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Executive Times |
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2006 Book Reviews |
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The Book
of Fate by Brad Meltzer |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Loyalty Personal and
political loyalty can be a rare commodity in “Wait.” He takes
off in an eyeblink, darting to the left down the
hallway—away from the doorway where Jay is. Boyle—whoever he is, he’s smart. I grab the
edges of the coffee table and try to boost myself out. My hip and knees grind
against the shards of glass as I twist into place. Stumbling to my feet, I
rush forward, completely hunched over. I’m so off balance, I practically fall
through the doorway, back into the hail, which is completely empty He barely
had a five-second head start. It’s more than enough. Up ahead,
the far end of the hallway bends around to the left. In the distance, a metal
door slams shut. Damn. I run as fast as I can, gritting my teeth just to keep
myself from hyperventilating. But I already know what’s coming. Turning the
corner, the hallway dead-ends at two more soundproof metal doors. The one on
the right leads to an emergency set of stairs. The one straight ahead leads
outside. If we were in the White House, we’d have two Secret Service guys
standing guard. As a Former, we’ve barely got enough to cover the entrances
that lead to the stage. I shove
open the door on my right. As it crashes into the wall, a low thud echoes up
the concrete stairwell. I hold my breath and listen for footsteps . . . movement. . . anything. All I get is
silence. Spinning
back, I slam into the metal bar of the remaining door, which whips open and
flings me out into the sweet, steamy Malaysian air. The only light in the
alley comes from the headlights of a black Chevy Suburban, a metal Cheshire
cat with a glowing white stare. Behind the Suburban is a gaudy, white
twelfth-grade-prom stretch limousine. Our ride back to the hotel. “Everything
okay?” an agent with cropped brown hair calls out as he steps around to the
front of the Suburban. “Yeah. . . of course,” I say,
swallowing hard and knowing better than to put him in panic. Jumping down the
last three steps, my heart’s racing so fast, I feel like it’s about to kick
through my chest. I continue to scan the alleyway. Nothing but empty
dumpsters, a few police motorcycles, and the mini-motorcade. The stairs. I spin
back to the doorway, but it’s already too late. The door slams shut with a
sonic boom, locking from the inside. “Relax,”
the agent calls out. “I got the key right here.” He jogs up
the stairs and flips through his key ring. “Manning still on time?” he asks. “Yeah . . . he’s
perfect. . . right on time . . The agent
studies me carefully, fishing through his keys. “Sure you’re okay, Wes?” he
asks, pulling the door open as I run back inside. “You look like you’ve seen
a ghost.” Many of the characters never develop
enough to care about them on these pages, but there’s something about Wes
that can keep a reader engaged. The Book
of Fate is perfect entertainment for an airplane flight or a mindless
weekend. Steve Hopkins,
October 25, 2006 |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the November 2006
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The
Book of Fate.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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