Thriller Novels

"Sophie: Leigh, I was serious about the French police finding your plane before we return. Sir Leigh: Yes, imagine their surprise if they board and find Rémy. Sophie: Leigh, you transported a bound hostage across international borders. This is serious. Sir Leigh: So are my lawyers. Robert: But you tied [Silas] up and flew him to London! Sir Leigh: "Your honour, forgive an eccentric old knight his foolish prejudice for the British court system. I realize I should have called the French authorities, but I'm a snob and I do not trust those laissez-faire French to prosecute properly. This man almost murdered me. Yes, I made a rash decision forcing my manservant to help me bring him to England, but I was under great stress. Mea culpa. Mea culpa." Robert: Coming from you, Leigh, that just might fly."

"Get a transport up here. I'm going to London. And get me the Kent local police. Not British MI5. Kent local. Tell them I want Teabing's plane to be permitted to land. Then I want it surrounded on the tarmac. Nobody deplanes until I get there."

"Sir Leigh: [to Robert and Sophie] Sometimes I wonder who is serving whom? Sir Leigh: [over the intercom to Rémy] I'll be right there, Remy. Can I bring you anything when I come? Rémy: Only freedom from oppression, sir."

"[H]istory is always written by the winners. When two cultures clash, the loser is obliterated, and the winner writes the history books—books which glorify their own cause and disparage the conquered foe. As Napoleon once said, "What is history, but a fable agreed upon?" By its very nature, history is always a one-sided account."

"Robert: The keystone is well hidden. Sir Leigh: Extremely well hidden, I hope! Robert: Actually, that depends on how often you dust under your couch."

"In my experience, men go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than to obtain what they desire."

"Silas: Stand up slowly, and give it to me. Sir Leigh: Standing is difficult for me. Silas: Precisely. I would prefer nobody attempt any quick moves."

"Robert: Who is that? What… happened? Sir Leigh: You were rescued by a knight brandishing an Excalibur made by Acme Orthopaedic."

"I can't imagine your complaint, sir. You trespassed in my home and placed a nasty welt on the skull of a dear friend. I would be well within my rights to shoot you right now and leave you to rot in the woods."

"Fortunately for you, we British judge man’s civility not by his compassion for his friends, but by his compassion for his enemies."

"Operator: Will you accept charges for a collect call from Robert Langdon? Jonas: Uh… sure, okay. Robert: Jonas? Jonas: Robert? You wake me up and you charge me for it?"

"Pilot: Sir, my humble apologies, but my diplomatic flight allowance provides only for you and your manservant. I cannot take your guests. Sir Leigh: Richard, two thousand pounds sterling and that loaded gun say you can take my guests. And that unfortunate fellow in the back."

"The museum as mortuary, as site of death and entombment, starred in Dan Brown's best-selling Da Vinci Code. Yet the word most commonly linked with museums is 'boring'. Modern Londoners are said to see the as 'dusty, irrelevant and dull, … the place of boring school trips'. It is also stupefying in its immensity. 'Teenagers looking for ancient artefacts have to face an expedition almost as fraught as Indiana Jones's adventures in the Temple of Doom'. In New York's , a fleet-footed guide promises to deliver the top dozen masterpieces in under an hour. The champion of 'the six-minute Louvre' sprints past the ', the ', the ', exulting that 'there isn't a museum in the world that can keep me inside for very long'."

"The only difference between The Da Vinci Code and the gospels is that the gospels are ancient fiction while The Da Vinci Code is modern fiction."

"We were apparently rather resistant to the idea of destroying witches in England, unlike views espoused in so-called books — and I use the word "book" very loosely — like The Da Vinci Code. [pretends to spit in disgust] It is complete loose stool water. It is arse-gravy of the worst kind."

"The blind see what they want to see."

"On the verge of unveiling one of history’s greatest secrets, and he troubles himself with a woman who has proven herself unworthy of the quest."

"Robert: Leigh, you lie entirely too well. Sir Leigh: Oxford Theatre Club. They still talk of my Julius Caesar. I'm certain nobody has ever performed the first scene of Act Three with more dedication. Robert: I thought Caesar was dead in that scene. Sir Leigh: Yes, but my toga tore open when I fell, and I had to lie on stage for half an hour with my todger hanging out. Even so, I never moved a muscle. I was brilliant, I tell you."

"Chief inspector: I am here at the orders of the French Judicial Police. They claim you are transporting fugitives from the law on this plane. Sir Leigh: Is this one of those hidden camera programmes? Jolly good! Chief inspector: This is serious, sir. The French police claim that you also may have a hostage onboard. Rémy: I feel like a hostage working for Sir Leigh, but he assures me that I am free to go. … Sir Leigh: Inspector, I'm afraid I don't have time to indulge in your games. I'm late, and I'm leaving. If it is important for you to stop me, then you'll just have to shoot me. Chief inspector: Stop! I will fire! Sir Leigh: Go ahead. My lawyers will fricassee your testicles for breakfast. And if you dare board my plane without a warrant, your spleen will follow."

"Simon Edwards: I'm afraid your arrival has taken us a bit off guard, sir. Sir Leigh: I know. I'm off my schedule, I am. Between you and me, the new medication gives me the tinkles. Thought I'd come over for a tune-up."

"Those who seek the truth are more than friends. They are brothers."

"Nobody is more indoctrinated than the indoctrinator."

"We're on a Grail quest, Sophie. Who better to help us than a knight?"

"I thought Constantine was a Christian."

"On the way to the range, they passed Chavez, Price, and the rest, coming out with their MP-10s, joking with one another as they passed. Evidently everyone had had a good morning on the range. "Ach," Weber snorted, "anyone can shoot at five meters!""

"These anti-terror groups all looked pretty much the same, but that was to be expected, since they all trained to do the same thing and worked out of the same international manual—first promulgated by the English with their Special Air Service commandos, then followed by the German GSG-9, and then the rest of Europe, followed by the Americans—down to the black clothing, which struck Popov as theatrical, but they all had to wear something, and black made more sense than white clothing, didn't it?"

"Carol Brightling: Who did the takedown? George Winston: Well– [...] What did the news say? Carol: Local cops, Vienna police SWAT team, I guess. George: Well, I suppose they learned up on how to do it. Carol: The Austrians? Who'd they learn it from? George: Somebody who knows how, I guess."

"Bear, this is Six," Clark called on the radio. "Bear copies, Six, over." "We execute in five minutes." "Roger that, we party in five."

"It would forever be regarded as a very bad shot. Half a second later, the 7-mm bullet struck the subject six inches below the sternum."

"Ireland would not turn into a Marxist country, for all their wishes. The list of such nations was very thin now, though across the world academics still clung to the words and ideas of Marx and Engels and even Lenin. Fools. There were even those who said that Communism had been tried in the wrong country—that Russia had been too far backward to make those wonderful ideas work. That was enough to bring an ironic smile and a shake of the head. He'd once been a part of the organization called the Sword and Shield of the Party. He'd been through the Academy, had sat through all the political classes, learned the answers to the inevitable examination questions and been clever enough to write down exactly what his instructors wanted to hear, thus ensuring high marks and the respect of his mentors—few of whom had believed in that drivel any more than he had, but none of whom had found within themselves the courage to speak their real thoughts. It was amazing how long the lies had lasted, and truly, Popov could remember his surprise when the red flag had been pulled down from its pole atop the Kremlin's Spasskaya Gate. Nothing, it seemed, lived longer than a perverse idea."

""Joe!" a happy voice said out of his field of vision. He looked up to see a fortyish man with a beaming smile. "Patrick!" Popov responded, standing, going over to shake hands. It's been a long time. Very long, as he'd never met this particular chap before, though they exchanged greetings like old friends."

""And what will your neighbors think of all this?" Popov asked, with a lighthearted smile. What the hell were these people talking about? "What neighbors?" Killgore asked. [...] What neighbors? Popov thought again. They could see the roofs of farmhouses and buildings not ten kilometers away, well lit by the morning sun. What did they mean, what neighbors? They spoke of a radiant future with wild animals everywhere, but not of people. Did they plan to purchase all the nearby farms? Even Horizon Corporation didn't have that much money, did it? This was a settled, civilized area. The farms nearby were large prosperous ones owned by people of comfortable private means. Where would they go? Why would they leave? And yet again, the question leaped into Popov's mind. What is this all about?"

"The man had to be tense, Popov knew. Betrayal was how most of the people like Fürchtner got caught, and though Dmitriy was known and trusted by them, you could only be betrayed by someone whom you trusted, a fact known to every covert operator in the world."

""Thanks, Doc." Chavez hefted the book for weight and headed out the door. The Enraged Outlook: Inside the Terrorist Mind was the title. It wouldn't hurt to understand them a little better, though he figured the best thing about the inside of a terrorist's mind was a 185-grain 10-mm hollow-point bullet entering at high speed."

"Because of a random event—bad luck. A hell of a thing to tell someone who'd just lost a husband. Cause of death, bad luck."

"Popov: It went much as I had expected. They were foolish—really rather amateurish, despite all the training we gave them back in the eighties. I told them to feel free to rob the bank as a cover for the real mission– John Brightling: Which was? Popov: To be killed."

"Eddie: What's the plan if the opposition just starts shooting out of hand? Ding: Tell Louis, two flashbangs at the front door, four more inside, and we blow in like a tornado. Eddie: Our body armor– Ding: Won't stop a seven-six-two Russian. I know. Nobody ever said it was safe, Eddie."

"Henriksen: The commander on the scene makes that decision, based on his training, experience, and expertise. Then, Henriksen didn't go on, people like you second-guess the hell out of him for the next couple weeks."

"TV Anchor: But who decides when it's necessary?"

"Henriksen: You only use deadly force when necessary—but when it's necessary, you do use it."

"One of them came outside and lit a pipe—how very Swiss! Popov thought. The bugger probably climbs mountains for personal entertainment, too."

""Oso backs us up, but I don't think we'll have much use for him on this trip." Julio Vega had become their heavy-machine gunner, slinging a laser-sighted M-60 7.62-mm machine gun for really serious work, but there wasn't much use for that now—and wouldn't be, unless everything went totally to hell."

""So, then, you understand?" Not in the way you mean, sport, Rainbow Six thought, before responding. "Yes, I suppose I do, Dmitriy Arkadeyevich." "How did you find my name? Who told you?" "Sergey Nikolay'ch and I are old friends." "Ah," Popov managed to observe without fainting. His own agency had betrayed him? Was that possible? Then it was as if Clark had read his mind. "Here," John said, handing over the sheaf of photocopies. Your evaluations are pretty good." Not good enough," Popov replied, failing to recover from the shock of viewing items from a file that he had never seen before."

"Clark: You get a nap. The rest of the team arrives in about half an hour." Ding: "The rest of what team?" Clark: Everybody who can move and shoot, son."

""We're going to be close to overloading the aircraft," Harrison warned. "That's why it's got two engines, son," the Marine pointed out."

""This is some place," one voice said. "Look at these trees, man." "Yeah, big, ain't they?" "What kind of trees?" a third asked. "The kind somebody can hide behind and shoot your ass from!" a more serious voice pointed out."

""Chavez here, I just dropped two." The excitement of the moment masked the shame of how easy it had been. This was pure murder."

"They were either very brave or very foolish to go to that country, Popov thought. [...] Bokassa had killed his way to the top, as had so many African chiefs of state, before dying, remarkably, of natural causes—so the papers said, anyway, you could never really be sure, could you?"

""We have thought that one through," Hans assured his guest. Popov wondered briefly about that. But he'd be surprised if they even boarded an aircraft, much less got it to Africa. The problem with "missions" like this one was that no matter how carefully most of its parts had been considered, this chain was decidedly no stronger than its weakest link, and the strength of that link was all too often determined by others, or by chance, which was even worse."

"This particular evening, if it is remembered for nothing else, will be remembered in that place for its strange sunset. It looked like the end of the world. All the heaven seemed covered with a quite vivid and palpable plumage; you could only say that the sky was full of feathers, and of feathers that almost brushed the face. Across the great part of the dome they were grey, with the strangest tints of violet and mauve and an unnatural pink or pale green; but towards the west the whole grew past description, transparent and passionate, and the last red-hot plumes of it covered up the sun like something too good to be seen. The whole was so close about the earth, as to express nothing but a violent secrecy. The very empyrean seemed to be a secret. It expressed that splendid smallness which is the soul of local patriotism. The very sky seemed small. I say that there are some inhabitants who may remember the evening if only by that oppressive sky."