Barnes & Noble
Published by: St. Martin's Press
Release Date: February 15, 1994
Series: Standalone Novels
The news is shattering: The director of the CIA, Harrison Sinclair, has been killed in a car accident. Sinclair may have been a traitor—or the Agency’s last honest man. Even his son-in-law, Ben Ellison, an attorney and ex-agent, has heard rumors of sinister forces within the Agency that could have ordered Sinclair’s assassination. Soon he is thrust into a web of intrigue and violence beyond his control back into the CIA, and lured into a top-secret espionage project in telepathic ability funded by American intelligence.
As the project’s first success, Ben uses his “extraordinary powers” in the perilous search for Vladimir Orlov, the exiled former chairman of the KGB—and the only man who might unlock the secret of Sinclair’s death and the whereabouts of a multibillion-dollar fortune in gold spirited out of Russia in the last days of the Soviet Union. The hunt for the truth will bring Ben face to face with his past and culminate in a crowded Washington hearing room where, behind high security barriers, a Senate investigating committee is about to call its secret witness…as an assassin prepares to strike…in Joseph Finder’s
"Dazzling . . . Precise, crackling, tonally perfect prose."
—Boston Sunday Herald
"Spectacular novel of international intrigue and teeth-grinding suspense. . . Superbly crafted and acutely honed . . . A fresh, engrossingly sassy saga of subterfuge with whiplash-provoking pacing . . . Keeps readers perpetually on the edge of their seats . . . A labyrinth of twists and turns to satisfy the most jaded thriller fan . . . A grand-slam finale orchestrated at fever pitch . . .The action is unrelenting . . . electrifying.. . . certain to be the book everyone will be talking about, and could well be considered a paradigm for the future of the espionage novel."
"A whiz of a yarn . . . Finder's pacing, wit and style make this thriller a standout."
—Pasadena Star News
"Spellbinding... Fans of Robert Ludlum will love Finder."
The story begins, appropriately enough, at a funeral.
The coffin of an old man is being lowered into the ground. The mourners surrounding the grave site are as somber as any funeral-goers, but they are conspicuously well dressed, radiating power and wealth. It is an odd sight: on this gray, drizzling, cold March morning, in a small rural cemetery in Columbia County in upstate New York, you can see United States senators, Supreme Court justices, the various scions of the New York and Washington power establishments, picking up wet clods of soil and flinging them atop the coffin. They are surrounded by black limousines, BMWs, Mercedeses, Jaguars, and the assorted other vehicles of the rich, powerful, and elect. Most of them have come a long distance to pay their respects; the graveyard is miles from anywhere.
I was there, of course, but not because I am famous, great, powerful, or elect. I was at the time merely an attorney in Boston-for Putnam & Stearns, a very good firm, and earning a respectable salary-and I felt distinctly out of place among the luminaries.
I was, however, the deceased’s son-in-law.