Into the Fire

Kyle Mills continues the Mitch Rapp legacy created by Vince Flynn with his latest release Lethal Agent. 

I have to say after the hair-raising sequence of events in this quickly read story of bio-weapon terrorism and corrupt politicians, I loved the Epilogue. So much. 

One thing in my mind which makes Mitch Rapp the ultimate hero in literature is his sense of good and evil. He has zero qualms about wiping out evil. He gets frustrated like I'm sure most of the military, espionage, law enforcement servants of this country do, and for the same reason: as soon as you eliminate one or a dozen wicked enemies, there are just as many or more to take their places. However, when you are finally able to send one to judgment, it somehow makes the effort worth it. Wounds are bound, healing takes place, scars remain but get ignored, and the heroes trudge onward to eliminate as many evildoers as possible.To get justice. They're a special breed, and Mitch Rapp encompasses every quality that sets operatives like himself apart. 

Lethal Agent is a no-nonsense story about an ISIS terrorist who has two ruthless plans he wants to unleash after surviving near death at the hands of Mitch Rapp. First, he wants to draw Rapp out so he can be captured and tortured once Rapp learns the terrorist survived the incident which should have killed him. Secondly, he wants to infect the USA with an easily spread and lethal disease transported by his devout volunteers. 

The lengths to which Rapp goes to find a way to pursue the ISIS terrorist is done largely on his own, after securing a secret signature on some documents, until he learns the objective and their means to employ it. Then his team is called in, CIA Director Irene Kennedy, whose hands have been tied, jumps into limited action with the assistance of a bio-hazard team. 

There is superb action, hateful criminals, and a particular politician whose lust for power mirrors certain contemporary females, and of course Mitch is at his best when the stakes are high even when he pays a critical price for his actions.

My favorite line in this novel is given in CIA Director Irene Kennedy's thoughts. It reads: "The human species' ability to believe whatever it wanted was truly incredible." Amen to that.

As a Christian reader, I have only one complaint: using "God" interchangeably with "Allah". That doesn't work for me. If, in fact, Muslims do refer at times to Allah as God, I'd never heard it (which means nothing). Whether or not it was to be in keeping with the currently "politically correct" views of Islam, or to realistically depict what they call Allah at times, the whole of Islamic terrorism was otherwise portrayed with its accurate hatred/intent of destroying infidels (in which they detest the Christian "God") – and Mitch Rapp in particular. 

Mitch Rapp is at a point in his life where he's examining what's ahead for him. His philosophizing can take on a bit of a dark turn at times and his vacillating on his relationship(s) seems ill-defined at this point in his life. This is another reason Mitch Rapp is the best hero: under all the bravado and one-of-a-kind skill master, he's vulnerable and knows there's an endgame. This superman is human, too. And we love that about him.

Some profanity. Shorter story than I'd hoped for but fluid and a quick read. Do read it if you love Mitch Rapp. 

Father, please continue to bless Kyle with his amazing talent, keep him safe from all harm, and supply the stories you have just for him to tell. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

     Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. 

     In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness. For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace. 

Romans 6:8-14 (NIV)

                      (From my unpublished novel The Fixer)

CHAPTER 2

     “What’s wrong with you?”
     “What do you mean?” Lamb looked up from her invoices, slightly perturbed at the question.
     “C’mon, Lamb. You haven’t said ten words to anyone since you got here.” Dan Johnson leaned on the doorframe with folded arms. “Your expression is somewhere between frustration and hacked off. Level with me.”
     Dan could always read her body language. That’s why after only a few dates he confronted her with proof of why she shouldn’t go out with him anymore since she wasn’t really comfortable dating him. She’d protested, of course, and tried to justify her awkward behavior, but in the end she concluded he was right, and they became good friends. Now engaged to a woman who adored him, Lamb was glad because a great guy deserved a devoted woman. He and Lamb simply hadn’t been meant for each other.
     Lamb looked up from her desk across the short distance to his penetrating taupe eyes. “Alright. I am hacked off. I’m mad that my stupid parents were such flakes, bless their souls. I’m mad because my oldest sister carries on as if she’s my martyr-like mother incarnate and after spending the last four years of her life with a truly good man decides to dump him after he asks her to marry him because she’s sure he’ll leave her one day. My younger sister, on the other hand, Ms. Modern-Day-Power-Woman, who is the female version of my dad who was ‘a rambler, and a gambler, and a sweet-talkin’ lady’s man’ to quote a Joni Mitchell song, won’t commit to anyone, calls my older sister a flake because of her being a head case regarding relationships. Oh, forgive me, Lord, for calling my parents stupid. And for my anger and frustration at my sisters.” She finished her tirade. Despondent.
     “Huh.”
     “Yeah. Not much you can say about it, is there?”
     “Well, I could probably say something reasonably intelligent if you’d ever told me anything about your parents, but you were decidedly coy with any information concerning them.”
     “Be glad for that, trust me. Oh I suppose lots of people have parents who weren’t exactly the best role models for their children. It’s just that mine were considerably weird in a lot of ways, and it rubs off, not withstanding the genetic codes.”
     “Well, other than your aversion to me, you’ve always seemed fairly normal, Lamb,” he teased with a straight face.
      She laughed. “Stop it. ‘Aversion’? That’s a good one.”
     He smiled at her, his fondness for her evident in his expression. “You’re the only believer in your family?”
     “Actually, both of my parents experienced death bed conversions, neither of which my sisters were able to personally witness. Other than that, I guess it’s just me. Mom’s side of the family is gone. It was very small, single child families, almost as if each life was an accident on their part. Dad’s family—who knows? There could be some out there, but we only met a handful of them, and those are all gone now, too. There’s the possibility we have some half brothers or sisters out there, but either they weren’t informed of Dad’s death which is hard to believe because of his relative fame, or they just didn’t know the whereabouts of the service we had for him. Or maybe they didn’t care he was gone.” She looked down at her cluttered desk. “I don’t know.”
     “You know, it’s kinda neat that all the ‘stuff’ will be resolved in heaven. And it won’t matter anymore.” He gazed down at his Chuck Taylor’s. “Everybody’s got ‘stuff’, Lamb.”
     “You too?” Surprise darted from her voice.
     “Unlike you, I would’ve spilled my guts about it all, but you never asked,” he said with fake indignation.
     Her sheepish expression returned to her desk. “I was afraid to. If I asked, I had to answer for mine. Couldn’t do it. Not then.”
     He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, actually. Like I said, I would’ve told you all about it, but I didn’t really want to either.”
     “Do you now?” Her inquiry came out tentative but sincere.
     He pushed the lone chair in her small office to face away from her desk and straddled it. “If it’ll help, I’d be glad to.”
     “It might. I can’t guarantee it will, though.”

Father, thank you for every storyline, every word and inspiration. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

This note was from a highly respected literary agency back in 2004 regarding my submission of The Famous One. Although it was regarding a rejection by the agents, it was also an affirmation of my writing and the story, and for that I was exceedingly grateful. 

     "Although my office gave your manuscript a favorable review for voice, character development and innovative plotline, I cannot speak for the agents and must defer to their expert judgment as to which authors and projects they feel they can fully commit their limited time and attention. I can tell you that in most cases, if strong writing like yours is declined, the agents' inside information on publishers' needs is the reason."

Father, you know the path for me, ordained before conception. I thank you for the journey all along the way. May I give you all the trust you deserve and keep traveling the way you've designed for me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

In Arkansas.

In Connecticut

In Indiana

Fall is here, and it looks similar no matter where you go in the beautiful USA.

Father, thank you for inserting beauty into the changing seasons. You left some beauty for us when we destroyed your ordained perfection for us. Forgive us. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Ahh, remember this one? Memories of "Holly Golightly" anyone? The crooning voice of Andy Williams in this classic from Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Father, all we truly have is you. You allow us the freedom to take you or leave you via your Son. May those who use your gifts but fail to know you find you before it's too late for them. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The Bone Tree by bestselling author Greg Iles is Book Two in the trilogy that begins with Natchez Burning and concludes with Mississippi Blood. 

Let's face it: if you're writing a contemporary southern novel but your intent is to include the ugly history of prejudice then and now, plus you want to fire up the conspiracy theories on the JFK assassination after having done considerable research, and then add the well-known and documented southern corruption in different areas of law enforcement past and present, you no doubt will produce a very long, wicked, cruel story such as Greg Iles' The Bone Tree. 

There will be generational evil that accompanies more than one family of military and law enforcement men who have ruled an elite hunting reserve where politicians visit for more than the sport of killing exotic animals throughout the fenced compound that borders the swamp in this isolated area.

And of course you'd include a couple of intense journalists who want to bring down these crooked psychopathic killers who pose as lawmen and businessmen because their families have been killing blacks and anyone else who's gotten in their way as they climbed the ladder to wealth and notoriety while managing to spread absolute terror to any who oppose them. And what would happen to these challenging journalists when they get too close to exposing these men?

And how about a skilled and determined FBI agent who refuses to abandon what he's really pursuing?

Then you return the protagonist from other previous books including the first in this series, you challenge his very life and loves along with his principles, and you produce the second novel in this trilogy The Bone Tree. Phew. Yes, that's what you'd do if you're Greg Iles.

There is terror, profanity, and some vulgarity. The Bone Tree is a bit slow in developing but the final two-thirds of the novel are riveting. Recommended for those who are interested in the old South (even though this is set in the contemporary south), the JFK assassination, and are able to ignore an occasional skewed political perspective.

Father, man's inhumanity to man has been ongoing since the Fall of Man. We're born into sin and we clash with it on a daily, sometimes by the minute, basis. Please forgive us and help us to always repent. Lead us to your Son, the Savior of the world. I pray your blessing and understanding of who you are over Greg. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived, but now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

Colossians 3:5-11 (NIV)

That's a great graphic for my title to this post. Yes, I love a good thriller because there are always – or definitely should be – quality heroes in the stories. Tough, intelligent, daring, sometimes chameleon, with just enough emotional character to keep them interesting instead of robotic. Exciting, fast-paced, meaningful, and threatening events to set up or overcome. Prose to match the tension. Accelerating action. 

Yes. That's why a good thriller is a page-turning adrenaline ride, and I love reading them. 

Be careful though. A lot of novels wearing the descriptive label of "thriller" simply aren't. They're suspense novels and I also enjoy reading those but not when labeled a thriller – but really are not. 

Father, thank you for the multiple writers and authors who you've blessed with creating thrilling stories. Apart from you, we can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

           (From my e-book novel Sweet Release, Chapter Four)

     The telephone rang and startled CM out of an unintended doze on the couch. It was already dark. Without thinking to check the caller ID she picked up the receiver and hoarsely answered.
     “Claudia? Honey, is that you?” her mom asked hesitantly.
     “Oh, hi, Mom.” She cleared her throat.
     “I tried to reach you at work. Char said you went home yesterday and called in sick today. Are you alright?”
     “Yeah, Mom. Light day, and I was feeling a little under the weather, you know?”
     “I’m sorry to have to burden you with this if you’re not feeling well, honey, but your father has been in an accident.” She lowered her voice unintentionally and held back a sob. “A rather serious one, I’m afraid. You better come down to the hospital.”
     “For real, Mom?” she asked, her stomach uneasy.
     “For real, Claudia. And, CM, I have two requests. Number one: please hurry. And number two: please listen to what your father has to say. Please,” she nearly whispered. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
     After getting the correct hospital and learning her father was in ICU, she walked into her bathroom to wash her face, staring for a moment at her swollen eyes and red face. “My mother called me CM,” she said into the mirror. Milicent Marie Rutheford had never called her daughter CM, refusing to accept her daughter wouldn’t choose to go by her given names, carefully chosen for her by her mother after the two most influential women in her life and agreed to by her father because of his own respect for the two women. Those must’ve been the days, she thought abstractedly as she hurried to repair the damage crying for hours had done to her face.
     She quickly changed her clothes and was out the door within ten minutes of the phone call. As she drove to the hospital, she remembered her mother’s two requests, the second one puzzling her. When in the last 20 years had her mother ever told her to listen to her dad? If ever in fact she had. Her dad left them nearly that long ago after being unfaithful more than once. Her mother had done her level best not to badmouth her father, and although her mom was truly a pretty woman with a sweet personality, she’d never married again, and you could count on one hand the amount of men with whom she’d ventured out on a date since the breakup.
     As CM grew into adulthood, she realized her mom had never stopped loving her dad and she simply didn’t want anyone else if she couldn’t have him. When CM pressed her with pointed questions about his infidelity, her mom answered her as honestly as she could, but when those questions produced tearful answers, CM ceased asking them. It pained CM worse to see how hurt her mother was at what her father had done to them—or maybe she’d just chosen to grow out of the hurt and lock it away someplace where it didn’t have to resurface. Until now. Why in the world should I listen to anything my father has to say?

Father, again, apart from you, I can do nothing. No words, no stories, no inspiration. For all of it, thank you is never enough. I'm so grateful. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.