“Crais is at the top of his game, and Demolition Angel delivers the goods. With a bang. . . . It’s Silence of the Lambs meets Speed. . . . Crais knows how to press all the right buttons in keeping the story line taut and the action, well, explosive.”—San Francisco Chronicle
Carol Starkey is struggling to pick up the pieces of her former life as L.A.’s finest bomb squad technician. Fueled with liberal doses of alcohol and Tagamet, she’s doing time as a Detective-2 with LAPD’s Criminal Conspiracy Section. Three years have passed since the event that still haunts her: a detonation that killed her partner and lover, scarred her body and soul, and ended her career as a bomb tech.
When a seemingly innocuous bomb call explodes into a charred murder scene, Carol catches the case and embarks on an investigation of a series of explosions that reveal chilling intentions. The bombs are designed expressly to kill bomb technicians. Now, as the one tech who survived the deadliest of blasts, Carol is in for the most perilous fight of her life. . . .
Praise for Demolition Angel
“Terrific . . . explosive . . . [a] high powered thrill ride.”—The Wall Street Journal
“Gripping . . . Crais piles on plot twists . . . gathering the separate threads at the end and igniting them like a string of fireworks.”—People
“A powerful, self-contained novel of suspense that has the compactness, velocity, and effectiveness of a well-aimed bullet . . . This is a thriller that works on every level, a pivotal work from a crime novelist operating at the top of his game.”—Los Angeles Times
“Fascinating and frighteningly believable . . . Starkey is one of the toughest characters to grace the crowded field of thriller books in a long time.”—USA Today
“A flammable techno-thriller with the kind of force that knocks out windows.”—The New York Times Book Review
"Packs an explosive punch. Though the pace of the book moves like a quick-burning fuse, Crais still takes the time in Demolition Angel to sketch out some memorable characters: Starkey, haunted and hollow-eyed, covering up her pain with a Bogart-tough demeanor; and John Michael Fowles (aka Mr. Red), a sociopath who gets all sorts of information from the Internet without breaking a sweat. . . . Crais keeps things wound so tight that readers will be getting paper cuts in their rush to finish this one.”—The Denver Post
|Publisher:||Random House Publishing Group|
|Product dimensions:||4.16(w) x 6.87(h) x 1.03(d)|
About the Author
Robert Crais is the author of nine previous novels, including the bestselling and Edgar-nominated L.A. Requiem. In addition to his previous award-winning books, Crais has written for such acclaimed television shows as L.A. Law and Hill Street Blues. He lives in Los Angeles. Demolition Angel has been purchased by Columbia/TriStar and producer Laurence Mark (Jerry Maguire, As Good As It Gets), and is being developed as a major motion picture.
Hometown:Los Angeles, California
Date of Birth:June 20, 1953
Place of Birth:Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Education:B.S., Louisiana State University, 1976; Clarion Writers Workshop at Michigan State University
Read an Excerpt
PROLOGUE To be disrupted: when the human body is blown apart; as by the pressure force of a bomb. —Gradwohl’s Legal Medicine
Code Three Roll Out Bomb Squad Silver Lake, California
Charlie Riggio stared at the cardboard box sitting beside the Dumpster. It was a Jolly Green Giant box, with what appeared to be a crumpled brown paper bag sticking up through the top. The box was stamped green beans. Neither Riggio nor the two uniformed officers with him approached closer than the corner of the strip mall there on Sunset Boulevard; they could see the box fine from where they were.
“How long has it been there?”
One of the Adam car officers, a Filipino named Ruiz, checked his watch.
“We got our dispatch about two hours ago. We been here since.”
“Find anyone who saw how it got there?”
“Oh, no, dude. Nobody.”
The other officer, a black guy named Mason, nodded.
“Ruiz is the one saw it. He went over and looked in the bag, the crazy Flip.”
“So tell me what you saw.”
“I told your sergeant.”
“Tell me. I’m the sonofabitch who’s gonna approach the damned thing.”
Ruiz described seeing the capped ends of two galvanized pipes taped together with silver duct tape. The pipes were loosely wrapped in newspaper, Ruiz said, so he had only seen the ends.
Riggio considered that. They were standing in a strip mall on Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake, an area that had seen increasing gang activity in recent months. Gangbangers would steal galvanized pipe from construction sites or dig up plastic PVC from some poor bastard’s garden, then stuff them with bottle rocket powder or match heads. Riggio didn’t know if the Green Giant box held an actual bomb or not, but he had to approach it as if it did. That’s the way it was with bomb calls. Better than ninety-five percent turned out to be hairspray cans, some teenager’s book bag, or, like his most recent call-out, two pounds of marijuana wrapped in Pampers. Only one out of a hundred was what the bomb techs called an “improvised munition.”
A homemade bomb.
“You hear ticking or anything like that?”
“Smell anything burning?”
“Did you open the bag to get a better look?”
“Did you move the box or anything?”
Ruiz smiled like Riggio was nuts.
“Dude, I saw those pipes and shit my pants. The only thing I moved was my feet!”
Riggio walked back to his vehicle. The Bomb Squad drove dark blue Suburbans, rigged with a light bar, and crammed with all the tools of the bomb technician’s trade, except for the robots. You wanted the robots, you had to call them out special, and he wasn’t going to do that. The goddamned robot would just get bogged down in all the potholes around the box.
Riggio found his supervisor, Buck Daggett, instructing a uniformed sergeant to evacuate the area for a hundred yards in all directions. The fire department had already been called, and paramedics were on the way. Sunset Boulevard had been closed, and traffic rerouted. All for something that might turn out to be some do-it-yourself plumber’s castoff drain trap.
“Hey, Buck, I’m ready to take a look at that thing.”
“I want you in the suit.”
“It’s too hot. I’ll use the chest protector for the first pass, then the suit if I have to bring out the de-armer.”
All Riggio would be doing on the first pass was lugging out a portable X-ray to see inside the bag. If the contents appeared to be a bomb, he and Daggett would formulate a game plan and either de-arm the device, or explode it in place.
“I want you in the suit, Charles. I got a feeling about this one.”
“You’ve always got a feeling.”
“I’ve also got the sergeant stripes. You’re in the suit.”
The armored suit weighed almost ninety pounds. Made of Kevlar plates and heavy Nomex batting, it covered every part of Riggio’s body except his hands, which remained bare. A bomb tech needed the dexterity of unencumbered fingers.
When the suit was in place, Riggio took the Real Time RTR3 X-ray unit and lumbered toward the package. Walking in the suit was like walking with his body wrapped in wet quilts, only hotter. Three minutes in the armor, and sweat was already running into his eyes. To make it worse, a safety cable and hardwire dragged behind him, the hardwire connecting him to Daggett via a telex communicator. A separate wire linked the Real Time to a computer in the Suburban’s cargo bay. He felt like he was pulling a plow.
Daggett’s voice came into Riggio’s ear. “How you doing out there?”
“Sweating my ass off, thanks to you.”
Riggio hated this part the most, approaching an object before he knew what it was. Every time was the same: Riggio thought of that unknown object as a living beast with a life and a mind. Like a sleeping pit bull. If he approached it carefully and made the right moves, everything would be fine. If he startled the dog, the damn thing would rip him apart.
Eighty-two slow-motion paces brought him to the box.
It was unremarkable except for a wet stain on one corner that looked like dog piss. The brown paper bag, crumpled and uneven, was open. Riggio peered into the bag without touching it. Leaning over was hard, and when he did, sweat dripped onto the Lexan faceplate like rain.
He saw the two pipes that Ruiz had described. The pipe caps appeared to be about two-and-a-half inches in diameter and taped together, but nothing else about them was visible. They were loosely wrapped with newspaper, leaving only the ends exposed. Daggett said, “How’s it look?”
“Like a couple of pipes. Stand by. I’ll get us a picture.”
Riggio placed the Real Time RTR3 on the ground at the base of the box, aimed for a side view, then turned on the unit. It provided the same type of translucent shadow image that security personnel see on airline baggage units, reproducing the image on two screens: one for Riggio on top of the RTR3 and another on the computer back at the Suburban.
Charlie Riggio smiled.
“Sonofabitch. We got one, Buck. We got us a bomb.”
“I’m seeing it.”
The two pipes were impenetrable shadows with what appeared to be a spool of wire or fuse triangled between them. There didn’t appear to be a timer or an initiator of a more sophisticated nature, leading Riggio to believe that the bomb was a garage project made by an enterprising local gangbanger. Low-tech, dirty, and not particularly difficult to de-arm.
“This one’s going to be a piece of cake, Buck. I make a basic fuse of the light-it-and-run-like-hell variety.”
“You be careful. Might be some kind of motion switch tucked away in there.”
“I’m not gonna touch it, Buck. Jesus. Gimme some credit.”
“Don’t get cocky. Take the snaps and let’s figure out what’s what.”
The procedure was to take a series of digital computer snaps of the device via the Real Time at forty-five-degree angles. When they had the device mapped, Riggio would fall back to the Suburban where he and Daggett would decide how best to destroy or de-arm it.
Riggio shuffled around the box, aiming the Real Time over the different angles. He felt no fear as he did this because he knew what he was dealing with now and trusted he could beat it. Riggio had approached over forty-eight suspicious packages in his six years with the Bomb Squad; only nine had been actual explosive devices. None of those had ever detonated in a manner that he did not control.
“You’re not talking to me, Charlie. You okay?”
“Just got to work around the potholes, Sarge. Almost done. Hey, you know what I’m having? I’m having a brainstorm.”
“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“No, listen to this. You know those people on the infomercials who make all that money with the stupid shit they sell? We could sell these damned suits to fat people, see? You just wear it and you lose weight.”
“Keep your damned head with that bomb, Riggio. How’s your body temp?”
In truth, he was so hot that he felt dizzy, but he wanted to make sure he had good clean shots. He circled the box like a man in a space suit, getting front, side, and off angles, then pointed the Real Time straight down for a top view. That’s when he saw a shadow that hadn’t been visible in the side views.
“Buck, you see that? I think I got something.” “What?”
“Here in the overhead view. Take a snap.”
A thin, hairlike shadow emerged from the side of one pipe and extended up through the spool. This wire wasn’t attached to the others, which confused Riggio until a sudden, unexpected thought occurred to him: Maybe the spool was there only to hide this other wire.
In that moment, fear crackled through him and his bowels clenched. He called out to Buck Daggett, but the words did not form.
Riggio thought, Oh, God.
The bomb detonated at a rate of twenty-seven thousand feet per second, twenty-two times faster than a nine-millimeter bullet leaves the muzzle of a pistol. Heat flashed outward in a burst of white light hot enough to melt iron. The air pressure spiked from a normal fifteen pounds per square inch to twenty-two hundred pounds, shattering the iron pipes into jagged shrapnel that punched through the Kevlar suit like hyperfast bullets. The shock wave slammed into his body with an over-pressure of three hundred thousand pounds, crushing his chest, rupturing his liver, spleen, and lungs, and separating his unprotected hands. Charlie Riggio was lifted fourteen feet into the air and thrown a distance of thirty-eight feet.
Even this close to the point of detonation, Riggio might have survived if this had been, as he first suspected, a garage bomb cooked up by a gangbanger with makeshift materials.
Bits of tarmac and steel fell around him like bloody rain, long after Charlie Riggio was dead.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Three years ago Carol Starkey, a top-notch bomb squad technician came back from the dead. Her partner and lover died. Since then she has been burying her survivor's guilt with alcohol and Tagamet. While assigned to LAPD's Criminal Conspiracy section, Carols lands a case in which a seemingly easy bomb to diffuse kills another technician. She soon finds herself investigating a series of bombings in which the bombs were deliberately designed to kill the technicians. Robert Crais has written a fast pace novel with twists and turns that will keep you turning the pages until you are done. He has successfully created a complex multi-dimensional wounded character in Carol Starkey while at the same time immersing you in the authentic world of bomb making and the dangerous world of the bomb technicians. This is the first book I have read by Robert Crais and I now have a new author to add to my To Be Found (TBF) and To Be Read (TBR) piles. I highly recommend this book. Review by: Lillian Porter
I usually don't read a lot of thrillers, but there are a few mystery writers to whom I am loyal, and Robert Crais is one of them. Probably like a lot of others, I was skeptical about a novel/thriller that didn't include his normal detective duo. Forget about that---this is a fine story that includes some great characters that are well-named, like 'Mr. Red'. Anyway, Crais is an intelligent writer, who isn't too vulgar or cheap, and he has been able to make the transition from a standard 250 page detective novel to a first rate, full length thriller with all new characters. I don't think anyone will be disappointed, and this guy has the potential to be a major bestselling author in the future. Carol Starkey, his protagonist, is a little too stereotypical (lots of gin and cigarettes), and it is not really credible when she falls in love with another investigator, but the story is so strong that you will forgive Crais this time. I hope he keeps improving because he is getting close to excellent.
If you haven't read Robert Crais you are in for a hair rising ride in the fast lane. Demolition Angel is a pedal-to-the-metal thriller that jolts you from the get-go and dosen't letup until its head-on finale. Carol Starkley, an ex-bomb tech, gets reassigned to LAPD's Criminal Conspiracy Section. While battling her inner fears, she embarks on an investigation involving the bomb death of a fellow officer. Caught on an emotitional roller coaster, Carol must not only overcome adverse hostillities, but do battle with a demonic mind not seen since Francis Dolarhyde slithered off the pages of Thomas Harris' Red Dragon. Mr. Crais has woven a tale so shocking it will keep you turning pages well into the wee hours of the morning. An unforgettable read.
Hope your heart is in good shape, because after reading Robert Crais's new novel, Demolition Angel, you'll need a strong one. Fast paced, twists and turns, heart-racing action--these are the characteristics of this suspense/thriller. Carol Starkey is Crais's new leading character--a former bomb squad technician who legally died three years ago, now in a detective position sifting through bombing aftermaths. Searching for a serial bomber, Carol is put through the paces by Crais. Every time you feel that you know what's coming, Crais twists the plot and makes a connection that you really didn't expect.
Bomb technician Carol Starkey is struggling to put her life back together, after an explosion kills her lover/partner, and leaves her scarred for life. When a bomb call turns to murder, Carol takes the case. Carol teams up with ATF Special Agent Jack Pell to investigate the bombing, the results are shocking...this was not a random bombing but a clever plan, directed at specific bomb technicians. 'Demolition Angel' speeds to a stunning climax. Robert Crais has written a novel that will further cement his bestselling status. This is EXCELLENT entertainment. A perfect, page-turning beach book. A MUST read.
Crais is best known for his series of novels featuring Elvis Cole but I haven't read any of those. This is the second novel I've read by him, the first was Hostage and that was a great page turner, just an excellent story. This one's a page turner as well. Detective Carol Starkey, still recovering from a bomb blast that killed her (for a couple minutes until she was revived), is investigating another bombing. Someone is targeting bomb technicians. About halfway in comes the first big plot twist and from there it rockets along with several new twists thrown in. Naturally things end with a bang. Fun story. This was an excellent crime novel diversion.
This is about a member (currently reassigned) of the L.A. Bomb Squad who was critically injured when an earthquake interrupted the defusing of a bomb, killing her partner/lover. Very interesting information about bomb builders, bomb making, how bomb squads work and a mysterious bomber who is a folk hero to his kind. This features a very flawed heroine, but makes for a very interesting read.
Takes Its Time Building to an Explosive Climax Before diving into Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole and Joe Pike mysteries, I’d read or listened to all of his stand alones except one – Demolition Angel. When I started actually listening to his series, I decided to save this one until I hit it in publication order. I was curious since I’d heard such good things about it. For me, this one really had to grow on me. Before we go further, I do have a confession to make – I listened to an abridgement of the book. I hadn’t paid attention until I got it from the library. In my defense, it was the only audio version that either library system I have access to have available. I honestly don’t think that factors into my opinion, but keep that in mind as you read my review. This book introduces us to Carol Starkey. She is a former member of the bomb squad who now works for the LAPD in the Criminal Conspiracy Section, and her latest case is hitting very close to home. She is tasked with investigating the death by bomb of a member of the bomb squad. She herself was blown up while on the bomb squad, and she lost her partner and lover in the blast. She still hasn’t recovered from it emotionally, and that was three years ago. Carol has barely started her investigation when the ATF shows up in her office announcing they think the bomb was the work of a notorious serial bomber nicknamed Mr. Red. While fighting to keep control of her case, Carol also begins to investigate the bombing and Mr. Red. Can she catch this man? Honestly, I think I’m glad I was listening to an abridgement of this book. Why? Because before the first disc was over, I was rolling my eyes at Carol. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Because of the death of her partner/lover, she has been driven to drink and smoke. She’s hostile to others and hard to get along with. Yeah, I was rolling my eyes, too. Mind you, I’ll read clichés in my cozies without blinking an eye, but this one irritated me. It didn’t help that Carol herself irritated me. Her character arc, while predictable, did finally make me warm up to her as the book progressed, but it was late in the book before it happened. I honestly would have had a very hard time getting through the entire book. Which leaves the plot. This at least was interesting as it included several good twists and turns before we reached the climax. The climax had me hanging on every word even though I knew where it was going to go. The abridgement is read by Patricia Kalember. She could do a bit more to make characters distinct, especially when they are just talking with no tags between dialogue, but I was able to follow along with what was happening, so this is a very minor complaint. The underpinnings of the mystery in Demolition Angel are good, but Carol is so predictable that the book itself winds up just being average.
Pretty good story line. Just couldn't deal with the abundant winey characters, Very depressing!
Really enjoyed this book..
Great story! I really did enjoy this bok!
I loved rreading all of Mr. Crais' books & this is my favorite. Hope to see more of this character, she's great!
Diamond in the ruff. Thought I would try this novel since I like Patterson and other well known mystery fiction writers. What a wonderful surprise having a down to earth heroine. I plan to read more from this author. Not the ruff I expected.
About a detective with huge issues who obviously needs to be fired. No police force would keep anyone acting like she dose employed. Dont waste your time and money on this one. I find it hard to believe it was published.