Reviews

“The ultimate thriller writer.”

— Suspense Magazine

"Anyone who thinks that the only thing to fear is fear itself should meet Brad Thor."

— Newsweek

"Master of Thrillers"

— BookReporter.com

The Story

Lethal operative Scot Harvath is dispatched to avenge the killing of American citizens abroad in #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Brad Thor’s new pulse-pounding thriller.

In the war-ravaged borderlands of Ukraine, a Russian military unit has gone rogue. Its members, conscripted from the worst prisons and mental asylums across Russia, are the most criminally violent, psychologically dangerous combatants to ever set foot upon the modern battlefield.

With all attention focused on the frontlines, they have pushed deeper into the interior to wage a campaign of unspeakable barbarity. As they move from village to village, committing horrific war crimes, they meet little resistance as all able-bodied men are off fighting the war.

Simultaneously, a team of Russian mercenaries has been dispatched by the Kremlin to loot truckloads of art and priceless cultural treasures hidden away in a host of churches, museums, and private homes.

When multiple American aid workers are killed, America’s top spy is sent in to settle the score. But in a country almost the size of Texas, will Harvath be able to find the men in question and, more importantly, will he be able to stop them before they can kill again?

Chapter Excerpt

KHARKIV OBLAST, UKRAINE

The children ran for their lives. Those who could, fled into the woods. Those who couldn’t—the smaller and the sickest among them—were forced to take up hiding places inside. The adults tried to convey calm, but it was wall-to-wall panic. And rightfully so. The monsters were coming.

In the basement of the abandoned Soviet-era tuberculosis hospital, via a decrepit passageway punctuated by broken light fixtures, rusted pipes, and puddles of fetid water, was the kitchen. And in that kitchen was the best answer the orphanage had been able to come up with for its most complicated problem.

An old pantry had been outfitted like a chicken coop. Its shelves had been taken over by wooden nesting-boxes pre-staged with bedding. The few blankets that could be spared had been tacked to the walls to help deaden any sound. A run-down refrigerator with a false back hid the entrance of the pantry from view.

Each of the infants inside had been given an emergency ration of formula. The toddlers, many of whom were suffering from colds and flu, had been given small pieces of bread soaked in tea and dabbed with a little bit of honey. Anything to keep them quiet. It was imperative that they maintain absolute silence.

CONTINUE READING THE DEAD FALL PROLOGUE

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