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Critical Space [An Atticus Kodiak Novel] [Secure eReader (recommended)/Mobipocket/Microsoft Reader/Adobe Reader 7]
eBook by Greg Rucka
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eBook Category: Suspense/Thriller/Suspense/Thriller
eBook Description:  The acclaimed author of Shooting at Midnight has penned a thriller like no other ... the no-holds-barred story of a bodyguard with the ultimate assignment: protecting a woman who also happens to be the most hunted killer in the world ... Code-named Drama, she is a lightning-fast death machine--a hitwoman sought by intelligence agencies around the world. Drama kills as easily as she breathes ... and the last time she and Atticus Kodiak met, they barely escaped each other alive. Atticus Kodiak has a reputation as one of the toughest bodyguards in the business. He's used to picking his assignments and calling the shots. But all that changes when he is forced to take on Drama as a client--the last person he ever imagined would need his protection. This time, Drama is the one who is running from a killer. She needs Atticus's help, and she won't take no for an answer. To prove it, she abducts a high-profile member of the royal family whom Atticus has sworn to protect. He will do almost anything to get the woman back. But what Drama needs from him will destroy his reputation--and siding with her means he can never turn back. From New York's Russian enclaves to the Swiss Alps and the Caribbean, Atticus becomes Drama's protector, and her only hope for survival as she tries to outlive and outrun her bloody past. But once immersed in Drama's high-stakes, covert world, Atticus breaks a cardinal rule: He gets to know Drama as a woman rather than just a client--and it's a bond that could cost them both their lives. For the men hunting Drama are capable of unspeakable violence--of sins that make Drama's own look like the acts of an amateur. And they will stop at nothing to see her dead.... A masterful work by one of the most unique voices in the field, Critical Space combines high-voltage, high-tech action with swift, terrifying brutality. The result is Greg Rucka's most explosive thriller to date--a powerhouse of a novel destined to become a classic of modern suspense.
eBook Publisher: Random House, Inc./Bantam, Published: 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2003
This eBook is also available in the following bundle(s):
This eBook is part of the following series:
Available eBook Formats [Secure eReader (recommended)/Mobipocket/Microsoft Reader/Adobe Reader 7 - What's this?]: SECURE MOBIPOCKET FORMAT (535 KB], SECURE MICROSOFT READER FORMAT (428 KB] - Requires Microsoft Reader 2.1.1 for PCs, or Microsoft Reader 2.2.2 on Pocket PC 2002 handheld devices. Some older Pocket PCs can be upgraded. Learn More., SECURE EREADER (RECOMMENDED) FORMAT (399 KB], SECURE ADOBE READER 7 FORMAT (1.0 MB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [668 KB]
Secure Adobe Reader 7: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud enabled
Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
eReader (recommended) ISBN: 9780553897
Microsoft Reader ISBN, Adobe Acrobat Reader ISBN, MobiPocket Reader ISBN: 9780553897173
 
"A skillfully orchestrated cat-and-mouse game during which cat and mouse have a most entertaining way of switching roles.... Deftly plotted, elegantly written: might just be the thriller of the year."--
? Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"[T]he pace is good and the plot compelling. Best of all, Rucka's protagonists are well-rounded and sympathetic, convincingly resourceful and refreshingly low-key. Solidarity and friendship are as important as weaponry and tactics in this satisfying, character-driven thriller."--
? Publishers Weekly "Put Rucka on the short ?must read? list."--
? The Philadelphia Inquirer "First-rate suspense?Strong writing and intelligent plotting, but best of all are Rucka's characters: edgy, complex, interesting to a one. And Bridie is a triumph."--
? Kirkus Reviews (starred review) "This is prime Rucka, deliberately paced and wound tight.... This book will keep you awake until you've finished the last page. And maybe even after that."--
? Statesman Journal, Salem, OR "A palpable sense of danger drives the narrative.... A crime novel that?possesses a relentless and nearly irresistible force."--
? Publishers Weekly (starred review) "Anything but traditional. Rucka creates a morally ambiguous world.... Rucka's deft exploration of this theme deepens and enriches Shooting at Midnight, raising it way above the average private eye novel."--
? Mystery News "A thumping good story ... a whiplash ride ... with more hairpin turns than an alpine highway."--
? St. Petersburg Times "A dark, fascinating tale of love and trust and redemption."--
? Sunday Tribune Review "Gritty?true-life suspense."--
? BookPage
PROLOGUE It was, she realized later, an audition of sorts. Then, however, it was simply a murder. The calculated death of a target named Oksana Zurkowska. The way she described it, I could imagine the details she omitted from her story. I filled it all in, the texture and the color, the sound and the smell. I could see the institutional washroom, feel the fog of steam from the showers, hear the drip of water onto the gray tiles of the floor. The clouded mirrors, sheets of polished metal rather than silver-backed glass. The porcelain sinks along the wall stained with rust brought up from the pipes. The smells of bleach and mildew and soap clung to the walls and ceiling, and the condensation rolled in beads to the floor, trickling to the drain in the center of the room. She told me it was bright and sunny that day, but for some reason all I see is a shade that falls listlessly to the floor from high transom windows never opened to the outside. I see it in winter, oppressive and bitterly cold, but, as best as she could remember, it was spring. The stalls had no doors, so she hid in the one farthest from the entrance, standing on the bowl, her feet on either side of the seat. It didn't matter that the concealment wasn't total. Oksana always used the sink nearest the entrance, she knew. Even if it was being used, Oksana would wait. Oksana liked that sink; it had the best water pressure of any in the building. She waited for Oksana to close the door and start the water, hearing the pipes rattle and knock in the old walls. She listened, and when she heard the sound of the brush scrubbing teeth, she moved. It was, she told me, like sitting in the back of an empty and dark theater and seeing oneself on the screen. She understood her motion and intent, and yet there was no attachment to the action. She was moving, she was acting, and she felt nothing at all. She remembered that she found that curious. Oksana Zurkowska, brushing her teeth, was taken entirely by surprise. The first blow drove her against the edge of the sink, crushing the air out of her. The second hammered her forehead against the tile at the base of the metal mirror. So did the third, and fourth, and fifth, until blood was coming off the wall, mixing with the foam of the tooth powder and water floating in the sink. Oksana hardly made a sound. When she felt Oksana's head alter, felt the skull stop resisting the blows and finally yield to the pressure, she stopped and let the girl fall. It was like shattering an unusually tough pumpkin, she told me. On the floor, Oksana's left arm was still moving, jerking from side to side, as if pulled by a puppeteer's string. Then that stopped. The sound of the water filling the sink came back to her. She reached out and shut off the tap, and the water stopped, and she saw herself reflected in the mirror. Blood had streaked the pitted surface, and then she realized that it had streaked her as well. It was on her hands, on her shirt, on her face. She stripped and set her clothes by the radiator, so they would stay warm. Then she got into the shower, standing motionless beneath the water as it took its time changing from ice cold to scalding hot. She wasn't feeling much of anything, she told me. Mostly, she just wanted to get the blood off herself. She remembered trying to decide what she would do about the shirt, that she had resolved to throw it in the furnace and to take a replacement from Oksana's own closet. They all wore identical clothes in the orphanage and she doubted anyone would notice anything except that the new shirt would be too large on her. Oksana, after all, had been a big girl, ten years old. She, on the other hand, was only eight, and small for her age. Copyright © 2001 by Greg Rucka
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