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Monday, June 11, 2012

"Deep ocean adventure in the tradition of Clive Cussler."


OMAR: A Novel


Brief Synopsis: In 1995, the CIA / FBI jointly uncovered secret plans to recover priceless treasure from 2077 fathoms below the North Atlantic Ice Barrier, aboard RMS Titanic. A terrorist organization competed against divers, hired by a billionaire, which set off a complex web of intrigue and suspense. Dr. Cary Parker, Woods Hole oceanographer and maritime law specialist, was recruited to beat both teams to the ship's grave. A wave of global terrorism was set into motion, as Parker challenged the terrorists on his own turf. And a rare, priceless, early 20th Century book became the primary focus of a triadic search.

Reviews


"Deep ocean adventure in the tradition of Clive Cussler." Charles Pellegrino, New York Times Bestselling Author of the thriller, Dust

“... chillingly accurate in its depictions of terrorists, their actions, plots beliefs and ruthlessness. Thompson’s writing is top caliber, immediately putting him on a square playing field with the genre’s top purveyors.... An extremely engaging read that firmly establishes an exciting (author) in the genre.” N.M.J. Rapport Magazine - The Modern Guide to Books, Music and More!



A short excerpt from the suspense-thriller, OMAR: A Novel (A Cary Parker Thriller).

GEORGES BANK

“Note, thirty-five fathoms and descending. And,” he paused, “mark forty fathoms. Going smoothly. Over.”

“Copy. Tracking well.” The crew pensively watched the holographic sonar screens as the Shelty continued its descent.

“Coming up on forty-five fathoms. Mark. Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight. Slowing her down . . . forty-nine. Mark fifty fathoms.”

“We copy, Shelty. Looking good,” Calder said. “Take a rest, then bring her up.”

Parker took two minutes to recheck instruments. He adjusted the oxygen filter and took a deep breath. Breathing in the sub was more comfortable, since experimental membranes—developed by the medical industry—were placed along the midpoint of the sub’s water-jet tubing. The hardened membranes served as arteries to absorb air dissolved in the water, as gills would perform the same function for most species of fish. The unique membranes increased the craft’s underwater longevity by extracting liquid oxygenous gases from the water, through reversed fractional distillation. It then converted the gases to oxygen, and mixed it with the on board supply for the cabin.

“I’m going to push the envelope on the way up,” Parker reported in. “Full throttle this time.”

“Uh, Cary, that’s not necessary. Over.”

“She can handle it. This baby’s got spunk.”

Calder looked at the technicians in the van. He shrugged a what-are-ya’-gonna-do shrug as crew laughed off the tension.

“We copy, boss.”

Parker let his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. The submersible quietly remained suspended at three hundred feet below the surface. A green glow of light, from topside, filtered through the seawater, and Parker allowed himself to be entertained by schools of fish that innocently passed and flash-tacked to a new heading as they sensed the intruder.

Then, he nudged the throttle and the Shelty took on life once more. Like a seahorse, it kicked back and surged forward, climbing at ten knots. Then fifteen; twenty. The water rushed past the sub’s viewports as Parker checked his computer for the sonar’s plotted DR to Neptune’s Knot. He pushed on the throttle.

“Twenty-two knots, fellas. Bearing one-nine-two.”

“Roger.”

Rapidly he accelerated to thirty knots. He banked to port, forcing the Shelty to almost lie on its side—like crossing his own wake on a water ski nearly parallel to the surface. Then he reversed to starboard and resumed the ascent.

“Got you climbing fast. Watch for surface clutter,” Calder needled, referring to their ship lying overhead.

Parker held the throttle steady rather than push too hard too soon. But the Shelty raced through its ascent, smoothly accepting the limits as routine.

“Coming up fast, Cary,” Andy warned.

“Got a handle on it.”

The crew watched the sub accelerate through each level of speed and altitude, flying like a jet through electronic innerspace on their sonar screens.

“Getting close,” said Calder. “Better throttle down.”

“Got Neptune on my screen. Mark at fifteen fathoms… ten… ”

Suddenly, the craft stopped dead in the water, and an underwater wake surged past the Shelty like a fast-moving subway. But the submersible held steady, sixty feet from the surface, just fore of Neptune’s bows.

“What happened,” Calder radioed. “You okay?”

“Just testing....This sub stops on a dime.”

“Dammit, Cary, don’t scare us like that.”

“Sorry, partner. But we’ve got to know her capabilities. Not much time ‘til we head for the North Atlantic.”

“Yeah, but give us more warning.”

“I copy partner.”

The control van crew watched their screens in anticipation of Parker’s next move. The object on the main color monitor held steady at ten fathoms below the surface. Quickly, Parker increased his speed from zero to fifteen knots, and the object shot across the screen in a straight line underwater, nearly two hundred fifty yards out from the bows.

“Okay, here’s your warning, Andy.”


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