Blind Run - Hardcover

Lewin, Patricia

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0345443225 ISBN 13: 9780345443229

Publisher: Ballantine Books, 2003

Synopsis

In Blind Run, Patricia Lewin has written a breathless novel of unrelenting suspense and nerve-cracking tension that is also a gripping story of lost love, lost innocence, and a last chance at revenge.

Ethan Decker is a specialized “Hunter” for the most secretive agency of the U.S. government, working deep undercover to track down and capture ruthless international mercenaries and fugitives. But when a daring mission takes a lethal turn, a renegade assassin kills Decker’s young son in retribution. Forced to leave his devastated, unsuspecting wife, Sydney, to save her from the madman’s threats, Decker exiles himself to the New Mexican desert to live in a jail of his own guilt and grief.

The day starts like any other in the desert: scorching, cloudless. But then, like a mirage, a car appears on the horizon. Inside is Anna Kelsey, a former member of Decker’s covert team, a woman Decker presumed dead in the hell following that ill-fated mission three years ago. But she survived—and now she shepherds two children, entrusting them to Decker’s protection. Before he can protest, Anna is screeching away in a cloud of dust.

Now Decker is reeling from the sudden turn of events—and the shocking sight of Anna’s body not far down the road from where she left his trailer and the kids. The Spanish coin under her tongue is a mark Decker hoped never to see again . . . the signature of the assassin Ramirez.

Suddenly the race is on: to reach his ex-wife before Ramirez finds her, and to unlock the mystery behind these two children and why Anna died to give them refuge. But for Decker, Sydney’s trust is not his to have any longer, and the children are pawns in a dark conspiracy so vast and so evil that even this former spy could not imagine the peril and terror that lies directly in his path.

As Decker fights to protect the innocent and struggles to restore a shattered relationship that seems beyond repair, Patricia Lewin takes us on a thrilling ride full of whip-snap action, deadly turns, and almost unbearable suspense.

About this title

About the Author

Patricia Lewin is the pseudonym for author, editor, and writing teacher, Pat Van Wie.
 
Pat's published eleven novels for three major publishers, including: Ballantine, Bantam, and Harlequin.  Her last three books were hardcover suspense novels released under the pseudonym Patricia Lewin.
 
In 2010 Pat crossed to the other side of publishing when she took a position as senior editor for Bell Bridge Books to build their mystery and suspense list.
 
Pat has also taught writing workshops and classes in various formats and lengths around the country and is currently teaching creative writing at Collin College in Frisco, Texas.

From the Back Cover

“Spellbinding . . . Packed with white-knuckle action, daring chases, and breathless escapes.”
–IRIS JOHANSEN

“From its sharply-etched opening in the desert to its gripping finale–and I won’t tell you where–Blind Run is the work of a writer with the genuine talent to thrill. Brava, Patricia Lewin!”
–TESS GERRITSEN

“Brilliant, breathtaking suspense. Blind Run starts with a bang and maintains a blistering pace right down to the nail-biter ending. Patricia Lewin does not disappoint.”
–LISA GARDNER


From the Paperback edition.

Reviews

Lewin makes a shaky debut with this suspense novel that combines romance, rogue assassins and children in jeopardy with a dash of futuristic science. It's been three years since ex-CIA covert operative Ethan Decker's five-year-old son was murdered by a mysterious assassin. Decker has abandoned his wife, Sydney, and his job to hole up in a trailer in the New Mexico desert. He takes refuge in booze and self-pity until two children are unexpectedly dumped in his lap by Anna Kelsey, a former member of his elite investigative team. Danny and Callie are preteen siblings on the run from the Keepers, a secretive scientific institution specializing in genetic experimentation. After Kelsey is murdered by Marco Ramirez, the same man Decker believes is responsible for his son's death, he reluctantly goes on the road with the two children forced to solve the mystery behind Anna's murder, investigate the suspicious doings of the Keepers and protect Sydney, who seems to be the assassin's next target. Despite the fast pace, abundant action and ambitious premise, there are few surprises here. The plot turns feel like a composite of television action dramas and suspense novels of yore. The characters are thin, and the dialogue could use some vitamin supplements as well ("Opportunity knocked, I acted"). The implausible feel-good ending, involving 25 children on a boat bound for Canada, adds little to this uneven effort.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Ethan Decker is living in an old trailer in the New Mexico desert, wallowing in self-pity and pain. His job as an operative for a very secret government agency is directly to blame for the death of his young son and his abandoning of his ex-wife. A member of the old team visits him with two young children in tow, and shortly thereafter she is killed in a murder that has all the markings of the assassin who killed his son. Now Ethan is desperate to protect his ex-wife, Sydney, and to find out who these children are, and why someone would be killed because of them. After Ethan rescues Sydney, they all embark on a cross-country odyssey that leads them from Champaign, Illinois, to Seattle, Washington, and finally to the island the children call home, all the while relentlessly pursued by men most likely from Ethan's old agency. Lewin's taut thriller is filled with hair-raising car chases and complex double crosses. Patty Engelmann
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

ETHAN DECKER welcomed the pain.

It rolled through him like waves of heat rippling across the desert floor. With eyes closed and head propped against the door behind him, he sat on the trailer’s flimsy aluminum steps and waited for the desolate landscape to stop spinning. Given time, the desert would succeed where his enemies had failed. It would kill him.

But not, unfortunately, today.

Last night had been a mistake, an attempt to blot out the date and its memories with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. It hadn’t worked. The throbbing within his skull had become a dark angel crouched upon his shoulder, prodding and laughing, reminding him he was still alive.

The heat pressed in, and he longed for the feel of a crisp ocean breeze against his face, or the pungent scent of pines in the mountain air. Instead, beneath the tattered green-and-white awning that stretched from the tin can he called home, he felt the dry, hot hand of the New Mexico desert. If the pain had become his angel, then the desert heat had become his unwelcome lover, wrapping herself around him with tight, sear- ing arms.

And he deserved no better. Three years ago yesterday, his five-year-old son had died. Murdered. And nothing, not the Jack Daniel’s, nor the desert could change Ethan’s role in that senseless death.

He opened his eyes and squinted at the sun. It sat hours above the western horizon, a flat white disk piercing a dusty sky. With shaky hands he lifted a cup of lukewarm coffee to his lips and forced the bitter liquid down his throat. He should eat something, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside the stifling trailer. Just the thought brought a fresh wave of nausea. He’d get something later, before heading out into the desert.

Or maybe he wouldn’t go tonight. How hard could it be, just this once? He’d stretch out on the desert floor, beneath a million pinpricks of heavenly light and sleep.

Ethan shuddered and downed more coffee.

He wasn’t fooling himself. He couldn’t escape into sleep, any more than he could hide in a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Sleep brought the faces. They haunted his dreams with painful accusations in their small, frightened eyes. Children’s eyes. They stared at him, asking their unanswerable questions, condemning him without speaking a word. No, he couldn’t stay here tonight and sleep like normal men. He’d given up that right with Nicky’s death.

As usual, he’d seek oblivion through the ritual that had ruled his nights for the past three years. From sunset until dawn he’d perform the moving meditation of tai chi. The practice promised balance where none existed and peace where none reigned.

So far he’d found neither. The intense regimen brought only fatigue, a physical exhaustion so complete he’d fall into a heavy dreamless slumber.

In the distance, a ribbon of dust rose from the direction of the road, drawing his thoughts from the nightmare of his life. He was about to have company. The approaching vehicle was still three or four miles away, but Ethan had no doubt about its destination. The poor excuse for a road led one place. Here.

The question of who would seek him out only vaguely interested him. None of the locals would come looking for him. He rarely went into town except to get supplies, and then he kept to himself. But there were hours last night he couldn’t account for, time when the Jack Daniel’s had ruled his actions.

He tried remembering what he’d done, or if he’d spoken to anyone. He’d gotten into town about nine and ordered something to eat, washing down the food with a couple or three beers. Then it had been straight Jack, and his memory blurred. The next thing he knew, he’d awakened in his own bed with the full force of the New Mexico sun beating on his face.

The dust cloud grew as the vehicle got closer.

If someone had gone to the effort of driving out here, it meant trouble. He thought of the Glock, buried under three years of pictures and regrets within an old metal box beneath his bed. In a few minutes it would be too late, but he made no move to retrieve the weapon. If the Agency had finally found him, then so be it.

He’d been dead for a long time anyway.

DR. PAUL TURNER was a dead man.

The thought struck him with icy certainty as he watched the approaching helicopter through sheets of rain. They wouldn’t kill him right away, not while they still needed him, but it was just a matter of time. Then they’d make it look like an accident. He’d be on the mainland conducting Haven business, and his car would miss a turn and hurtle over a cliff. Or his heart would give out due to some rare and untraceable drug delivered via a hypodermic in the middle of the night. Possibly he’d be working in the lab and discover a tear in his bio-containment suit.

However they chose to end his life, no one would ask any questions or investigate the death of the once prominent Dr. Paul Turner. He’d disappeared from the scientific community nearly fifteen years ago, and as far as any of his peers knew, he’d been dead ever since.

Paul shivered and steered himself away from such morbid thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the next couple of hours and the upcoming meeting. Then, if he was smart and very careful, maybe he could come out of this alive.

Meanwhile, the rain and wind battered the aircraft as it hovered over the landing pad. The pilot fought for control, but the storm seemed determined to keep the helicopter from landing. A crash would solve his problem, Paul thought with a grim smile. Unfortunately, he had no doubt the vehicle would set down safely. The man on board, Avery Cox, wouldn’t be stopped by anything as minor as inclement weather.

For the past ten years, as director and lead scientist at the Haven, Paul had answered to Cox. The facility, located on a remote, private island at the northern edge of Puget Sound, was home to a staff of doctors, nurses, teachers, and a variety of very special children. It included dormitories, classrooms, laboratories, a hospital, and the finest equipment and scientific minds money could buy.

Except for his yearly trips to Langley to deliver his annual report, Paul had very little contact with Cox. Generally he left Paul alone to run things, while supplying everything he needed: money, equipment, and the most important thing of all, anonymity. In return, Cox expected Paul to deliver results, which he’d done, consistently and without fail since taking over the Haven Project.

Now this.

Paul had done the unforgivable, committed the one act Cox wouldn’t overlook. He’d lost two of the island’s children.

If he’d been given time, a couple of days, a week at the most, he would have set things right without anyone knowing the difference. His people would have found the runaways, and things would have returned to normal. Unfortunately, it was too late for that. Someone had made a call, and it had taken Cox fewer than eight hours to arrive.

As Paul watched the helicopter descend, whipping the wet air into a frenzy, he realized anyone could have made that call. Cox had eyes and ears everywhere.

For a moment, Paul considered running.

It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. He had more than enough money stashed in offshore banks. If he could get off the island and disappear into one of the backwater countries of Central or South America, he could live like a king for the rest of his life. Except it was a fool’s dream. There was no place to hide, nowhere on earth where the Agency couldn’t find him.

Finally the helicopter set down, and Paul hurried forward to greet the two passengers. “Mr. Cox.” Paul shifted his umbrella to shield the other man. “This is an unexpected surprise.”

“Is it?”

Paul stammered something unintelligible, but Cox and his companion had already started toward the shelter of the Haven’s main building. Disgusted with himself, Paul scrambled to keep up.

Inside, he forced a smile and tried to regain his composure. “You know we’re always happy to show you our facility.”

“The Agency’s facility, Dr. Turner.” Cox removed his damp overcoat, shaking the moisture from its surface, and scrutinized the utilitarian lobby. “I suggest you remember that.”

Embarrassed by the reprimand, Paul caught the amusement on the second man’s face. A rush of loathing tightened his stomach, and he quickly looked away. “There’s never been any doubt of that, Mr. Cox.”

Cox arched a skeptical eyebrow and gestured to the man on his right. “You remember Morrow.”

Paul nodded. “Of course.”

Morrow wasn’t someone you forgot. He was physically intimidating—even if the reason wasn’t immediately apparent. At first glance, he appeared average enough at just under six feet, with medium brown hair and nondescript eyes. He was neither handsome nor homely, with the kind of face one might easily ignore on another man. But something about him, something in the way he held himself, like a cobra bracing for a strike, made you look twice. Then it took but a cursory second glance at those deceptively plain, brown eyes to realize that behind them lived a killer.

Despite Morrow’s deadly presence, however, it was Cox who truly frightened Paul. Cox, with his receding hairline and steel-framed glasses. Cox, who stood barely five and a half feet tall and wore expensive ill-fitting suits. Cox, who would give the final order.

“I know you’re concerned about the missing children,” Paul said. “But I assure you we’re doing everything possible to locate them.”

“It’s a little late for your assurances,̶...

Edition details

• Publisher: Ballantine Books
• Publication date: 2003
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0345443225
• ISBN 13: 9780345443229
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 336