By William Diehl
Because the international trembles with the procedure of global struggle II, a lady dies by the hands of Hitler's henchmen. Her homicide eternally adjustments her lover, Francis Scott Keegan, a constant anti-Nazi mercenary, who turns into locked in a determined cat-and-mouse video game with the 3rd Reich's ideal secret agent, a guy of 1000 faces. In an enviornment that encompasses presidents and gangsters, spies and sirens, the lethal current and the darkish previous, Keegan pursues his elusive quarry into the leading edge of global events—and into the key internal workings of a terrifying undertaking recognized in basic terms as "27."
"The most sensible publication of its style because the DAY OF THE JACKAL...Edge-of-the-seat stuff."--PEOPLE
What individuals are Saying
Sidney Sheldon
"A rip-roaring rollercoaster of suspense, riveting from starting to end."
Editorial Reviews
Publishers Weekly
Diehl integrates old occasions corresponding to Hitler's upward thrust to strength and Dillinger's financial institution robberies into this mystery a few heroic ex-bootlegger and his nemesis, agent 27, a Nazi making plans to kidnap a few of America's strongest males. ``Despite a few inconceivable coincidences, his solidly researched story is suspenseful, creative and, in areas, deeply moving,'' acknowledged PW.
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Extra info for 27 aka The Hunt
Sample text
He was surprised but it was definitely cockney. Ingersoll was an expert on dialects and accents. “And aren’t you the English one. ” “Well ain’t you the smart one, too, ducks. ” “I mean, why here,” he said caustically. He could not deal with street whores pleasantly, as hard as he tried. ” He ignored the question. ” he repeated. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m on holiday and I’ve run a bit short. And let me give you a hint, sweetie, I can show you a few tricks these German ladies ain’t never heard of.
This was the heart of the Nazi party, the nerve center of the New Germany. One could almost hear the Führer’s voice as he dictated Germany’s future from behind the walls of his vast first-floor suite of offices. He had only to wait a few minutes before the chauffeur arrived in Hitler’s open Mercedes. ” the chauffeur asked. ” Ingersoll shook his head. He knew the drive south to the Bavarian border in the Alpine foothills was one of the most beautiful in all Germany and he wanted to enjoy the scenery.
After Heinz left the room, Ingersoll downed the rest of the champagne and went to a corner of the room. He slid back a tall bookcase and opened the safe behind it. Inside were thick envelopes of cash: American dollars, British pounds, French francs. Everything but German marks. With inflation as high as it was it would take a safe full of marks to buy a bowl of soup. He opened one of the envelopes, counted out five hundred British pounds and stuffed them in a pocket of his robe. Two hours later, Ingersoll checked into the hotel where he was known as Harry Sanders, a fiftyish English art dealer with thick white hair and an elegantly trimmed beard.