Existential Threats (Book 4 of The CIA International Thriller Series)

Title: Existential Threats (Book 4 of The CIA International Thriller Series)
Author: R. Lawson
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 345
Genre:  Thriller/Espionage

The CIA's incoming Director of Counter Terrorism, Biff Roberts, is inheriting a multitude of challenges. For starters, there is the existential threat of a nuclear Iran. Added to that, the Middle East has become enmeshed in a surge of radical religious extremism ranging from fanatical Muslims of the Islamic State to the Taliban, groups who commit unspeakable atrocities using violence to pursue their atavistic goals. Syria’s civil war could result in Assad's weapons of mass destruction getting into the hands of the splintered groups of Islamic Jihadists fighting there. This radical ideology has now spilled over into Africa with furious intensity.

And as if these international problems were not enough imminent threats to confront, Iranian mullahs have issued an Islamic death warrant fatwa on Biff, and those hoping to see it through are chasing him to the ends of the Earth.

Things move closer to home when CIA intelligence discovers that Iran has dispatched Mahmoud Abu Javari, the notorious IED bomb maker to the U.S.  Biff now faces a Homeland threat of 9/11 proportions and has to thwart a bomb plot in San Francisco without knowing the target or timing for the planned act of terror.

Review

I became interested in this book when I learned that it was a CIA international thriller. I am always a big fan of books that focus on federal agencies like the CIA, NCIS, and the FBI. This is my first time reading a book by R. Lawson, but I always enjoy trying out new books from authors that I have not previously read. When I stick with only authors I know things tend to become a bit predictable and boring. Existential Threats by R. Lawson opens with a table of contents, each chapter has its own title. I find that more and more authors are only using numbers for chapter titles, but I always enjoy that moment within a chapter when the chapter title makes sense.

The book opens with the main character Biff Roberts going on a skiing trip with Patricia and her children. The book at this point alternates between Biff and Patricia and two assassins trying to hit bill with a sniper rifle. The plan is to shoot him just as he begins to ski, but Biffs luck saves his life as the bullet misses any major organs. Biff's security team races to save the day then one time skip later and Biff is in the hospital dealing with a rude nurse. 

This very fast pace beginning set the pace and plot for the entire book. I really like Biff as a character and I enjoyed R. Lawson's fast pace writing style and plot writing. The book was well written and I greatly enjoyed reading it.

I was sent a free copy of Existential Threats by R. Lawson for only a honest and unbiased review of the book. 

About the Author

R. Lawson is a retired vascular surgeon and served as a captain in the United States Air Force as a flight surgeon. With over 120 academic works under his belt, he moved into the fiction genre and began writing thrillers with a focus on terrorism, cyber spying, national security and more.

He hopes that you enjoy his CIA International Intrigue series featuring Biff Roberts, veteran CIA agent, as he travels the globe thwarting threats to the United States and its allies.

His latest books are Existential Threats and The Carrington Prophecy, Book 4 & 5 in The CIA International Thriller series.

For More Information

• Visit R. Lawon’s website.
• Connect with R. on Facebook and Twitter.
• Find out more about R. at Goodreads.

For More Information

• Existential Threats is available at Amazon.
• Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

Book Excerpt:

CORTINA D’AMPEZZO, ITALY

New Year’s Day

The assassins hid behind a huge boulder above the timberline, giving

them an excellent view of the ski slopes below.

“In the red parka at the top of the Tofana piste,” the handler, Rashid,

said, spotting the target first. He spoke in Arabic with a distinctive French

inflection, his calm voice belying his excitement. “Look to the right side of

the slope. He’s just inside the tree line, leaning on his ski poles and talking

with the woman and her children. See him?”

Beside Rashid, Mustapha frowned as he peered through the scope of his

rifle. “Your binoculars have a wider field of view,” he complained. His accent

was foreign to Rashid, an African version of Arabic that fell heavily on

Rashid’s ears. In addition to disliking his accent, Rashid found Mustapha’s

facial tattoos—tribal markings apparently—distasteful. But Mustapha had

a reputation as a skilled shooter and he seemed dedicated to their mission.

“Big guy, blond hair,” Rashid said as he laid his Bushnell binoculars

on the hood of their snowmobile and pointed. “About six hundred meters

down to the right. Use my binoculars if you can’t spot him.”

“Okay, now I have him,” Mustapha said, grinning. “He’s much bigger

than I imagined, good target. But there’s a tree branch in the way

now. I’ll wait until he skis out to the first mogul, then I’ll have him in my crosshairs.”

* * *

Biff Roberts stopped at the top of the Tofana run, enjoying the rest and

the magnificent early morning view of Cortina below. The gondola had

dropped them off at over ten thousand feet, and after traversing over

to the piste, they were even higher. It was easy to get winded at this

altitude.

“Let the youngsters go first, Patricia,” Biff said. “I doubt we can match

their pace.”

“Okay, Biff,” Patricia said, smiling warmly. Patricia DeBartola was

in her fifties, but Biff thought she looked better than most women thirty

years younger. Like him, she kept herself in great shape, another reason

they were a great match.

Biff was enjoying a rare break from work before the next big step in his

career. After four decades in the CIA, he was about to take on his most challenging

role yet—as the head of Langley’s clandestine Counterterrorism

Division. He was looking forward to getting started, but first he wanted to

spend time with Patricia and get to know her kids better.

“Watch out for ice on the downside of moguls at this hour,” Patricia

told him. “It’s so easy to catch an edge when you check and turn downhill.

And although it’s a black diamond run, it’s really not too difficult if you

control your speed. That’s essential. Rest if you start to tire.”

Patricia could see from Biff’s smile that he didn’t mind her advice. But

she realized she might be overdoing it.

“Don’t do anything crazy trying to impress me, okay?” She smiled to

try and hide her concern. “I know how you are sometimes.”

Maybe I do worry too much, she thought. But she was an expert skier

and this was a challenging slope. Biff was strong and athletic, and he’d

told her he could ski, but could he handle this steep hill? She didn’t want

to jeopardize their holiday vacation with an injury. In retrospect, maybe

she shouldn’t have brought him up here, but the Tofana chute was her

children’s favorite run, and the view was absolutely spectacular. She would

just have to watch him closely.

“You got it, lady,” Biff said. “I promise to take it nice and easy.” Biff

didn’t want her worrying about him today. Biff’s work meant he was

often in danger, but this was time to relax and get to know her family

better.

Patricia glanced at her daughter. “Alessandra, I suggest you go first, in

case you fall. Your brothers will follow to pick you up.”

Her daughter remained silent, not taking the bait.

“Right, Enzo and Donatello?” Patricia added. “You’ll look out for your

baby sister? She might be a bit rusty.” Alessandra had given birth last year

and missed the ski season. “Be sure to keep a close eye on her, okay?”

“No problem, Mom,” Enzo replied without hesitation, smiling widely.

Unlike his sister, Enzo appreciated his mother’s sense of humor, which

was often half in jest, half in earnest.

“Same old predictable Mom, looking out for her brood,” Donatello

said quietly beside Enzo. Donatello leaned on his ski poles, raring to go.

They had both heard that refrain for years, to look out for their baby

sister.

“Yeah, right, Mom,” Donatello said loudly. “No problem.” He replied

like a good son should, no matter his age. Their dad had disciplined

them well.

“Doubt we’ll keep up with her, though. She’s definitely the

best downhiller in the family, maybe the town,” Donatello reminded

her, as if she wasn’t cognizant of that well-established fact after all these

years.

‘Baby sister’ had been a top notch ski instructor on this mountain

and the winner of many alpine competitions before she married ten years

ago and started her family. Now the mother of three, Alessandra still

had a cult-like following of aspirant young female skiers in Cortina who

stopped her on the streets for her advice on training exercises and hints

on succeeding in timed trials.

At Donatello’s remark, Alessandra just politely smiled, shunning the

time-honored family banter, and pushed off. She checked adroitly on the

first mogul and swiftly weaved her way gracefully down the fall line, starting

the five-thousand-foot vertical descent to the Dolomite village in the

valley below.

Biff watched her glide effortlessly down the steep slope, darting

through the moguls like a rabbit, changing direction unpredictably but

smoothly.

“The whole scene is definitely like an edited Warren Miller ski clip,”

Biff observed. “Good show.”

“She’s a talented skier,” Patricia replied. She was clearly proud of her

family, especially her daughter, and rightfully so.

“She doesn’t look a bit rusty to me,” Biff complimented.

“She’s still got it at thirty, hasn’t lost a move.” She nodded to her sons.

“OK, boys. Go catch her, if you can.” Patricia laughed delightedly, realizing

she hadn’t been this happy in years. She had been nervous about

having the kids meet Biff, but everything was going wonderfully.

The brothers immediately set off after their sister, laughing. They were

strong, athletic skiers but lacked their sister’s grace as she short turned in

the fall line, taunting them to catch her.

“A classic display of sibling rivalry?” Biff suggested. “You raised some

great kids, Patricia. Look at them go, having a ball.”

“Thank you. This is always a big part of our family New Year’s tradition.

They’re trying to make an impression. They intend to test you out as

a prospective stepfather, so heads up.”

“Natural thing to do, I suppose.” Biff smiled down at Patricia. “You

sure scored impressively with my family last week.” Patricia had gone to

Arizona with him for Christmas festivities. “You turned Caroline’s life

around, thank God.”

Patricia smiled, pleased. “She just needed some motherly TLC. I

understand what she’s going through.”

“You gave her helpful insight, dear,” Biff said. “It’s been a whirlwind

experience introducing our kids, judging if they’ll accept our relationship.

Like you said, so far, so good.”

Less than a year ago, Biff’s wife and childhood sweetheart, Mary Beth,

had been gunned down by an assassin, in place of Biff. Many years ago,

Patricia’s husband, the Italian ambassador to Israel, had been assassinated

by Hamas while visiting Gaza on a peacekeeping mission. It was that

shared experience of traumatic grief that had brought Biff and Patricia

together so quickly and so intensely. His children, rather than angered at

his finding love again so soon, seemed to understand all the more that life

was short and precious, and should be lived to the fullest. Patricia’s kids

seemed to want the same happiness for their mother.

“We better catch up with them,” Patricia said. “I see them waiting

downhill for us, joking around. Look, they’re waving to us to come on.

Let’s go. Try and keep up.”

“Keep up with them?” He grinned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Well, let’s try and not let them out of sight. You’re next, I’ll follow.”

She smiled, thrilled at the positive start to their vacation and family

introductions. After her family tragedy, she’d doubted if she’d ever be

deeply happy again. Yet in Biff, she’d found someone to spend the rest

of her life with, someone who had experienced a similar misfortune.

Empathy drew them together, and the whole was greater than the parts

that bonded them.

“Be patient,” Biff said. “It’s been a while since I last skied at Tahoe.

And I’m not in your kids’ class, believe me. But it’s just like riding a bike,”

he added, smiling. He took off, bouncing off the first mogul, trying to

imitate her kids’ skillful execution of a check turn and hot-dogging it.

Despite Patricia’s warning, he immediately caught an edge on the

mogul’s icy downhill side. Biff lost his balance and began to fall.

His fall was a fortunate event as it turned out. Just as he began to slip, a

.223 caliber bullet ripped through his left shoulder, sending red fragments

of his insulated parka flying. Groaning in pain, he crashed head over heels

downhill between the steep moguls.

Patricia noted the muffled sound of a gunshot fired through a suppressor

from uphill an instant before Biff fell. Despite the silencer, the rifle’s

resonance followed instantly through the clear mountain atmosphere. She

had heard that unforgettable “bap” sound before, and her years of association

with Mossad conditioned her response. She glanced furtively uphill

at the ridge. She saw no one, but suspected more incoming fire.

Had the shot caused Biff’s awkward spill? It all happened too quickly

for her to tell.

“Biff!” she called as she immediately skied to his assistance, not fearing

exposing herself to danger. He could be shot, and she had to help him.