The morning after a shadow cabal switches off the dollar, a Homeland Security counterspy works the wreckage from rural Oklahoma to a Moscow prison, hunting whoever is quietly buying the replacement currency.
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Been up the last 3 nites til 3 am, can’t put it down!
Just started reading and do not want to put it down. No dinner tonight!
Great series. You will sit up all night reading!
Tuesday morning, the money stopped working.
The satellites are dead. Twelve Federal Reserve banks wake up with their ledgers overwritten. By Wednesday the registers are down, the buses aren't running, and a cartoon Monopoly Man has taken over every channel to explain that currency was only ever an agreement between people.
Special Agent Sam Jameson checks out of the hospital and goes back to work.
The trail runs from a Fort Worth defense plant to a rest stop off the interstate where the law has quietly stopped applying, and then to a mountain house in Colorado, where a very rich old man explains, politely, over a cigar, exactly why he did it.
He is not the problem. While Sam was arguing economics on a balcony, somebody else started buying up the currency that replaced the dollar.
The second half of the chase runs through a jungle cell in Honduras, a dry cleaner's in Arlington, a yacht off the Croatian coast, and a corner office in Lubyanka Prison, where the only man who can help her is worse than the man she is hunting.
Two complete novels in one volume: Meltdown and Mindscrew, Books Four and Five of the Sam Jameson series. Around 158,000 words, beginning to end. When the first book finishes, you turn the page.
Hours after a coalition of billionaires, physicists and hackers erases the American dollar, a Homeland Security counterintelligence chief is put on the case — and finds that destroying one currency simply opened a race to own the next one.
Tuesday the satellites died. Wednesday the cash registers did. Nobody has explained Thursday yet.
For readers of Steve Berry, Brad Thor, David Baldacci and Nelson DeMille.
The antagonist is an institution, a century-old shadow syndicate with a President on the phone, and the stakes are a country's machinery: the Federal Reserve, NORTHCOM, martial law, a central-bank president lobbied on a yacht.
The distinctive shelf, and the one nobody else in this category is standing on. Fiat collapse, then a war over Bitcoin. Money mechanics do the work that gunfights usually do, and they do it faster.
Real and sustained: wallets, IP masking, a counter-theft virus riding the NSA's own pipes, biometric account locks. It serves the money plot rather than driving it, and nothing in it is hand-waved.
Tuesday the satellites died. Wednesday the cash registers did. Nobody has explained Thursday yet.
Twelve Federal Reserve banks. One night. Every ledger overwritten with the same digit.
She got out of the hospital on Monday. By the weekend she was interrogating a four-star general.
The man who unplugged the dollar will meet you on his own balcony and tell you why. That is the frightening part.
A rest stop off the interstate, a deputy's badge, and a 911 call that waits forty-seven minutes. The country did not fall apart evenly.
She got out of the hospital on Monday. By the weekend she was interrogating a four-star general.
Somebody finally tested the theory. It turns out you can switch off an economy without knocking down a single bridge.
The plan worked exactly as designed. Nobody made a plan for Thursday.
Four people alive know who runs the Consultancy. None of them will say it out loud, and one of them takes calls from the President.
The old man who did this will explain himself over a cigar, at length, and he is not entirely wrong. That is the uncomfortable part.
Thirty years of friendship, ended by one phone call, inside an hour. No hesitation and no second thought.
A rest stop off the interstate, a man with a badge, and a 911 queue forty-seven minutes deep. Collapse arrives locally before it arrives nationally.
Burner discipline, dead drops, cell-tower triangulation, a database query run off the books by a friend at the Bureau. Nothing here is magic.
Sam finds the one thing a man cannot afford to lose and sets it on the table between them. It works more often than it should.
The investigation runs down one column and the fugitive runs down the other. They meet at the least convenient possible moment.
“Right up there with James Patterson, David Baldacci, Nelson DeMille, and Frederick Forsyth.”
“It’s 5 a.m. and I just stayed up all night reading!”
“Sharp, extremely well written, and scary as hell!”
“Special Agent Sam Jameson is one very tough, gutsy lady… one of the best suspense/thriller books I have read in a long while. My new favourite suspense author.”
“I love this series… Love this smart mouthed, sassy, sexy agent. I hope her luck holds in future books!”
Reviews sourced from Amazon, Goodreads, and LJEmmerich.com. Names shown as publicly displayed by each platform.
Read instantly on the free BookFunnel app or side-load to your favorite device.
Get the ebookBeen up the last 3 nites til 3 am, can’t put it down!
Sam Jameson is one bad ass chick. Very well written books!
Great series. You will sit up all night reading!