The book gets off to a cracking start. As always Mr Forsyth has done his research, which makes the setting out of the plot all the more believable. Indeed, with a foot so firmly placed in reality the book reads almost as if it was a journalistic account of an actual event rather than a work of fiction. So why does this book that is so engrossing for the first 200 pages suddenly massively disappoint. Well, I am sorry Mr Foryth but suddenly, and for no good reason, this gritty and believable story goes into a complete fantasy land. I shan't go into detail but basically it involves an aeroplane developing mechanical problems somewhere over the vastness of the USA What, we ask, has this got to do with our plot? All is soon revealed, as by a truly staggering coincidence of fantastical proportions, the plane crashes onto the exact spot where one of the main characters happens to be. If he had been hit by a meteor it would have been more believable. As it is, this is the point where the story virtually collapses. The strong thread of reality, which weaves together the first two thirds of the book is severered beyond repair. As a result I felt a profound indifference to what followed. What a shame!