I was at the airport all checked in, through immigration and ready to depart on a six-week summer trip. I was deliberately empty-handed book-wise and ready to drop some cash (or more accurately, card) on a retail-priced-plus-airport-premium read where I happened to see this.
An action spy thriller by a Hollywood legend who also happens to not be American. Perfect!
Stars a career-worn, slightly gruff protagonist in Harry Turner who is drafted in to investigate how and why a box of uranium was found and violently stolen from a local London dump leaving a pair of overnight workers in hospital. From there Turner encounters gangs, a drug cartel, a couple of oligarchs and urban nuclear explosions.
After a decent start, overall I’d say the rest of the book drags you through a couple of hundred pages lacking character depth, some Hollywood-esque moments of impossible survival and an ending “twist” that ties the whole thing back to the conveniently obvious.
But probably the most disappointing thing about this book for me was that I bloody went and left the paperback copy in the pocket of the seat in front on the plane and was forced to finish the last 100 pages on my phone courtesy of the Kindle version, meaning I paid twice for that ending. Wasn’t easy deciphering the screen against the extreme glare while sipping cans of Lion on a sunny Sri Lankan beach in the southern province.
Life is tough sometimes.
Don’t recommend. 👎🏻