Smart, tough Los Angeles FBI agents Jack Harper and Oscar Hidalgo meet their match in a diamond smuggler, Steinbach, who seems to have almost superhuman powers. Arrested during a clever sting operation, Steinbach tells the team of agents he will kill them, and sure enough, one by one, they start to die. Worse, Jack can’t begin to pin it on Steinbach, who is, after all, in prison. Soon, however, Steinbach makes a deal with Homeland Security and is freed with total immunity. Jack is pretty sure that he and Oscar could be next. But, as it turns out, Steinbach is not the only menace. Two of the agents who were killed turn out to be dirty. Jack and Oscar tour the seamy side of L.A. in hopes of finding clues, but they get way more than they bargained for.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Robert Ward was born in Baltimore, Maryland. When he was 15 years old he went to live with his paternal grandmother, Grace, a local social activist. He did his undergraduate work at Towson State University before earning his MFA in writing at the University of Arkansas.
While living in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco he began working on his first novel, Shedding Skin, before moving back to Baltimore for its completion. He taught English at Miami University in Hamilton, Ohio for two years, then moved to Geneva, New York, where he taught at Hobart and William Smith College.
In 1974, he started his career as a journalist, writing for magazines such as New Times and Sport. He moved to New York in 1976 and continued writing "New Journalism" for eight years. During this period, he wrote his novel Cattle Annie and Little Britches as well as the screenplay for the feature film based on the book. After the publication of his fourth novel, Red Baker, in 1985 he was approached by David Milch and offered a job to write for Hill Street Blues.
After Hill Street concluded, Ward become the co-Executive Producer of Miami Vice, and spent five years writing scripts and producing TV movies at Universal Studios. He continues to write and produce television shows and movies as well publish novels.
Robert Ward knows his stuff when it comes to writing an LA based crime novel. He is an ardent life long student of the Noir genre of books and films. He’s done scripts for blockbuster TV cop shows. He’s a long time denizen of the Hollywood beat. The commentary is often wry. He’s also a father of sons. All of these areas of experience are displayed throughout this mystery thriller. From a reader’s point of view I was very entertained by the writer’s sense of place invoked by his insider’s knowledge of the streets of West LA and it’s people. The dialogue sometimes just flat out makes you laugh even in the midst of the macabre circumstances Ward dreams up for his characters. If there was any weakness in this novel, it hovers over the question, “Why haven’t I seen this movie?” Most impressive to me, and the central dynamic of the twisting narrative is the author’s deep familiarity with fatherhood, the insecurity, the insanity and vulnerability of this fundamental relationship.
This book is such a turd, my plunger is afraid of it. It almost salvaged another star with some nifty plot turns in the back half. Almost. But I just couldn't look past the terrible writing that reads like something a middle school kid turned in for an English assignment. Characters are thinner than the paper they're printed on. It has just about every cliche of the crime genre. I learned absolutely nothing new or distinctive about the life of an FBI agent. Either the author didn't do any research, or simply chose to withhold those true-to-life tidbits. (Given his background with writing TV crime dramas, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt and going with the latter.)
This type of thing may run well in the TV world. As a novel, it falls on its face.
(For the record, I hope to one day publish something, even if it's twice as bad as this one. I'll take every miserable review people want to give me if that ever happens. But should Robert Ward ever learn of my critique - or care, for that matter - Robert, don't take it personally. I trust your skin is thick.)
I don't think I've ever read a thriller where the twists were more telegraphed than this one. I didn't find the characters to have much substance. While Mr. Ward knows how to keep the thriller structure flowing, this story never got off the page for me. I don't think there was a moment when I wasn't fully aware I was reading words printed on a page. To me, this had Hollywood written all over it, and, thus, it was mere spectacle.