Last Light

July 15, 2002
The fourth in a series of Nick Stone thrillers (after the well-received Firewall), this one gets off to an exciting if typical start as freelance assassin and ex-British SAS agent Stone orchestrates a precision team hit on a high-level target attending a snobby dessert social on the banks of the Thames. The target is to be identified by the team leader, Yes Man, who is to tap the victim on the left shoulder and wait for the snipers to do the dirty work. At the moment of contact, without explanation, Yes Man compromises the mission, and the police end up killing the three snipers. Stone is inexplicably given a second chance to complete his assignment alone by "last light Friday" at the victim's fortified home near the Panama Canal Zone. At this point (if not earlier), the novel loses coherence, dwelling on Stone's encounters with an aging tree-hugger college professor, his ganja-smoking young wife and their adopted daughter, who provide him with weapons and a base of operations in the Panamanian rain forest. Among Stone's spine-tingling preoccupations in Panama are chigger bites, a nagging headache and his nonstop guzzling of water, and there is a plethora of dialogue-driven exposition about Noriega's overthrow and the ruin of the rain forests. More choir boy than cold-blooded killer, Stone is given to mawkish introspection and invites self-destruction by confessing all sorts of sins to his colleagues. Most readers will be praying for an early sunset. 5-city author tour.

Some listeners avoid British audio thrillers because they say the narrations are dry and boring. This latest by McNab as read by Clive Mantle proves they're dead wrong. Right from the beginning you're on the edge of your seat, and neither the plot nor the reader lets up. When SAS operative Nick Stone nixes a planned assassination, he's told he must complete the job or his 11-year-old ward will be killed. The first tape meticulously describes the attempt on the intended victim, and Mantle, a Michael Cain sound alike, has your complete attention. The end comes all too soon. A.L.H. (c) AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine