Brad Thor - State of the Union. A thriller

Glenn Beck calls Brad Thors The Last Patriot a thriller to die for. Nelson DeMille dubs Scot Harvath the perfect all-American hero for the postSeptember 11th world. Now, Brad Thor delivers more high voltage entertainment reminiscent of Robert Ludlum ( Library Journal ).

STATE OF THE UNION

One of the best emerging thriller writers on the continent.

Ottawa Citizen

[A] blistering, testosterone-fueled espionage thriller.

Publishers Weekly

THE APOSTLE

Blasts off like a guided missile and never slows down, weaving current events into a frightening scenario that just could happen. Brad Thor rocks!

Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author of The Keepsake

Brad Thor has done it again an out-of-the-ballpark home run. You wont want to put it down.

Blackwater Tactical Weekly

A must read. An action-packed story with more than a few parallels to the current political climate. Powerfully and convincingly draws you in. A breathtaking, edge-of-your-seat experience.

NationalTerrorAlert.com

State of the Union is also available from Simon & Schuster Audio

Read the #1 New York Times bestseller that is as close to a perfect thriller as youll ever find*Brad Thors

THE LAST PATRIOT

Brilliantly plotted and ingeniously conceived.

Providence Journal-Bulletin (RI)*

Stunning.

Publishers Weekly

The Last Patriot [will] make an action addict drool.

San Antonio Express-News

Wow, this guy can write.

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

[A] nonstop action machine. A thoroughly researched, high-fueled thrill ride.

Tampa Tribune

THE FIRST COMMANDMENT

An intelligent, sizzling adventure full of international intrigue.

Wilmington Morning Star (NC)

Readers who like Tom Clancy and Stephen Coonts will love Brad Thor.

Chicago Tribune

An adrenaline-charged thriller. Brad Thor knows how to excite the senses.

Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Vendetta

TAKEDOWN

[Like] the TV show and other high-octane thrillers, Takedown is crisp and cinematic, with gun-blazing, gut-busting action.

The Tennessean

Enthralling. A smart, explosive work that details events about to happen outside your front door.

Bookreporter.com

Exciting frightening. [A] masterpiece.

Midwest Book Review

BLOWBACK

Haunting, high-voltage. One of the best thriller writers in the business.

Ottawa Citizen

An incredible international thriller. Riveting and superior.

Brunei Press Syndicate

PATH OF THE ASSASSIN

If Thors second international thriller had any more testosterone, it would grow hair. The well-choreographed action and thrills will keep readers engrossed.

Publishers Weekly

The action is relentless, the pacing sublime.

Ottawa Citizen

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For Sloane Welcome to the world, little one.

Cunctando Regitur Mundis

Waiting, one rules the world.

W ASHINGTON , DC

T UESDAY EVENING , J ANUARY 28

W hat I want , Chuck, is ten minutes of peace and quiet so I can think, snapped the president to his chief of staff.

Charles Anderson had never seen his boss like this. Then again, America had never faced a situation of this magnitude before. With less than three hours until he was expected to deliver his State of the Union address, President Jack Rutledge had already made the tough decision of evacuating Congress and settling on a videotaped address from the White House. The hardest call, though, still lay before him.

Okay, people, voiced Anderson. You heard the president. Lets give him the room. Everybody out. Well reconvene in the Situation Room.

Once the Oval Office had cleared out, the president leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and massaged his forehead with the heels of his hands. His oath of office called for him to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitutiona body of laws, which obliged him, to give to Congress information of the State of the Union and recommend to their consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient. Never in a million years could he have imagined that the execution of his duties would lead to the unraveling of everything America had fought to become.

He was reminded of the first State of the Union address given by George Washington over two hundred years ago at New Yorks Federal Hall. With the country in the fledgling stages of its great democratic experiment, Washington had focused on the very concept of union itself and the challenges not only of establishing, but of maintaining it.

How in the hell had things come to this? Rutledge wondered as he opened his eyes and studied the two folders on the desk in front of him. Each contained a different version of his State of the Union address, and each had the potential to be equally devastating. The fate of millions of Americans would be decided by what he said and did in the next three hours.

Though not a particularly religious man, President Jack Rutledge closed his eyes once again and this time prayed to God for guidance.

Z VENIGOROD , R USSIA

T HREE WEEKS PRIOR

W inter has come too early this year, Sergei Stavropol complained as he threw his long overcoat onto a chair near the door. He was the last of the four men to arrive. I think this will be one of the coldest we have seen in a long time. Crossing over to the bar, he withdrew a decanter of brandy and filled a delicate crystal snifter. He was an enormous man with dark hair and a large nose that bore evidence of having been broken many times. At six-foot-three inches tall and two hundred seventy-five pounds, he was bigger than any of the other men in the room, but it was his dark, penetrating eyes that drew all of the attention and that had long ago earned him his nickname. Though he hated the Rasputin moniker, he found that it instilled in his enemies and those who would oppose him a certain degree of fear, and therefore he had allowed it to stick. His salt-and-pepper-colored hair was trimmed in a military-style crew cut. His skin was severely pockmarked and his left eye drooped slightly due to a grenade that had exploded in his face as he was pushing one of his men out of dangers way. While he was twice as brave as his assembled colleagues, he was easily less than half as refined, and as if to demonstrate that very fact, he downed his brandy in one long swallow.

The men around the table smiled at their friends behavior. Stavropol was as constant as the northern star. In over forty years, nothing had changed himnot money, not power, not even the knowledge that he would go down in history as one of the greatest soldiers Mother Russia had ever produced. In combat, he had saved the life of each man in the room, some more than once, but they had not gathered in this remote wooded area forty miles west of Moscow to relive the past. On the contrary, the four men seated around the worn oak table were there to shape the future.