検索キーワード： 著者 "wayne" すべてのカテゴリー

The CIA wants James Hawker dead. For years, his one-man campaign against organized crime has struck fear into America's most corrupt politicians, and now they're striking back. Hawker escaped the United States by the skin of his teeth, and has spent the last months living the life of a glamorous expatriate in Latin America: fast cars, lovely women, and all the champagne his Swiss bank account can buy him. For some men, it would be paradise. For Hawker, a life without action is a living hell.

For Con Ye Cwong, the Vietnam War will never be over. Head of the North Vietnamese secret police during the brutal conflict, he has built himself an empire selling cocaine and heroin to the West. Even after the war, American servicemen remain his favorite targets. He relishes nothing more than getting a soldier hooked, and then upping the price until the junkie has no choice but to reveal military secrets for the next fix. He's one of the most powerful men in the world, and James Hawker is going to take him down.

Neal Clark ramrod of the Circle C Ranch was in Cascade City to see the gunsmith when the Shelly gang attempted to hold up the bank. Neal rushed out of the shop and fired killing Buck Shelly and his son Luke. Buck's teenage son Ed was holding the horses. He escaped but was believed to be mortally wounded. At least that's what Neal thought - until he received a letter from Ed declaring that he’d be back to settle the score.

Rick is an unassuming limo driver and former petty thief, quietly struggling to come to terms with the sins of his past and his hopes for the future. While the anti-hero longs to one day find love and peace, he cannot easily forget his crimes and leave the past behind. A noir tale of love, murder, and reconciliation, Of Ghosts and the Living sheds light on the nature of human compassion and many ways it can manifest in our lives.

With eloquence and wit, Wayne Hoffman explores the unlikely camaraderie between a young Jewish man and an Orthodox rabbi, in this rich, insightful novel about love, honesty, faith, and belonging. In Yiddish, there is a word for it: bashert - the person you are fated to meet. Twenty-something Benji Steiner views the concept with skepticism. But the elderly rabbi who stumbles into Benji's office one day has no such doubts. Jacob Zuckerman's late wife, Sophie, was his bashert. And now that she's gone, Rabbi Zuckerman grapples with overwhelming grief and loneliness.

It's just past six a.m., and the Rutledge family is gathering for breakfast, unaware of the two bombs that have been planted outside their home. They're about to start eating when a fireball bursts through the windows, and the house is blasted to dust, leaving only one survivor. In the last six weeks, the Rutledges are the seventh family to be attacked - and the onslaught is just beginning. A terrorist group is intent on bringing the citizens of Washington, D.C. to their knees.

For the past 50 years, popular culture has led us to believe in the left brain vs. right brain theory of personality types. It would be an illuminating theory if it did not have one major drawback: It is simply not supported by science. In contrast, the Top Brain, Bottom Brain theory is based on solid research that has stayed within the confines of labs all over the world—until now.

Central Oregon is the last frontier, with transportation still by stagecoach and freight wagon. Now there's a movement afoot for a people's railroad. For years, competing railroad barons James J. Hill and Edward H. Harriman have done nothing, but now they both set about building a line there. And for years their front men, Lee Dawes and Mike Quinn, have competed for rights-of-way - and for women. Attracted to Deborah Haig, Dawes is nettled to see her in an intimate meeting with Quinn. But there is something else....

We all know that life in prison ain't grand, but the utter horror of it springs from the pages of this autobiography, written by a one-time death-row inmate. Billy Wayne Sinclair is now serving a reduced 90-year sentence for murdering a Baton Rouge convenience store owner in a robbery gone wrong more than three decades ago. His story of an adult life spent in one of Louisiana's harshest prisons is amazing, not only because he has survived with his soul intact, but because it provides such a raw look at the inner workings of a system bent on revenge, not rehabilitation.

Billy Wayne Sinclair was only 21 when he heard the Louisiana judge pronounce these words: "I hereby sentence you to death in the electric chair." It was the culmination of a botched holdup committed the year before in which Billy had accidentally shot and killed a man. Billy spent the next 40 years in Angola Prison - one of the country’s worst - six of those years on death row. When in 1972 the Supreme Court struck down the death penalty as arbitrary and capricious, Billy was re-sentenced to life without parole.

James Hawker finds her in the Yellow Pages, listed under "P" - for prostitution. This is Las Vegas, after all, where the world's oldest profession is just another business. Vegas has been a wide-open town for more than a century: a place where respectable Americans can indulge their darkest fantasies. But an unpleasant new attraction has been added to this paradise of gambling and perversion - the forbidden vice called murder. Hawker isn't a gambling man, but murder is his business.

If they hadn't come to the cabin, Lomela and her children would be dead by now. Evil men want something from Lomela's father, and they'll hurt his family to get it, so the young mother has taken refuge far from civilization, in a remote patch of the Rocky Mountains. She believes she's safe. She's wrong. The sniper focuses his scope on Lomela. He squeezes the trigger, and his crossbow bolt flies across the mountains, passing Lomela - and striking dead the man who was about to shoot her in the back.

This true story begins on Valentine's Day, 1961. Fourteen years old, Claudette Carolyn Covey went missing from Hondo, Texas. On Halloween evening, 1961, Claudette's remains were discovered eight miles from town in a field. She had been shot twice in the head. From the beginning, town folks believed that she was murdered by the corrupt sheriff or his 18-year-old son, whom she was dating. Because of the corrupt sheriff's influence, no one was ever charged with the murder.

The wagon ground to a halt, and there was no time to feel anything, much less fear, as Jeremiah unbuckled and piled out with the others. And yet, as he paused momentarily to take in the building, a strange thing happened. He thought he heard a voice - a woman’s voice, a witch’s voice. And it said to him, as faintly as the cymbals at the start of the music, "Why have you come for us, witch doctor?"

When a small team of former special operators land in Tanzania to grab a local warlord, it's business as usual. But the situation quickly changes when they learn that a pride of lions has been feeding on the local populace. Unable to walk away leaving the locals to fend for themselves, the seasoned warriors are drawn into a conflict unlike anything they've ever taken part in. As they struggle to understand their new enemy, they're led deeper and deeper into the unforgiving Tanzanian wilderness.

I stared the thing in the eye and squeezed the trigger. It threw back its head, rising up. It gasped for breath, spitting more blood. It barked at the sky. Then it fell, head thumping against the deck. Its serpentine neck slumped. The rest of its blood spread over the boards and rolled around our boots and flowed between the planks.

Naaygi found them waiting for her - as she somehow knew they would be - as the cage doors opened, their forward-facing eyes glinting the same hue as the lights in the sky and their dark, storm-colored bodies held absolutely still (even as another animal joined them and brought their number to four). She even knew somehow what they were, that they were a breed of carnosaur the "evolved" humans had called nanotyrannosaurs, the "Pygmy Tyrants", and that one of them, the one with the brand upon its tail, the leader, even had a name - Napoleon.

The difference in their uncanny eyes could not be easily discerned. In the rays of the setting sun, both Aravel's and Morlan's eyes appeared gold. In the pale moonlight...yellow. Seemingly the same. Such inscrutable likeness is the way of things with identical twins. But all who knew the two brothers well noted unmistakable differences, peculiarities more experienced than seen.

Now that the smoke had cleared, she saw that the bulge had burst open, and was hollow. Reams of tree sap dribbled from its fracture. She stared at it as piano music tiptoed up the hall - Maggie's radio, no doubt - resonating eerily amidst the sterile walls. In addition to strands of weeping willow leaves, there were flowers, ferns, lilies, mushroom stools - she knew they hadn't been there before. Taken together, the branches almost formed a human shape - with shaggy shoulders and a mane of green hair - in profile.

He picked up one of the fur coats and helped her into it, then stroked the hair next to her temple, laying his head slowly back against the pillows. He gazed up at the gondola's steel ferro (which loomed above them for the ship was right behind him and the flat-bottomed boat's prow rested well above the waterline), and said, "Take hold of my ship's ferro, Shekalane. And hold on tightly." She looked at the great black and gold ferro, which pointed like a scimitar at the ceiling of the cavern, and its comb of seven tines, six pointing forward and one back, then back at Dravidian.