Kyle Mills is on Hardroc’s list of “must read” authors and Sphere of Influence is actually the third read down the line from Mill’s world of Mark Beamon as lead character. A fine list of reading that includes Rising Phoenix, Storming Heaven and Freefall. Darkness Falls is now also available.
In Sphere of Influence, Mills has created a very exciting thriller with several plots interwoven very neatly. The lead, Mark Beamon is this cerebral FBI agent who does things his own way, and gets results much like a kid falling out of a tree but as his Shrink girlfriend states, “Is as crazy as anyone she knows, but he might just also be a genius.”
Shere of Influence hints of ‘a man behind the curtain’ theory.
In Mill’s excellent example of literary subterfuge, Christian Volkov is a well written shadowy figure who doesn’t exist on paper but in a world ruled by silicon chips. So far, that micro-veil has made him powerful enough to control 3rd world developments and exact out scenarios that have not only made Volkov the richest man in the world, but also a lonely figure who has very few trusted confidants and many enemies.
Mills is a master at plot development and a inspiration for any aspiring writer’s trial and error at character development. I have read/listened to SOF so many times my CD’s are actually worn out.
Well, that and I lost CD #2 somewhere in my Jeep.
Mark Beamon managed to twist his body at the last second and he hit the dirt shoulder first, face second, instead of the other way around. He struggled to his knees, a thick film of dust caked to his sweat-soaked body. Despite the late hour, it was still over ninety degrees. A kick from behind surprised him and he went down again but this time he was unable to rise. A hard boot pressed down on the rope binding his hands behind his back, keeping him face down in the dirt. He craned his neck and watched as a similarly bound Chet Michaels was dragged from the car and thrown to the desert floor a few feet in front of him. The man hovering over Chet reared a leg back to kick him in the head, but then seemed to change his mind. His face was illuminated in a combination of starlight and the distant glow of LA but it wasn’t enough to read his expression.
“What the hell are you doing?” Beamon finally managed to get out after spitting the dirt from his mouth. “Are you crazy?”
The boot planted against his bonds twisted skillfully and for a moment he thought his wrists were going to break.
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Mikey,” Chet said. “He’s right. This is nuts. I can help you. I’m inside the FBI. All I want is a little taste of the action. You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
“Jesus, Chet, just shut your mouth,” the man hovering over him whined. “Why the hell did you have to be a Fed?”
Great, now I have my excuse to leave my desk and venture out into the malignant world to buy that new book on CD so I can listen to Mills bring Mark Beamon alive again . . . in his entirety.