Will Murray’s new thrill-packed adventure of the Spider will be
different things to different people—and a kick in the pants for
them all.
If you’ve read the
classic pulp novels of the Octopus and the Scorpion, you’ll be one
big step ahead of the Spider as he struggles to solve the mysteries
of who’s who and what roles they play in the latest plague
threatening New York City.
If you haven’t
read those oldies, no problem! You and the Spider will starting
fresh, discovering everything you need to know about everyone
involved, and be surprised at a few plot twists those in the first
group will be expecting.
Either way, there
are plenty of other surprises, and other mysteries to solve. And you
can rely upon the Spider—and Mr. Will Murray—to solve them with
blazing hot .45s.
It’s bad news for
the Big Apple when the centuries-old Cult of the Purple Eyes rises
again, turning citizens into madmen intent on tearing each other limb
from limb. As Richard Wentworth’s closest associates—Nita Van
Sloan, the deadly Ram Singh and faithful servant Jackson—are drawn
into this growing peril, he must fight to save their lives, along
with millions of others.
Into the mix comes a
fellow socialite named Jeffrey Fairchild, a sketchy old man called
Dr. Skull, a ruthless vigilante knows as the Skull-Killer, and a
criminal mastermind calling himself the Scorpion. All of them have secrets. Who can Wentworth
trust? And what does the
Scorpion hope to accomplish from all this death and destruction?
Mr. Murray is in
fine form on this one. Here are a few of the many great lines that
caught my eye:
Beneath a hatchet
nose, lips split in a rictus of death, revealing gleaming white
canines that would have given Count Dracula an exquisite stab of
envy.
Two guns blasted
in unison, turning the man’s rib cage into something found on the
floor of a slaughterhouse.
Fairchild’s
automatic barked and turned another half around before he collapsed
into a sagging pile of meat.
Like dropped
leather gloves, dead bats lay everywhere.
The powerful
weapons bucked and smoked. Tongues of fire leapt from the steel
muzzles. First one, then the other of the riflemen were knocked off
their feet and hurled into eternity.
[Ram Singh] took
out a handkerchief and used it to polish the kirpan’s blade, taking
care to avoid the edge, whose sharpness was such that if a butterfly
were to alight upon it, the insect would unwittingly bisect itself…
Who can resist stuff
like that? Nobody! Get yourself a copy of Scourge of the Scorpion,
and help the Spider save the day—again!