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Damage Time
By: Colin Harvey , Ian FlynneBook Publisher: Random House
Imprint: Osprey Publishing
Format: ePub Encrypted (DRM)
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Damage Time is a rock-hard sci-fi thriller from the acclaimed author of Winter Song : no-one here gets out alive.
NEW YORK IS A MESS. It's 2050 and sea-levels have swamped the coastal regions. The walls are failing, the city has been carved up between the Chinese and the Muslims, and the USA is bankrupt. Detective Peter Shah serves with the NYPD as a Memory Association Specialist - reading the last memories of murder victims. When he's accused of killing a glamorous woman in a bar, he must find the killer, save himself... and the city.
File Under: Science Fiction [ A Decaying USA | Shattered Cops | Wrongful Arrest | Murderous Secrets ]
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| Title of Science Fiction eBook: Damage Time | |
| Release Date: 10-07-2010 | |
| Publisher: Osprey Publishing |
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
| Parent title | Damage Time |
|---|---|
| Encrypted (DRM) | Yes |
| SKU | 9780857660657 |
| File size | 440 |
| Internet Security | n/a |
| Printing | Not allowed |
| Copying | Not allowed |
| Read aloud | No Sys requirements Download reader |
| Devices | Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin |
| Note | ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it. |
Damage Time
DAMAGE TIME, by Colin Harvey
CHAPTER ONE
Less than ten hours before the dead woman’s body was pulled from the icy clutches of the East River, Detective Pete Shah sat watching hockey. Each time the New York Rangers surged forward in search of the goal that would take them into the Stanley Cup final Shah stood up, his feet on the cross-struts of his stool’s legs, making him six inches taller. “Come on,” he growled, deep in his throat, ignoring his drink. “Come oooooon!” As the attack fizzled out, Shah slammed his palm down onto the antique stainless-steel bar in time with several hundred other fans. “Dammit!”
The bar reeked of unwashed bodies and stale sweat. Its walls were lined with flock wallpaper and faux-mahogany smart surfacing that ate gum or any other material that didn’t move for more than sixty seconds. “That guy oughtta watch out,” the drinker queuing behind Shah’s stool nodded at a man resting his palm on the wallpaper. “People lean on it too long, it absorbs them.”
“Urban myth,” Shah muttered. No one ever knew anyone it had happened to. In any event, the wallpaper was almost hidden by rows and columns of sports pictures, from antique black and white prints from the early twen-cen of men in ludicrously cut hockey uniforms, through color to the latest three-dee of Kuntsler smacking a Red Sox pitcher almost out of the stadium. Most of the bar’s largely blue-collar clientele had , like Shah, come straight from the office, shop or work site.
Leaning on the bar, Shah sipped at a carbonated water and sighing, shredded a toasted bagel while trying to ignore the grumbling of his st...
CHAPTER ONE
Less than ten hours before the dead woman’s body was pulled from the icy clutches of the East River, Detective Pete Shah sat watching hockey. Each time the New York Rangers surged forward in search of the goal that would take them into the Stanley Cup final Shah stood up, his feet on the cross-struts of his stool’s legs, making him six inches taller. “Come on,” he growled, deep in his throat, ignoring his drink. “Come oooooon!” As the attack fizzled out, Shah slammed his palm down onto the antique stainless-steel bar in time with several hundred other fans. “Dammit!”
The bar reeked of unwashed bodies and stale sweat. Its walls were lined with flock wallpaper and faux-mahogany smart surfacing that ate gum or any other material that didn’t move for more than sixty seconds. “That guy oughtta watch out,” the drinker queuing behind Shah’s stool nodded at a man resting his palm on the wallpaper. “People lean on it too long, it absorbs them.”
“Urban myth,” Shah muttered. No one ever knew anyone it had happened to. In any event, the wallpaper was almost hidden by rows and columns of sports pictures, from antique black and white prints from the early twen-cen of men in ludicrously cut hockey uniforms, through color to the latest three-dee of Kuntsler smacking a Red Sox pitcher almost out of the stadium. Most of the bar’s largely blue-collar clientele had , like Shah, come straight from the office, shop or work site.
Leaning on the bar, Shah sipped at a carbonated water and sighing, shredded a toasted bagel while trying to ignore the grumbling of his st...
