Mindscrew (Paperback - Large Print)
Book 5 in the Sam Jameson series. Over 1,000,000 fans in 17 countries.
The runaway #1 Bestseller from USA Today Bestselling Author Lars Emmerich.
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“This book was absolutely mind-blowing. I LOVED IT!”
“LOVE LOVE LOVE this series!”
Elite hacker and amateur thief Sabot Mondragon has bumbled into the clutches of his former employers. Maybe he shouldn't have stolen billions in crypto-currency, though the outrageous heist made him one of the richest men on the planet.
Sabot has no clue that the fate of the global economy is intertwined with his own.
But he knows his odds aren't good.
Brash, ballsy, and beautiful Special Agent Sam Jameson is hot on his trail, racing headlong into a buzz saw of intrigue and bad blood left over from the Cold War.
Will Sabot survive his vicious kidnappers?
Can Sam stop the world's most secretive organization from pulling off a global coup?
Everything depends on Sam surviving a ruthless and brutal Mindscrew.
From the jungles of Central America to Moscow, MINDSCREW’s explosive action, razor sharp plot, and smart, sexy characters will keep you turning pages well into the night.
Mindscrew is the fifth installment in USA Today Bestselling Author Lars Emmerich’s runaway international hit Sam Jameson series, loved by over 1,000,000 fans of espionage, conspiracy, and crime thrillers from masters such as James Patterson, David Baldacci, Nelson DeMille, Vince Flynn, Brad Thor, Catherine Coulter, and Daniel Silva.
"Mindscrew. The name says it all!"
"I can't get enough of Sam Jameson. I want the next one NOW!"
"This was a really fantastic read. One of the best books ever."
"I'm totally hooked on Sam Jameson."
"I love these books!!"
"Where has this author been all my life LOL"
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Enjoy a sample from MINDSCREW
The end of the modern world began in New Jersey. This proved a number of people right, who asserted that New Jersey sucked, a capacity which, it might well have been argued, grew very suddenly to encompass the entire globe.
At least, the portion of the globe whose lives were impacted directly by the whims and fancies of the US dollar, a population which included almost every human on the planet, minus a token tribe or two of hunter-gatherers.
The trouble was that almost nobody knew the world was ending. Not even the guy who had helped begin its ending.
Especially not him.
He just thought he was getting rich. Right guy, right place, right time. Right on.
The whole thing wasn’t even his idea. He was kidnapped, coerced, and cajoled into using what was by any standard a rare skill set. His task: to reapportion ownership of certain virtual financial assets.
In short, he was made to steal things. Crypto-currency, to be precise, something he hadn’t heard of until the time came to begin stealing it.
Domingo Mondragon was his name, but he was known far more widely by his nom de guerre, Sabot. He was a hacker. He had Anonymous, Antisec, Lulzsec, and various other credits to his name. Arcane monikers notwithstanding, those were meaningful credits. He was damn good.
Equally meaningful was the fact that Sabot’s real name – Domingo Mondragon – appeared on another list, one that contained the names of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s stool pigeons. He was a rat, and there were just shy of two dozen people who were Big House guests on his account.
He was also on a list of convicted felons.
And a list of FBI employees.
And, now, Sabot occupied the top slot in Special Agent Sam Jameson’s Biggest Bastards list.
She knew the world was ending. Or, if “ending” was too dramatic a term for the kind of economic subjugation that was occurring second by second as a single server in a single cluster in a single data center — in New Jersey — steadily and inexorably redistributed a controlling percentage of the world’s wealth, Sam at least recognized the magnitude of the problem.
It was the kind of wealth that would make the Queen blush. Maybe Louis the Fourteenth, too.
A little blinking light on a little box full of semiconductors, situated in a server farm in a dark cave that used to be the main dig in the Naughtright Mine, protected by millions of tons of rock, cooled by spring water piped in from the nearby stream, was a terrifically poor indication of the mayhem being unleashed in the digital domain within.
The machine didn’t know Sabot, didn’t know Sam, and didn’t know anyone called Archive. It certainly didn’t know the Facilitator. And it also didn’t know that its simple script, which it repeated several hundred times per second, performed a task that tilted the entire socioeconomic world on its axis.
It just knew that its system diagnostics reported a clean bill of health. So it continued to work. Find new account, unlock new account, remove money, repeat.
The light blinked on, placid, content, oblivious to the destruction it wrought.