St. Martin's Press
The dark green bombs fell from a milky sky. There were six of them, weighing a ton apiece. They had been dropped from an altitude of about twenty-six thousand feet, so the fall was going to take a while.
On the ground, Mikhail Toporov heard the distant, fading thunder of the three warplanes. Although he didn’t know it, they were Israeli F-15s. He scanned the sky. The visibility was excellent in the dry air under a high cirrus layer, which made the sky look a dirty white. Toporov saw nothing. If he had looked harder,
“[A] nail-biting near-future thriller… Hardly a page passes without nerve-stretching tension or flat-out action. One can only hope the U.S. president, the head of the CIA and the Israeli prime minister will have this book on their nightstands for easy reference in case fiction turns to reality, an all-too-real possibility as evidenced by recent headlines.” —Publishers Weekly