Kurt Kurtovic wanted nothing more than to be left in peace, to make a life with his wife and child in Westfield, Kansas. Then September 11 happened and Kurt knew they'd never be safe again unless he did what only he could do, take terror to the terrorists. He knew their world, knew how they worked, knew their weak points. He knew, because he'd been one of them.
But as Kurt wages his bloody campaign, hunting down his former Al-Qaeda comrades in Britain, Spain, and Africa, he becomes the hunted. And so do his wife and child back home. The most dangerous agents of terror, he discovers, are in the United States: those who don't want the wars to end; those who believe "we have waited thousands of years for Judgment Day, never knowing when it would come. But now we can put it on the calendar. We can fix a date." As a man-made apocalypse approaches, Kurt realizes that some of America's most ruthless enemies walk its corridors of power every day.
In the tradition of Graham Greene and John le Carré, this hard-driving narrative of vengeance and redemption by one of America's most prescient writers on espionage and terror is a riveting thriller about the horrors of the recent past -- and the dangers of the near future.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
Simon & Schuster
September 14, 2004
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Sleeper by Christopher Dickey
Sometimes, just to get my bearings, I think back on the sheer ordinariness of that morning in September. Betsy left before light to start her shift at the Jump Start Restaurant over on 70. I watched her moving through the bedroom, a familiar shadow in the familiar dark. She didn't need to turn on any lights to know where she was and didn't want to because she didn't want to wake me. My eyes were open, as they always were whenever she stirred, but my head was heavy in the pillow and I was as still as a stone in a churchyard. She leaned over and kissed me so lightly that I wasn't sure if I felt her lips or her breath, and she whispered to me, "Kurt, darling, don't let Miriam sleep too late." She stood up for a second, then leaned back down. "Love you, Baby," she said, and she was gone.
The first dim glow of dawn crept into the room about an hour later, and I watched the windows take shape as shadows on the opposite wall. But still, I didn't move. There was no work for me today, and I no longer had the energy or the will, or saw the purpose, of saying prayers. The idea passed through my mind, as ideas do in the early morning, that love had taken the place of faith. And if that was so, then so be it.
Miriam was in her room, too big for her baby bed now. Her Disney Pocahontas nightgown was all scrunched up around her, and her hair was damp. I like for us to sleep with the windows open and the night air moving through the screens. But last night was too hot for that, I thought. Too hot. And she was so peaceful in the dawn cool. She could sleep as long as she wanted. My baby here in my house in my old hometown in Kansas. Nobody and nothing was going to disturb her, not while Daddy was around.
The refrigerator door made a little noise when it opened. I drank the milk out of the carton, then poured myself some of the coffee that Betsy had brewed. The little countertop television was turned on without the sound. She'd just watched it for the time and the weather maps. She didn't care what anybody on it had to say. And now I watched it, too, silently. Smiling faces. Everyone so happy in the morning. So happy. I put a couple of Eggos in the old toaster. The smell of them warming filled the kitchen.
The faces on the television weren't smiling now. Katie Couric looked like something had gone really wrong with her day. And Matt, too. I'd never seen him so serious, unless it was when they were talking about colon cancer.