“So he just smiled at the woman in the hoop earrings and watched the safety demonstration intently while everyone around him read their newspapers.”
Tom Patrick is an aircrash investigator. Sort of a cop but not a cop. He is also a semi-professional poker player and an all-round, reliable loud-mouth. He has such a gob on him, in fact, that throughout much of the book, he’s under semi-suspension from his job for pissing off too many people.
The story opens as the engine of a 737 tears itself apart in a hangar at Los Angeles Airport, killing several maintenance operatives, one of whom carries the blame, because of an unlit cigarette found among the debris. Airport worker, Halo Jackson, knowing his dead mate to have been wrongly accused, approaches Tom for help.
At the same time that Tom gets sucked into an illegal poker consortium, his unofficial investigations into the airplane disaster lead him to suspect a racket in which dodgy airplane parts are sold on the black market with devastating consequences. Romantic interest in the book is provided by the stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold, Lucia, and the bond-girl style heroine/villainess, Ness. Comic relief by a racing ostrich called Lemon and his young South African jockey, Harold Robbins Mhleli.
High octane ‘blokesy’ thrillers are not really my thing, but this is one of the most intelligently crafted and skillful I’ve read. It’s exceptionally thoroughly researched (unless author Jack Bowman worked for some time in the aircrash industry) but I felt the right balance was struck throughout. As the story unfolded, we had enough technical detail to authenticate the story but plenty of human interest to save it becoming too dry.
Tom Patrick is a great lead character. Who doesn’t want to tell some soulless, disinterested voice on the other end of a phone line to sharpen up and do their job better? Whilst exceptionally good at his job, and prepared to man up and punch the villain when the occasion requires it, he never crosses the line into super-hero and the story remains all the more believable because of it.
The jacket blurb warns readers not to read the book on a plane. With good reason. It really is rather scary how easily the smallest error can have devastating consequences. I WILL fly again, but I’ll be careful to request a seat within seven rows of the exit and I’ll pay close attention to the safety briefing.
This is a first novel by Jack Bowman. The cover details describe him as “a writer and a gambler, who does not blog, or tweet or answer the phone or the door to unsolicited callers.” He is thirty eight, apparently. “Or was once. Or will be soon. He lives alone.”
I rather want to meet him.
I bought High Rollers from my local, independent book shop.