Hidden Order

Hidden Order






“Thriller writer Brad Thor is awesome…You’ll want to take HIDDEN ORDER to the beach.”

National Review Online



“Brad Thor is consistently on my list of go-to authors for page-turning thrillers.”

Costco Connection

“…the thrills and detailed narrative combine to make Hidden Order a one-of-a-kind roller coaster run…”

The Blaze

“HIDDEN ORDER …Freeeekin awesome!”


“Brad Thor continues to write like nobody else writes…Ain’t nothing else like it!”

Mark Larson, KCBQ Radio

“A well thought out plot with a rollicking pace and would be a great summer beach read”


"Sharp, intelligent, and thrilling writing."


The Story

The most secretive organization in America operates without  accountability to the American people.  Hiding in the shadows, pretending to be part of the United States Government, its power is beyond measure.

Control of this organization has just been lost and the future of the nation has been thrust into peril.

When the five candidates being considered to head this mysterious agency suddenly go missing, covert counter-terrorism operative, Scot Harvath is summoned to Washington and set loose on the most dangerous chase ever to play out on American soil.

But as the candidates begin turning up murdered, the chase becomes an all-too-public spectacle with every indicator suggesting that the plot has its roots in a shadowy American cabal founded in the 1700’s.

With the United States on the verge of collapse, Harvath must untangle a web of conspiracy centuries in the making and head off the greatest threat America has ever seen.

This is thriller writing at its absolute best where the stakes have never been higher, nor the line between good and evil so hard to discern.

Read the full version of Free Fall, the prequel to Hidden Order here.

Read Epilogue II, a bonus chapter of Hidden Order here.

Audio Sample

Chapter Excerpt

Claire Marcourt should have gone to bed hours ago. She should have ignored the second bottle of white burgundy in the fridge, placed her empty wineglass in the sink, and headed upstairs. But the forty-five-year-old was feeling nostalgic. And the more she drank, the more nostalgic she became. Picking up the bottle, she stepped outside.

The night was warm and the ocean air carried with it the scent of magnolias. Just beyond her pool, foamy waves tumbled onto the quiet beach.

Her pool. It was hard for Claire Marcourt to believe how far one family could come in a generation. Her mother had cleaned houses on Sea Island. Now Claire owned one and was being considered for one of the most powerful positions in the world. Only in America, she thought to herself.

It was heartbreaking that her mother hadn’t lived to see everything Claire had accomplished—her career, her handsome husband and their three beautiful children, the Sea Island house with its stately oaks covered in Spanish moss, all of it. She would have been so proud.

As it was, she hadn’t even seen Claire graduate from college. Cancer had taken her and, in its wake, had left Claire with a growing fear that she too might someday be prematurely taken from her family.

Pouring another glass, she set the bottle on the outdoor table and walked to the edge of the patio. She was becoming maudlin. Focusing on the ocean, she took a long sip and closed her eyes. As the waves rolled onto the beach, she reflected on what a blessing it was to be able to come back to Georgia and escape the sirens and traffic of Manhattan. The family didn’t get down to Sea Island enough these days. Everyone was so busy. The funny thing, though, was that once Paul and the kids were here, no one wanted to leave.

She couldn’t blame them. The island was for them not only a source of strength, but also of revival. It was the one place where they all felt truly at home, truly safe.

Listening to the waves, she was reminded of a poem about the area by Sidney Lanier called “The Marshes of Glynn.”

Take courage from the land which God has given you, which has always nourished you, and which is still there, and be comforted.

Claire smiled and opened her eyes; her budding melancholy swept out to sea on a receding wave. She needed to think about that poem, and this place more often. Work had all but consumed her and it wasn’t going to get any easier if things went in the direction she thought they were about to.

Continue reading the Hidden Order excerpt.

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