By William Diehl
Because the international trembles with the technique of global battle II, a girl dies by the hands of Hitler's henchmen. Her homicide without end alterations her lover, Francis Scott Keegan, a continuing anti-Nazi mercenary, who turns into locked in a determined cat-and-mouse online game with the 3rd Reich's excellent secret agent, a guy of 1000 faces. In an enviornment that encompasses presidents and gangsters, spies and sirens, the lethal current and the darkish previous, Keegan pursues his elusive quarry into the leading edge of worldwide events—and into the key internal workings of a terrifying challenge recognized in simple terms as "27."
"The most sensible e-book of its variety because the DAY OF THE JACKAL...Edge-of-the-seat stuff."--PEOPLE
What individuals are Saying
"A rip-roaring rollercoaster of suspense, riveting from commencing to end."
Diehl integrates old occasions equivalent to Hitler's upward push to energy and Dillinger's financial institution robberies into this mystery a couple of heroic ex-bootlegger and his nemesis, agent 27, a Nazi making plans to kidnap a few of America's strongest males. ``Despite a few inconceivable coincidences, his solidly researched story is suspenseful, creative and, in areas, deeply moving,'' acknowledged PW.
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Additional resources for 27 aka The Hunt
It was Kreisler who negotiated all the contracts and who handled all of Ingersoll’s business affairs. To everyone else, his friends and neighbors, Ingersoll was Hans Wolfe, a reclusive Berlin businessman who frequently spent weeks at a time abroad. ” Kreisler asked. ” “I need rest,” Ingersoll said. “Three months when you finish. ” “It will take me that long to create the character. ” “I . . uh . . you have a visitor,” Kreisler said tentatively. Ingersoll looked tip sharply. “I do not take visitors on the set.
Greek maybe. He had been driving around appraising the whores on the Street for almost an hour and he was getting impatient. He stopped the car and studied her as she eyed the men entering and leaving a bar called the Happy Club. Twenty-three or four at best. Nice legs and a trim little ass. His groin tightened. He drove up beside her and stopped the car. She leaned over and looked in the window. “Well, now ain’t you the fancy one,” she said. The accent was cockney. He was surprised but it was definitely cockney.
M. looked over the morning reports, and didn’t appear until noon. “Come, come,” was the impatient response. He had only been in Hitler’s private sitting room once before. Entering it now, he remembered how surprised he had been the first time he had seen it. The sitting room was small and rather bleak with high ceilings, a simple chandelier and thick double doors. Two French windows overlooked the valley, their heavy drapes and cotton curtains pulled back. His desk was angled in one corner near the windows.
27 aka The Hunt by William Diehl