Action & Adventure
![Dirk Cussler - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B004MRX02C.jpg)
Clive Cussler's The Devil's Sea (Dirk Pitt Adventure)
Fearless adventurer Dirk Pitt must unravel a historical mystery of epic importance in the latest novel in the beloved New York Times bestselling series created by the "grand master of adventure" Clive Cussler.
In 1959 Tibet, a Buddhist artifact of immense importance was seemingly lost to history in the turmoil of the Communist takeover. But when National Underwater and Marine Agency Director Dirk Pitt discovers a forgotten plane crash in the Philippine Sea over 60 years later, new clues emerge to its hidden existence.
But Pitt and his compatriot Al Giordino have larger worries when they are ordered to recover a failed hypersonic missile from Luzon Strait. Only someone else is after it, too…a rogue Chinese military team that makes their own earthshattering discovery, hijacking a ship capable of stirring the waters of the deep into a veritable Devil's Sea.
From the cold dark depths of the Pacific Ocean to the dizzying heights of the Himalaya Mountains, only Dirk Pitt and his children, Summer and Dirk Jr., can unravel the mysteries that will preserve a religion, save a nation…and save the world from war.
In 1959 Tibet, a Buddhist artifact of immense importance was seemingly lost to history in the turmoil of the Communist takeover. But when National Underwater and Marine Agency Director Dirk Pitt discovers a forgotten plane crash in the Philippine Sea over 60 years later, new clues emerge to its hidden existence.
But Pitt and his compatriot Al Giordino have larger worries when they are ordered to recover a failed hypersonic missile from Luzon Strait. Only someone else is after it, too…a rogue Chinese military team that makes their own earthshattering discovery, hijacking a ship capable of stirring the waters of the deep into a veritable Devil's Sea.
From the cold dark depths of the Pacific Ocean to the dizzying heights of the Himalaya Mountains, only Dirk Pitt and his children, Summer and Dirk Jr., can unravel the mysteries that will preserve a religion, save a nation…and save the world from war.
Editorial Reviews
"Trouble comes looking for Dirk Pitt and his children, Dirk and Summer, in the strangest and most entertaining ways…The Pitts are all great characters-clever, gutsy, and lucky…Dirk Cussler carries on what his father started in a series that never gets old."−Kirkus Reviews (starred)
"Exciting…Cussler has done his father proud."−Publishers Weekly
"Exciting…Cussler has done his father proud."−Publishers Weekly
Readers Top Reviews
David l.. HydeWillia
Haven't had a chance to read yet got it yesterday on first day of release , looking forward to see how Dirk Cussler carries on his father's book series. He has been a co-writer for a number of books . Hope he will continue the whole series .
Consterb
This book is written in typical can't put it down Cussler fashion. I have a massive Cussler book library and I deem this one of the best. Thank you for putting Dirk senior and Al back in action!
Frank Spremulli srJ
Clive cuddled deceased writ or co- authored many adventure novels , whether it is son or one of con authors they have knack of taking past history item and linking to current day adventures .
Elmer Swartzmeyer
Why does the author think that every DC3/C-47 aircraft need to be depicted with D-DAY invasion stripes? The plane crashed in the Himalayas. About as far from France as you can get. The author should pay more attention to historical accuracy.
John A. Elmer Swartz
I’ve always been a Clive Cussler fan and was very sad to hear of his passing. His son, Dirk did his father proud with this one. Great read, lots of action and really enjoyed it.
Short Excerpt Teaser
-1-
WenchAng Spacecraft Launch Site
Hainan, China
October 2022
The missile rose in a graceful arc, the thunderous burn of its solid-fuel booster engine rippling through the predawn sky. It wasn't a large missile, barely twenty feet tall, and it was fired from an auxiliary launchpad at the sprawling coastal base, which was more accustomed to massive satellite-carrying rockets. Yet to those watching the flight, it was considerably more important than the latest spy satellite.
The missile's fiery exhaust disappeared from sight in a matter of seconds. But the cameras from a reconnaissance plane tracked its progress far out to sea, supplemented by satellites that targeted the launch. The distant lenses viewed the missile as the exhaust suddenly fell dark and it briefly sailed on in silence. If an observer had been present as it passed, they might have heard a sonic boom, followed by a motorized whooshing, now accompanied by the burning exhaust of liquid propellant. But those senses would have to be acute, as the missile was traveling more than a mile per second.
In an operations bay twelve hundred miles away at the Beijing Aerospace Flight Control Center, General Xu Junhai watched the missile on a large video screen. Long-range cameras on Hainan and on ships in the South China Sea showed only a speck as the missile sped from view. Xu turned to one of several engineers seated at a console, monitoring telemetry data. "Has the motor engaged?"
The engineer, a slight man with thick, square glasses, nodded without looking up. "Yes, sir. The Dragonfly has successfully transitioned from solid-fuel propulsion to scramjet flight."
"Speed?"
"Just over twenty-eight thousand kilometers per hour and accelerating."
The General turned back to the video screen, where he saw a small puff of smoke where the missile had been tracking. "What was that?"
His query was met by a long pause. "The data feeds have ceased. There . . . there seems to be a malfunction." The engineer kept his face down, fearful to make eye contact with the General. "The flight appears to have terminated."
The General, a humorless man of sixty who wore his thinning hair slicked back, couldn't hide his displeasure. "Terminated?" he boomed. "Again?"
It was the third failure in a row for the sleek prototype missile.
The engineer nodded.
The General called across the room to a bulbous man in uniform who was conversing with the flight director. "Colonel Yan."
Colonel Yan Xiaoming turned and approached with the trepidation of a man headed to the gallows.
The General stared at him. "Tell me what has happened."
"We are still assessing the data," Yan said, "but it was a flight failure during midphase acceleration."
"I can see that. What is the cause?"
The Colonel glanced at the clipboard he gripped tightly. "Preliminary readings indicate a possible thermal failure in the lead fairing. But the vehicle did produce a new speed mark prior to failure."
"A thermal failure? That was the cause of the last launch's demise? I had been led to believe that problem had been solved."
"It is proving a difficult challenge."
The General waved at the video screen that now showed an empty sky. "The President was expecting success today." He let the words sink in. "This is your third failure. It will also be your last. When can I tell the President that the issues will be resolved?"
"I . . . I cannot provide a current time estimate. Dr. Liu is examining potential solutions. We will not rest until we have an answer, sir."
"I want a full report of the failure on my desk in the morning," Xu said, "and a solution by the end of the week." He turned on his heel and stomped from the control center, his face flush with anger.
An uncomfortable silence hung over the room for a moment, then the technicians resumed examining the flight data.
Colonel Yan made a phone call, then turned again to the flight director. "Have Dr. Liu meet me in my office." He departed the room slowly, taking a last look at the blank video screen.
Yan made his way to a third-floor office in the headquarters building for the People's Liberation Army Rocket Force. As program manager for the Dragonfly missile project, Yan's office was a large but plain space that overlooked a bare dirt field. He glanced out the window at a column of fresh recruits in the People's Liberation Army marching back and forth, their khaki uniforms blending with the mud underfoot.
Yan slumped into his desk chair and rifled through a drawer for a bottle of Japanese whisky called Hakushu he had acquired on a visit to Hong Kong. He poured himself a full shot...
WenchAng Spacecraft Launch Site
Hainan, China
October 2022
The missile rose in a graceful arc, the thunderous burn of its solid-fuel booster engine rippling through the predawn sky. It wasn't a large missile, barely twenty feet tall, and it was fired from an auxiliary launchpad at the sprawling coastal base, which was more accustomed to massive satellite-carrying rockets. Yet to those watching the flight, it was considerably more important than the latest spy satellite.
The missile's fiery exhaust disappeared from sight in a matter of seconds. But the cameras from a reconnaissance plane tracked its progress far out to sea, supplemented by satellites that targeted the launch. The distant lenses viewed the missile as the exhaust suddenly fell dark and it briefly sailed on in silence. If an observer had been present as it passed, they might have heard a sonic boom, followed by a motorized whooshing, now accompanied by the burning exhaust of liquid propellant. But those senses would have to be acute, as the missile was traveling more than a mile per second.
In an operations bay twelve hundred miles away at the Beijing Aerospace Flight Control Center, General Xu Junhai watched the missile on a large video screen. Long-range cameras on Hainan and on ships in the South China Sea showed only a speck as the missile sped from view. Xu turned to one of several engineers seated at a console, monitoring telemetry data. "Has the motor engaged?"
The engineer, a slight man with thick, square glasses, nodded without looking up. "Yes, sir. The Dragonfly has successfully transitioned from solid-fuel propulsion to scramjet flight."
"Speed?"
"Just over twenty-eight thousand kilometers per hour and accelerating."
The General turned back to the video screen, where he saw a small puff of smoke where the missile had been tracking. "What was that?"
His query was met by a long pause. "The data feeds have ceased. There . . . there seems to be a malfunction." The engineer kept his face down, fearful to make eye contact with the General. "The flight appears to have terminated."
The General, a humorless man of sixty who wore his thinning hair slicked back, couldn't hide his displeasure. "Terminated?" he boomed. "Again?"
It was the third failure in a row for the sleek prototype missile.
The engineer nodded.
The General called across the room to a bulbous man in uniform who was conversing with the flight director. "Colonel Yan."
Colonel Yan Xiaoming turned and approached with the trepidation of a man headed to the gallows.
The General stared at him. "Tell me what has happened."
"We are still assessing the data," Yan said, "but it was a flight failure during midphase acceleration."
"I can see that. What is the cause?"
The Colonel glanced at the clipboard he gripped tightly. "Preliminary readings indicate a possible thermal failure in the lead fairing. But the vehicle did produce a new speed mark prior to failure."
"A thermal failure? That was the cause of the last launch's demise? I had been led to believe that problem had been solved."
"It is proving a difficult challenge."
The General waved at the video screen that now showed an empty sky. "The President was expecting success today." He let the words sink in. "This is your third failure. It will also be your last. When can I tell the President that the issues will be resolved?"
"I . . . I cannot provide a current time estimate. Dr. Liu is examining potential solutions. We will not rest until we have an answer, sir."
"I want a full report of the failure on my desk in the morning," Xu said, "and a solution by the end of the week." He turned on his heel and stomped from the control center, his face flush with anger.
An uncomfortable silence hung over the room for a moment, then the technicians resumed examining the flight data.
Colonel Yan made a phone call, then turned again to the flight director. "Have Dr. Liu meet me in my office." He departed the room slowly, taking a last look at the blank video screen.
Yan made his way to a third-floor office in the headquarters building for the People's Liberation Army Rocket Force. As program manager for the Dragonfly missile project, Yan's office was a large but plain space that overlooked a bare dirt field. He glanced out the window at a column of fresh recruits in the People's Liberation Army marching back and forth, their khaki uniforms blending with the mud underfoot.
Yan slumped into his desk chair and rifled through a drawer for a bottle of Japanese whisky called Hakushu he had acquired on a visit to Hong Kong. He poured himself a full shot...
