[Thriller in Paradise 01] • Thrillers in Paradise

Toxin is the SECOND book in Rob Swigart’s Thriller in Paradise series.

“Swigart gets a lot of mileage out of the beauty and isolation of his Hawaii locale, and his characters are thoroughly likable. A welcome return for an unusual cop in an exotic place.” -Peter Robertson, Booklist

"Toxin has all the ingredients necessary for a superior thriller : strong characters, an exotic background, and a compelling central puzzle." -Michael Berry, San Francisco Chronicle

DOES A SATELLITE CRASH ON KAUAI COUNT AS TROUBLE IN PARADISE? HOW ABOUT A SIMULTANEOUS PLANE HIJACKING?

Hawaii police lieutenant Cobb Takamura and molecular biologist Chazz Koenig return in this tale in which the murder of an unpopular real estate developer leads to the inner circles of international defense.

On the same day that Victor Linz is shot during an early morning jog, reports filter in that an out-of-orbit satellite may land on Kauai. A reporter tailing an intelligence officer from the mainland is found near the remote site of the satellite crash; he is comatose and suffering from severe skin and internal ailments. Panic follows when a rumor spreads that the satellite carried a deadly toxin.

Cobb must conduct the murder investigation and maintain calm on the island all while negotiating with one of the murder suspects who is hijacking a commercial airliner. Meanwhile, Koenig races the clock to control the effects of the toxin.

Excerpt:

With an effort he threw back up onto his mental wall the computer screen of his spreadsheet program. The numbers appeared again, glowing green, each in its cell. Without willing it, he saw his alimony payments fall into place, and all the profits that had glowed so richly before dropped alarmingly. He could feel the stab of disappointment as they fell, could feel the bitter taste in his throat when he thought of Anne lying beside the pool, sipping one of her endless silent gins.

The sun was above the horizon now, and traffic on the Kuhio Highway grew with it. The pickups and ancient sedans flowed steadily north toward the remaining sugar fields, engines occasionally barking on the downshift. The quiet hum of traffic reassured him. To hell with Anne. Let her stew, let her roast. Let her burn her skin with ultraviolet until she rots. More power to her. He let the slap of his hand against the trunks slacken as he turned onto his eighth lap. By the time he was closing once more on the hotel entrance he was smiling again. What the hell, he thought. He should start adding that extra mile or two today. Why put it off? He ran on past the steps and into his ninth lap.

He saw that distant flash again as he turned the corner and moved down the line of palms.

At the moment the bullet struck he was calculating how much of his income he could conceal from Anne’s lawyers by putting the Kapuna deal into a dummy corporation in Angela’s name.

He felt the surprisingly powerful shock, and ran on three steps, too surprised to stop. After the third step the pain seared him with a new heat far greater than that of the sun, now hovering, a red sphere, above the wet blue horizon behind him. He stumbled then and fell sideways against the nearest tree, pressing his hand to his side. What the hell is this? he thought. A heart attack? Wrong place, in the side here. He took his hand away and looked at it.

“What’s this?” he said aloud. “What is this?”

It was a stupid question.