Attorney Pete Dexter hangs his shingle in a quiet Pennsylvania town, has a few unfortunate clients, and takes the hills strong while triathlon training. But Dexter is no ordinary lawyer. On Sundays, he reads the paper and shuffles around his dark, empty house, trying to forget about a life he has lost forever. Until, of course, Dexter reads something in those papers that sends him the necessary signal. Until, one of the handful who know of Dexter's other life tries to contact him.
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1 . Get to the point
Posted February 15, 2014 by Rick , MontrealThis book is a merry go round ride, lots and lots of caracters, the story converges only in the last 50 pages. Never gets to the point of the story, this author could really be great......
Thomas Dunne Books
September 29, 2003
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Excerpt from Avenger by Frederick Forsyth
He leaned into the gradient and once again fought the enemy of his own pain. It was a torture and a therapy. That was why he did it.
Those who know often say that of all the disciplines the triathlon is the most brutal and unforgiving. The decathlete has more skills to master, and putting the shot needs more brute strength; but for fearsome stamina and the capacity to meet the pain and beat it, there are few trials like the triathlon.
The runner had risen as always on training days well before dawn. He drove his pickup to a distant New Jersey lake, dropping off his racing bicycle on the way, chaining it to a tree for safety. At two minutes after five, he set the chronometer on his wrist, pulled the sleeve of the neoprene wetsuit down to cover it, and entered the icy water.
It was the Olympic triathlon that he practiced, with distances measured in metric lengths. A fifteen-hundred-meter swim -- as near as dammit one mile -- out of the water, strip fast to undershirt and shorts, mount the racing bike, then forty kilometers crouched over the handlebars, all of it at the sprint. He had long ago measured the mile along the lake from end to end and knew exactly which tree on the far bank marked the spot he had left the bike. He had marked out his forty kilometers along the country roads, always at that empty hour, and knew which tree was the point to abandon the bike and start the run. Ten kilometers was the run, and there was a farm gatepost that marked the two-clicks-to-go point. That morning he had just passed it. The last two kilometers were uphill, the final heartbreaker, the no-mercy stretch.
The reason it hurt so much is that the muscles needed are all different. The powerful shoulders, chest, and arms of a swimmer are not normally needed by a speed cyclist or marathon man. They are just extra poundage that has to be carried.