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Audible sample Sample
Vertical Run: A Novel Mass Market Paperback – July 1, 1996
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David Elliot is about to have a very bad day at the office.
Each morning in his forty-fifth floor executive suite, David savors the quiet moments before the workday begins. Until today, when his boss walks in and aims a gun at him, murder glinting in his eye.
For the rest of the day, David will be trapped in a midtown tower with a team of ruthless and professional mercenaries. Everyone he meets—and knows—will try to kill him. They expect him to be dead by lunchtime.
But they’re wrong.
This is the “killer” workday redefined, a high-stakes and whiplash-paced drama that plays out with an electrifying intensity. You’ll never see the office the same way again.
- Print length320 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBantam
- Publication dateJuly 1, 1996
- Dimensions4.2 x 0.71 x 6.9 inches
- ISBN-100553573926
- ISBN-13978-0553573923
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Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Review
-Clive Cussler
From the Publisher
-Clive Cussler
From the Inside Flap
Get ready for the FASTEST thriller of the summer!
Each morning in his 45th floor executive office, David Elliot savors the quiet
moments until the workday begins.
Until today, when his boss walks in and aims a gun at him.
For the rest of the day, he will be trapped in his midtown office building, and
everyone David Elliot meets will try to kill him.
He has 24 hours to find out why. . .
In Vertical Run, you can escape into a world on fast forward, a drama
that plays out with electrifying intensity. No one who reads this book will
ever see the office the same way again.
Vertical Run is available now -- run for it!
A Book-of-the-Month Club featured selection
Soon to be a major motion picture from Warner Brothers and Peters
Entertainment Company
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Dave slid his legs out from beneath Pratesi sheets. He glanced neutrally at where his wife, Helen, lay curled into a small, tight ball, on the right-hand side of the bed. The Panasonic clock radio on her nightstand was set for 8:20. By the time she awoke to her more cultured business day, he'd be in his midtown office, hard at work.
He stepped into the closet and swept his Nikes, sweatsuit, socks, and headband off a shelf. Then, padding over to the long, low, far-too-modern bureau--the most recent fruit of Helen's obsessive redecorating--he fumbled a fanny pack out of a drawer, dropping a rolled-up change of underwear and his wallet, keys, and gold Rolex President watch into it.
After visiting the guest bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth, he went to the kitchen. The Toshiba coffee maker's brew light glowed green. The timer's digital display read 5:48. He decanted the pot into a large enameled mug decorated with a picture of the 47 Ronin, the souvenir of a visit to the Sengakuji Temple during a business trip to Tokyo. He emptied the grounds from the brewer basket, filled the machine's reservoir, and reset the timer for 8:15. Helen needed her morning coffee just as much as he did. Or maybe more so--Helen was far from sociable upon rising, and it was not until she opened the doors of her Lexington Avenue gallery that she put on her best behavior.
Warm, thick coffee slid down Dave's throat. He shivered with pleasure.
Something soft brushed his pajama leg. Dave reached down to tickle the cat's chin. "Bon matin, ma belle," he said, knowing that all cats speak French of preference. The cat, who was named Apache, arched her neck, stretched, and purred.
Helen loathed Apache's name. She had insisted more than once that Dave change it. Second marriages produce more compromises than first marriages. Dave knew that, and knew that he should accede to his wife's request. But a cat's name is a cat's name; it has nothing to do with its owner's wishes. And so after five years of marriage Dave still called the animal "Apache," while Helen (who, being blonde, was used to having her way) icily referred to it as "that cat."
On Saturdays and Sundays, Dave ran west, jogging across Fifty-seventh Street to Fifth Avenue, then north to Central Park. On those days, the running was purest pleasure. There were fewer menacing crazies on the street--or so it seemed--and the runner could concentrate on running.
Less so the weekdays. No matter how you ran, no matter where you ran, watchfulness was called for. Certain blocks were to be avoided; alleys were a risk; none but the reckless jogged beneath bridges and overpasses; nor did the prudent begin their runs before dawn. On a morning run even a man like David Elliot, a man who did not have an enemy in the world, sometimes glanced warily over his shoulder.
His workday route took him east on Fifty-seventh to Sutton Place, then north on York Avenue until he reached a pedestrian bridge across FDR Drive. He ran up the path by the East River until he reached the high Nineties. Once there, he turned south again, retracing his steps. After crossing the bridge a second time, he jogged west to Park Avenue, and then south to the corner of Fiftieth and Park.
It usually was just after 7:00 A.M. when he entered his office.
As an executive vice president of his company, David Elliot was entitled to, and enjoyed, the perquisites of rank. His forty-fifth floor suite consisted of eight hundred square feet of expensively understated space, a walk-in closet, a discreet wet bar, and a full bathroom with tub and shower.
Dave liked his water hot. Steam filled the bathroom as he lathered himself from top to bottom twice over. Still in the shower, he took a Gillette safety razor and a can of shaving cream from the shelf above the spigots. He never used a mirror when shaving, and hadn't for so long he couldn't remember. It was another habit he had picked up in a war unwillingly remembered.
7:20 A.M.
David Elliot, with a towel around his waist, stepped out of the bathroom and into his office. On the mahogany credenza behind his matching mahogany desk, a Toshiba brewer, the twin of the model at home, beeped three times, signaling that his coffee was ready. Dave filled a chocolate-brown mug with it. The cup was decorated with a raised, angular, silver-enameled design: the Senterex corporate logo.
Dave took a sip and sighed. Life without coffee is too awful to contemplate.
He noticed, damnit, that the watercolor over his credenza was askew. Every week or two, some dust-rag-wielding vandal from the nightly cleaning crew knocked the thing sideways. It was a minor irritation, but one that was growing in its power to annoy.
Almost invariably Dave was the first person in the office--or at least the first in the executive suite. Bernie Levy, master of the corporate ship, didn't show up until 8:00 or so, his limousine leaving Short Hills, New Jersey, at 6:50 sharp. The rest of the executive cadre drifted in between 8:15 and 8:45, depending on what train they caught from Greenwich, Scarsdale, or Darien, and always much conditional upon that train running on time. The first of the secretaries arrived at 8:30 punctually.
For this reason, Dave knew he could, as was his unvarying morning habit, lounge buck naked (but for a towel) at his desk, savoring the day's second cup of coffee, and studying the pages of The Wall Street Journal.
Several peaceful minutes later, with a third cup of coffee in his hand, he ambled into his walk-in closet to select his suit for the day.
Today he chose a lightweight tan, almost khaki, number. Although the brutal humidity of the past summer had broken, the late September weather was still warm. Dave's wool suits would remain on their hangers for a few weeks longer.
With suit pants donned and belted, and feet comfortably placed in soft, glove leather Bally loafers, Dave unwrapped a fresh, starched white shirt. He put it on, and after some consideration selected from his tie rack a pale yellow tie with a blue motif. A full-length mirror backed Dave's closet door. He pulled the door three-quarters closed so that he could study himself.
Never learned how to knot a tie without a mirror, did you? his guardian angel asked.
He looked himself over carefully. Not bad. Not bad at all. His waistline hadn't changed since college. Forty-seven years old, but looking younger than that. Oh, you handsome dog, you're going to live forever. Dave nodded as if in agreement. The daily jogging, the two nights a week workout with weights, no smoking but for an occasional and much prized cigar, a diet about which even Helen couldn't complain, alcohol comsumption that was modest by any...
"Davy?"
The questioning voice came from the office behind him--Bernie Levy's voice, its gruff Brooklyn accent unmistakable. Dave glanced at his Rolex. 7:43. Traffic must have been light this morning. Senterex's chairman and CEO was in the office well ahead of schedule.
Dave shrugged on his jacket, nudged his tie knot imperceptibly to the left, and gripping his coffee cup, pushed open the closet door.
"Yes, Bernie. What's up?"
Bernie was facing away from the closet. Dave didn't see his gun until he turned around.
Product details
- Publisher : Bantam; Reprint edition (July 1, 1996)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 320 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0553573926
- ISBN-13 : 978-0553573923
- Item Weight : 6.4 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.2 x 0.71 x 6.9 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #2,418,660 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #9,874 in Espionage Thrillers (Books)
- #26,722 in Psychological Thrillers (Books)
- #78,298 in Suspense Thrillers
- Customer Reviews:
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The author keeps you guessing during the entire novel. Be certain to read the last page after the epilogue. He tosses in a twist that makes you root for the good guys. Without that last page, I would have given this novel 4 stars.
Mine was Vertical Run by Joseph Garber. My aunt left it behind after she stayed at our house for a visit when I was somewhere between 12 and 14. Knowing I was always needing something to read, my mom let me keep it without really knowing what it was about. I probably wouldn't recommend this book to anyone younger than 16 or 17. Not because the book is hugely inappropriate. It's not. It's just very violent and has a lot of very foul language (some of those people are very creative, especially for a 12 year old). This is the book that introduced me to conspiracy literature.
The whole book is about a highly trained group of huge muscle bound mercenaries trying to kill a middle-aged Vietnam vet inside his 50 story office building. As his specialized combat training begins to return, he fights back and serious amounts of mayhem ensue. Dave is our main character and it was fascinating to follow his interactions with Ransome, the main 'bad guy' (or is he?...). This book takes place within a roughly 24-hour time frame, and with only a few exceptions, happens entirely within one 50 story office building. Dave has to stay a step ahead of them in order to survive and he has very limited resources. He has no idea why they are after him. All he knows is that they seem to possess incredible amounts of power and authority and that they have managed to bring everyone he knows and cares about on their side. With no one to turn to and no where to run, Dave must find the tools to stay alive while also trying to unravel the carefully hidden secret that will explain why everyone around him seems to suddenly want him dead. Ha, and you thought your day sucked.
Interspersed throughout the book are flashbacks to Dave's younger years, both growing up and the time he served in the military. Each segment is a lead in to a skill or ability Dave has learned that will allow him to escape and survive yet again. They were a lot of fun, and never felt clunky or forced. I also loved Dave's snarky inner voice. It isn't really Dave and it isn't really a separate person either. It's more a blend of the two. This inner voice is about as close as you can come to hearing voices without actually being considered crazy... (Perhaps.)
I've reread this book many times and will undoubtedly read it again in the future. It comes really close to a basically amazing review, and I loved it, but I don't love the ending. We do end up discovering why everyone wants to kill poor Dave. But, I feel like the author took the easy way out. The way we (and Dave) obtain the information is plausible, but not quite in character and felt like Garber just really needed a quick way to end it. (a la Ransome ex Machina)
Now that you know my 'under-aged' favorite, please share yours! Leave the book that you knew you shouldn't be reading but loved anyway in the comments section. Share what you liked about it then, and what you think of it now, if you have reread it.
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I have heard people say the story is a little unbelievable in places but I would say its no more so than any other adventure Fiction book. It's far more believable than a dan brown book, and just as thrilling, When I read it I could not put the book down.
The Audio Version is really Good, its well read and they have added music in places that really adds to the suspence, they got it spot on and really did it justice. It is abridged though and you do miss a few things along the way, such as the story of Daves Child hood pond. But even without these things its still great.
I Would love to get this on CD as I have listened to the tapes so many times that one of them snapped, however I have yet to see it on CD anywere.
This Really is brilliant and I can't recommend it enough. But I would recommened the book as well so you can get the bits missed out in the audio version.