Heat

Review by Booklist Review

Woods' books, while often flawed, are always popular--witness the recent success of L.A. Times , Dead Eyes , and Santa Fe Rules (1992). This one, though, may deserve its likely bestsellerdom more than any of its predecessors. The mile-a-minute plot is clearly modeled on the Branch Davidian disaster, with Aryan Universe leader Jack Gene Coldwater playing the role of David Koresh and exerting control over a band of followers in Idaho. Enter Jesse Warden, former federal agent convicted of stealing confiscated drug money and killing his partner. Jesse is in prison for a good long stretch unless he's willing to do a deal with the government: a presidential pardon in return for infiltrating the cult and providing enough evidence to send Coldwater and his lieutenants to prison for life. Despite a few momentary lapses into banal predictability, Woods has concocted a high-octane story filled with nail-biting suspense and enough unusual twists to keep even experienced puzzle-solvers guessing. Buy plenty of copies--this one is as commercial as they come. (Reviewed June 1994)0060177764Emily Melton

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Woods's sixth novel in three years is likely to follow its predecessors ( L.A. Times , etc.) onto bestseller lists. In this artfully plotted thriller, ex-DEA agent Jesse Warden, wrongly convicted of a murder he suspects was the work of Dan Barker, his former superior, is offered a chance at a presidential pardon if he will infiltrate the sinister religious cult that has taken control of St. Clair, Idaho. Despite knowing that he will again be under the control of Barker and that two previous agents investigating the cult have vanished, Jesse can't refuse. Going incognito, he gets a job at the town's only business not controlled by the cult and is brazenly seduced by his new landlady, lovely widow Jenny Weatherby. As Jesse sets out to win the confidence of the menacing head of the sect, Jack Gene Coldwater, he comes under close surveillance by Coldwater's two henchmen. In spite of some nearly fatal mistakes, however, he manages to gain the trust of the charismatic and seemingly psychic cult leader. Meanwhile, Jesse marries Jenny, who's pregnant. Faced with the catch-22 of how to deliver Coldwater and his ruthless subordinates to the treacherous Barker, whom he is sure will not come through with the promised pardon, Jesse must find a way to bring himself and his new family to freedom. The ending may strike readers as far too fortuitous, and the pardon premise is old hat ( The Dirty Dozen , etc.), but high melodrama and unexpected twists make this teflon-coated blockbuster business as usual in Wood's practiced hands. $100,000 ad/promo; Literary Guild super release and Doubleday Book Club alternate; author tour. (July) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

Unjustly imprisoned, bereft of wife and daughter, ex-DEA agent Jesse Warden is offered a daring gamble: if he can infiltrate and destroy a heavily armed religious cult, he can win his freedom. The previous two infiltrators have disappeared; the cult leaders are smart, wealthy, and completely amoral; Warden's landlady is beautiful and sexy. Do you feel you've heard all this before? The plot is so old it creaks, but there is a certain loopy and innocent amiability in the telling, as though the author cannot bear to disappoint his hero. There is much rushing about on all sides, surreptitious communications, hair-breadth escapes, and the inevitable (ever since the Branch Davidians) call-up of the military for the climactic battle. We get just about everything we expect, from fistfights to forged passports, and if several story threads are left dangling, Heat is still a satisfying beach-blanket read.-Elsa Pendleton, Boeing Information Svcs., Ridgecrest, Cal. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Woods (L.A. Times, 1993, etc.) offers a high-concept action thriller that never lives up to its potential. Just imagine movie titles rolling over a helicopter as it ``beats its way'' over Atlanta Federal Prison. There's a loud Dolby track of the engine as the camera pans the prison walls and zooms in on a crowd of nasty convicts swarmed around two fighting men. ``What's going on down there?'' asks Kipling Fuller of the US Attorney General's office. What's going on is that Jesse Warden, 6 3" and 220 pounds of toughness (maybe Arnold Schwarzenegger or Steven Seagal; forget Bruce Willis) is serving two back-to-back life sentences because a dead cop and $500,000 in drug money were found in the trunk of his car. He's spent the first 14 months of his sentence in solitary confinement because each time he comes out, he gets into another fight. And why are all these hard-assed cons after Jesse's blood? Naturally, because he's heat--a cop. Kip and his boss, the creep who framed Jesse, offer him a deal. They will let him go if he will help them convict a seemingly indestructible Vietnam vet who heads a well-armed religious cult in the Idaho panhandle. They will also get a letter to his young daughter, Carrie, who was adopted after his wife died of cancer. In the working out of Jesse's victory (he finds his daughter, gets the bad guys, and screws the federal government) there's nothing to distract us from the predictable conventions. Jesse finds romance with Jenny, his large-breasted landlady, who has a daughter named Carey. After the climax, a Fourth of July of plastic explosives, he flies off into the sunrise with his woman and the homonymic girls. Naturally, he pilots his own jet. Roll credits. Woods never keeps up the power of his hard-muscled beginning. But he writes fairy tales for guys that continue to find a market. (Literary Guild alternate selection; $135,000 ad/promo; author tour)

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Heat Chapter One Atlanta Federal Prison swam slowly out of the smog as the helicopter beat its way south from Fulton County Airport. Kip Fuller was transfixed by the sight. In his three years in law enforcement Kipling Fuller had never been inside a prison of any sort, and Atlanta held a place in his imagination on a level with Alcatraz and Leavenworth -- especially Alcatraz, since that was a prison of the past, as was Atlanta. Alcatraz was permanently closed, though, while Atlanta had been partly reopened to handle the overflow of federal prisoners. At its peak the prison had held a population of nearly four thousand, but the current number was closer to eight hundred. The prison had been a temporary home to Cuban refugees, Haitian boat people, Colombian drug lords and the occasional special prisoner. It was a special prisoner that Fuller would meet today -- or, rather, meet again. To avoid breaking the FAA regulation prohibiting flights over the prison yard, the pilot made a turn that took him parallel with the wall, a few yards out. They were at five hundred feet now, aiming for the big H painted on the prison roof, and Fuller could see into the yard. As he watched, two figures met in the middle of the open area, and the other prisoners immediatelyrushed to surround them, leaving a small circle free for the two men, who were now swinging at each other. At the outskirts of the crowd, uniformed guards could be seen trying to push their way to the center, but Fuller thought they weren't trying very hard. He brought the microphone of his headset close to his lips. "What's going on down there?" he asked the assistant warden sitting next to him. "That's your man," the official replied. "What, you mean fighting?" "That's right. Every time he gets out of solitary, he gets in another fight, and back in he goes." "How long has this been going on?" "Fourteen months; the whole time he's been inside." "Jesus," Fuller said. Jesse Warden sat on the edge of the examination table and watched through his swollen left eye as the male nurse pulled the thread tight, knotted it and snipped it off with the surgical scissors. "There you go, Jesse," the man said. "How many stitches is that I've put in you the last year?" "I've lost count," Warden said in his native hillbilly twang. It hurt when he moved his lips. "So have I," the nurse said, placing a large BandAid over the cut under the eye. "That's it," the nurse said to the guard. "Let's go, Jesse," the guard said. The guards didn't call him by his last name, as they did the other prisoners; "Warden" was a term of address saved for prison management. Warden let himself down slowly from the table and preceded the guard through the door, trying not to limp. The guard gave him plenty of room; no guard had touched him since the first fight. Fuller jumped down from the helicopter and followed the assistant warden across the prison roof toward a door; shortly they were walking down an empty corridor, their footsteps echoing through the nearly empty building. "It's kind of spooky, isn't it?" Fuller said. "You get used to it," the AW replied. "In the old days this place would have been full of noise, like any prison, but with the population out in the yard for exercise right now, it's dead quiet." Fuller followed the man through a door, across a waiting room to another door, where the AW knocked. "Come in!" a voice called from behind the door. The AW opened the door, let Fuller in and closed it behind him. The warden stood up from behind his desk and offered his hand. "J. W. Morris," he said. "Kip Fuller, from the U.S. Attorney General's office," Fuller replied. "I've been expecting you, Mr. Fuller. Have a seat; what can I do for you?" Fuller sat down and took an envelope from his inside pocket. "You have a prisoner named Jesse R. Warden here." "We do," the warden replied. Fuller handed the envelope across the desk and waited while Morris read the paper inside. "This is unusual," the warden said. "Is it?" Fuller had no idea. "Normally, when a federal prisoner is released to the custody of the attorney general, it's by court order and a reason is stated -- like the prisoner is needed to testify in court." "Not in this case," said Fuller, who had read the document during his flight from Washington in the Gulfstream government jet. "Could I see some ID?" the warden asked. "Certainly," Fuller replied, offering his identification card. "'Special Task Force,'" the warden read aloud. "What does that mean?" "Just what it says, sir," Fuller replied. "That's all I'm at liberty to tell you." The warden nodded. "I see," he said. "I wonder if you'd mind stepping out into my waiting room for a moment?" He didn't return the ID to Fuller. "Be glad to," he replied. The man was going to call Washington, and Fuller didn't blame him a bit. He left the room and closed the door behind him. The waiting room walls were bereft of pictures, and there were no magazines lying around. Fuller paced the floor slowly, measuring the dimensions of the little room. About the size of a cell, he guessed. The door opened, and the warden waved him back into the inner office. "Looks like you've got yourself a prisoner," Morris said. "When do I get him back?" "The AG's order says 'indefinite custody,'" Fuller replied. Heat . Copyright © by Stuart Woods. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Heat by Stuart Woods All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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