They could walk out now, catch a plane, fly to Tahiti--he had the money to do it a hundred times over--lie on the beach, and when they came back, it'd be done. The difference of a week.
And maybe they should.
But he liked the tightening feel of the hunt.
One of my favorite Prey novels yet plunges Lucas Davenport, his team, and all of their loved ones into a brutal and morally complicated clusterfuck. This was one of my "talked out loud to the book" reads: "no, no, no" and "come on, come on, come on" featured heavily.
Lucas puts tight surveillance on a group of highly skilled bank robbers, watching them for days before they eventually--and inevitably--choose their target. The robbers are cunning and violent, and the shootout that ensues is relatively clean, but it's over within seconds, leaving everyone who sees it on TV to wonder what exactly the hell happened and to question if the cops played entirely fair. This many books into the series, we know that there's maybe a point there. Lucas gets off on adrenaline and high-stakes conflict and, as his ex-girlfriend points out, he has a gift for making sure things go the way he wants them to. Maybe someone with different motivations and different methods could have gotten things to play out another way, a way that would have left fewer bodies on the ground.
And, as it turns out, the bodies aren't done dropping yet.
Two of the robbers gunned down on the bank's steps were Candy LaChaise and Georgie LaChaise, wife and sister of Dick LaChaise--cunning, impulsive, mean, and currently behind bars... until he's granted furlough for the funerals. LaChaise spent years on the edges of motorcycle gangs, white supremacists, survivalists, and general high-caliber weapon enthusiasts, and he gathered up some loyal friends. Convinced the world is going to hell anyway, they're fine with signing up for the suicide mission of going after the cops involved in the bank shootout. And, of course, the cops' families: an eye for an eye, with their grief made to match LaChaise's.
I can't even imagine the skill--and time--it took to plot this novel, because one of the greatest things about it is how many different people and motivations are involved. This has a wide cast for a Prey novel, and everybody's doing something, and what they do is ricocheting off everything else. LaChaise and his friends are single-minded and don't care whether they live or die, but the dirty cop they've blackmailed into helping them definitely still cares about his own life and career, and is frantically trying to thread whatever needle he needs to in order to keep LaChaise and his guys from getting caught, though of course them getting killed would be, he thinks, the ideal solution. They've also coerced LaChaise's sister-in-law, Sandy, into helping them; she just wants to get out alive and avoid being tried as an accomplice. Loved ones sent to protective custody get antsy and want to leave. Drug dealers who get their arms twisted do the smart thing and go on vacation, leaving their apartments empty and their cars available.
It's a busy, frenetic novel, but Sandford keeps the ball up in the air the whole time, and provides some really bravura action sequences. I'm spoiled for choice here, but my favorite might be the incredibly tense cat-and-mouse game--and gunfight--that plays out in the Metrodome.
...Wait, or the final, deadly confrontation, the one that's literally about life and death but also about a key personal relationship. Maybe that one. Or the chase sequence through a hospital that involves Lucas and a shotgun. Or the moment where Lucas realizes a cop's been shot with a bow and arrow. Like I said, spoiled for choice.
Great action and involved multi-person drama would be enough to make this novel a lot of fun, but Sandford goes the extra mile and also delivers some of the most complex characterizations of the series. Lucas is always aimed in the right direction, but there are times here when he feels like a terrifying, larger-than-life figure and times when he unnerves and horrifies even his fiancee (Weather Karkinnen, still great). And by making the bad guys more run-of-the-mill psychologically, Sandford also has the chance to give them a few shades of gray. LaChaise is vicious, but he's also loyal, and is genuinely motivated by love for his wife and sister. He's capable of savoring the prospect of raping his sister-in-law and genuinely bonding with a hostage. In a great little scene, he and his friend Martin rob an interestingly dignified gun dealer--they know going in that he won't sell to them, given what they've done and are planning to do--and Martin makes sure to pay the man on the way out:
"This is not exactly a purchase," Frank said, tightly.
"Take the fuckin' money," Martin said impatiently. "I feel bad enough anyway. The cash comes off a drug dealer downtown, there's no tracing it, it's all clean. It'll more than cover the cost of the stuff."
"Still not right," Frank said. He took the money.
"I know," Martin said, almost gently. "But there's no help for it."
It all makes for an incredible ride and an incredible read that has a lingering impact.