who would be joining them. He did not tell them the man’s real name, only that he was extremely competent.

Tom Hoffman poured Rapp a cup of coffee and brought it to him by the roaring fieldstone fireplace. “So, what’d ya think?”

Rapp shrugged his shoulders and looked at Hoffman’s face. His complexion was neutral, not flushed like Rapp’s from being out in the cold night air. In response to the question, he said, “It’s not going to be easy.” Rapp had already checked the woman’s face and shoes. Neither of these people had been outside. It must have been a deer that he had heard in the woods.

“It rarely is,” noted the stocky Hoffman, who took a drink from his own mug once again while trying to get a read on the stranger before him. The six-foot-one muscular man whom he knew only as Carl moved like a big cat—soft on his feet. There was nothing clumsy about him. His face was tanned and lined from long hours spent outdoors. His jet-black hair was thick and just starting to gray around the temples, and there was a thin scar on his cheek that ran from his ear down to his jaw.

Rapp looked away from Hoffman and into the fire. He knew he was being sized up. Mitch had already done the same with both of them and would continue to do so up until the moment they parted. He looked back into the fire and focused on the plan. He knew the tendency in these situations was to try to come up with something that was truly ingenious—a plan that would bypass all of the security and get him in and out without being noticed. This was not necessarily a bad path to take if you had enough time to prepare, but as of right now they had about twenty-three hours to draw the whole thing up and pull it off. With that in mind, Rapp had already begun thinking of a strategy.

Turning away from the fire, he asked the woman, “Jane, how many people are invited to this party tomorrow night?”

“About fifty.”

Rapp ran a hand through his black hair, grabbed the back of his neck, and squeezed. After staring into the fire for a long moment, he announced, “I have an idea.”

THE FIRST SIGNS of morning were showing in the east. The black sky was turning gray, and patches of fog wafted from ponds as the cool fall air mixed with summer’s leftover warmth. The pristine Maryland morning was interrupted by a dull thumping noise in the distance. Two Marines walking patrol on the Jeep road by the west fence instinctively searched for the source of the sound. With M-16s slung over their shoulders, they craned their necks skyward, both knowing what was approaching without having to see it. Within seconds they also knew it wasn’t a military bird. The telltale thumping was far too quiet. The white helicopter buzzed in over the trees and headed for the interior of the camp. The Marines followed it for a second and then continued with their patrol, both assuming the civilian bird was delivering one of the president’s golf partners.

The Bell JetRanger continued on an easterly heading toward the camp’s water tower. Just in front of the tower was a clearing with a cement landing pad. The bird slowed and floated smoothly toward the ground, its struts coming to rest right on the mark. The pilot shut the turbine engine down, and the rotors began to lose momentum. A black Suburban was parked on the nearby road, and several men in dark suits and ties stood by watching as the visitor stepped out of the helicopter.

Dr. Irene Kennedy grabbed her briefcase and headed for the truck. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a crisp blue shirt. Kennedy clutched the lapels of her tan suit against the cool air. When she reached the Suburban, an army officer extended his hand. “Welcome to Camp David, Dr. Kennedy.”

The forty-year-old employee of the Central Intelligence Agency took the officer’s hand and said, “Thank you, Colonel.”

Kennedy’s official role was as director of the CIA’s Counterterrorism Center. Unofficially, she headed up the Orion Team, an organization born in secrecy out of a need to go on the offensive against terrorism. In the early eighties the United States was stung hard by a slew of terrorist attacks, most notably the bombing of the U.S. embassy and Marine barracks in Beirut. Despite the millions of dollars and assets allocated to fight terrorism, after the attacks, things only got worse. The decade ended with the downing of Pan Am Flight 103 and the deaths of hundreds of innocent civilians. The Lockerbie disaster moved some of the most powerful individuals in Washington to take drastic measures. They agreed it was time to take the war to the terrorists. The first option of diplomacy wasn’t doing the job, and the second option of military force was ill suited to fight an enemy that lived and worked among innocent civilians, so America’s leaders were left with only one choice: the third option. Covert action would be taken. Money would be funneled into black operations that would never see the light of day, much less congressional oversight or the scrutiny of the press. A clandestine war would be mounted, and the hunters would become the hunted.

The ride took just a few minutes, and no one spoke. When they arrived at Aspen Lodge, Kennedy got out and walked up the porch steps, past two Secret Service agents, and into the president’s quarters. The colonel escorted Kennedy down the hall to the president’s study and knocked on the open door frame.

“Mr. President, Dr. Kennedy is here.”

President Robert Xavier Hayes sat behind his desk sipping a cup of coffee and reading Friday morning’s edition of the Washington Post. A pair of black-rimmed reading spectacles sat perched on the end of his nose, and when Kennedy entered he looked up from the print and over the top of his cheaters. Hayes immediately closed the paper and said, “Thank you, Colonel.” He then rose from his chair and walked over to a small circular table where he gestured for Kennedy to sit.

Hayes was dressed for his morning golf match, wearing a pair of khaki pants, a plain blue golf shirt, and a pullover vest. He set his mug down on the table and poured a second cup for Kennedy. After placing it in front of her, he sat and asked, “How is Director Stansfield?”

“He’s ...” Kennedy grasped to come up with the appropriate word to describe her boss’s failing health, “as well as could be expected.”

Hayes nodded. Thomas Stansfield was a very private man. He had been with the CIA from its very inception, and it appeared he would be with it to the very end of his own life. The seventy-nine-year-old spymaster had just been diagnosed with cancer, and the doctors were giving him less than six months.

The president turned his attention to the more immediate matter. “How are things proceeding in Germany?”

“On track. Mitch arrived last night and gave me a full report before I left this morning.”

When Kennedy had briefed the president on the operation earlier in the week, the one thing Hayes had made crystal-clear was that there would be no green light unless Rapp was involved. The closed meeting between the president and Kennedy was one of many they had had in the last five months, all in an effort to harass, frustrate, destabilize, and, if possible, kill one person. That fortunate individual was Saddam Hussein.

Long before President Hayes had taken office, Saddam was a source of irritation to the West, but more recently he had done something that directly affected the fifty-eight-year-old president of the United States. The previous spring, a group of terrorists had attacked the White House and killed dozens of Secret Service agents and several civilians. In the midst of the attack, President Hayes was evacuated to his underground bunker, where he sat for the next three days, cut off from the rest of his government. The siege was ended, thanks to the bold actions of Mitch Rapp and a few select members of the intelligence, law enforcement, and Special Forces communities.

After the attack the United States was left with two pieces of information that pointed to the Iraqi leader. There was a problem, however, with bringing this information to the United Nations or the international courts. The first piece of evidence was obtained from a foreign intelligence service that was none too eager to have its methods exposed to international scrutiny, and the second was gathered through the use of covert action—the third option. How that information was extracted would be deemed reprehensible by all but a few.

In short, they had some very reliable information that Saddam had funded the terrorists, but they could never make the facts public because that would expose their own methods. And as President Hayes had already noted to an inner circle of advisors, there was no guarantee the UN would do anything once it was confronted with the facts. After intense debate by President Hayes, Director Stansfield of the CIA, and General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the three had decided they had little choice but to go after Saddam on a covert level. At its core, that’s what this meeting was all about.

President Hayes leaned forward and placed his coffee mug on the table. He was eager to hear Rapp’s take on the situation in Germany. Hayes had discovered that where others failed, Rapp had a way of making things happen. “What does Mitch think?”

“He thinks that given the short notice and the security around the target, we would be better off opting for a more direct approach.” Kennedy went on to give the president a brief overview of the plan.

When she was finished Hayes sat back and folded his arms across his chest, his expression thoughtful. Kennedy watched him and kept her own expression neutral, just as her boss would do.

Hayes mulled things over for another ten seconds and then said, “What if they did it ...” The president stopped because Kennedy was already shaking her head.

“Mitch doesn’t respond well to advice given from three thousand miles away.”

The president nodded. After the White House incident the previous spring, Hayes had read up on Rapp. It was almost always his way or the highway, and while this could be a concern, one could hardly argue with the man’s record of success. He had a history of getting the job done, often when no one else even dared to take it. Hayes suppressed his urge to be an armchair quarterback and instead decided to remind Kennedy of what was at stake.

“Do Mitch and the others know they are on their own?”

Kennedy nodded.

“I mean really on their own. If anything goes wrong, we will deny any knowledge of the situation and of who they are. We have to. Our relationship with Germany could not withstand something like this, nor, for that matter, could my presidency.”

Kennedy nodded understandingly. “Sir, Mitch is good. He’ll have all of his backups in place by this evening, and if things get too tight, he knows not to force it.”

The president stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “All right. You have my authority to go ahead with this, but you know where we stand, Irene. If it blows up, we never had this meeting, and we didn’t have the five or six meetings before, either. You had no knowledge of these events, and neither did anyone else at the Agency.” Hayes shook his head. “I hate to do this to Mitch, but there’s no choice. He is way out there working without a net, and if he falls, we can’t do a thing to help him.”

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Chapter One

Through the darkness the man moved from tree to tree, working his way toward the large house. The nineteenth-century estate, forty miles south of Hamburg, Germany, spanned one hundred and twelve acres of beautiful rolling forest and farmland and was designed after the Grand Trianon at Versailles in France. It had been commissioned by Heinrich Hagenmiller in 1872 to win further favor with William I of Prussia, the newly crowned German emperor. Portions of it had been sold off over the years as it became too expensive to maintain so much land.

The man walking silently through the woods had already studied hundreds of photographs of the property and its owner. Some of the photos were snapped from satellites orbiting the earth thousands of miles up, but most were taken by the surveillance team that had been in place for the last week.

The assassin had arrived from America only this afternoon and wanted to see with his own eyes what he was up against. Photographs were a good start, but they were no substitute for being there in person. The collar of his black leather jacket was flipped up around his neck to ward off the bite of the cold fall evening. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since sunset.

For the second time since leaving the cottage, he stopped dead in his tracks and listened. He thought he had heard something behind him. The narrow path he trod was covered with a fresh bed of golden pine needles. It was a cloudy night, and with the thick canopy above, very little light reached the place where he stood. He moved to the path's edge and slowly looked back. Without his night-vision scope, he could see no more than ten feet.

Mitch Rapp had been trying not to use the scope. He wanted to make sure he could find his way down the path without it, but something was telling him he wasn't alone. Rapp extracted a 9-mm Glock automatic from his pocket and quietly screwed a suppresser onto the end of it. Then he grabbed a four-inch tubular pocket scope, flipped the operating switch on, and held it up to his right eye. The path before him was instantly illuminated with a strange green light. Rapp scanned the area, checking not only the path but his flanks. The pocket scope penetrated the dark shadows that his eyes could not. He paid particular attention to the base of the trees that bordered the path. He was looking for the telltale shoe of someone who was seeking to conceal himself.

After five minutes of patiently waiting, Rapp began to wonder if it wasn't a deer or some other creature that had made the noise. After five more minutes, he reluctantly gave in to the conclusion that he had heard an animal of the four-legged variety rather than two-. Rapp put the pocket scope away but decided to keep his gun out. He had not made it to the ripe old age of thirty-two by being careless and sloppy. Like any true professional, he knew when the time was right to take chances and when to cut and run.

Rapp continued down the path for another quarter of a mile. He could see the lights of the house up ahead and decided to go the rest of the way through the underbrush. Silently, he maneuvered through the thickets, bending branches out of his way and ducking under others. As he approached the edge of the forest, he heard the snap of a twig under his foot and quickly moved to his left, placing a tree directly between himself and the house. A kennel of hunting dogs, not more than a hundred yards away, erupted in alarm. Rapp silently swore at himself and remained perfectly still. This was why he needed to check things out on his own. Amazingly, no one had told him that there were dogs. The canines grew louder, their barks turning to howls, and then a door opened. A deep voice yelled in German for the beasts to be quiet. The man repeated himself two more times, and finally the dogs settled.

Rapp slid an eye out from behind the tree and looked at the kennel. The hunting dogs were wired, pacing back and forth. They would be a problem. Not as bad as trained guard dogs, but their senses were still naturally keen. He stood at the edge of the forest listening and watching, taking everything in. He didn't like what he saw. There was a lot of open space between the forest and the house. There were some gardens that he could weave his way through, but it would be hard to stay silent on the paths of crushed rock. The dogs would make approaching from the south very difficult. Surveillance cameras covered the other avenues, and there was twice the open space to traverse. The only good news was that there were no pressure pads, microwave beams, or motion sensors to deal with.

Officially, Mitch Rapp had nothing to do with the U.S. government. Unofficially, he had been working for the CIA since graduating from Syracuse University more than a decade ago. Rapp had been selected to join a highly secretive counterterrorism group known as the Orion Team. The CIA had honed Rapp's raw athleticism and intelligence into a lethal efficiency. The few people he allowed to get close to him knew him as a successful entrepreneur who had started a small computer consulting business that required frequent travel. To keep things legitimate, Rapp often did conduct business while abroad, but not on this trip. He had been sent to kill a man. A man who had already been warned twice.

Rapp studied the area for almost thirty minutes. When he had seen enough, he started back, but not down the path. If someone was in the woods, there was no sense in walking right into a trap. Rapp quietly picked his way through the underbrush for several hundred yards to the south. He stopped three times and checked his compass to make sure he was headed in the right direction. From the intelligence summary, he knew there was another footpath due south of the one he had come in on. Both paths entered the estate from a narrow dirt road and ran roughly parallel to each other.

Rapp almost missed the second footpath. It appeared less frequented than the first one and was overgrown. From there he worked his way back to the curving dirt road. When he reached it, he knelt down and extracted his pocket scope. For several minutes he scanned the road and listened. When he was sure no one else was about, he began walking south.

Rapp had been doing this for almost ten years, and he was ready to get out. In fact, this probably would be his last job. He had met the right woman the previous spring, and it was time to settle down. The CIA did not want to let him go, but that was tough. He had already given enough. Ten years of doing what he did for a living was a lifetime. He was lucky to be getting out in one piece and with a marginally sound mind.

A little more than a mile down the road, Rapp came upon a small cottage. The shades were drawn, and smoke drifted from the chimney. He approached the door, knocked twice, paused for a second, and then knocked three more times. It opened two inches, and an eye appeared. When the man saw that it was Rapp, he opened the door all the way. Mitch stepped into the sparsely furnished room and began to unbutton his leather jacket. The man who had let him in locked the door behind him.

The cottage had knotty pine walls that had been painted white and three-inch plank floorboards that were covered with shiny green paint. Brightly colored oval throw rugs were scattered about the floor, and the furniture was old and solid. The walls were adorned with local folk art and some old black-and-white photographs. Under normal circumstances it would be a great place to spend a cozy fall weekend reading a good book by the fire and taking long walks through the forest.

At the kitchen table a woman sat wearing headphones. On the table in front of her was about a quarter of a million dollars in high-tech surveillance equipment. All of the gear was contained in two beat-up black Samsonite suitcases. If anyone were to stop by the cottage, the cases could be closed and moved off the table in seconds.

Rapp had never met the man and woman before. He knew them only as Tom and Jane Hoffman. They were in their mid-forties, and as far as Rapp could tell, they were married. The Hoffmans had stopped in two countries before arriving in Frankfurt. Their tickets had been purchased under assumed names with matching credit cards and passports provided by their contact. They were also given their standard fee of ten thousand dollars for a week's work, paid up-front in cash. They were told someone would be joining them and, as always, not to ask any questions.

All of their equipment was waiting for them when they arrived at the cottage, and they started right in on the surveillance of the estate and its owner. Several days after arriving at the cottage, they were paid a visit by a man known to them only as the professor. They were given an additional twenty-five thousand dollars and were told they would receive another twenty-five thousand dollars when they completed the mission. He had given them a quick briefing on the man who would be joining them. He did not tell them the man's real name, only that he was extremely competent.

Tom Hoffman poured Rapp a cup of coffee and brought it to him by the roaring fieldstone fireplace. "So, what'd ya think?"

Rapp shrugged his shoulders and looked at Hoffman's face. His complexion was neutral, not flushed like Rapp's from being out in the cold night air. In response to the question, he said, "It's not going to be easy." Rapp had already checked the woman's face and shoes. Neither of these people had been outside. It must have been a deer that he had heard in the woods.

"It rarely is," noted the stocky Hoffman, who took a drink from his own mug once again while trying to get a read on the stranger before him. The six-foot-one muscular man whom he knew only as Carl moved like a big cat‹soft on his feet. There was nothing clumsy about him. His face was tanned and lined from long hours spent outdoors. His jet-black hair was thick and just starting to gray around the temples, and there was a thin scar on his cheek that ran from his ear down to his jaw.

Rapp looked away from Hoffman and into the fire. He knew he was being sized up. Mitch had already done the same with both of them and would continue to do so up until the moment they parted. He looked back into the fire and focused on the plan. He knew the tendency in these situations was to try to come up with something that was truly ingenious -- a plan that would bypass all of the security and get him in and out without being noticed. This was not necessarily a bad path to take if you had enough time to prepare, but as of right now they had about twenty-three hours to draw the whole thing up and pull it off. With that in mind, Rapp had already begun thinking of a strategy.

Turning away from the fire, he asked the woman, "Jane, how many people are invited to this party tomorrow night?"

"About fifty."

Rapp ran a hand through his black hair, grabbed the back of his neck, and squeezed. After staring into the fire for a long moment, he announced, "I have an idea."


The first signs of morning were showing in the east. The black sky was turning gray, and patches of fog wafted from ponds as the cool fall air mixed with summer's leftover warmth. The pristine Maryland morning was interrupted by a dull thumping noise in the distance. Two Marines walking patrol on the Jeep road by the west fence instinctively searched for the source of the sound. With M-16s slung over their shoulders, they craned their necks skyward, both knowing what was approaching without having to see it. Within seconds they also knew it wasn't a military bird. The telltale thumping was far too quiet. The white helicopter buzzed in over the trees and headed for the interior of the camp. The Marines followed it for a second and then continued with their patrol, both assuming the civilian bird was delivering one of the president's golf partners.

The Bell JetRanger continued on an easterly heading toward the camp's water tower. Just in front of the tower was a clearing with a cement landing pad. The bird slowed and floated smoothly toward the ground, its struts coming to rest right on the mark. The pilot shut the turbine engine down, and the rotors began to lose momentum. A black Suburban was parked on the nearby road, and several men in dark suits and ties stood by watching as the visitor stepped out of the helicopter.

Dr. Irene Kennedy grabbed her briefcase and headed for the truck. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a crisp blue shirt. Kennedy clutched the lapels of her tan suit against the cool air. When she reached the Suburban, an army officer extended his hand. "Welcome to Camp David, Dr. Kennedy."

The forty-year-old employee of the Central Intelligence Agency took the officer's hand and said, "Thank you, Colonel."

Kennedy's official role was as director of the CIA's Counterterrorism Center. Unofficially, she headed up the Orion Team, an organization born in secrecy out of a need to go on the offensive against terrorism. In the early eighties the United States was stung hard by a slew of terrorist attacks, most notably the bombing of the U.S. embassy and Marine barracks in Beirut. Despite the millions of dollars and assets allocated to fight terrorism, after the attacks, things only got worse. The decade ended with the downing of Pan Am Flight 103 and the deaths of hundreds of innocent civilians. The Lockerbie disaster moved some of the most powerful individuals in Washington to take drastic measures. They agreed it was time to take the war to the terrorists. The first option of diplomacy wasn't doing the job, and the second option of military force was ill suited to fight an enemy that lived and worked among innocent civilians, so America's leaders were left with only one choice: the third option. Covert action would be taken. Money would be funneled into black operations that would never see the light of day, much less congressional oversight or the scrutiny of the press. A clandestine war would be mounted, and the hunters would become the hunted.

The ride took just a few minutes, and no one spoke. When they arrived at Aspen Lodge, Kennedy got out and walked up the porch steps, past two Secret Service agents, and into the president's quarters. The colonel escorted Kennedy down the hall to the president's study and knocked on the open door frame.

"Mr. President, Dr. Kennedy is here."

President Robert Xavier Hayes sat behind his desk sipping a cup of coffee and reading Friday morning's edition of the Washington Post. A pair of black-rimmed reading spectacles sat perched on the end of his nose, and when Kennedy entered he looked up from the print and over the top of his cheaters. Hayes immediately closed the paper and said, "Thank you, Colonel." He then rose from his chair and walked over to a small circular table where he gestured for Kennedy to sit.

Hayes was dressed for his morning golf match, wearing a pair of khaki pants, a plain blue golf shirt, and a pullover vest. He set his mug down on the table and poured a second cup for Kennedy. After placing it in front of her, he sat and asked, "How is Director Stansfield?"

"He's..." Kennedy grasped to come up with the appropriate word to describe her boss's failing health, "as well as could be expected."

Hayes nodded. Thomas Stansfield was a very private man. He had been with the CIA from its very inception, and it appeared he would be with it to the very end of his own life. The seventy-nine-year-old spymaster had just been diagnosed with cancer, and the doctors were giving him less than six months.

The president turned his attention to the more immediate matter. "How are things proceeding in Germany?"

"On track. Mitch arrived last night and gave me a full report before I left this morning."

When Kennedy had briefed the president on the operation earlier in the week, the one thing Hayes had made crystal-clear was that there would be no green light unless Rapp was involved. The closed meeting between the president and Kennedy was one of many they had had in the last five months, all in an effort to harass, frustrate, destabilize, and, if possible, kill one person. That fortunate individual was Saddam Hussein.

Long before President Hayes had taken office, Saddam was a source of irritation to the West, but more recently he had done something that directly affected the fifty-eight-year-old president of the United States. The previous spring, a group of terrorists had attacked the White House and killed dozens of Secret Service agents and several civilians. In the midst of the attack, President Hayes was evacuated to his underground bunker, where he sat for the next three days, cut off from the rest of his government. The siege was ended, thanks to the bold actions of Mitch Rapp and a few select members of the intelligence, law enforcement, and Special Forces communities.

After the attack the United States was left with two pieces of information that pointed to the Iraqi leader. There was a problem, however, with bringing this information to the United Nations or the international courts. The first piece of evidence was obtained from a foreign intelligence service that was none too eager to have its methods exposed to international scrutiny, and the second was gathered through the use of covert action -- the third option. How that information was extracted would be deemed reprehensible by all but a few.

In short, they had some very reliable information that Saddam had funded the terrorists, but they could never make the facts public because that would expose their own methods. And as President Hayes had already noted to an inner circle of advisors, there was no guarantee the UN would do anything once it was confronted with the facts. After intense debate by President Hayes, Director Stansfield of the CIA, and General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the three had decided they had little choice but to go after Saddam on a covert level. At its core, that's what this meeting was all about.

President Hayes leaned forward and placed his coffee mug on the table. He was eager to hear Rapp's take on the situation in Germany. Hayes had discovered that where others failed, Rapp had a way of making things happen. "What does Mitch think?"

"He thinks that given the short notice and the security around the target, we would be better off opting for a more direct approach." Kennedy went on to give the president a brief overview of the plan.

When she was finished Hayes sat back and folded his arms across his chest, his expression thoughtful. Kennedy watched him and kept her own expression neutral, just as her boss would do.

Hayes mulled things over for another ten seconds and then said, "What if they did it..." The president stopped because Kennedy was already shaking her head.

"Mitch doesn't respond well to advice given from three thousand miles away."

The president nodded. After the White House incident the previous spring, Hayes had read up on Rapp. It was almost always his way or the highway, and while this could be a concern, one could hardly argue with the man's record of success. He had a history of getting the job done, often when no one else even dared to take it. Hayes suppressed his urge to be an armchair quarterback and instead decided to remind Kennedy of what was at stake.

"Do Mitch and the others know they are on their own?"

Kennedy nodded.

"I mean really on their own. If anything goes wrong, we will deny any knowledge of the situation and of who they are. We have to. Our relationship with Germany could not withstand something like this, nor, for that matter, could my presidency."

Kennedy nodded understandingly. "Sir, Mitch is good. He'll have all of his backups in place by this evening, and if things get too tight, he knows not to force it."

The president stared at her for a moment and then nodded. "All right. You have my authority to go ahead with this, but you know where we stand, Irene. If it blows up, we never had this meeting, and we didn't have the five or six meetings before, either. You had no knowledge of these events, and neither did anyone else at the Agency." Hayes shook his head. "I hate to do this to Mitch, but there's no choice. He is way out there working without a net, and if he falls, we can't do a thing to help him."

Copyright © 2000 by Vince Flynn

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 648 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(367)

4 Star

(166)

3 Star

(67)

2 Star

(24)

1 Star

(24)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 652 Customer Reviews
  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    Exciting thriller

    THE THIRD OPTION is the dark, dangerous world of covert operations where governments use agents to kill their enemies without sanctioning their activities. Mitch Rapp, a member of the Orion Team, has abided by the rules of the game for a decade. Now that he is in love, Mitch wants to resign after years as a patriotic universal soldier. <P>His last assignment calls for him to assassinate a German industrialist helping Hussein rebuild the Iraqi nuclear arsenal. After completing the mission, one of his peers tries to eliminate Mitch, but fails to kill the operative. Alone and hunted, Mitch manages to return to the States to attempt to uncover the identity of the individual paying the assassination bills. When his enemy grabs his beloved girlfriend, Mitch vows to kill everyone who might be involved even if it means raiding the Halls of Congress and the White House. <P>Vince Flynn, author of TERM LIMITS and TRANSFER OF POWER, writes another powerful political espionage thriller that keeps reader's interest from the first page to the last line. There are numerous interesting subplots augmenting the story line, but the heart of THE THIRD OPTION remains the protagonist. Mitch wants to come into the heat of love and out from the cold, but struggles to bury his previous life without it interring him. From almost the onset, readers know who the villains are, but that does not slow down this thrill a page novel. <P>Harriet Klausner

    14 out of 18 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted May 18, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Third Option a Mediocre Third Effort

    As a thriller afficiando, a new friend suggested that I try Vince Flynn. I decided to start at the beginning and read his first two novels quickly as he is an easy read. I enjoyed both immensely, but Third Option failed to reach the bar Flynn set with TERM LIMITS and TRANSFER OF POWER. One of the problems an author faces when using the same characters in an endless series of thrillers is how to re-introduce them to the reader who already knows their history, yet make them able to stand alone for those who are new to the author. Flynn's solution to this problem in THE THIRD OPTION made for long and often boring references to numerous characters' histories and very slow going by experienced Rapp, O'Rourke, Coleman, Stansfield, & Kennedy fans. These history lessons were obviously aimed at the new reader, who Flynn tries to force feed the facts of two prior novels by going off into tangets as each of the characters arrive. Adding the president, a girlfriend and a wife to the others, this is way too much exposition for any story. If Flynn repeats this method of introduction in the future I will not get through another one of his books. Lee Child is an expert in the manner in which he re-introduces Jack Reacher to newcomers, but one character is obviously easier to accomplish that with than eight. But my criticism does not stop there. Having Mitch Rapp as a hero works well-but here he is the hero, but he did not translate well to being the target and main subject of the story. Flynn obviously knows this because this entire book is really exposition for his next novel, The SEPARATION OF POWER, which means that THE THIRD OPTION really has no ending. One critic called Flynn "shameless" for misleading his readers on with a book that ends with a sequel. I agree. But I will read the sequel anyway

    5 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 27, 2011

    Good Read, But Terrible Transcription

    I've read all of the Vince Flynn books in the past but I bought American Assassin as an eBook, so now I am going through them all again in the order they were written. Flynn's prose improves as he progresses through the series and The Third Option is an enjoyable read. The only problem I had with this book was, as at least a couple others have mentioned, the terrible job done converting the original book's text to eBook. There are many typos, hundreds of missing spaces between words and dozens of weirdly placed hyphens. Good reading, but pretty distracting with all of the errors. I'd give the original book 4 Stars, but this version only 3.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted October 7, 2010

    Good, starts slow but ends pretty intense

    It took a while to get into it.. Not as action packed right out of the gate as the first one but by the end I wanted the next one.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 27, 2011

    Very good..

    Suspenseful...keeps you hanging, enjoying

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 8, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Getting better and better!

    This is the fifth Mitch Rapp book I've read and I really enjoyed it. The story is fast paced and has a satisfying conclusion. There are elements of the plot that remained unresolved, but it feels like this may be taken care of in a later book.

    1 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted November 27, 2010

    Highly recommend

    Vince Flynn has developed an American Assassin worthy of American readers. Intelligently written and action packed, the Mitch Rapp series makes you want for more. Akin to Clancy's Jack Ryan Series or Ludlums Jason Bourne, these books a page burners. "Don't bother me till I finish this book, honey...."
    Devilishly quick wit and well thought out schemes and worthy research of the areas enacted in the plot. These stories make you want the 'next' book.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted October 17, 2007

    reading this is not an option...

    I haven't read a book in 3 years until I picked up Vince Flynn's Term Limits...I read it in 2 days...then I picked up the next in his bibliography and read it in a matter of days...then came The Third Option...it took me a little longer to read this one because of my work schedule, but I'm glad I didn't burn through it...it has going on in different offices and town than the other two did...so i had the opportunity to take in more detail, which paid off...it is a great book by a great author...If you are considering this one for your first Vince Flynn book, I would advise against it for the sole reason that some of the characters are returning from previous books he's written and you would get a better feel for them after reading his previous publications...so if this is a first VF book for you, I recommend picking up Term Limits for sure...Term Limits and The Third Option are tied for me as my favs of Flynn so far in the series...please read Vince Flynn, he's the most entertaining writer I've read...

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted November 9, 2001

    Good Book - bad ending

    This book makes two top tens: 1st top 10: top 10 books i've read - easily one of the better books i've read, I couldnt put the book down. 2nd top 10: top 10 worst endings - while reading the book, I couldn't wait to buy another Vince Flynn book. After the ending, I doubt i'll ever buy another one of his boooks. The story doesn't end in the ending,so you'll have to wait until the next book comes out to find out the completion of this story. I feel so used (sob)

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted August 27, 2014

    Great

    Great character development and entertaining to read.

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

    Posted August 16, 2014

    Ouyngj

    Hkhk
    Jqu

    ?jj

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

    Posted February 24, 2014

    Misery's Rper to Uh... Zemora's Rper X3

    Lets got to the 12th result perhaps? ~Misery and all them

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

    Posted January 27, 2014

    AUDITION/ JOINING ROOM

    Where you join.

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

    Posted October 21, 2013

    Good read

    The second I've read in this series and I do believe I'm hooked.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted September 25, 2013

    Very good

    This is only the second book of Vince Flynn I have read but it has been very exciting and intriguing. I am looking forward to reading more.

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

    Posted September 21, 2013

    Damn that was a great read

    Fantastic. The best one in the series so far.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 23, 2013

    A must read!

    Excellent! Keeps you in suspense and your attention. Very hard to put it down.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 3, 2013

    An excellent read. Tough to put down.

    Flynn is one of my favorite authors, and his books do not disappoint.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 29, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    This book is really fantastic. :D

    This book is really fantastic. :D

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 12, 2013

    Highlyl recommended - great read

    Flynn continues to captivate the reader with suspense and intrigue. Easy to read but hard to put down.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 652 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)