This is a rather clumsy thriller, full of clichés (ex-special agent hero, secret societies, menacing Russians, big explosions, unrealistic fights, all-powerful bad guy) replete with plot holes (no explanation of how the secret societies are formed, overly neat solution), and truly awful dialogue that needs a good edit. Written partly in first person and partly in third person, the changes in points of view are rather jarring, distracting the reader from the narrative and providing far too much insight to deliver the right amount of suspense. While the story is forming and protagonist Sam Capra is trying to figure it all out, it stays interesting, but by the second half of the book, it all becomes so ridiculous that suspension of disbelief goes right out the window. From the mixed metaphor on the front cover, I didn’t expect anything world-beating and it certainly isn’t anything you could remotely call literature. I wasn’t looking for that. I wanted something mindless to read while relaxing in the evening. But the author fails to create empathy with his characters, and they are mostly cardboard with basic instincts, not “complex” as an extract from the Washington Post review of the book claims. It didn’t “keep me on the edge of my seat”, as the cover blurb promises – it was actually very easy to go to sleep after the latest chapter. This is probably why, despite the fact that I’ve read a fair bit in the thriller genre, I’d never heard of Jeff Abbott, even after his 14 previous novels. To be fair, I haven’t read the earlier books in this series, so I may have missed something important to the story. And perhaps this isn’t his best book. But if this is representative of his work, I won’t be reading any more.