The Amber Room

by Steve Berry Narrated by Scott Brick

Overview

“A winner . . . combines the pace and style of*Brown's Da Vinci Code and the densely plotted*espionage of Daniel Silva's Gabriel Allon novels.”-The Florida Times-Union

Atlanta judge Rachel Cutler loves her job and her kids, but her life takes a dark turn when her father dies under strange circumstances, leaving behind clues to a secret about one of the greatest treasures ever made by man. Forged of the exquisite gem, the Amber Room inexplicably disappeared sometime during World War II. Determined to solve its mysteries, Rachel takes off for Germany with her ex-husband, Paul, close behind. Before long, they're in over their heads. Locked into a treacherous game with professional killers, Rachel and Paul find themselves on a collision course with the forces of greed, power, and history itself.

Praise for The Amber Room

“Compelling . . . adventure-filled . . .*a fast-moving, globe-hopping tale.”-San Francisco Chronicle

“Magnificently engrossing . . . pure intrigue, pure fun.”-Clive Cussler

“Thrilling . . . fast-paced, highly entertaining.”-Baton Rouge Advocate

Editorial Reviews

bn.com

The Barnes & Noble Review
Steve Berry's debut novel concerns the true story of the fascinating Amber Room, an extraordinary set of intricately carved panels that were looted from St. Petersburg by Nazi forces during World War II and later vanished under mysterious circumstances. This powerful thriller uses real-life events to weave an enigmatic tale that will hook the reader from the opening chapters.

When Rachel Cutler's father, a concentration camp survivor, is killed in Europe, she and her ex-husband, Paul, find themselves in the midst of a deadly art rivalry between sinister forces. The intriguing premise goes a long way, as secrets left over from the Holocaust suddenly spring to light and the search is on again for the rare Baltic amber.

Descriptive, vivid, and well detailed, The Amber Room ably employs the plot device of the amateur "spy" caught way over his head in a realm of political intrigue. Brutality and murder abound as the story progresses and the suspense builds. Berry's scrupulous research adds plenty of interesting elements about the legendary treasure, other famous pieces of art, and snatches of world history. Expertly plotted and full of slick action, this forceful first novel bodes well for this author on the rise. Tom Piccirilli

From the Publisher

Sexy, illuminating, and confident. The Amber Room is my kind of thriller—a globe-trotting treasure hunt packed with exotic locales, sumptuous art, and ruthless villains. Steve Berry writes with the self-assured style of a veteran.”—Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code

“Magnificently engrossing, with wonderful characters and a plot that speeds, twists, and turns. Pure intrigue, pure fun.”—Clive Cussler

“The Amber Room is a riveting cat-and-mouse game set within the world of international art thieves, assassins, and age-old rivalries. From the opening shocker set in a Nazi concentration camp to the chilling battle within a mountain-top castle, Steve Berry carries the reader on a harrowing journey into a past best left undiscovered. Not to be missed!”—James Rollins, author of Amazonia and Ice Hunt

“Steve Berry has written a tremendous first novel. He weaves vivid details into a lightning quick read.”—Stephen Frey, author of Silent Partner

“Vivid, fast-moving, beautifully imagined, convincing!”—David Poyer, author of Black Storm and Fire on the Waters

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169262476
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	02/06/2007
Edition description:	Abridged

Read an Excerpt

ONE

Atlanta, Georgia Tuesday, May 6, the present, 10:35 a.m.

Judge Rachel Cutler glanced over the top of her tortoiseshell glasses. The lawyer had said it again, and this time she wasn't going to let the comment drop. "Excuse me, counselor."

"I said the defendant moves for a mistrial."

"No. Before that. What did you say?"

"I said, 'Yes, sir.' "

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not a sir."

"Quite correct, Your Honor. I apologize."

"You've done that four times this morning. I made a note each time."

The lawyer shrugged. "It seems such a trivial matter. Why would Your Honor take the time to note my simple slip of the tongue?"

The impertinent bastard even smiled. She sat erect in her chair and glared down at him. But she immediately realized what T. Marcus Nettles was doing. So she said nothing.

"My client is on trial for aggravated assault, Judge. Yet the court seems more concerned with how I address you than with the issue of police misconduct."

She glanced over at the jury, then at the other counsel table. The Fulton County assistant district attorney sat impassive, apparently pleased that her opponent was digging his own grave. Obviously, the young lawyer didn't grasp what Nettles was attempting. But she did. "You're absolutely right, counselor. It is a trivial matter. Proceed."

She sat back in her chair and noticed the momentary look of annoyance on Nettles's face. An expression that a hunter might give when his shot missed the mark.

"What of my motion for mistrial?" Nettles asked.

"Denied. Move on. Continue with your summation."





Rachelwatched the jury foreman as he stood and pronounced a guilty verdict. Deliberations had taken only twenty minutes.

"Your Honor," Nettles said, coming to his feet. "I move for a presentence investigation prior to sentencing."

"Denied."

"I move that sentencing be delayed."

"Denied."

Nettles seemed to sense the mistake he'd made earlier. "I move for the court to recuse itself."

"On what grounds?"

"Bias."

"To whom or what?"

"To myself and my client."

"Explain."

"The court has shown prejudice."

"How?"

"With that display this morning about my inadvertent use of sir."

"As I recall, counselor, I admitted it was a trivial matter."

"Yes, you did. But our conversation occurred with the jury present, and the damage was done."

"I don't recall an objection or a motion for mistrial concerning the conversation."

Nettles said nothing. She looked over at the assistant DA. "What's the State's position?"

"The State opposes the motion. The court has been fair."

She almost smiled. At least the young lawyer knew the right answer.

"Motion to recuse denied." She stared at the defendant, a young white male with scraggly hair and a pockmarked face. "The defendant shall rise." He did. "Barry King, you've been found guilty of the crime of aggravated assault. This court hereby remands you to the Department of Corrections for a period of twenty years. The bailiff will take the defendant into custody."

She rose and stepped toward an oak-paneled door that led to her chambers. "Mr. Nettles, could I see you a moment?" The assistant DA headed toward her, too. "Alone."

Nettles left his client, who was being cuffed, and followed her into the office.

"Close the door, please." She unzipped her robe but did not remove it. She stepped behind her desk. "Nice try, counselor."

"Which one?"

"Earlier, when you thought that jab about sir and ma'am would set me off. You were getting your butt chapped with that half-cocked defense, so you thought me losing my temper would get you a mistrial."

He shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"What you have to do is show respect for the court and not call a female judge sir. Yet you kept on. Deliberately."

"You just sentenced my guy to twenty years without the benefit of a presentence hearing. If that isn't prejudice, what is?"

She sat down and did not offer the lawyer a seat. "I didn't need a hearing. I sentenced King to aggravated battery two years ago. Six months in, six months' probation. I remember. This time he took a baseball bat and fractured a man's skull. He's used up what little patience I have."

"You should have recused yourself. All that information clouded your judgment."

"Really? That presentence investigation you're screaming for would have revealed all that, anyway. I simply saved you the trouble of waiting for the inevitable."

"You're a fucking bitch."

"That's going to cost you a hundred dollars. Payable now. Along with another hundred for the stunt in the courtroom."

"I'm entitled to a hearing before you find me in contempt."

"True. But you don't want that. It'll do nothing for that chauvinistic image you go out of your way to portray."

He said nothing, and she could feel the fire building. Nettles was a heavyset, jowled man with a reputation for tenacity, surely unaccustomed to taking orders from a woman.

"And every time you show off that big ass of yours in my court, it's going to cost you a hundred dollars."

He stepped toward the desk and withdrew a wad of money, peeling off two one-hundred-dollar bills, crisp new ones with the swollen Ben Franklin. He slapped both on the desk, then unfolded three more.

"Fuck you."

One bill dropped.

"Fuck you."

The second bill fell.

"Fuck you."

The third Ben Franklin fluttered down.

Copyright© 2003 by Steve Berry

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