A firefight reverberates through Moscow's dark, rain-soaked streets; shattered glass and screams echo in the air. In the lawless ways of Russia's capital city, the gunmen melt away into the night. Two men are dead, the targets not what they seem. A shadowy figure lopes along the riverbank outside the Kremlin walls. Known to all as Volk, a battle-hardened veteran of Russia's brutal war in Chechnya, he prowls Moscow's grim alleyways, a knife concealed in his prosthetic foot at all times.
As both a major player in the black market and a covert agent for the Russian military, Volk serves two masters: Maxim, a psychotic Azeri mafia kingpin with hordes of loyal informers; and a man known only as the General, to whom Volk is mysteriously indebted. By his side is Valya, an exotic beauty charged with protecting her lover from his unsavory associates. Valya is the most dangerous weapon in Volk's arsenal. Together they are commissioned to steal a long-lost da Vinci painting called Leda and the Swan from St. Petersburg's Hermitage Museum. Leda's ethereal radiance is undeniably captivating and incalculably dangerous. Volk must choose which powerful man he will betray in order to escape with the painting-and with his life. With the high-octane rush and vivid intensity of a feature film, Volk's Game delivers at every turn, announcing Alexei Volkovoy as the boldest hero of a new generation.
This title is part of (or scheduled to be part of) the following subscriptions:
by Brent Ghelfi
by Matthew Dixon, Brent Adamson
by Stephen King
by Margaret Leroy
by David L. Golemon
by Brent Runyon
by Thomas Hager
by Adam Leith Gollner
by John D. Gartner
by William Peter Blatty
"Volk fits the paradigm of the antihero--he's disgruntled, bitter, clever, cold-hearted, and brutal. When he and his lover set out to steal a long-lost work of art, anyone who gets in their way is dispensed with coldly and efficiently. Stephen Hoye's narration of this thriller is understated yet intense. He sustains the dark tone of the novel and its protagonist except during the few interludes in which Volk allows himself to be relatively vulnerable. Hoye handles the pervasive violence deliberately, deftly, and without exaggeration. His restraint underlines the extent to which violence permeates Volk's world. J.E.M. (c) AudioFile 2007, Portland, Maine"
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