Gerrit O’Rourke


A chrome-glazed December sky hovered as if warning of pending trouble,
darkness only a few hours away. He cast a glance toward sheltered passengers, comfortqably
ensconced behind thick-plated windows, customers bellying p to the bar for another round to
ward off the cold. No one looked familiar. Beyond, Seattle’s skyline twinkled with illumination
across the waves, beacons of light spewing from high-rises, growing brighter by the moment
across the darkening sky. Excerpt from Off the Grid, Chapter 1.



Beck Malloy stood alongside the fountain of the World War II Memorial, just south of the White House, looking toward the Lincoln Memorial. This was a place he often visited when he needed a respite from the bustle and grind of FBI headquarters a few blocks away. Chill from a blustery February wind cut through his coat, and he tightened his grip on a cup of Starbucks coffee. He worked his shoulders back and forth, trying to ease the stress locked inside. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 19,




Gerrit eyed the blue, shimmering waters of Lake Tahoe far below as the jet’s left wing dipped toward the runway. South Lake Tahoe—gambling casinos on the Nevada side brushing next to the California border of motels, hotels and restaurants—straddled two worlds, one side feeding the other. He briefly visited the south shore a few years back while attending a conference on organized crime hosted by the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He enjoyed the crisp, high altitude of this lake and the outdoor activities it offered. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 5.




A hot, sticking-to-the-skin breeze waged a war outside. Cool air-conditioning welcomed Gerrit and Alena as they entered the hotel lobby, offering a brief reprieve from

the battle outside. The hotel, a four-story building on Ocean Drive, overlooked the expansive Atlantic Ocean…A woman in her mid-twenties, with a Coppertone tan and beguiling blue eyes, watched as he and Alena approached. Gerrit gave her a smile while producing a police badge, claiming to be a detective with the Miami PD. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 10.




The statue of Abe Lincoln peered over his shoulder as Beck sat on the steps of the memorial. At times, he felt like this great statesman might be sharing his thoughts about where the country might be headed… A sick feeling in Beck’s stomach had been eating away at him all day. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 29.


A sense of trouble seemed to bear down on him as hard as the chilly blast of wind off the water. Gerrit O’Rourke pulled his nave-blue pea coat tighter, fending off a face-numbing gust straight off the Puget Sound. Leaning over the railing, he appeared to be watching the ferry’s bow plowing through swelling waves. Instead, he stole a look along the deck, studying other red-faced strangers in the crowd, small groups of commuters and tourists…No informant yet. No killers trailing behind. Excerpt from Off the Grid, Chapter 1.




Locking his seat belt in place, Gerrit studied her for a moment. She continued to look straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. Even an idiot could tell she was one ticked- off woman. Tahoe might turn out to be even colder than the icy lake water below. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 5.




He circled the farthest point of Key West. To his back, less than ninety miles away, lay Cuba. He could only imagine the intensity of surveillance between these two countries across these open waters. As they drew closer to shore, he grabbed a cell phone and dialed. “Willy, any update? We are just about to walk onto the island.” Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 21.



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Gerrit slung the coiled rope and his H&K assault rifle over his shoulder and began his ascent. Although steep, basalt rock formations offered good handholds and jutting edges provided a solid foundation for toe holes as he climbed. But the climb was slow, as he made sure the rock beneath him would hold before he ventured farther. The crashing water beneath him started to diminish as he gained height. Excerpt from Off the Grid, Chapter 60.


He glanced at his watch as he strode through San Francisco’s International Terminal, weaving through a crowd of passengers as he worked his way toward Terminal 3. He slowed down when a departure monitor flashed information that he had more than an hour before boarding his connection to Seattle. Excerpt from Off the Grid, Chapter 17.




Jack was still in Tel Aviv gathering intelligence. Gerrit must try to hook up with the colonel. Some of the puzzle started to make sense after he learned about the meetings between Brandimir, Hassan, and Yegorov and that meeting Hassan had with the Syrian, Raed al-Azmah. Time was critical. Here they were stuck in Dubai. They must get across that border. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 30.




A starlit night gave way to a brilliant, expansive airport terminal as Gerrit walked down the passageway. This was his first visit to Dubai, and he was amazed at this modern facility rivaling any he visited in the West. One could almost smell the opulence of commerce in the air. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 26.




Still, he liked to come to this place when he visited Damascus, a place hidden behind the historic Umayyad Mosque. When he had the time, Atash enjoyed a stroll through the Souq al-Hamidiyya marketplace, straddling an area between the mosque and the new city. It allowed him to take a trip back in time, a time when Persia and her neighbors in the Middle East ruled the world with an iron fist. When Allah’s warriors pushed iron-clad crusaders all the way back to their European shores. This place reminded him of those moments in history when his people stood proud against the world. Excerpt from Fatal eMpulse, Chapter 41.