Back Spin (Myron Bolitar)
Kidnappers have snatched the teenage son of super-star golfer Linda Coldren and her husband, Jack, an getting older professional, on the top of the U.S. Open. to assist get the boy again, activities agent Myron Bolitar is going charging after clues and suspects from the most Line mansions to a downtown cheaters' motel—and again in time to a U.S. Open twenty-three years in the past, while Jack Coldren must have received, yet did not. without notice Myron reveals him self surrounded by means of blue bloods, criminals, and liars. And as one family's darkest secrets and techniques explode into homicide, Myron unearths out simply how tough this video game can get.
In novels that crackle with wit and suspense, Edgar Award winner Harlan Coben has created essentially the most attention-grabbing and intricate heroes in suspense fiction—Myron Bolitar—a hotheaded, tenderhearted activities agent who grows a growing number of enticing and unpredictable with each one page-turning visual appeal.
relatively affected him a lot. yet at this actual social gathering, the grain alcohol–laced punch made even his steps wobble a section. It took Win 3 attempts to liberate their dorm room door. Myron fast collapsed on his mattress. The ceiling spun counterclockwise at a likely death-defying pace. He closed his eyes. His fingers gripped the mattress and hung on in terror. His face had no colour. Nausea clamped down painfully on his abdominal. Myron questioned while he may vomit and prayed it'd be quickly. Ah, the glamour.
nonetheless nothing—not even a unmarried automobile parked at the roads. Sweat lined him like syrup on a stack of pancakes. God, he desired to take a bath. He hunched down and watched the home. Now what? Wait. Be searching for circulation of a few type. Surveillance and so on used to be now not Myron’s specialty. Win frequently dealt with that sort of stuff. He had the physique regulate and the endurance. Myron was once already getting fidgety. He wanted he’d introduced or anything to learn. the 3 mins of monotony used to be.
Martial arts tournaments. You appeared lots ‘wanting’ to me.” “That is particularly different,” Win acknowledged. “How so?” “I don't view a martial arts event as a carrying contest, wherein the winner brings domestic a chintzy trophy and brags to colleagues and friends—nor do I view it as a contest that might result in a few type of empty emotion that the insecure between us understand as glory. combating isn't really a recreation to me. It’s approximately survival. If i'll lose in there”—he motioned to an imaginary ring—“I.
Paramount. Myron nodded to himself. Time to play Win. He received out of the auto. ensuring he stored out of sight, Myron turned around round to the again of the unload. The backyard was once bathed in darkness. He trampled via grass lengthy sufficient to conceal Viet Cong, sometimes stumbling throughout a cement block or rake or a trashcan most sensible. His shin received whacked two times; Myron needed to chew down expletives. The again door used to be boarded up with plywood. The window to its left, despite the fact that, used to be open. Myron regarded inside of. darkish.
She gestured towards the college. “You are looking to pass in now?” “Sure.” sooner than they moved, an immense set of knuckles lightly tapped on Myron’s window. The sound startled him. Myron seemed out his window. the massive black guy with the Nat King Cole hair—the one from the courtroom Manor Inn—was smiling at him. “Nat” made a cranking movement together with his hand, signaling Myron to decrease the window. Myron complied. “Hey, I’m comfortable we bumped into you,” Myron stated. “I by no means bought the variety of your barber.” The black guy.