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NITRATE
TIME IS TICKING.....
MANTRA-6 IS ON THE HUNT...
NITRATE, the second book in the MANTRA-6 series, sees John Devereaux and his MANTRA-6 team fully operational. On the frozen landscape of Northern Russia, four figures dressed in arctic camouflage uniforms break into the Polyarny Naval Base near Murmansk - Home of Russia's Northern Fleet. Their mission, to steal 60kg of highly enriched Uranium-235 and hand it over to the Russian Mafia. Rogue nations and despots - North Korea, Libya, Iran, Al-Qa'Ida, Hamas and Hezbollah, all want their hands on this deadly cargo... Let the bidding begin! MANTRA-6 is on the hunt. God help anyone who gets in their way!
MANTRA-6 IS ON THE HUNT...
NITRATE, the second book in the MANTRA-6 series, sees John Devereaux and his MANTRA-6 team fully operational. On the frozen landscape of Northern Russia, four figures dressed in arctic camouflage uniforms break into the Polyarny Naval Base near Murmansk - Home of Russia's Northern Fleet. Their mission, to steal 60kg of highly enriched Uranium-235 and hand it over to the Russian Mafia. Rogue nations and despots - North Korea, Libya, Iran, Al-Qa'Ida, Hamas and Hezbollah, all want their hands on this deadly cargo... Let the bidding begin! MANTRA-6 is on the hunt. God help anyone who gets in their way!
397 pages, Kindle Edition
Published December 8, 2025
About the author
Russel Hutchings
10 books21 followersRussel Hutchings is a former Australian SAS Warrant Officer with over 20 years service in the Regiment. He has operated in many of the world's most dangerous locations and most recently served as a military adviser and intelligence collection specialist for a US-based company operating in Afghanistan. He writes the MANTRA-6 series with authenticity that only someone who has lived this world can deliver. Endorsed by Chris Ryan, Richard Jacobson former CIA Senior Operations Officer, and multiple SAS veterans.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
May 7, 2026
I have spent twenty years writing about places where the maps lie. The borderlands. The disputed territories. The corners of the world that tourists do not see because the guidebooks do not go there. I have slept in safe houses that were not safe. I have crossed rivers at midnight with people who would not tell me their real names. I have smelled the smoke of villages that were there one morning and gone the next.
NITRATE took me back to those places. Not because I have been to the specific locations, though I have been close, but because Hutchings writes geography the way someone writes about a lover who broke their heart. He knows the terrain. He knows how it feels on your skin. He knows what it smells like after rain.
The book opens in Papua, on the Indonesian border. Sergeant Vince Parker is watching a village through Steiner Tactical binoculars. The humidity forms beads of sweat on his nose. Indonesian soldiers are executing the village chief. The man's skull is torn open. His brain matter spills onto the reddish brown dirt. The smell of burning corpses fills the air. A thin layer of smoke floats in the upper levels of the tree canopy. Hutchings does not tell you this is horrible. He shows you the reddish brown dirt. He shows you the smoke in the canopy. He trusts you to feel it.
The Cambodia sequences are even more vivid. The primary jungle with its canopy sixty metres above the ground, so thick that it starves the secondary growth of the light it needs to thrive. The deadfall that alerts Devereaux to movement in the night. The bamboo clusters where he hides. The paddy fields that turn to mud under the monsoon rain. The river that marks the border between Thailand and Cambodia, one hundred metres wide, and on the other side, safety, or maybe just a different kind of danger.
I have crossed rivers like that. I know the feeling of water up to your neck, listening for the sound of engines, knowing that if the patrol boat finds you, you will not get a warning shot. Hutchings knows it too. When Devereaux swims across that river and all hell breaks loose, gunfire tearing up the water behind him, torchlights scanning the surface, I felt my own chest tighten. I have been there. Not there, but somewhere like it. And the writer got it right.
The urban geography is equally strong. The Red Square nightclub in Nice, with its four massive black chandeliers hanging from six metre high ceilings and its one way mirrors that let management watch for police. The Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo, with its high domed ceilings and its crystal chandelier encrusted with ornately shaped lace and flowers made entirely of crystal. The Casa de la Latino in Panama, where the old concrete balustrading has discoloured over the years but still offers an uninterrupted view of the bay. The Aran Gem Gallery in Aranyaprethet, with its terracotta brick facade and its tin roof and its stone water feature featuring an intricate statue of Buddha.
NITRATE took me back to those places. Not because I have been to the specific locations, though I have been close, but because Hutchings writes geography the way someone writes about a lover who broke their heart. He knows the terrain. He knows how it feels on your skin. He knows what it smells like after rain.
The book opens in Papua, on the Indonesian border. Sergeant Vince Parker is watching a village through Steiner Tactical binoculars. The humidity forms beads of sweat on his nose. Indonesian soldiers are executing the village chief. The man's skull is torn open. His brain matter spills onto the reddish brown dirt. The smell of burning corpses fills the air. A thin layer of smoke floats in the upper levels of the tree canopy. Hutchings does not tell you this is horrible. He shows you the reddish brown dirt. He shows you the smoke in the canopy. He trusts you to feel it.
The Cambodia sequences are even more vivid. The primary jungle with its canopy sixty metres above the ground, so thick that it starves the secondary growth of the light it needs to thrive. The deadfall that alerts Devereaux to movement in the night. The bamboo clusters where he hides. The paddy fields that turn to mud under the monsoon rain. The river that marks the border between Thailand and Cambodia, one hundred metres wide, and on the other side, safety, or maybe just a different kind of danger.
I have crossed rivers like that. I know the feeling of water up to your neck, listening for the sound of engines, knowing that if the patrol boat finds you, you will not get a warning shot. Hutchings knows it too. When Devereaux swims across that river and all hell breaks loose, gunfire tearing up the water behind him, torchlights scanning the surface, I felt my own chest tighten. I have been there. Not there, but somewhere like it. And the writer got it right.
The urban geography is equally strong. The Red Square nightclub in Nice, with its four massive black chandeliers hanging from six metre high ceilings and its one way mirrors that let management watch for police. The Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo, with its high domed ceilings and its crystal chandelier encrusted with ornately shaped lace and flowers made entirely of crystal. The Casa de la Latino in Panama, where the old concrete balustrading has discoloured over the years but still offers an uninterrupted view of the bay. The Aran Gem Gallery in Aranyaprethet, with its terracotta brick facade and its tin roof and its stone water feature featuring an intricate statue of Buddha.
April 24, 2026
NITRATE operates at the intersection of several urgent geopolitical realities, and Hutchings demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of the landscape he is mapping.
The central plot device, the theft of 60 kilograms of highly enriched Uranium 235 from a decaying Russian submarine base at Polyarny, is not as far fetched as one might wish. The International Atomic Energy Agency has documented hundreds of nuclear smuggling incidents over the past quarter century. The reality of Soviet era facilities falling into disrepair, with poorly paid security forces and desperate former military personnel, creates exactly the kind of vulnerability that Hutchings exploits in his narrative.
The Vory V Zakone, the Russian mafia organization that serves as the novel's primary antagonist, is rendered with genuine nuance. Vladimir Kozlov is not a cartoon villain. He is a product of the post Soviet collapse, a man who learned on the streets that violence was the only reliable currency. The prison tattoos that mark him, the black dots indicating years in a northern penal colony, the Saint Petersburg cross, are not decorative. They tell a story of survival and ascension within a criminal world that operates parallel to the legitimate state.
The novel's treatment of Iran as a potential buyer of weapons grade nuclear material reflects actual concerns within the intelligence community. The Quds Force, Iran's secretive external operations arm, has been documented attempting to acquire nuclear technology for decades. The characterization of Colonel Qasem Khalil is appropriately chilling, a true believer whose religious conviction does not preclude extraordinary ruthlessness.
What interests me most, however, is the novel's argument about the moral legitimacy of covert action. Devereaux and his team operate outside any legal framework. They are deniable assets, disavowable by their own government.
They kill without trial. They destroy property without compensation. They steal millions of dollars from criminal organizations and funnel it into their own operations.
And yet. Hutchings constantly reminds the reader of the alternative. The slaughtered villagers in Batom. The twelve year old orphan in the Afghan desert. The cities that would have been targeted with dirty bombs if the U 235 had reached Iranian hands.
The novel does not resolve this tension. It cannot. But it asks the question honestly, and that honesty is rare in a genre that typically prefers the simplicity of righteous violence to the complexity of moral compromise.
The central plot device, the theft of 60 kilograms of highly enriched Uranium 235 from a decaying Russian submarine base at Polyarny, is not as far fetched as one might wish. The International Atomic Energy Agency has documented hundreds of nuclear smuggling incidents over the past quarter century. The reality of Soviet era facilities falling into disrepair, with poorly paid security forces and desperate former military personnel, creates exactly the kind of vulnerability that Hutchings exploits in his narrative.
The Vory V Zakone, the Russian mafia organization that serves as the novel's primary antagonist, is rendered with genuine nuance. Vladimir Kozlov is not a cartoon villain. He is a product of the post Soviet collapse, a man who learned on the streets that violence was the only reliable currency. The prison tattoos that mark him, the black dots indicating years in a northern penal colony, the Saint Petersburg cross, are not decorative. They tell a story of survival and ascension within a criminal world that operates parallel to the legitimate state.
The novel's treatment of Iran as a potential buyer of weapons grade nuclear material reflects actual concerns within the intelligence community. The Quds Force, Iran's secretive external operations arm, has been documented attempting to acquire nuclear technology for decades. The characterization of Colonel Qasem Khalil is appropriately chilling, a true believer whose religious conviction does not preclude extraordinary ruthlessness.
What interests me most, however, is the novel's argument about the moral legitimacy of covert action. Devereaux and his team operate outside any legal framework. They are deniable assets, disavowable by their own government.
They kill without trial. They destroy property without compensation. They steal millions of dollars from criminal organizations and funnel it into their own operations.
And yet. Hutchings constantly reminds the reader of the alternative. The slaughtered villagers in Batom. The twelve year old orphan in the Afghan desert. The cities that would have been targeted with dirty bombs if the U 235 had reached Iranian hands.
The novel does not resolve this tension. It cannot. But it asks the question honestly, and that honesty is rare in a genre that typically prefers the simplicity of righteous violence to the complexity of moral compromise.
May 7, 2026
Look, I am a simple man. I see a book with a gun on the cover and a title that sounds like a fertilizer commercial, I think, great, some bad guys are about to get what is coming to them. And to be fair, NITRATE delivers on that promise. There are claymore mines that turn enemy patrols into pink mist. There is a car chase through Monaco that made me grip my Kindle so hard I cracked the screen protector. There is a helicopter heist involving stolen uranium, which is not something I ever expected to type, but here we are.
But here is the thing nobody told me. This book also made me feel things. Actual emotions. Which is deeply inconvenient when you are just trying to enjoy some righteous explosions.
There is a twelve year old boy named Faizal in the opening chapter. His father is driving a truck full of opium across the Afghan desert. The boy is playing a Gameboy. The dad says, "You play that thing like it's a prayer book." And then the dad gets shot in the head. The boy crawls under the truck. He kisses his father's blood streaked forehead. He runs into the desert with a broken Gameboy clutched against his chest. And I am sitting there on my couch at ten thirty at night, eating stale popcorn, thinking, I did not sign up for this.
Then there is John Devereaux. He is forty three. His hair is greying. His marriage is falling apart. His wife took the kids back to Perth and he lies down next to his son and watches him sleep and wonders if the Cold War will ever really be over. Sir, I came here for gunfights, not for a midlife crisis dressed in tactical gear.
The bad guys are also weirdly compelling. Vladimir Kozlov has prison tattoos that tell his life story. Five black dots between his thumb and forefinger. Five years served. He keeps an icon of the Mother of God on his wall. He does not pray, not really, but he understands ritual. Even thieves like to think God is on their side. I am not supposed to find a Russian mafia boss interesting. I am supposed to want him dead. And I do want him dead. But I also kind of want to know what happened to him in that northern penal colony. That is annoying.
Also, the author clearly has something against my blood pressure. Every time Devereaux went on a surveillance detection route, I held my breath. Every time he checked his mirrors and saw the blue Ford sedan with the antenna on the roof, I muttered "amateurs" under my breath like I know anything about tradecraft. I do not know anything about tradecraft. I struggle to find my car in a parking lot.
But here is the thing nobody told me. This book also made me feel things. Actual emotions. Which is deeply inconvenient when you are just trying to enjoy some righteous explosions.
There is a twelve year old boy named Faizal in the opening chapter. His father is driving a truck full of opium across the Afghan desert. The boy is playing a Gameboy. The dad says, "You play that thing like it's a prayer book." And then the dad gets shot in the head. The boy crawls under the truck. He kisses his father's blood streaked forehead. He runs into the desert with a broken Gameboy clutched against his chest. And I am sitting there on my couch at ten thirty at night, eating stale popcorn, thinking, I did not sign up for this.
Then there is John Devereaux. He is forty three. His hair is greying. His marriage is falling apart. His wife took the kids back to Perth and he lies down next to his son and watches him sleep and wonders if the Cold War will ever really be over. Sir, I came here for gunfights, not for a midlife crisis dressed in tactical gear.
The bad guys are also weirdly compelling. Vladimir Kozlov has prison tattoos that tell his life story. Five black dots between his thumb and forefinger. Five years served. He keeps an icon of the Mother of God on his wall. He does not pray, not really, but he understands ritual. Even thieves like to think God is on their side. I am not supposed to find a Russian mafia boss interesting. I am supposed to want him dead. And I do want him dead. But I also kind of want to know what happened to him in that northern penal colony. That is annoying.
Also, the author clearly has something against my blood pressure. Every time Devereaux went on a surveillance detection route, I held my breath. Every time he checked his mirrors and saw the blue Ford sedan with the antenna on the roof, I muttered "amateurs" under my breath like I know anything about tradecraft. I do not know anything about tradecraft. I struggle to find my car in a parking lot.
May 7, 2026
Hutchings has been to these places. Or he has done the research so thoroughly that it does not matter. He knows that the streets in Aranyaprethet are poorly lit because maintenance is not a priority. He knows that the power lines in Patong look like a cobweb filled with dazzling lights because the Thai approach to infrastructure is from chaos comes harmony. He knows that the humidity in Phuket does not let up even at night, that sweat will pour off you even if you are just standing still, that the only relief is the ocean breeze if you can find it.
The scene where Devereaux sits in a cafe in Patong, watching the street, using the reflection in the window to observe his surroundings, is a small moment. But it is the small moments that tell you whether a writer actually knows what they are talking about. He buys a bottle of water from a street vendor. He haggles for two polo shirts, pays the original asking price anyway, and the old woman laughs because she knows what he did. He sits at a table in the alfresco area of Cafe de la Cruz, scanning for exits, watching the three working girls at the next table get ready for their night, noting the man in his late sixties with the Thai woman half his age who is not drinking her beer because that is how they run up the bill.
This is not a guidebook. This is not a travelogue. This is a thriller that happens to be written by someone who sees the world the way travel writers wish they could see it. Every location has weight. Every location has history. Every location could kill you if you are not paying attention.
I will be thinking about the river for a long time. The one Devereaux crosses at the end of the Cambodia mission. The one where he swims with his MP5 SD held above the water, where the gunfire tears up the bank ahead of him, where he surfaces twenty metres downstream and slides up into the jungle and disappears. I have crossed rivers like that. I have been lucky. I do not know how many more times my luck will hold.
Read this book. But do not read it for the plot. Read it for the places. Read it for the way Hutchings makes you feel the humidity on your skin and the dust in your throat and the fear in your chest when the flashlight beam sweeps across the water inches from your face. Read it because it will take you somewhere you have never been, and if you have been there already, it will remind you why you left.
The scene where Devereaux sits in a cafe in Patong, watching the street, using the reflection in the window to observe his surroundings, is a small moment. But it is the small moments that tell you whether a writer actually knows what they are talking about. He buys a bottle of water from a street vendor. He haggles for two polo shirts, pays the original asking price anyway, and the old woman laughs because she knows what he did. He sits at a table in the alfresco area of Cafe de la Cruz, scanning for exits, watching the three working girls at the next table get ready for their night, noting the man in his late sixties with the Thai woman half his age who is not drinking her beer because that is how they run up the bill.
This is not a guidebook. This is not a travelogue. This is a thriller that happens to be written by someone who sees the world the way travel writers wish they could see it. Every location has weight. Every location has history. Every location could kill you if you are not paying attention.
I will be thinking about the river for a long time. The one Devereaux crosses at the end of the Cambodia mission. The one where he swims with his MP5 SD held above the water, where the gunfire tears up the bank ahead of him, where he surfaces twenty metres downstream and slides up into the jungle and disappears. I have crossed rivers like that. I have been lucky. I do not know how many more times my luck will hold.
Read this book. But do not read it for the plot. Read it for the places. Read it for the way Hutchings makes you feel the humidity on your skin and the dust in your throat and the fear in your chest when the flashlight beam sweeps across the water inches from your face. Read it because it will take you somewhere you have never been, and if you have been there already, it will remind you why you left.
April 24, 2026
Let me say first that I never served in the SAS. I served in a different service entirely, in a different country, doing work that I still do not discuss with my family. But I recognize the operational tradecraft in this book, and that recognition is rare enough to warrant comment.
Devereaux's brush contact in the elevator of the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo is executed with a level of detail that suggests Hutchings has either done this himself or spoken extensively with someone who has.
The envelope passed between fingers. The casual turning away from the security cameras. The lack of eye contact. The immediate dispersal of the team into separate vehicles on different routes. This is not the stuff of spy movies. This is the stuff of actual intelligence work, where the goal is not to be clever but to be invisible.
The surveillance operation at Number 44 Boulevard du Mont Boron is another standout. The use of low profile surveillance vehicles fitted with first person video cameras, the remote control cars that can slide under vehicles and attach explosive charges, the careful maintenance of light discipline with black shrouds over windows. Every detail is plausible. Every detail is correct.
I was particularly impressed by the handling of Hannah Marceau. She is not a damsel. She is not a love interest who happens to have a gun.
She is a trained intelligence officer with her own skills, her own network of safe houses, her own pilot's license.
The scene where she lands the Cessna after the pilot jokes about her taking the controls, telling him she just watched what he was doing and thought it looked fun, is a moment of genuine competence. She is not performing for Devereaux. She is simply doing her job.
The tracking devices placed inside the Pelican cases containing the U 235 are exactly the kind of technical operation that real agencies run.
The gamble that the devices would not be discovered, the reliance on a paid asset inside Kozlov's household staff, the desperate hope that the signal would hold across international borders. This is not certainty. This is risk management. And Hutchings does not pretend otherwise.
Devereaux's brush contact in the elevator of the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo is executed with a level of detail that suggests Hutchings has either done this himself or spoken extensively with someone who has.
The envelope passed between fingers. The casual turning away from the security cameras. The lack of eye contact. The immediate dispersal of the team into separate vehicles on different routes. This is not the stuff of spy movies. This is the stuff of actual intelligence work, where the goal is not to be clever but to be invisible.
The surveillance operation at Number 44 Boulevard du Mont Boron is another standout. The use of low profile surveillance vehicles fitted with first person video cameras, the remote control cars that can slide under vehicles and attach explosive charges, the careful maintenance of light discipline with black shrouds over windows. Every detail is plausible. Every detail is correct.
I was particularly impressed by the handling of Hannah Marceau. She is not a damsel. She is not a love interest who happens to have a gun.
She is a trained intelligence officer with her own skills, her own network of safe houses, her own pilot's license.
The scene where she lands the Cessna after the pilot jokes about her taking the controls, telling him she just watched what he was doing and thought it looked fun, is a moment of genuine competence. She is not performing for Devereaux. She is simply doing her job.
The tracking devices placed inside the Pelican cases containing the U 235 are exactly the kind of technical operation that real agencies run.
The gamble that the devices would not be discovered, the reliance on a paid asset inside Kozlov's household staff, the desperate hope that the signal would hold across international borders. This is not certainty. This is risk management. And Hutchings does not pretend otherwise.
May 2, 2026
I don't know who Russel Hutchings is or what his background is before it was recommended to our community, but this great man knows how to write an ambush. The Papua New Guinea border chapter, with Vince Parker's patrol laying ten claymores in an L-shaped kill zone on a jungle track and then waiting for four hours while they listen to gunshots from the village, is as technically solid as anything I've read. The drills are right. The fields of fire are right. The way Vince goes around to every man before the ambush to check on them, and then again after, because that's what a good patrol commander does, that's right. Small details that casual readers might not notice but that mean everything to people who've been there.
The underwater operation at Portofino is equally credible.
Dräger LAR-V rebreathers so there are no tell-tale bubbles. Diver propulsion vehicles. Limpets placed a metre and a half below the waterline to use the water's tamping effect. Sixty-minute delay fuses. The team getting off the yacht with eight minutes to spare after a crew member nearly compromisses them. It reads like a planning document, and I mean that as a compliment.
Devereaux himself is a character I respect. He's not young. He's not flashy. He trips over his own intelligence sometimes, he loses arguments with his boss, he has to adapt on the fly when he's ordered to stand down from recovering the U-235 so that London can identify the buyers. That scene where he gets the instruction over the phone and explodes with frustration, because he's hours from completing the mission and suddenly the objective has changed, that's as realistic a moment in this genre as I can recall.
Hannah is excellent. The pair she makes with Devereaux works because neither of them is trying to be the hero.
Kozlov is back, just as cold, just as controlled. The scene where he opens the Pelican cases on the Coco Cubano and looks at the U-235 and wonders about the power of it while the bid climbs to $140 million is a quietly chilling moment in a book full of loud ones
Read it. Then check your windows.
The underwater operation at Portofino is equally credible.
Dräger LAR-V rebreathers so there are no tell-tale bubbles. Diver propulsion vehicles. Limpets placed a metre and a half below the waterline to use the water's tamping effect. Sixty-minute delay fuses. The team getting off the yacht with eight minutes to spare after a crew member nearly compromisses them. It reads like a planning document, and I mean that as a compliment.
Devereaux himself is a character I respect. He's not young. He's not flashy. He trips over his own intelligence sometimes, he loses arguments with his boss, he has to adapt on the fly when he's ordered to stand down from recovering the U-235 so that London can identify the buyers. That scene where he gets the instruction over the phone and explodes with frustration, because he's hours from completing the mission and suddenly the objective has changed, that's as realistic a moment in this genre as I can recall.
Hannah is excellent. The pair she makes with Devereaux works because neither of them is trying to be the hero.
Kozlov is back, just as cold, just as controlled. The scene where he opens the Pelican cases on the Coco Cubano and looks at the U-235 and wonders about the power of it while the bid climbs to $140 million is a quietly chilling moment in a book full of loud ones
Read it. Then check your windows.
April 24, 2026
I came to this book through a student's recommendation, and I find myself grateful for the detour from my usual literary fiction.
What strikes me most about NITRATE is not the velocity of its plot, though that velocity is considerable. What stays with me is the emotional architecture Hutchings has built beneath the surface of this thriller. The prologue in Batom, Papua, where Sergeant Vince Parker watches Indonesian soldiers execute village civilians through his binoculars, unable to intervene, sets a tone that the rest of the book honors. It says clearly: this is not a world where justice arrives cleanly or without cost.
The detail that haunts me comes later, when Parker whispers to a dying enemy commander, "Aku Hantu yang datang kesini untuk menyeretmu ke neraka." I am a ghost who came here to drag you to hell. It is not the cruelty that lands. It is the righteousness. Parker believes what he has done is justified, and Hutchings makes you feel that belief as something almost sacred, even as you recognize the moral complexity of extrajudicial killing in a foreign country.
Devereaux, the book's central operative, is a study in controlled damage. He is not young. His body bears the evidence of a career spent in the company of violence. But Hutchings never lets him become a fantasy figure. When he looks in the mirror and sees the grey at his temples, when he feels the old injuries complain during a run, you are reminded that this is a man, not a weapon. The scene where he receives the hat from Cataleya in Panama, her fingers tracing his cheek, carries an unexpected tenderness. It is a reminder that even men who have learned to disappear into shadows still want to be seen.
The book works as a thriller. It works as a geopolitical novel. But what makes it linger is its insistence on showing you the aftermath. The orphaned children. The burning villages. The villagers stacked like firewood. Hutchings does not look away, and neither, in the end, can you.
What strikes me most about NITRATE is not the velocity of its plot, though that velocity is considerable. What stays with me is the emotional architecture Hutchings has built beneath the surface of this thriller. The prologue in Batom, Papua, where Sergeant Vince Parker watches Indonesian soldiers execute village civilians through his binoculars, unable to intervene, sets a tone that the rest of the book honors. It says clearly: this is not a world where justice arrives cleanly or without cost.
The detail that haunts me comes later, when Parker whispers to a dying enemy commander, "Aku Hantu yang datang kesini untuk menyeretmu ke neraka." I am a ghost who came here to drag you to hell. It is not the cruelty that lands. It is the righteousness. Parker believes what he has done is justified, and Hutchings makes you feel that belief as something almost sacred, even as you recognize the moral complexity of extrajudicial killing in a foreign country.
Devereaux, the book's central operative, is a study in controlled damage. He is not young. His body bears the evidence of a career spent in the company of violence. But Hutchings never lets him become a fantasy figure. When he looks in the mirror and sees the grey at his temples, when he feels the old injuries complain during a run, you are reminded that this is a man, not a weapon. The scene where he receives the hat from Cataleya in Panama, her fingers tracing his cheek, carries an unexpected tenderness. It is a reminder that even men who have learned to disappear into shadows still want to be seen.
The book works as a thriller. It works as a geopolitical novel. But what makes it linger is its insistence on showing you the aftermath. The orphaned children. The burning villages. The villagers stacked like firewood. Hutchings does not look away, and neither, in the end, can you.
April 24, 2026
I read a lot of crime fiction. I have been reading it for thirty years. I have developed a kind of radar for the difference between a writer who knows the genre conventions and a writer who has something to say within them. Hutchings is the latter.
The criminal infrastructure depicted in NITRATE is not the glamorous underworld of Hollywood. It is grimy and functional. The heroin processing room at the Chateau on Mont Boron, with its two elderly women cutting pure Thai product with talcum powder and quinine, mixing it in plastic tubs on tables covered with waxed paper, is a masterpiece of unglamorous realism. These are not fashion models with tragic backstories. They are remnants of the Vor's prostitution operation, still valuable for their willingness to do what they are told.
The cash counting room with its Cassida currency counters and its unsorted piles of French francs, Italian lire, US dollars, UK pounds, Deutsche marks, Greek drachma, and Spanish peseta is another detail that rings true. International drug trafficking generates international currency. The logistical challenge of laundering that currency is one of the cartel's greatest vulnerabilities, and Hutchings understands this.
Aleksandr Drozdov is a compelling antagonist precisely because he is not irrational. When he beats his subordinate Yuri in the Red Square office, he is not simply venting. He is demonstrating that incompetence will be punished. The cold calculation of it, the way he offers Yuri a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face and then says they are like brothers, is the psychology of organized crime made visible. Violence is not a loss of control. Violence is a tool.
The scene where Drozdov confronts the soldier who gave away free product is another example. He does not kill him. He beats him unconscious, checks his pulse to make sure he is still alive, and then walks away. The lesson is delivered. The soldier will remember. Killing him would have been wasteful.
The criminal infrastructure depicted in NITRATE is not the glamorous underworld of Hollywood. It is grimy and functional. The heroin processing room at the Chateau on Mont Boron, with its two elderly women cutting pure Thai product with talcum powder and quinine, mixing it in plastic tubs on tables covered with waxed paper, is a masterpiece of unglamorous realism. These are not fashion models with tragic backstories. They are remnants of the Vor's prostitution operation, still valuable for their willingness to do what they are told.
The cash counting room with its Cassida currency counters and its unsorted piles of French francs, Italian lire, US dollars, UK pounds, Deutsche marks, Greek drachma, and Spanish peseta is another detail that rings true. International drug trafficking generates international currency. The logistical challenge of laundering that currency is one of the cartel's greatest vulnerabilities, and Hutchings understands this.
Aleksandr Drozdov is a compelling antagonist precisely because he is not irrational. When he beats his subordinate Yuri in the Red Square office, he is not simply venting. He is demonstrating that incompetence will be punished. The cold calculation of it, the way he offers Yuri a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face and then says they are like brothers, is the psychology of organized crime made visible. Violence is not a loss of control. Violence is a tool.
The scene where Drozdov confronts the soldier who gave away free product is another example. He does not kill him. He beats him unconscious, checks his pulse to make sure he is still alive, and then walks away. The lesson is delivered. The soldier will remember. Killing him would have been wasteful.
May 2, 2026
I picked this up in an airport with a nine hour flight ahead of me and finished it before we landed. The man next to me was very confused by the amount of times I actually said things out loud
The foreword is written by a former CIA senior operations officer and he says the plot is "frankly more realistic than most readers could ever imagine, or governments would ever acknowledge." That should be the only blurb this book needs.
What I loved most, and I don't see anyone else talking about this enough, is the Mortimer House setup. Devereaux has built a legitimate-looking business acquisition firm in Sydney as a front for the whole Mantra-6 operation. Mortimer Acquisitions
And this company, funded with $42 million in black government money routed through seven shell companies in Panama, the BVI, the Caymans and Cyprus, is essentially a private intelligence and direct action operation that is simultaneously illegal and funded by taxpayers and completely deniable
It's satirical in the best possible way. The whole book is quietly furious about the gap between what governments are willing to admit they need done and what they're actually willing to do officially. Devereaux and his team fill that gap. They don't ask permission. They don't leave footprints. They fund themselves with the money they seize from the people they're fighting. And they get results that no parliamentary committee would ever sanction
The Panama chapter, with Devereaux setting up the financial infrastructure, is unexpectedly gripping. The bank, Banco Mosseca, with its 150,000 shell companies. The certificates of incumbency touched only with a pen tip. The dinner with Cataleya, who is a scene-stealer in three chapters and barely in the book at all
Half a star off because I wanted more of the Venice finale. The book builds to it spectacularly and then ends just as the pieces are really falling into place. I understand it's a series but I wanted a little more resolution
The foreword is written by a former CIA senior operations officer and he says the plot is "frankly more realistic than most readers could ever imagine, or governments would ever acknowledge." That should be the only blurb this book needs.
What I loved most, and I don't see anyone else talking about this enough, is the Mortimer House setup. Devereaux has built a legitimate-looking business acquisition firm in Sydney as a front for the whole Mantra-6 operation. Mortimer Acquisitions
And this company, funded with $42 million in black government money routed through seven shell companies in Panama, the BVI, the Caymans and Cyprus, is essentially a private intelligence and direct action operation that is simultaneously illegal and funded by taxpayers and completely deniable
It's satirical in the best possible way. The whole book is quietly furious about the gap between what governments are willing to admit they need done and what they're actually willing to do officially. Devereaux and his team fill that gap. They don't ask permission. They don't leave footprints. They fund themselves with the money they seize from the people they're fighting. And they get results that no parliamentary committee would ever sanction
The Panama chapter, with Devereaux setting up the financial infrastructure, is unexpectedly gripping. The bank, Banco Mosseca, with its 150,000 shell companies. The certificates of incumbency touched only with a pen tip. The dinner with Cataleya, who is a scene-stealer in three chapters and barely in the book at all
Half a star off because I wanted more of the Venice finale. The book builds to it spectacularly and then ends just as the pieces are really falling into place. I understand it's a series but I wanted a little more resolution
May 12, 2026
I picked up NITRATE because the cover looked intense and because somebody told me it had secret operations, stolen uranium, assassins, helicopters, and international crime syndicates. Which, yes, it absolutely has. But nobody warned me that I was about to become emotionally attached to half the cast.
The action scenes are INSANE. The Cambodia river escape genuinely had my heart pounding. I was reading it at like 1 AM telling myself “one more chapter” and suddenly it was almost sunrise. Hutchings is ridiculously good at momentum. Every chapter ends with some new problem or reveal that forces you forward.
But the craziest thing is how cinematic the whole book feels. You can SEE everything. The jungle canopy. The smoke drifting through villages. Rain hitting the river. Neon lights in Monaco. The underwater sabotage scenes near Portofino. It all feels vivid without becoming overwritten.
Also, Devereaux is such a refreshing protagonist because he is not some cocky superhero. He is smart, exhausted, scarred, emotionally complicated, and constantly under pressure. His marriage problems and his relationship with his kids somehow made the action feel more real because he actually has something personal to lose.
And Hannah Marceau might honestly be my favorite character. She is capable without the book constantly announcing how capable she is. She flies planes, runs operations, handles pressure, and never feels like she exists just to support the male lead.
The villains are terrifying too because they feel believable. Kozlov especially. Every time he entered a scene I felt nervous because he is calm in that really dangerous way where you know violence could happen at any second.
Honestly this is one of the best thrillers I have read in years because it balances huge action with emotional realism. It gives you explosions and gunfights but also grief, trauma, fear, loyalty, and moral compromise.
The action scenes are INSANE. The Cambodia river escape genuinely had my heart pounding. I was reading it at like 1 AM telling myself “one more chapter” and suddenly it was almost sunrise. Hutchings is ridiculously good at momentum. Every chapter ends with some new problem or reveal that forces you forward.
But the craziest thing is how cinematic the whole book feels. You can SEE everything. The jungle canopy. The smoke drifting through villages. Rain hitting the river. Neon lights in Monaco. The underwater sabotage scenes near Portofino. It all feels vivid without becoming overwritten.
Also, Devereaux is such a refreshing protagonist because he is not some cocky superhero. He is smart, exhausted, scarred, emotionally complicated, and constantly under pressure. His marriage problems and his relationship with his kids somehow made the action feel more real because he actually has something personal to lose.
And Hannah Marceau might honestly be my favorite character. She is capable without the book constantly announcing how capable she is. She flies planes, runs operations, handles pressure, and never feels like she exists just to support the male lead.
The villains are terrifying too because they feel believable. Kozlov especially. Every time he entered a scene I felt nervous because he is calm in that really dangerous way where you know violence could happen at any second.
Honestly this is one of the best thrillers I have read in years because it balances huge action with emotional realism. It gives you explosions and gunfights but also grief, trauma, fear, loyalty, and moral compromise.
April 14, 2026
What really stayed with me after finishing this book wasn’t just the main storyline, but the tension between Kozlov and Drozdov. I’ve read a fair number of thrillers, and it’s not often you come across antagonists who feel this layered and deliberate. These two aren’t just there to create conflict. They carry their own gravity.
There’s a constant push and pull between them that feels very intentional. They rely on each other, but there’s no trust underneath it. Every interaction feels like a quiet negotiation, like both men are always measuring the other, waiting for the smallest shift. That balance of dependence and suspicion made their dynamic feel unpredictable in a way that kept me fully engaged.
One scene in particular stood out to me more than anything else. The moment on the yacht where Kozlov hands Drozdov a gun and essentially invites him to pull the trigger if he believes he’s been betrayed. That entire exchange was written with such control. Nothing felt exaggerated, yet the tension was thick the whole time. You could sense the calculation happening on both sides, each man trying to read the other without giving anything away.
What made it even more striking was how the moment didn’t explode the way you might expect. Instead, Kozlov pulls back, pours the vodka, and the scene settles into something quieter but somehow even more intense. It showed restraint in the writing, and that restraint made the scene far more powerful than any dramatic outburst would have.
I appreciated that these characters were treated with that level of care. They’re not exaggerated villains or simple obstacles in the story. They feel dangerous because they’re thoughtful, controlled, and complex. In many ways, I found their presence just as compelling as Devereaux’s journey, which says a lot about how well they were written.
There’s a constant push and pull between them that feels very intentional. They rely on each other, but there’s no trust underneath it. Every interaction feels like a quiet negotiation, like both men are always measuring the other, waiting for the smallest shift. That balance of dependence and suspicion made their dynamic feel unpredictable in a way that kept me fully engaged.
One scene in particular stood out to me more than anything else. The moment on the yacht where Kozlov hands Drozdov a gun and essentially invites him to pull the trigger if he believes he’s been betrayed. That entire exchange was written with such control. Nothing felt exaggerated, yet the tension was thick the whole time. You could sense the calculation happening on both sides, each man trying to read the other without giving anything away.
What made it even more striking was how the moment didn’t explode the way you might expect. Instead, Kozlov pulls back, pours the vodka, and the scene settles into something quieter but somehow even more intense. It showed restraint in the writing, and that restraint made the scene far more powerful than any dramatic outburst would have.
I appreciated that these characters were treated with that level of care. They’re not exaggerated villains or simple obstacles in the story. They feel dangerous because they’re thoughtful, controlled, and complex. In many ways, I found their presence just as compelling as Devereaux’s journey, which says a lot about how well they were written.
April 11, 2026
The opening chapter set in Papua, Indonesia immediately stood out as one of the strongest introductions I have read in a long time. It does not waste time trying to over explain anything, yet within a short space it establishes tone, stakes, and character with remarkable clarity. Watching Vince Parker and his patrol carry out a silent Claymore ambush against Indonesian special forces who had been responsible for massacring a village was both chilling and impressive. The precision of the operation, the way they moved almost invisibly, and the fact that they left no trace behind created a powerful first impression. It felt controlled, deliberate, and highly professional, which instantly expanded the sense of what MANTRA-6 really is capable of.
From that point forward, the story opens up into something much larger and far more ambitious. This is not just a continuation, it feels like a full expansion into a global stage where every movement carries weight. The nuclear threat at the center of the plot is handled with a level of detail that makes it feel grounded and believable. You can clearly tell that serious research went into it, and knowing that the author consulted a chief nuclear engineer adds another layer of confidence to how the subject is presented. It never feels exaggerated or unrealistic, which makes the tension even stronger.
The pacing throughout the different locations is another major strength. Moving across places like the French Riviera, Portofino, and Venice, the story maintains a consistent sense of urgency without losing focus. Each setting feels intentional and adds to the progression rather than just serving as background. The action sequences are sharp, engaging, and easy to visualize, almost cinematic in the way they unfold.
From that point forward, the story opens up into something much larger and far more ambitious. This is not just a continuation, it feels like a full expansion into a global stage where every movement carries weight. The nuclear threat at the center of the plot is handled with a level of detail that makes it feel grounded and believable. You can clearly tell that serious research went into it, and knowing that the author consulted a chief nuclear engineer adds another layer of confidence to how the subject is presented. It never feels exaggerated or unrealistic, which makes the tension even stronger.
The pacing throughout the different locations is another major strength. Moving across places like the French Riviera, Portofino, and Venice, the story maintains a consistent sense of urgency without losing focus. Each setting feels intentional and adds to the progression rather than just serving as background. The action sequences are sharp, engaging, and easy to visualize, almost cinematic in the way they unfold.
May 2, 2026
Right I need to talk about Hannah.
I've been reading spy fiction for twenty years and female characters in this genre fall into two categories: eye candy who needs rescuing, or "strong woman" who is competent in a way that feels performative. Hannah is neither. Hannah is just... a professional. She's been a safe house manager for a year and she's itching to get back in the field, and the moment she gets the assignment to Nice she's already three steps ahead, noting that Delta-15 needs to be checked, mentally cataloguing the equipment, thinking about sight lines
She's the one who rents Number 44, the surveillance villa across from Drozdov's chateau, because she immediately clocks that it's diagonal to the target and offers four-way line of sight. She's the one who sets up the FPV camera network. She installs the surveillance ops. She runs comms on the water during the Portofino insertion. She flies a charter plane into Treviso and lands it on final approach having watched the pilot do it once, and when he's astonished, she says "I'm not a pilot, I just watched what you were doing and thought it looked like a lot of fun."
And she does all of this while also being genuinely funny and warm and in a slow, real, unannounced way, clearly falling for Devereaux. The scene where they're undercover at the hotel and discover there's one bed and she just says "we're a couple, right? It fits our cover story. Don't worry, I won't bite" and he says "well that's a shame" is perfect. It's perfect because it's written with restraint. Nothing is made of it. They just get on with the mission.
I've been reading spy fiction for twenty years and female characters in this genre fall into two categories: eye candy who needs rescuing, or "strong woman" who is competent in a way that feels performative. Hannah is neither. Hannah is just... a professional. She's been a safe house manager for a year and she's itching to get back in the field, and the moment she gets the assignment to Nice she's already three steps ahead, noting that Delta-15 needs to be checked, mentally cataloguing the equipment, thinking about sight lines
She's the one who rents Number 44, the surveillance villa across from Drozdov's chateau, because she immediately clocks that it's diagonal to the target and offers four-way line of sight. She's the one who sets up the FPV camera network. She installs the surveillance ops. She runs comms on the water during the Portofino insertion. She flies a charter plane into Treviso and lands it on final approach having watched the pilot do it once, and when he's astonished, she says "I'm not a pilot, I just watched what you were doing and thought it looked like a lot of fun."
And she does all of this while also being genuinely funny and warm and in a slow, real, unannounced way, clearly falling for Devereaux. The scene where they're undercover at the hotel and discover there's one bed and she just says "we're a couple, right? It fits our cover story. Don't worry, I won't bite" and he says "well that's a shame" is perfect. It's perfect because it's written with restraint. Nothing is made of it. They just get on with the mission.
May 2, 2026
Okay so i stayed up until 3am finishing this and i have absolutely zero regrets. my husband kept asking me to turn the light off and i kept saying "just one more chapter" and that was a lie every single time
the book starts in the jungles of Papua, Indonesia, and there's this SAS patrol watching Indonesian soldiers execute an entire village and they can't do anything about it because of their orders. no trace, no footprint, full deniability. and you just sit there reading it with this horrible helpless feeling building in your chest. the patrol commander, vince parker, is watching through binoculars as bodies pile up and he has to hold it together for his men. it's grim, it is genuinely grim, and hutchings does not soften it for you.
but then they ambush the soldiers on their way out and honestly? it felt like relief. ten claymore mines and a kill zone and that was that. the commander of the enemy patrol ends up impaled on a tree branch and vince crushes his windpipe while looking him in the eyes and whispers to him in indonesian "i am a ghost who came here to drag you to hell." i had to put the book down after that. not because it was too much but because it was SO satisfying and i needed a minute.
devereaux is back and he's building something enormous. the whole "farm" section where he recruits vince and the team to mantra-6, sitting on a balcony in western australia with beers, this incredibly audacious unofficial programme funded by black money with no rules of engagement, three passports each, shell companies in the BVI and cayman islands, quarter million activation payments. it sounds insane and it works. it works because hutchings makes you believe in every single person at that table.
and then there's hannah. oh my god, HANNAH. she's an intelligence officer and safe house manager who ends up partnered with devereaux in nice and she is genuinely one of the best characters in the book. she drives the whole way from paris to nice, she's ex-field but sharp as a blade, she reads a room better than anyone, she lands a bloody cessna on a strip near venice after watching the pilot for twenty minutes. devereaux clearly falls for her and it's not in an embarrassing or distracting way, it's just real. they make complete sense together.
the nice operation alone is worth the whole book. the surveillance from villa number 44 across from drozdov's chateau, the RC cars they turn into explosive devices, infiltrating the red square nightclub while literally dancing to recon the floor plan, and then the entire operation nitrate sequence, car bombs on the street, CS grenades and flashbangs inside the club, the cash house raid, $27 million in bales loaded into a van at dawn while the clock ticks. utterly chaotic and utterly brilliant.
and then there are nuclear warheads. STOLEN NUCLEAR WARHEADS. u-235, four cylinders nicked from a crumbling russian submarine base in murmansk by ex-spetsnaz soldiers who replace them with decoys and drive to moscow in officer uniforms, and then the bid goes to the iranians for $140 million. i was reading these sections with my hand over my mouth.
five stars, no question, and i have already ordered the next one.
the book starts in the jungles of Papua, Indonesia, and there's this SAS patrol watching Indonesian soldiers execute an entire village and they can't do anything about it because of their orders. no trace, no footprint, full deniability. and you just sit there reading it with this horrible helpless feeling building in your chest. the patrol commander, vince parker, is watching through binoculars as bodies pile up and he has to hold it together for his men. it's grim, it is genuinely grim, and hutchings does not soften it for you.
but then they ambush the soldiers on their way out and honestly? it felt like relief. ten claymore mines and a kill zone and that was that. the commander of the enemy patrol ends up impaled on a tree branch and vince crushes his windpipe while looking him in the eyes and whispers to him in indonesian "i am a ghost who came here to drag you to hell." i had to put the book down after that. not because it was too much but because it was SO satisfying and i needed a minute.
devereaux is back and he's building something enormous. the whole "farm" section where he recruits vince and the team to mantra-6, sitting on a balcony in western australia with beers, this incredibly audacious unofficial programme funded by black money with no rules of engagement, three passports each, shell companies in the BVI and cayman islands, quarter million activation payments. it sounds insane and it works. it works because hutchings makes you believe in every single person at that table.
and then there's hannah. oh my god, HANNAH. she's an intelligence officer and safe house manager who ends up partnered with devereaux in nice and she is genuinely one of the best characters in the book. she drives the whole way from paris to nice, she's ex-field but sharp as a blade, she reads a room better than anyone, she lands a bloody cessna on a strip near venice after watching the pilot for twenty minutes. devereaux clearly falls for her and it's not in an embarrassing or distracting way, it's just real. they make complete sense together.
the nice operation alone is worth the whole book. the surveillance from villa number 44 across from drozdov's chateau, the RC cars they turn into explosive devices, infiltrating the red square nightclub while literally dancing to recon the floor plan, and then the entire operation nitrate sequence, car bombs on the street, CS grenades and flashbangs inside the club, the cash house raid, $27 million in bales loaded into a van at dawn while the clock ticks. utterly chaotic and utterly brilliant.
and then there are nuclear warheads. STOLEN NUCLEAR WARHEADS. u-235, four cylinders nicked from a crumbling russian submarine base in murmansk by ex-spetsnaz soldiers who replace them with decoys and drive to moscow in officer uniforms, and then the bid goes to the iranians for $140 million. i was reading these sections with my hand over my mouth.
five stars, no question, and i have already ordered the next one.
April 11, 2026
If Book 1 was the introduction, then Book 2 is where Hutchings truly steps forward and makes a statement as a serious force in this genre. Everything about this installment feels bigger, sharper, and far more deliberate. The scale alone is impressive, but what really stood out to me was how grounded and frightening the central premise is. Sixty kilograms of weapons-grade uranium stolen from a Russian naval base is not just a plot device, it’s the kind of scenario that feels disturbingly plausible, especially when it’s tied to a dark web auction involving nations like North Korea and Iran.
What follows is a high-stakes, multi-country operation that spans France, Monaco, Santorini, Italy, and Venice, and yet it never feels scattered or overwhelming. Instead, the movement across these locations adds to the urgency and realism. The logistics are handled with a level of technical intelligence that shows real thought and research, which made the mission feel authentic rather than exaggerated.
The action sequences are another standout. They’re not just there for spectacle—they’re precise, well-paced, and genuinely gripping. Every encounter feels purposeful, building toward something larger. And then there’s Vince Parker, who comes in as a new character and immediately makes an impact. He doesn’t feel like an add-on; he feels essential, bringing a fresh dynamic that strengthens the team.
The Venice finale, though, is where everything truly comes together. It’s intense, memorable, and executed with a level of control that leaves a lasting impression. For me, this wasn’t just a strong sequel, it felt like a defining moment for the entire series.
What follows is a high-stakes, multi-country operation that spans France, Monaco, Santorini, Italy, and Venice, and yet it never feels scattered or overwhelming. Instead, the movement across these locations adds to the urgency and realism. The logistics are handled with a level of technical intelligence that shows real thought and research, which made the mission feel authentic rather than exaggerated.
The action sequences are another standout. They’re not just there for spectacle—they’re precise, well-paced, and genuinely gripping. Every encounter feels purposeful, building toward something larger. And then there’s Vince Parker, who comes in as a new character and immediately makes an impact. He doesn’t feel like an add-on; he feels essential, bringing a fresh dynamic that strengthens the team.
The Venice finale, though, is where everything truly comes together. It’s intense, memorable, and executed with a level of control that leaves a lasting impression. For me, this wasn’t just a strong sequel, it felt like a defining moment for the entire series.
May 23, 2026
I am a pretty active person and I spend more time in the gym or watching sports than reading books, so I honestly did not expect to get hooked by something like MANTRA-6. Usually when I read, I want something that moves fast because I get bored quickly if a story takes forever to get to the point. This book surprised me because right from the beginning I felt like I got thrown directly into a world that was dangerous and intense.
The thing I liked most was the energy of the story. Everything felt alive. The action scenes felt heavy and realistic, and I could actually imagine them happening in front of me. I could see the dust, the streets, the cars, the people, and all the tension building. Some books feel like they are telling you what happened. This one felt like it was showing me.
I also liked that the characters were not simple. Nobody felt completely good or completely bad. Everybody seemed to have something pushing them. Some had anger, some had loyalty, and some wanted power. That made me want to keep reading because I wanted to understand who these people really were.
I can honestly say I ended up reading way more than I planned because every chapter kept giving me another reason to continue.
The thing I liked most was the energy of the story. Everything felt alive. The action scenes felt heavy and realistic, and I could actually imagine them happening in front of me. I could see the dust, the streets, the cars, the people, and all the tension building. Some books feel like they are telling you what happened. This one felt like it was showing me.
I also liked that the characters were not simple. Nobody felt completely good or completely bad. Everybody seemed to have something pushing them. Some had anger, some had loyalty, and some wanted power. That made me want to keep reading because I wanted to understand who these people really were.
I can honestly say I ended up reading way more than I planned because every chapter kept giving me another reason to continue.
May 23, 2026
As someone who spends most of the day reading essays and educational materials, my reading choices usually focus on books with strong storytelling and believable characters. NITRATE impressed me because it delivered both excitement and human emotion.
What stood out to me most was not only the action but also the moral conflict within the story. The characters are placed in situations where duty and humanity collide. There are moments where the team questions their purpose and the consequences of their actions. Those moments added depth to the novel and prevented it from becoming simply a sequence of combat scenes.
The author also creates environments exceptionally well. The jungle sequences were vivid enough that I felt transported into the setting itself. I could sense the isolation and tension surrounding the characters.
Some military terminology may be unfamiliar to readers with no background in that area, but I found that the context usually made things understandable. Rather than becoming a distraction, it added authenticity.
Overall, I found NITRATE engaging and surprisingly thoughtful. It combines action with emotional weight, which is something I appreciate in fiction.
What stood out to me most was not only the action but also the moral conflict within the story. The characters are placed in situations where duty and humanity collide. There are moments where the team questions their purpose and the consequences of their actions. Those moments added depth to the novel and prevented it from becoming simply a sequence of combat scenes.
The author also creates environments exceptionally well. The jungle sequences were vivid enough that I felt transported into the setting itself. I could sense the isolation and tension surrounding the characters.
Some military terminology may be unfamiliar to readers with no background in that area, but I found that the context usually made things understandable. Rather than becoming a distraction, it added authenticity.
Overall, I found NITRATE engaging and surprisingly thoughtful. It combines action with emotional weight, which is something I appreciate in fiction.
April 17, 2026
What stayed with me most after finishing NITRATE wasn’t just the scale of the mission, but the psychological tension running beneath it, especially between Kozlov and Drozdov.
Their relationship is one of the most compelling antagonist dynamics I’ve read in a long time. There’s no loyalty there, not really. Just a shared interest wrapped in mutual suspicion. Every conversation between them feels like a chess match, where neither side is fully committing but both are constantly probing for weakness.
The yacht scene is a perfect example of this. Kozlov handing Drozdov a gun and essentially inviting him to act if he believes betrayal has occurred it’s such a controlled, deliberate moment. No shouting, no chaos. Just silence, calculation, and tension. And the fact that it doesn’t erupt into violence makes it even more powerful. That restraint is what gives the scene weight.
Moments like that elevate the book beyond a typical thriller. It’s not just about what happens, it’s about what almost happens.
Their relationship is one of the most compelling antagonist dynamics I’ve read in a long time. There’s no loyalty there, not really. Just a shared interest wrapped in mutual suspicion. Every conversation between them feels like a chess match, where neither side is fully committing but both are constantly probing for weakness.
The yacht scene is a perfect example of this. Kozlov handing Drozdov a gun and essentially inviting him to act if he believes betrayal has occurred it’s such a controlled, deliberate moment. No shouting, no chaos. Just silence, calculation, and tension. And the fact that it doesn’t erupt into violence makes it even more powerful. That restraint is what gives the scene weight.
Moments like that elevate the book beyond a typical thriller. It’s not just about what happens, it’s about what almost happens.
May 12, 2026
I went into NITRATE expecting a hard military thriller. What I did not expect was a novel that understands the emotional exhaustion behind operational life as well as it understands weapons systems and tradecraft.
Most writers can fake tactics. They can Google weapons. They can learn enough terminology to sound convincing. Very few can write the rhythm of men operating under pressure. Hutchings can.
The Papua sequence early in the novel immediately stood out to me. The patience of the patrol. The silence before contact. The constant checking of arcs and spacing. The way Vince Parker monitors his men emotionally before the ambush, not just tactically. Those details matter because they reveal leadership, not action-movie heroics.
The same applies to Devereaux throughout the novel. He is not written like an invincible operative. He is tired. Worn down. He carries injuries like old ghosts. He notices exits automatically. He distrusts open spaces. He sleeps lightly. Anyone who has spent time around soldiers or intelligence personnel will recognize the psychology immediately.
Most writers can fake tactics. They can Google weapons. They can learn enough terminology to sound convincing. Very few can write the rhythm of men operating under pressure. Hutchings can.
The Papua sequence early in the novel immediately stood out to me. The patience of the patrol. The silence before contact. The constant checking of arcs and spacing. The way Vince Parker monitors his men emotionally before the ambush, not just tactically. Those details matter because they reveal leadership, not action-movie heroics.
The same applies to Devereaux throughout the novel. He is not written like an invincible operative. He is tired. Worn down. He carries injuries like old ghosts. He notices exits automatically. He distrusts open spaces. He sleeps lightly. Anyone who has spent time around soldiers or intelligence personnel will recognize the psychology immediately.
April 17, 2026
This book feels like a full-scale cinematic experience.
From the opening sequence in Papua to the final act in Venice, everything is written in a way that’s easy to visualize. The Claymore ambush early on immediately sets the tone, precise, efficient, and brutally effective. It tells you right away that this team operates on a different level.
The action sequences throughout are incredibly well executed. The Portofino underwater operation stood out in particular. The idea of a dive team moving silently beneath a luxury yacht, placing charges, and coordinating timing with intelligence from inside, it’s the kind of sequence that could easily feel over-the-top, but here it feels grounded and believable.
And then there’s the Venice finale. The way the team is spread across the canals, each part of the operation unfolding simultaneously, it’s tense, fast, and incredibly satisfying.
This is one of those books where you can practically see the scenes playing out like a film.
From the opening sequence in Papua to the final act in Venice, everything is written in a way that’s easy to visualize. The Claymore ambush early on immediately sets the tone, precise, efficient, and brutally effective. It tells you right away that this team operates on a different level.
The action sequences throughout are incredibly well executed. The Portofino underwater operation stood out in particular. The idea of a dive team moving silently beneath a luxury yacht, placing charges, and coordinating timing with intelligence from inside, it’s the kind of sequence that could easily feel over-the-top, but here it feels grounded and believable.
And then there’s the Venice finale. The way the team is spread across the canals, each part of the operation unfolding simultaneously, it’s tense, fast, and incredibly satisfying.
This is one of those books where you can practically see the scenes playing out like a film.
April 17, 2026
What impressed me most about NITRATE is the level of technical credibility.
The central premise, stolen weapons-grade uranium entering a global black market is handled with a seriousness that makes it feel plausible rather than sensational. The involvement of multiple nations and non-state actors adds complexity, but it never feels exaggerated.
You can tell the author has either deep knowledge or access to people who do. The way operations are planned, the way teams move, even the small procedural details all of it contributes to a sense of realism.
The Portofino mission is a standout example. Every step, from reconnaissance to execution, feels methodical and informed. It’s not just exciting, it’s convincing.
That authenticity makes the stakes feel real, and that, in turn, makes the tension much stronger.
The central premise, stolen weapons-grade uranium entering a global black market is handled with a seriousness that makes it feel plausible rather than sensational. The involvement of multiple nations and non-state actors adds complexity, but it never feels exaggerated.
You can tell the author has either deep knowledge or access to people who do. The way operations are planned, the way teams move, even the small procedural details all of it contributes to a sense of realism.
The Portofino mission is a standout example. Every step, from reconnaissance to execution, feels methodical and informed. It’s not just exciting, it’s convincing.
That authenticity makes the stakes feel real, and that, in turn, makes the tension much stronger.
April 17, 2026
What surprised me most about this book is how much I cared about the characters.
Yes, the stakes are massive. Yes, the action is intense. But underneath all of that, there’s a human element that keeps everything grounded.
The relationship between Devereaux and Hannah adds a layer I wasn’t expecting. Their interactions feel naturalthere’s tension, but also a kind of understanding that comes from shared experience. It doesn’t feel forced or overly dramatic. It just fits.
Even in the middle of all the chaos, there are moments that slow down just enough to let you connect with the people behind the mission.
That balance between action and emotion is what made the book really stand out for me.
Yes, the stakes are massive. Yes, the action is intense. But underneath all of that, there’s a human element that keeps everything grounded.
The relationship between Devereaux and Hannah adds a layer I wasn’t expecting. Their interactions feel naturalthere’s tension, but also a kind of understanding that comes from shared experience. It doesn’t feel forced or overly dramatic. It just fits.
Even in the middle of all the chaos, there are moments that slow down just enough to let you connect with the people behind the mission.
That balance between action and emotion is what made the book really stand out for me.
May 2, 2026
Not really a thriller reader normally, I mostly do historical fiction, but a friend pushed this on me and I have opinions now. The world of this book is one where governments know exactly what needs to happen and absolutely cannot bring themselves to officially make it happen. Devereaux exists in that gap. His programme, Mantra-6, has $42 million in black government money, a director-general at ASIS who knows exactly what he's authorising and will deny everything if asked, and a team of men who left the SAS specifically because they were tired of watching atrocities happen with their hands tied.
May 23, 2026
I originally picked up NITRATE because someone recommended it to me even though military thrillers are not normally my favorite genre.
I was surprised by how invested I became in the characters. What kept me reading wasn't just the action; it was wanting to know what would happen to the people in the story.
The emotional side of the team stood out to me. They look after one another and there are moments that reveal vulnerability beneath all the danger and toughness.
I also enjoyed the change in locations and atmosphere because it prevented the story from becoming repetitive.
It turned out to be much more than just action.
I was surprised by how invested I became in the characters. What kept me reading wasn't just the action; it was wanting to know what would happen to the people in the story.
The emotional side of the team stood out to me. They look after one another and there are moments that reveal vulnerability beneath all the danger and toughness.
I also enjoyed the change in locations and atmosphere because it prevented the story from becoming repetitive.
It turned out to be much more than just action.
January 10, 2026
WOW this book started off in an explosive way, quite literally.
Russel Hutchings has continued to create another amazing book which I found exciting and explosive from the beginning right through to the end. It was so good I am really looking forward to the next in the series.
If you like action packed reading similar to Jason Bourne, James Bond, Scicario and the likes, I thoroughly recommend reading Russel's real life experiences with a twist in narrative.
Guaranteed you will not put the book down as you yearn for more and more.
Russel Hutchings has continued to create another amazing book which I found exciting and explosive from the beginning right through to the end. It was so good I am really looking forward to the next in the series.
If you like action packed reading similar to Jason Bourne, James Bond, Scicario and the likes, I thoroughly recommend reading Russel's real life experiences with a twist in narrative.
Guaranteed you will not put the book down as you yearn for more and more.
April 17, 2026
I went into this with some hesitation.
The first book set a strong foundation, and I wasn’t sure if the sequel could match it let alone exceed it. But within the first few chapters, it was clear this was operating on a different level.
Everything feels bigger. The stakes, the scope, the complexity. But what’s impressive is that it never loses control. It expands without becoming chaotic.
The nuclear element adds a level of urgency that feels genuinely frightening. It’s not just a plot device it’s treated with enough realism to make you think about the implications.
By the time the story reaches its final act, it feels like everything has been building toward that moment. And it delivers.
The first book set a strong foundation, and I wasn’t sure if the sequel could match it let alone exceed it. But within the first few chapters, it was clear this was operating on a different level.
Everything feels bigger. The stakes, the scope, the complexity. But what’s impressive is that it never loses control. It expands without becoming chaotic.
The nuclear element adds a level of urgency that feels genuinely frightening. It’s not just a plot device it’s treated with enough realism to make you think about the implications.
By the time the story reaches its final act, it feels like everything has been building toward that moment. And it delivers.
April 17, 2026
What makes NITRATE stand out is its sense of scale combined with its attention to detail.
At its core, this is a story about a global threat, something that could have far-reaching consequences. But it never loses sight of the individuals involved.
Every decision, every operation, every interaction contributes to a larger picture. And as that picture becomes clearer, the tension increases.
By the end, it feels like you’ve experienced something more than just a story. It feels like you’ve seen a system in motion complex, unpredictable, and very real.
At its core, this is a story about a global threat, something that could have far-reaching consequences. But it never loses sight of the individuals involved.
Every decision, every operation, every interaction contributes to a larger picture. And as that picture becomes clearer, the tension increases.
By the end, it feels like you’ve experienced something more than just a story. It feels like you’ve seen a system in motion complex, unpredictable, and very real.
April 11, 2026
I was a little worried Book 2 would not match Book 1. That worry lasted about 30 pages. The scope here is larger, the team is richer, and the stakes are genuinely terrifying in a way that feels grounded rather than melodramatic. The auction for weapons grade uranium with North Korea and Iran as the final bidders is not a fantasy. It is the kind of thing that keeps intelligence services awake. Hannah as a new character who can fly aircraft, run surveillance ops, and conduct hand to hand combat is one of the best female characters I have encountered in this genre. The Venice finale with the team spread across the canals is cinematic in the best sense. Loved every page.
April 11, 2026
The Portofino water operation is the highlight of an already excellent book. The MANTRA-6 dive team going subsurface at night below Kozlov's luxury yacht, laying limpet mines, then breaching to recover the uranium, all of it planned around yacht schematics and intelligence from an asset on board, the operational detail is extraordinary. The author clearly either knows or has consulted people who know exactly what this kind of operation looks like. Nothing feels invented. Everything feels remembered.
April 17, 2026
For me, the strength of this book lies in its characters.
Devereaux continues to be a compelling lead capable, but not without flaws. He carries the weight of his decisions, and that comes through in subtle ways.
But what really stood out is how the supporting cast is developed. Vince Parker makes an immediate impact, bringing a different energy to the team. Hannah adds depth and balance, both operationally and emotionally.
Even the antagonists are given attention. Kozlov and Drozdov don’t feel like generic villains they feel like individuals with their own motivations and perspectives. That level of character work adds depth to the entire story.
Devereaux continues to be a compelling lead capable, but not without flaws. He carries the weight of his decisions, and that comes through in subtle ways.
But what really stood out is how the supporting cast is developed. Vince Parker makes an immediate impact, bringing a different energy to the team. Hannah adds depth and balance, both operationally and emotionally.
Even the antagonists are given attention. Kozlov and Drozdov don’t feel like generic villains they feel like individuals with their own motivations and perspectives. That level of character work adds depth to the entire story.
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