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|Publisher:||Turner Publishing Company|
|Product dimensions:||5.40(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.90(d)|
About the Author
RON FAUST is the author of fourteen previous thrillers. He has been praised for his “rare and remarkable talent” (Los Angeles Times), and several of his books have been optioned for films. Before he began writing, he played professional baseball and worked at newspapers in Colorado Springs, San Diego, and Key West.
Read an Excerpt
I looked seaward. His “monster wave” was rapidly approaching. It was third in the long line of swells rushing silently across the dark expanse of sea. Krisos’s chosen wave did not now appear any bigger than the ones before and behind it. They all rolled swiftly inward. The first of the three entered the cove and crashed foaming against the base of the cliff, and a moment later a great stream of spume exploded out of the blowhole and gradually dispersed, fogging the air.
“This is the moment,” Alexander said. “Always. Isn’t it, Jay? When you’ve bet it all.”
I turned to look at him. His stance was casual and he met my gaze with a quick smile that acknowledged our complicity. I had no reservations now. I was his accomplice in this foolish stunt. Let him leap; let him fall; let him live or die. Everything was so dreary, so boring, until Krisos arrived, and then one’s interior vision was altered, sleeping emotions were aroused, and life repossessed its clarity and peril and fun.
The wave, his wave, had entered the cove. I now saw that it really was bigger than the others, a seething graybeard that remained concave as it rolled on another fifty yards and then cracked like a whip as it collapsed, cracked again when its surge met the rock wall (I dropped my arm and shouted, “Go!”), and cracked once more as, violently compressed, it exploded out of the blowhole. Alexander was falling then, windmilling his arms for balance, and he fell slowly (it seemed) through the spume and mistfog and entered the water straight and clean a yard beyond the half-ring of sharp rocks. The splash lifted thirty feet into the air. A boiling mushroom of water appeared at his entry point. I stood on the edge of the cliff and watched it seethe.
What People are Saying About This
“Confirming Faust as a novelist to be reckoned with, this intricate omnium-gatherum, told in chiseled prose, seduces the reader with both wit and passion.”
“A writer of enormous talent, a stylist to admire and a storyteller of great power.”
—Scott Turow, author of Presumed Innocent
“Faust writes beautifully . . . he reminds you of Hemingway and Peter Matthiessen. . . . Faust has it all: lyrical prose, complex characters and provocative plots.”
“Faust’s clear, unadorned prose and his deft, pure characterization ring with the force of Hemingway or Graham Greene.”