|
|
Executive Times |
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
2008 Book Reviews |
|||
|
|
Plague
Ship by Clive Cussler |
|||
|
Rating: |
** |
|||
|
|
(Mildly Recommended) |
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Responsive It
wouldn’t feel like Summer if some day in the heat, I didn’t escape with a
Clive Cussler thriller. This month it was the fifth book in the Oregon Files
series titled, Plague
Ship. The Cussler formula continues on these pages with a threat to the
world that’s met by a competent leader backed up with toys that work. In Plague
Ship, a group called The Responsivists hatch a plan to reduce the world’s
population as a way of making life on the planet better. Here’s an excerpt, from
the end of Chapter 2, pp. 56-58: He closed to within twenty feet
before one of them became aware of his presence. The man snapped to his feet,
looking around in bewilderment for a moment before remembering he'd set his
AK-47 on the floor next to the table he was sharing with his partner. Juan
kept coming as the man groped for the weapon and came up with it pointed
straight at Cabrillo's chest. He growled a warning, as his teammate gained
his feet, his hands clutching an assault rifle of his own, though the sling
had tangled around his hands. "What is the meaning of
this challenge?" Juan asked arrogantly in pitch-perfect Arabic. "I
am Captain Hanzi Hourani, of the Syrian Navy, and a guest of your base
commander, Admiral Ramazani." The two guards blinked at him
before one said in halting Arabic, "You are who?" "Captain Hourani,"
Cabrillo snapped testily. "For the love of the Prophet, I have been in
and out of this building a dozen times in the past week. Surely you know I am
here to watch the demonstration of your new miracle weapon, the torpedoes
that will drive the Crusaders out of our waters once and for all." Juan knew the Farsi speaker was
catching every three or four words of his rapid-fire delivery, but it was the
attitude more than the words that were important. He had to get them to believe
he belonged here, despite the late hour. There was a walkie-talkie on the
table next to an overflowing ashtray, plates of congealed food, and a rumpled
heap of newspapers. If they called base security, the jig was up. "I lost track of time
touring the submarine," Juan went on, then gave a trace of an
embarrassed smile. "That is not true. I fell asleep in the captain's
cabin, dreaming that it would be me to strike the first blow against the
American imperialists." There was still wary suspicion
in the guard's eye, but the admission that a superior officer, though from a
different navy, could succumb to the same fantasies as they did put the guard
slightly at ease. He translated to his partner what Cabrillo had said. It didn't seem to make much of
an impression. He barked at the first guard, gesturing with the barrel of his
AK. The Arabic speaker asked to see Juan's identification. Juan withdrew a billfold and
presented it to the senior of the two. As the guard looked it over, Juan
plucked a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit up. The smokes
were Dun-hills, a vastly superior brand to the cheap local tobacco the men
choked down, and he saw that both had noticed the distinctive flat pack. The
guard kept the billfold and was turning to grab the walkie-talkie when Juan
offered him the cigarettes. He hesitated for an instant, so
Juan thrust the pack closer. "We must call the main
security station," the younger guard told him. "Of course," Juan
said, jetting smoke from his mouth. "I thought you might enjoy a decent
cigarette while they yell at you for not knowing I am authorized to be
here." Sheepishly, both men took a
cigarette. Juan held the lighter for them. They only had time to exchange a
look, following their first drag, before the fast-acting, narcotic-laced
tobacco hit their nervous systems like a freight train. Both men crumpled
wordlessly to the ground. Cabrillo ground his cigarette
into the floor with his foot. "Usually, boys," he said, crushing
out the guards' smoldering Dunhills and tucking all the evidence into his
pant pocket, "these things’ll kill you. In your case, you'll be
out for a couple of hours. However, I don't envy you when your superiors
discover your dereliction." The
Corporation tried to keep their operations as nonlethal as possible. From the
earliest planning stages of the mission, Cabrillo made sure the guards
wouldn't die doing their job just because Russia was illegally selling
advanced military equipment. That
isn't to say there wasn't a lot of blood on Juan Cabrillo's or the rest of
his team's hands, but they wouldn't kill if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Juan
was just turning away when the metal door leading to the outside was thrown
open and a lab-coated technician flanked by two soldiers strode in. They saw
the two unconscious guards on the floor under the table and Juan's unfamiliar
uniform. One guard brought his assault rifle up and shouted a challenge. The
second said something to the first that Cabrillo didn't need to translate to
"I'm going for help" before he turned on his heel and vanished into
the night. In
a minute, all three thousand sailors and support personnel were going to be
descending on the dry dock like a horde of berserkers. Juan
Cabrillo is the leader whose competence thwarts the plans of The Responsivists.
Plague
Ship provides reliable and predictable summer entertainment. Steve
Hopkins, July 18, 2008 |
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
Go to Executive Times Archives |
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Plague Ship.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
