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Executive Times |
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2005 Book Reviews |
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Prince of
Fire by Daniel Silva |
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Rating: ••• (Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Fidelity Some readers will enjoy Daniel Silva’s
latest novel, Prince of
Fire, because of the skill with which the author handles the momentum of
the story. Silva reprises protagonist Gabriel Allon
and provides deeper development into that complicated character, leading
other readers to pleasure. First time readers will not be disappointed,
because Prince
of Fire stands well on its
own, and Allon’s loyalty to his wife, his
mentor, his country, and himself bring an order and satisfaction to all
readers. All in all, Prince of
Fire provides entertaining and enjoyable reading. Here’s
an excerpt, from the beginning of Chapter 5, “Tel Aviv: March 10,” pp. 52-58: Gabriel arrived at There were declarations to
sign, oaths to swear, and unapologetic questions about the state of his bank
account. He was photographed and issued an identification badge, which was hung
like an albatross around his neck. New fingerprints were taken because no one
could seem to find the originals from 1972. He was examined by a medical
doctor who, upon seeing the scars all over his body, seemed surprised to find
a pulse in his wrist and blood pressure in his veins. He even endured a
mind-numbing session with an Office psychologist, who jotted a few notes in
Gabriel’s file and hurriedly fled the room. Motor Pool granted him temporary use
of a Skoda sedan; Housekeeping assigned him a
windowless cell in the basement and living accommodations until he could find
a place of his own. Gabriel, who wished to maintain a buffer between himself
and At sunset he was summoned
to the executive suite for the final ritual of his return. The light above
Lev’s door shone green. His secretary, an attractive girl with suntanned legs
and hair the color of cinnamon, pressed an unseen button, and the door swung
silently open under its own power like the entrance of a bank vault. Gabriel stepped inside and
paused before advancing farther. He felt a peculiar sense of dislocation,
like a man who returns to his childhood bedroom only to find it turned into
his father’s den. The office had been Shamron’s
once. Gone were the scarred wooden desk and steel file cabinets and the
German shortwave radio on which he had monitored the bellicose voices of his
enemies. Now the motif was modern and monochrome gray The old linoleum floor
had been torn up and covered by a plush executive rug. Strategically placed
around the room were several expensive-looking Oriental carpets. From high in
the ceiling a recessed halogen bulb shone down upon a seating area of
contemporary black leather furniture that reminded Gabriel of a first-class
airport lounge. The wall nearest the seating area had been transformed into a
giant plasma video display from which the world’s media flickered silently in
high definition. The remote control, resting on the glass coffee table, was
the size of a prayer book and looked as though it required an advanced
engineering degree to operate. Whereas Shamron
had placed his desk barrier-like in front of the door, Lev had chosen to
reside near the windows. The pale gray blinds were drawn but angled in such a
way that it was just possible to make out the ragged skyline of downtown Tel
Aviv and a large orange sun sinking slowing into the “Gabriel,” he said, as though surprised
by his presence. He came out from behind the desk and shook Gabriel’s hand
carefully, then, with a bony finger pressed to Gabriel’s spine like a
pistol, guided him across the room to the seating area. As he was lowering
himself into a chair, one of the images on the video wall caught his
attention, which one Gabriel could not tell. He sighed heavily, then turned
his head slowly and studied Gabriel with a predatory gaze. The shadow of their last meeting fell
between them. It had taken place not in this room but in “I’ve taken the liberty of
assembling your team,” said Lev. He pressed the intercom button on the
telephone and summoned his secretary She entered the room with a file beneath
her arm. Lev’s meetings were always well-choreographed. He adored nothing
more than standing before a complicated chart, pointer in hand, and decoding
its secrets for a mystified audience. As the secretary headed
toward the door, Lev looked at Gabriel to see if he was watching her walk
away Then he handed the files wordlessly to Gabriel and turned his gaze once
more toward the video wall. Gabriel lifted the cover and found several
sheets of paper, each containing the thumbnail sketch of a team member: name,
section, area of expertise. The sun had slipped below the horizon, and the
office had grown very dark. Gabriel, in order to read the file, had to lean
slightly to his left and hold the pages directly beneath the halogen ceiling
lamp. After a few moments he looked up at Lev. “You forgot to add
representatives from Hadassah and the Maccabee
Youth Sports League.” Gabriel’s irony bounced off Lev like a
stone thrown at a speeding freight train. “Your point, Gabriel?” “It’s too big. We’ll be tripping over
each other.” It occurred to Gabriel that perhaps Lev wanted precisely that.
“I can carry out the investigation with half these people.” Lev, with a languid wave of his long
hand, invited Gabriel to reduce the size of the team. Gabriel began removing
pages and placing them on the coffee table. Lev frowned. Gabriel’s cuts,
while random, had clearly dislodged Lev’s informant. “This will do,” Gabriel said, handing
the personnel files back to Lev. “We’ll need a place to meet. My office is
too small.” “Housekeeping has set aside Room 456C.” Gabriel knew it well. Three levels
belowground, 456C was nothing more than a dumping ground for old furniture
and obsolete computer equipment, often used by members of the night staff as
a spot for romantic trysts. “Fine,” said Gabriel. Lev crossed one long leg over the other
and picked a piece of invisible lint from his trousers. “You’ve never worked
at headquarters before, have you, Gabriel?” “You know exactly where I’ve worked.” “Which is why I feel
I should give you a helpful reminder. The progress of your
investigation, assuming you make any, is not to be shared with anyone outside
this service. You will report to me and only me. Is that clear?” “I take it you’re referring to the old
man.” “You know exactly who I’m referring
to.” “Shamron and
I are personal friends. I won’t cut off my relationship with him just to put
your mind at ease.” “But you will refrain from discussing
the case with him. Have I made myself clear?” Lev had neither mud on his boots nor
blood on his hands, but he was a master in the art of boardroom thrust and
parry “Yes, Lev,” Gabriel said. “I know
exactly where you stand.” Lev got to his feet, signaling that the meeting had
ended, but Gabriel remained seated. “There’s something else I needed to discuss
with you.” “My time is limited,” said Lev, looking
down. “It won’t take but a minute. It’s about
Chiara.” Lev, rather than suffer the indignity
of retaking his seat, walked over to the window and looked down at the lights
of Tel Aviv. “What about her?” “I don’t want her used again until we
determine who else saw the contents of that computer disk.” Lev rotated slowly, as if he were a
statue on a pedestal. With the light behind him, he appeared as nothing more
than a dark mass against the horizontal lines of the blinds. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough
to walk into this office and make demands,” he said acidly, “but Chiara’s future will be determined by Operations and,
ultimately, by me.” “She’s only a bat leveyha. Are you telling me you can’t find any other
girls to serve as escort officers?” “She’s got an Italian passport, and
she’s damned good at her job. You know that better than anyone.” “She’s also burned, Lev. If you put her
in the field with an agent, you’ll put the agent at risk. I wouldn’t work
with her.” “Fortunately, most of our field
officers aren’t as arrogant as you.” “I never knew a good field man who
wasn’t arrogant, Lev.” A silence fell between
them. Lev walked over to his desk and pressed a button on his telephone. The
door swung open automatically, and a wedge of bright light entered from
Lev’s reception area. “It’s been my experience
that field agents don’t take well to the discipline of headquarters. In the
field, they’re a law unto themselves, but in here, I’m the law.” “I’ll try to keep that in
mind, sheriff.” “Don’t fuck this up,” Lev
said as Gabriel headed open door. “If you do, not even Shamron
will protect you.” Prince of
Fire is Silva’s fifth Allon novel. “Allon” in Hebrew means oak tree. This solid oak has
become familiar to Silva fans, and even now, with smudges of ash on the
prince of fire, a reference to Gabriel’s grey hair at the temples, the
character remains fresh and interesting, maintaining his fidelity throughout.
Steve Hopkins,
April 23, 2005 |
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Buy Prince of
Fire @ amazon.com |
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ã 2005 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the May 2005
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Prince
of Fire.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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