If you ever travel anywhere with Jeff Abbott, insist on driving.
Even if it's just to the corner convenience store. Because if he
drives like he writes, you'll be so wired by the time you get to
your destination that you'll be hunched beneath the dashboard, with
your fingers covering your eyes. Well, you'll be peeking, but you
get the idea.
My reason for saying this is that I just finished Abbott's latest
novel, PANIC, a task that requires --- nay, demands! --- your
nonstop attention from beginning to end. The body count starts on
page six and doesn't stop until practically the very end. However,
this isn't a spray-and-pray gorefest; it's a smart, intelligent