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Remote Control: (Nick Stone Thriller 1) [Format Kindle]

Andy McNab
5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)

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I dialed another number, and Kev answered. His voice was wary, until he recognized mine. "Nick! How's it going?" He sounded really happy to hear me.

"Not too bad. I'm in Washington."

"What are you doing? Nah, I don't want to know! You coming to see us?"

"If you're not busy. I'm leaving tonight, back to the UK. It'll be a quick stop and hello, OK?"

"Any chance of you getting your ass up here right away? I've just got the ball rolling on something, but I'd be interested to know what you think. You'll really like this one!"

"No problem, mate. I'll hire a car at the hotel and head straight over."

"Marsha will want to go into cordon bleu overdrive. I'll tell her when she gets back with the kids. Have a meal with us, then you can go on to the airport. You won't believe the stuff I've got here. Your friends over the water are busy."

"I can't wait."

"Nick, there's one other thing."

"What's that, mate?"

"You owe your goddaughter a birthday present--you forgot again, dickhead."

DRIVING WEST ALONG the freeway, I kept wondering what Kev could want to talk to me about. Friends over the water? Kev had no connection with PIRA that I knew of. He was in the DEA, not the CIA or any antiterrorist department. Besides, I knew that his job was far more administrative than fieldwork now. I guessed he probably just needed some background information.

I thought again about Slack Pat and made a mental note to ask Kev if he had a contact address for the assless one.

I got on the interstate. Tyson's Corner was the junction I had to get off at--well, not really; I wanted the one before but I could never remember it. The moment I left the freeway I was in leafy suburbia. Large houses lined the road, and just about every one seemed to have a seven-seat minivan in the drive and a basketball hoop fixed over the garage.

I followed my nose to Kev's subdivision and turned into their road, Hunting Bear Path. I continued on for about a quarter of a mile until I reached a small parade of shops arranged in an open square with parking spaces, mainly little delis and boutiques specializing in candles and soap. I bought candy for Aida and Kelly that I knew Marsha wouldn't let them have, and a couple of other presents.

Facing the shops was a stretch of vacant ground that looked as if it had been earmarked as the next phase of the development. On and around the churned-up ground were trailers, big stockpiles of girders and other building materials, and two or three bulldozers.

Far up on the right-hand side among the sprawling houses I could just about make out the rear of Kev and Marsha's "deluxe colonial." As I drove closer I could see their Ford Windstar, the thing she threw the kids into to go screaming to school. It had a big furry Garfield stuck to the rear window. I couldn't see Kev's company car, a Caprice Classic that bristled with antennae. They were so ugly only government agents used them. Kev normally kept his in the garage, safely out of sight of predators.

I was looking forward to seeing the Browns again even though I knew that by the end of the day I'd be more exhausted than the kids. I got to the driveway and turned in.

There was nobody waiting. The houses were quite a distance apart, so I didn't see any neighbors, either, but I wasn't surprised--D.C.'s bedroom suburbs were quite dead during weekdays.

I braced myself; on past form, I'd get ambushed as soon as the car pulled up. The kids would jump out at me, with Marsha and Kev close behind. I always made it look as if I didn't like it, but actually I did. The kids would know I had presents. I'd bought a little Tweety-Pie watch for Aida, and Kelly's was the Goosebumps kids' horror books numbers thirty-one to forty--I knew she already had the first thirty. I wouldn't say anything to Aida about forgetting her birthday; hopefully she'd have forgotten.

I got out of the car and walked toward the front door. Still no ambush. So far, so good.

The front door was open about two inches. I thought, here we go, what they want me to do is walk into the hallway like Inspector Clouseau, and there's going to be a Kato-type ambush. I pushed the door wide open and called out, "Hello? Hello? Anyone home?"

Any minute now the kids would be attacking a leg each.

But nothing happened.

Maybe they had a new plan and were all hidden away somewhere in the house, waiting, trying to muffle their giggles.

Inside the front door there was a little corridor that opened up into a large rectangular hallway with doors leading off to the different downstairs rooms. In the kitchen to my right I heard the sound of a female voice singing a station jingle.

Still no kids. I started tiptoeing toward the noise in the kitchen. In a loud stage whisper I said, "Well, well, well--I'll have to leave ... seeing as nobody's here ... What a shame, because I've got two presents for two little girls ..."

To my left was the door to the living room, open about a foot or so. I didn't look in as I walked past, but I saw something in my peripheral vision that at first didn't register. Or maybe it did; maybe my brain processed the information and rejected it as too horrible to be true.

It took a second for it to sink in, and when it did my whole body stiffened.

I turned my head slowly, trying to make sense of what was in front of me.

It was Kev. He was lying on his side on the floor, and his head had been battered to shit by a baseball bat. I knew that, because I could see it on the floor beside him. It was one he'd shown off to me on his last visit, a nice light aluminum one. He'd shaken his head and laughed when he said the local rednecks called them Alabama lie detectors.

I was still rooted to the spot.

I thought: Fucking hell, he's dead--or should be, looking at the state of him.

What about Marsha and the kids?

Was the killer still in the house?

I had to get a weapon.

There was nothing I could do about Kev at the moment. I didn't even think of him, just that I needed one of his pistols. I knew where all five of them were concealed in the house, always above child level, and always loaded and ready, a magazine on the weapon and a round in the chamber. All Marsha or Kev had to do was pick up one of the weapons and blast anyone who was pissed off at Kev--and there were more than a few of those in the drug community. I thought, Fuck, they've got him at last.

Very slowly, I put the presents on the floor. I wanted to listen for any creaking of floors, any movement at all around the house.

The living room was large and rectangular; against one wall was a fireplace. On either side of it were alcoves with bookshelves, and I knew that on the second shelf up, on the right, was the world's biggest, fattest thesaurus, and on top of that, tucked well back out of view, just above head level but close enough to reach up for, was a big fat gun. It was positioned so that as you picked it up it would be in the correct position to fire.

I ran. I didn't even look to see if there was anyone else in the room. Without a weapon, it wouldn't have made much difference.

I reached the bookcase, put my hand up, and took hold of the pistol, spun around, and went straight down onto my knees in the aim position. It was a Heckler & Koch USP 9mm, a fantastic weapon. This one even had a laser sight under the barrel--where the beam hits, so does the round.

I took a series of deep breaths. Once I'd calmed myself, I looked down and "checked chamber." I got the topslide and pulled it back a bit. I could see the brass casing in position.

Now what was I going to do? I had my car outside; if that got reported and traced, there'd be all kinds of drama. I was still under my alias cover; if I got discovered, that meant the job got discovered, and then I'd be in a world of shit.

I had a quick look at Kev, just in case I could see breathing. No chance. His brains were hanging out, his face was pulped. He was dead, and whoever had done it was so blasé they'd just thrown the baseball bat down and left it there.

There was blood all over the glass coffee table and the thick shag pile carpet. Some was even splattered on the patio windows. But strangely, apart from that, there wasn't much sign of a struggle.


I HAD TO MAKE sure Marsha and the kids weren't still here, tied up in another room or held down by some fucker with a gun to their heads. I was going to have to clear the house.

If only room clearing were as easy as Don Johnson made it look in Miami Vice: run up to the door, get right up against the doorframe, jump out into the middle of it, pistol poised, and win the day. A doorway naturally draws fire, so if you stand in one, you're presenting yourself as a target. If there's a guy waiting for you there with a shotgun, you're dead.

The first room I had to clear was the kitchen; it was the nearest, plus there was sound there.

I was on the opposite side of the living room from the kitchen door.

I started to move along the outside wall of the room. I stepped over Kev, not bothering to look at him. The pistol was out in front of me; it had to be ready to fire as soon as I saw a target. Where your eyes go, the pistol goes.

I mentally divided the room into sections. The first was from the couch halfway across the living room, a distance of about twenty feet; I got there and froze by a big TV stereo setup, which gave me a bit of cover while I cleared the door that led back to the hallway. It was still open.

There was nothing in the hallway. As I moved through, I closed the door behind me. I approached the one to the kitchen. The handle was on the right-hand side; I couldn't see the hinges, so it had to open inward. I moved across to the hinged side and listened. Just above the sound of my breath and that of...

Revue de presse

"'It's a corker'" (Independent)

"'An enjoyably gritty thriller'" (The Scotsman)

"'Proceeds with a testosterone surge'" (Daily Telegraph)

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 701 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 516 pages
  • Pagination - ISBN de l'édition imprimée de référence : 0552163538
  • Editeur : Transworld Digital (2 octobre 2008)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B0031RS7EK
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Non activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°90.928 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)

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Commentaires client les plus utiles
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Gripping read 23 juin 2013
Par paulwoods
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
As usual with McNab a cant put it down read looking forward to the next release - worth buying yes
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 4.0 étoiles sur 5  109 commentaires
13 internautes sur 13 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 McNab creates a great new hero in this tense thriller 6 juillet 2002
Par fionnmaccumhal - Publié sur Amazon.com
Andy McNab's first thriller is a top-notch combination of violent action,
pulse-pounding excitement and edge of your seat suspense.
In "Remote Control" McNab introduces a new hero, Nick Stone, who makes most
other famous fictional heroes look like prancing twits (can you say "Dirk Pitt"?) An
ex-SAS operator and current deniable ops specialist for Britain, Stone is something
of a cross between Hammett's Continental Op and Alistair MacLean's Phillip
Calvert: tough as jacketed hollow points, totally on-task, and cunning enough to
beat the bad guys at their own game. Nick Stone has more life in him (and more
blood and soul) than any action hero this side of Pendleton era Mack Bolan.
The action in "Remote Control" never lets up for more than a few pages, and even
when Stone isn't facing guns and fists he's deep into the task at hand and planning
2 or 3 moves ahead so that the pace just keeps up and the tension builds.
Stone has to work against a plot without any help after he finds the family of a
friend murdered. On the run and out in the cold with his friend's seven year old
daughter in tow, Stone uses his training, intelligence and toughness to best
advantage. And just when he's past one challenge, an even greater one confronts
him. The story is told in first person and it really sounds like authentic dialogue.
This is like the golden age of Len Deighton's spy writing but with a tougher and
more realistic hero. Hard-boiled stuff!
The great relationship between childless Stone and seven year old Kelly is a
wonderful thing in this book. I think I worried as much for him when he had to
finally tell Kelly her family was dead as when he was in any of the many deadly
encounters in the story. McNab obviously knows something about children and
Kelly's character is so real it makes the reader very frightened for her safety.
The cover quote from author Stephen Coonts claims McNab is "the best suspense
thriller writer. . . since Alistair MacLean" and I can't argue with that. This book was
everything you'll want in a thriller. I can't wait to start the next one!
This is a 5 star effort if ever there was one. Read it.
14 internautes sur 15 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 A Damn Good Read 3 février 2000
Par Kali - Publié sur Amazon.com
REMOTE CONTROL is an exciting, bullet flying, rib cracking, guts spewing story about an ex-SAS man, Nick Stone, who gets caught up in the vicious murder of an old friend and his family. Rescuing the only surviving member of the massacre a seven-year-old shell shocked little girl called Kelly, Nick goes on the run, and finds out that even friends are potential enemies in a world of IRA deals, drug cartels and messy TransAtlantic politics. This is a knuckle bitingly good book and I spent the whole of an evening reading it from cover to cover. Andy McNab is as good a writer of fiction as he is of fact. I liked his hero because it showed the man to be human and not just a killing machine as SAS soldiers are often portrayed in many novels. I hope that McNab thinks of writing a sequel to REMOTE CONTROL as Nick Stone and Kelly make quite a formidable team. A big thumbs up for this cracker of a first novel.
9 internautes sur 9 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Not great, but not bad 2 novembre 2001
Par Un client - Publié sur Amazon.com
After reading McNab's "Bravo Two Zero" and "Immediate Action," I thought I'd give his fiction a try. Overall this book is entertaining, with more action than recent vintage Clancy novels. The action is often quite intense and, in those moments, it is a real page turner. The technical and tradecraft details are what really make this book. McNab, or course, is all the more believable in these areas due to his personal experiences as relayed in his non-fiction work. He buys a credibility there that Clancy, et al. just can't match. Worth reading for that fact alone.
While the story is good and the details better, the writing itself is sometimes clumsy. Maybe this is nitpicking, since the reality is that the writing somehow seems to "fit" the story (you wouldn't want Steinbeck or Hemingway telling the story, would you?). However, I suspect that the writing is simply due to first novel syndrome (I had no complaints about his writing in Bravo Two Zero), and would expect this to improve in future works.
Although I only gave the book 3 stars, I'll definitely keep McNab on my "read" list.
8 internautes sur 8 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 WOW! 19 avril 2000
Par P. Elkin - Publié sur Amazon.com
I absolutely could not put this book down! McNab has a gift for writing action. The tradecraft sure sounds believable to a civillian like me. The characters are a bit cardboard-like, and I wonder how much time McNab has spent with children, but who cares? I was completely sucked in from the first page. The fight in the PIRA office in DC is a stunner, and it's not even the best part of the book. I'm looking forward to McNab's next effort.
5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Suspense and Action Packed! 22 juin 2000
Par J. Surowiecki - Publié sur Amazon.com
From the first page all the way to the final one, Andy McNab's "Remote Control" was a gripping and fantastic read.
Readers will follow the main character of Nick Stone from Gilbraltar to London and then on to the United States. While on what is termed a "deniable assignment", Nick contacts a former SAS colleague, only to find upon his arrival at their home that Kev and his family have been brutally murdered. All but one.... their seven year old daughter Kelly.
This story never loses its pace. Nick and Kelly are on the run from people trying to kill them at every turn. But it's the growing relationship between Nick and Kelly that I find truly memorable.
At first Nick tries his best to protect the young girl from the forces closing in on them, only to slowly find himself growing to rely on Kelly with every turn of the page.
I totally agree that this is a "can't put down" novel. Your heart will race at the clever twists and turns McNab has crafted. The supporting cast of characters are highly developed. From the dangerous IRA hitmen, to Stone's British employers at The Firm, to fellow SAS members Pat and Euan, all the way to the federally relocated mobster Big Al DeNiro. Each is a living, breathing character adding to the tension and brilliant storyline!
This is a novel that begs a sequel so readers can see what further developments take place between Nick and Kelly. They are two unforgettable characters!
Very well done, Mr. McNab!
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