Firebreak

October 1, 2001
Parker and crew have their eyes on the contents of a secret vault in a billionaire's hunting lodge in this typically taut thriller written by Donald E. Westlake under his nom de noir, but first the tough antihero must deal, roughly, with some people trying to whack him. A Russian hit man provides the overture action as Parker attracts the attention of enemies from the past and meets the killer mercilessly. Parker spends much of the rest of the book seeking out the source of the contract, gradually learning that his current job has brought his name and whereabouts to the surface. The job is one his old partners, Elkins and Wiss, have put on the table: a stash of paintings by Old Masters stolen from museums around the world and kept in dot-com mogul Paxton Marino's Montana lodge for his personal pleasure. To get past Marino's sophisticated electronic safeguards, they need help from a computer-nerd-gone-bad, really bad, named Lloyd. The author delivers this novel with the economy of a 1950s paperback original ("Twelve thousand dollars in twenties and fifties was rolled into an orange juice concentrate can in the freezer"), but slips in enough plot twists and surprises to satisfy the most modern audience (no heist ever written by Stark/Westlake comes off without lots of hitches). That Parker, on general principles, doesn't bump off Lloyd at first sight almost seems like a sign of weakness, but it's the only one in this deliciously nasty read. (Nov. 14)Forecast:Coming on the heels of
Flashfire (2000), the last Parker novel, this one promises to be just as big a hit for MWA Grand Master and three-time Edgar–winner Westlake.

Parker isn't just hard-boiled; he's injected with cement and frozen into stone. This is a guy who cusses out some poor sucker who offers him a ride. People who cross him do not enjoy a long life thereafter. Yet this is just one of a successful series of books with famous movie spin-offs that have proceeded from the pen of Donald E. Westlake (a.k.a. Stark) over the past forty years. As for the reader, few could present the characters and mayhem with greater élan than Michael Kramer. He fits the book and its characters like a glove, blustering one moment, cold as dry ice the next. Grab a seat and feel the chill. D.R.W. (c) AudioFile 2002, Portland, Maine