Hunter Killer (Admiral Arnold Morgan Series #8)

Hunter Killer (Admiral Arnold Morgan Series #8)

by Patrick Robinson

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The world's leading producer of oil is on the brink of revolution...

A Crown Prince, enraged over the careless, destructive rule of the Saudi royal family, is determined to bring about its fall — and secretly enlists the aid of a powerful Western ally. France, with its fleet of lethal Hunter Killer submarines, is willing to use whatever deadly force is necessary to shift the power structure of the world's oil giant for a guaranteed share of the wealth. Blind greed and duplicity have forged an unholy alliance — between France's most able commander . . . and General Ravi Rashood, the Middle East's most virulent terrorist.

The terrifying battle for a desert kingdom has begun, as the oil fields explode and the global economy is plunged into chaos. And former Security Advisor to the President, Admiral Arnold Morgan, must lead the offensive to expose the foulest treachery since World War II before America's worst nightmare becomes reality.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780060746902
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date: 04/25/2006
Series: Admiral Arnold Morgan Series , #8
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 496
Sales rank: 738,137
Product dimensions: 4.19(w) x 6.75(h) x 0.99(d)

About the Author

Patrick Robinson is the author of seven international bestselling suspense thrillers, including Nimitz Class and Hunter Killer, as well as several nonfiction bestsellers. He divides his time between Ireland and Cape Cod.

Read an Excerpt

Hunter Killer

By Patrick Robinson


ISBN: 0-06-074689-0

Chapter One


The black Cadillac stretch limousine moved swiftly around the public drop-off point to a wide double gate, already opened by the two armed guards. On each wing of the big American automobile fluttered two pennants, the green-and-blue ensigns of the Royal Saudi Naval Forces. Both guards saluted as the instantly recognizable limo swept past and out toward the wide runway of terminal three, the exclusive enclave of Saudia, the national airline.

Inside the limousine was one solitary passenger, Crown Prince Nasir Ibn Mohammed, deputy minister of the armed forces to his very senior cousin Prince Abdul Rahman, son of the late King Faisal. Both sentries saluted as Prince Nasir went by, heading straight for the take-off area where one of the King's newest Boeing 747s was awaiting him, engines idling in preparation for takeoff. Every other flight was on hold until the meticulously punctual Prince Nasir was in the air.

Wearing Arab dress, he was escorted to the outside stairway by both the chief steward and a senior naval officer. Prince Nasir's own son, the twenty-six-year-old Commodore Fahad Ibn Nasir, served on a Red Sea frigate, so his father was always treated like an Admiral wherever he traveled in the kingdom.

The moment he was seated in the upstairs first-class section, the door was tightly secured and the pilot opened the throttles. The royal passenger jet, reveling in its light load, roared off down the runway and screamed into the clear blue skies, directly into the hot south wind off the desert, before banking left, toward the Gulf, and then northwest across Iraq, to Syria.

He was the only passenger onboard. It was almost unheard of for a senior member of the royal family to travel alone, without even a bodyguard. But this was different. The 747 was not going even halfway to Prince Nasir's final destination. He used it only to get out of Saudi Arabia, to another Arab country. His real destination was entirely another matter.

A suitcase at the rear of the upstairs area contained his Western clothes. As soon as the flight was airborne, Prince Nasir changed into a dark gray suit, blue shirt, and a maroon print silk tie from Hermès, complete with a solid-gold clip in the shape of a desert scimitar. He wore plain black loafers, handmade in London, with dark gray socks.

The suitcase also held a briefcase containing several documents, which the Prince removed. He then packed away his white Arabian thobe, red-and-white ghutra headdress with its double cord, the aghal. He had left King Khalid Airport, named for his late greatuncle, as an Arab. He would arrive in Damascus every inch the international businessman.

When the plane touched down, two hours later, a limousine from the Saudi embassy met him and drove him directly to the regular midday Air France flight to Paris. The aircraft already contained its full complement of passengers, and although none of them knew it, they were sitting comfortably, seat belts fastened, awaiting the arrival of the Arabian prince.

The aircraft had pulled back from the Jetway, and a special flight of stairs had been placed against the forward entrance. Prince Nasir's car halted precisely at those stairs, where an Air France official waited to escort him to his seat. Four rows and eight seats, that is, had been booked in the name of the Saudi embassy, on Al-Jala'a Avenue. Prince Nasir sat alone in 1A. The rest of the seats would remain empty all the way to Roissy-Charles de Gaulle Airport, nineteen miles north of Paris.

They served a special luncheon, prepared by the cooks at the embassy, of curried chicken with rice cooked in the Indian manner, followed by fruit juice and sweet pastries. Prince Nasir, the most devout of Muslims, had never touched alcohol in his life and disapproved fiercely of any of his countrymen who did. The late Prince Khalid of Monte Carlo was not among his absolute favorites. The great man knew, beyond any doubt, of the antics of that particular deceased member of his family.

They flew on across Turkey and the Balkan states, finally crossing the Alps and dropping down above the lush French farmland that lies south of the forest of Ardenne, over the River Seine, and into northwest Paris.

Again, Prince Nasir endured no formalities nor checks. He disembarked before anyone else, down a private flight of stairs, where a jet-black, unmarked French government car waited to drive him directly to the heavily guarded Elysée Palace, on Rue St. Honoré, the official residence of the Presidents of France since 1873.

It was a little after 4 P.M. in Paris, the flight from Damascus having taken five hours, with a two-hour time gain. Two officials were waiting at the President's private entrance, and Prince Nasir was escorted immediately to the President's private apartment on the first floor overlooking Rue de l'Elysée.

The President was awaiting him in a large modern drawing room, which was decorated with a selection of six breathtaking Impressionist paintings, two by Renoir, two by Monet, and one each by Degas and Van Gogh. One hundred million dollars would not have bought them.

The President greeted Prince Nasir in impeccable English, the language agreed upon for the forthcoming conversation. By previous arrangement, no one would listen in. No ministers. No private secretaries. No interpreters. The following two hours before dinner would bring a meaning to the word privacy that was rarely, if ever, attained in international politics.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," began the President. "I trust my country's travel arrangements have been satisfactory?"

"Quite perfect," replied the Prince, smiling. "No one could have required more." The two men knew each other vaguely, but were hardly even friends, let alone blood brothers. Yet ...


Excerpted from Hunter Killer by Patrick Robinson Excerpted by permission.
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Hunter Killer (Admiral Arnold Morgan Series #8) 3.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 20 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Too Many Errors Mar a Good Story Hunter Killer by Patrick Robinson is a high tech military adventure by an author well known for stories about submarines and naval exploits. In this tale, France using its nuclear attack sub capability, helps a fundamentalist Saudi prince to overthrow a profligate Saudi Kingdom, and incidentally, to destroy the entire oil production capability of the country. This understandably throws the rest of the world into turmoil, except for France which gains reconstruction rights as a reward for its perfidy. The story line is interesting and almost plausible. There is plenty of action, especially when the French submarines destroy oil pumping facilities throughout Saudi Arabia and the French Special Forces destroy all of the seaside loading terminals. A new villain, Jacques Gamoudi and the old standby bad guy, Hamas General Ravi Rashood, are recruited and join forces to finish the takeover by capturing a key military installation and then the capital city of Riyadh. However, all is set aright by the perennial rescuers Admiral Arnold Morgan (ret.) and Lt. Commander Jimmy Ramshawe, who use the considerable resources of the NSA and other agencies around the world to expose the plot and send France, embarrassed and mumbling, into diplomatic oblivion. All of this makes for a good read. Unfortunately, there are some aspects which detract from the story and distract the reader. There are puzzling instances of using words inappropriately, and of incorrect quotes of American idiom. This happens too often to be excused. Most distracting however, are technical gaffes (this is a high tech story) such as heat seeking Harpoon missiles, D-band sonar, towed arrays for torpedo warning, and Boeing Airbus aircraft, to mention a few. A real whizzer is that the expert mountaineer, Jacques Gamoudi, uses ¿crampons¿ (which attach to a climber¿s boots) as anchor points for his climbing ropes instead of ¿pitons¿, which would be the correct implement. One can only hope that more care will be taken in constructing the next story and in researching the technical aspects.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
ponsonby on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Moderate entry in Robinson's series of tales about Arab terrorism. Large chucnks of stuff about military planning and raids, not very interesting. Basic storyline about French collaborating with Saudi Prince in blowing up the oil industry not very credible. Some submarine action but very little. Admiral Morgan reduced to a cariacture of himself. Lacks characterisation.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
What kind of reader would you say this book is for? Military/political thrillers. Would you read other books by this author based on your experience with this one? Yes! Would you recommend this for book club discussions? Yes! The characters are real, the plot is interesting and the type of writing is first rate.
HayseedTX More than 1 year ago
First of Patrick Robinson`s books I have read. It kept me on the edge of my seat. He is a very good writer and knows his subject very well.
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Jerryna More than 1 year ago
After receiving an Ereader for Christmas I came here to purchase the ebook version of the paperback I was currently reading. When it became obvious I could not find my place in the ebook I returned here to determine if this was one of those MODIFIED versions. Nowhere was that info available. I am terribly disappointed in this NEW version of books and will sell the ereader and go back to buying used paperbacks for my reading material.
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Guest More than 1 year ago
Inept even by Robinson's standards. A Saudi prince, disgusted with Western-decadence and the financial destabilization of Saudi Arabia, colludes with France to destabilize Saudi Arabia and topple its king. France teams Ravi Rashood (Hamas mastermind of other Robinson books) with Jacque Garmoody (a Morrocan-born French commando), throws in its subs, missiles and Al Qaeda guerrilas (working with Hamas!?!?) to achieve its ends. Though hailed for his realism, Robinson has never been less plausible. As in 'Nimitz Class', he has high-profile targets falling prey by means that would have been anticipated (in ¿Nimitz¿, an aircraft carrier is sunk by a rogue sub even though carriers have anti-submarine sensors and weapons in ¿Hunter¿, guerrillas basically walk onto Saudi bases and destroy the Saudi military on the ground ¿ security? Saudi petro-industrial sites fall to sub-launched missiles fired with impunity by French subs, even though Iran has had such weapons for years.) Despite the mideastern action, Robinson¿s real focus is on French backers. By the end of the story, it is France (and not the virulently anti-American and Anti-Israeli regime they¿ve installed) that face Yankee wrath. In pages that must be read to be believed, Robinson¿s heroes rail against France, not only for their role in the Saudi coup, but for their opposition to the invasion of Iraq in 2003, about 6 years before the events of this book. (Given the decadence of the Saudi regime as documented in his book and the fact that Robinson¿s characters don¿t appear affected at all despite the shutdown of the Saudi oil industry, when added to the instances of American mass-destruction perpetrated in Robinson¿s other books it¿s hard to justify Robinson¿s anti-French ire.) Nevertheless, the French fear disclosure of their role ¿ but Robinson¿s French are so inept, they make discovery inevitable. When recruiting Garmoody, they make no secret of France¿s role The French have Rashood and Garmoody meet on French soil (in trademark Robinson style, they meet in a restaurant where the menu gets most of the attention) after flying Rashood on a French airliner. (Robinson appears to have prepared his French characters by watching a lot of ¿Pink Panther¿ movies.) Though a technothriller, there¿s very little technology in detail on display (always a weak spot for Robinson), and other details simply kill the realism. (In one unbelievable scene, an Israeli hit-team confronts its prey and, in a demonstration of what Robinson considers the fine-art of assassination, sprays the room with gunfire.) Despite critics¿ insistence to the contrary, the genre has bred writing substantially better than Robinson¿s torturously bad prose.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Patrick Robinson succeeds again in drawing me to his latest title, Hunter Killer. I couldn't let the book down. I recommend it to anyone that loves a good military story.