Piranha is a perfect beach readthe best entry in the series to date. Associated Press The action is supercharged. Kirkus s Cussler scores a direct hit. Series fans will have a lot of fun. Publishers Weekly About the AuthorClive Cussleris the author or coauthor of over fifty previous books in five bestselling series, including Dirk Pitt, NUMA Files,OregonFiles, Isaac Bell, and Sam and Remi Fargo. His nonfiction works includeBuilt for Adventure:The Classic Automobiles of Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt, andBuilt to Thrill: More Classic Automobiles from Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt,plusThe Sea HuntersandThe Sea Hunters II; these describe the true adventures of the real NUMA, which, led by Cussler, searches for lost ships of historic significance. With his crew of volunteers, Cussler has discovered more than sixty ships, including the long-lost Confederate shipHunley.He lives in Colorado and Arizona. BOYD MORRISON is the author of six adventures, including the four Tyler Locke novels, most recently The Roswell Conspiracy and The Loch Ness Legacy. He is also an actor and engineer, with a doctorate in engineering from Virginia Tech, who has worked on NASAs space station project at Johnson Space Center and developed several patents at Thomson/RCA. In 2003, he fulfilled a lifelong dream by becoming a Jeopardy! champion. He lives in Seattle.Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.ONE Chesapeake Bay Nine months ago The X-47B prototype attack drone made a sweeping turn, only minutes away from the target eighty miles northwest of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. Frederick Weddell adjusted the frequency-hopping algorithm of the jamming transmission. His mission was to block the control signal coming in from the drones operator at Naval Base Ventura County in California and recode its onboard navigation system, causing the aircraft and its one thousand pounds of fuel to smash into a derelict barge. Even without the two smart bombs it was capable of carrying, the drone could cause a deadly terrorist attack on the U.S. Weddell relished the challenge. Were gonna do it, he said to no one in particular, although there were two other men in the small room filled to the brim with electronic equipment and displays. The eighty-foot communications vessel anchored near the mouth of the Potomac was otherwise unoccupied except for its captain, who was topside on the bridge. Weddell adjusted his wire-frame glasses and looked up at the largest monitor to check the view from a camera on the deck. The drone was in its first turn after takeoff, a white wedge against the orange glow of dusk behind it. To accomplish their mission, jamming the control signal wasnt enough. If the drones contact with its controller was lost, it would revert to autonomous mode and return to its base at Naval Air Station Patuxent River, the Maryland flight center that served as the test facility for most of the Navys aerial weapons systems. The key was to establish a new control authorization so that the coordinates for an alternative target designation could be loaded. In this case the unmanned aerial vehicle would be instructed to crash into the barge at five hundred miles per hour. This attack was the worst case scenario for the Pentagon. No onenot the drone designers nor the Joint Chiefsthought that the onboard systems could be hacked. But ever since a top secret RQ-170 Sentinel reconnaissance drone crash-landed in Iran, top brass had demanded that the Air Force and Navy prove that their communications protocols were unbreakable. Apart from losing a drone that cost hundreds of millions of dollars to build, the crash had given Iran a free peek inside one of Americas most advanced pieces of technology. If the Iranians could bring it down, they might be able to wrest a drones control away from its operator. The military was pouring funds into a program to make sure that never happened. That was the reason for this hijacking simulation. The call had gone out for the best and brightest in the drone community to put together a team to serve as the enemy infiltration unit. An electrical engineer by education and now the Air Forces top communications specialist, Weddell had jumped at the chance. He was an expert in all manner of signal transmission, encryption, and disruption, so he was chosen to head up the signal intercept mission. His team consisted of two other top-notch scientists. Lawrence Kensit, a mousey fellow with a stooped gait and an acne-scarred face, was a computer scientist and physicist who had gotten his PhD from Cal Tech when he was twenty. Despite his penchant for calling anyone he felt didnt rise to his level of brilliance irredeemably stupidincluding officers who depended on his workhe nevertheless became the militarys most brilliant drone software developer. He sat to Weddells right tapping away on a keyboard set in front of three screens winking with data. The second man was Douglas Pearson, a hardware designer responsible for the technology that went into the most advanced drones in the militarys arsenal. He was a bear of a man whose bombastic voice and enormous gut suited someone who didnt say no too much and wasnt used to hearing the word, either. He ruled his fiefdom with an iron fist and would argue loudly with anyone who disagreed with his viewpoint. He sat to Weddells left with his feet up on the counter, a tablet computer in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. If the three of them couldnt crack the drones command system, no one else in the world could. After confirming that the drone would in fact proceed on an intercept path toward the derelict barge, Weddell planned to veer it from its course and have it waggle its wings over Patuxent in a final flourish before returning it to Ventura control. Pearson slurped his coffee loudly before setting it down and tapping his tablet against the counter. Whats happening, Larry? Ive got nothing on the linkup so far. Dr. Weddell, Kensit said without looking away from his screens, please remind Dr. Pearson that I dont respond to that nickname. I prefer Dr. Kensit, but I will accept Lawrence, even though that privilege is usually reserved for people who could be considered equals. He paused before adding, If its not clear, I dont consider him an equal. Equal in what way, Doctor Kensit? Pearson said with a mocking laugh. We sure arent equal in height. Or weight. Pearson snorted. Why dont I just call you shorty? Or how about pipsqueak? My height is lower relative to yours, but close to average, Kensit replied without inflection. Much like your IQ. Enough, Weddell said, fed up with their constant bickering. Were not going through this right now. He had spent half of the last six months playing referee between them. Were about to win this thing, he continued, so try to remain civil until were done. Well only have a direct line of sight for two more minutes. Whats your status, Lawrence? Kensit pressed a final key with a decisive snap. If Dr. Pearsons hardware calculations are correct, as soon as you are able to wrest the control signal away from Ventura, I will be able to reconfigure the onboard navigation protocols. Weddell nodded and put his plan for blocking the transmission into motion. Spoofing the GPS navigation wouldnt work because all US drones relied on inertial navigation to prevent just such a tactic. He had to be much more creative. Using an antenna of his own design mounted on the deck of the boat, he blasted the receiver on the X-47B with an overload spike that would cause the onboard systems to momentarily freeze. The sensitive part of the operation was to do it just long enough so that its receiver would immediately go into search mode again, but not so long that it recognized someone was attempting to compromise its protocols and cause it to revert to autonomous operation. Get ready, Lawrence, Weddell said. Remember youll have only twenty seconds to acquire the signal. I know. Of course he does. Weddell turned to Pearson. He was responsible for disabling the drones automated self-destruct, which would engage if the drones sensors detected an unauthorized signal controlling it. Doug, are you ready to go? Lets do this, Pearson said, rubbing his hands together. Okay. On my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark. Weddell pressed the ENTER button, and the pulse bombarded the drone. His screen confirmed that he had a direct hit. Go, Lawrence! Kensit began typing furiously. The seconds ticked by. All Weddell could do from this point was watch. He kept his eyes on the monitor above him. The drone remained on its original heading. Status, Lawrence. The countdown timer hed programmed into his laptop gave them ten more seconds. Im isolating the control subroutines, Kensit said, which was as close Weddell would get to an estimate from him. More ticks. The wait was excruciating. For the first time in the entire process, Weddell was completely powerless. Five seconds, Lawrence! More typing. You can do it, Kensit, Pearson said. Kensits fingers flew across the keyboard, and then he pulled them away like a concert pianist finishing a minuet. I know, he said. We now have control. He looked pointedly at Pearson. Try not to make my brilliance a moot point. Although this drone wouldnt actually explode if Pearson couldnt disable the autodestruct, a switch inside the X-47B would trip in the event the autodestruct sequence wasnt terminated. The inspectors checking the drone later would know that the hijacking mission had failed. There would be no partial credit. Pearson used the tablet as deftly as Kensit had manipulated his keyboard. Weddell was focused on entering new targeting coordinates into the nav system. He finished just as Pearson called out in triumph, Take that, Uncle Sam! We done got your drone! Weddell and Pearson clapped and slapped palms. All they could get from Kensit was a raised eyebrow and a shrug, as if he shouldnt celebrate something that he fully expected to happen. The festivities became short-lived when Weddell noticed the X-47B turning on the monitor. It should have been heading away from them on the course towards the barge. Instead it was flying directly toward them. And it was descending. What the hell is going on, Lawrence? Kensit shook his head in bewilderment. This cant be. Pearson took his feet down and stared at Kensit. What did you do, Larry? I didnt do anything to cause this. Cause what? Weddell asked. The drone is locked onto the signal were broadcasting. What? Weddell tried to disengage the signal they were broadcasting, but the computer wouldnt respond. How is that possible? IIm not sure. Weddell looked up at the monitor. The X-47B was growing larger on the screen every moment. They had less than a minute before the drone and its payload of fuel completed its kamikaze attack and blew the boat apart. Can you reprogram it? Kensit just gaped at his screen, perplexed and mute. Weddell rushed over and shook him by the shoulders. I said, can you reprogram it? For probably the first time in his life, Kensit uttered the words, I dont know. Youve got to try or were all dead. He wheeled around and pointed at Pearson. See if you can engage that autodestruct. Pearson nodded furiously and hunched over his tablet. Weddell raced for the door at the front of the room. Where are you going? Kensit asked. If you guys cant reassert control, I can at least stop our antenna from broadcasting. He threw open the door and ran up to the bridge, where he found the captain staring at the drone diving toward them. Get us moving now! Weddell shouted. The captain didnt need to be told why and throttled up the engine. Weddell climbed up onto the top deck above the bridge where the antenna was located. If he disconnected the power cable, the broadcast would cease. Even if the drone had locked onto their initial position, moving the ship would get them out of its path. He reached the antenna and was about to reach for the cable when the ship lurched forward. He was thrown back, tripped on a railing, and struck his head against the bulkhead. He saw stars for a few seconds and shook his head to clear them before crawling toward the antenna. The black cable leading to the dish lay exposed on the white deck. He glanced up and saw the slash of white wing plunging toward them, the drones black air intake gaping like the maw of a manta ray. The banshee wail of the jet engine foretold a fiery end if he couldnt disable their broadcast. It looked like neither Kensit nor Pearson had been successful. Weddell grasped the power cable with both hands and yanked it. The cable held firm. He braced his feet against the dishs rotating pedestal and put everything he had into it, his muscles straining in protest. With a sudden pop, the cable flew backward in a shower of sparks, sending Weddell tumbling. He picked himself up and saw the cable had completely disconnected from the antenna. There was no way it was still broadcasting. The water splashed in whitecaps from the bow, indicating that they were now doing a good twenty knots. Theyd have plenty of distance from the drones impact. Weddell turned his attention back to the drone so that he could tell the crash investigators exactly where it went down. But to his horror, the drone continued to make adjustments in its course. It was still aimed straight at them, no more than five seconds away. He scrambled to his feet in a mad dash to jump overboard, but he was far too late. Time seemed to compress as the drone plunged into the ship and exploded. His last thought before the fireball consumed him wasnt of his wife or his mother or his German shepherd, Bandit. It was focused on the fact that this event was no accident. Frederick Weddell used his brains final impulses to wonder who it was that killed him. TWO Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela Present day Harbormaster Manuel Lozada shook his head in disbelief as his boat approached the rusting hulk that he was about to inspect before it unloaded its cargo at the La Guanta docks. He shielded his eyes from the setting sun to give himself a better look. From a distance the pattern of mottled green paint on the hull seemed designed to camouflage the ship for a jungle cruise, but up close he could see that it was just a sloppy patch job in which various shades of puke green were splashed on the sides to cover up bare spots, and even the newer paint was now flaking away. As his boat passed by the stern, Lozada could make out the name Dolos on the champagne-glass fantail, the only mark of elegance on an otherwise profoundly ugly vessel. The flag flying from the jack staff was of a Liberian registry, which matched the information hed obtained independently. The ship was large560 feet longbut nothing compared to the massive supertankers that berthed at the Pamatacual oil terminal only five miles away. The Dolos wasnt a container ship, but rather an old tramp steamer that carried whatever needed to be transported between the less prominent ports of the world. This one in particular looked like it should have been sent to the scrap yard last century. If it ever got caught in even a minor gale, Lozada wouldnt be surprised if the old girl broke in half and sank. Two of the five cranes on board were so corroded that they could not possibly be operational. Trash and broken machinery was scattered across the deck without a care. Twin funnels belched black smoke. The filthy white superstructure was situated between the six forward holds and two aft holds, and two bridge wings poked out from either side. The windows on the pilothouse were so dingy that Lozada could see the spot the pilot had wiped clear to see through during the five-mile trip into the harbor. Lozada had served in the Venezuelan navy for twenty years and had remained a reservist since becoming harbormaster, and he would have been keel-hauled if hed let a ship of his reach this state of disrepair. Only the cheapest or most desperate shippers would trust their cargo to a vessel like this. He motioned for the boats operator to pull alongside the shabby gangway lowered from the Dolos and turned to the Asian sitting behind him, a former Chinese marine named Gao Wangshu. With a high and tight brush cut and a lean sinewy frame, Gao could have still been in the military. Well? Lozada said in English, the language common between them. The admiral had handpicked Lozada for this task and wanted a definitive answer. I do not know yet, Gao replied. I cant report back to the admiral until you are sure. Your payment depends on it. I cannot be confident of my conclusion until I get on board. Either way, youd better be right. Is that a threat? A warning. Admiral Ruiz does not like to be made a fool. Gao eyed Lozadas sidearm and nodded slowly. I will share with you any doubts I have about its identity. See that you do. Remember that you are playing a trainee, which means you will be silent. I understand. Once the boat was tied to the Dolos, the two of them climbed the gangway and were met at the top by a slovenly crewman sporting a battered cowboy hat. Tendrils of stringy brown hair jutted out at odd angles around the edges, and bits of food were caught in a handlebar mustache draped under his bulbous nose. The mans khaki shirt was dotted with coffee and sweat stains and strained to cover a generous gut. Habla Espaol? Lozada asked. Nope, the man replied in a twang Lozada couldnt identify. I sure hope you speak English. My name is Manuel Lozada. I am the harbormaster for La Guanta. Please take me to your captain. A smile revealed the mans nicotine-soaked teeth. You got him. Buck Hollands the name. Welcome aboard Dolos. He stuck out a hand and shook Lozadas vigorously. Lozada could barely contain his surprise that this slob was the vessels master, but he recovered quickly and introduced Gao as his apprentice, Fernando Wang. He didnt expect Gaos ethnicity to raise any red flags since Venezuela has a sizeable Chinese immigrant population. I need to review your crew and cargo manifests as well as your registration and shipping orders. You got it, Holland said. Theyre up in the bridge. Follow me. Watch your step. Weve got a few deck plates to repair. Lozada almost laughed at the understatement. Rust was so prevalent on the warped steel plates that it was a wonder the ship held together, regardless of the weather. Chains stretched across breaks in the railings, and the superstructure was even more of a horror close up. Rotting plywood sheets were screwed over gaps in the bulkheads, and a third of the windows around the bridge were cracked. Despite his research into the captain, he hadnt expected this degree of neglect, not only to his vessel but to himself as well. Although Hollands age was forty, drinking and sun damage had added fifteen years to his face. According to his file, the captain was a recovering alcoholic who had run a container ship aground near Singapore. The only command he could get after that was this rickety tramp steamer, and by the looks of it Holland had completely ceased to care about his reputation. They entered a narrow corridor, and Lozada was struck by the foul stench, a mixture of cigarette smoke, diesel fumes, and sewage. He practically gagged. Yeah, Holland said. Sorry about the smell. The heads backing up again, so I hope you dont have to use it. Ive got my boys working on it. You know, two weeks ago in the middle of the Atlantic we had to resort to using buckets. Instead of being embarrassed, he laughed at the memory. Lozada suppressed the temptation to hold his nose and followed the captain inside. Gao kept pace beside him, taking in the awful state of the interior. Chipped linoleum squeaked under Lozadas rubber soles, and he took care not to rub his clean uniform against the grimy bare metal walls. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered enough to trigger epileptic seizures. They arrived at the captains office, where the pungent aroma was even stronger. The rectangular room had a single porthole caked with salt, and creepy sad clowns painted in neon shades stared down at them from black velvet pictures on the wall. The office featured two other doors, both open. The first was to a captains cabin furnished with little more than a dresser bolted to the wall, a mirror crazed as if someone had put his fist into it, and an unmade metal bed topped with discolored sheets and a worn blanket. The second door led to a cramped bathroom that looked as if it hadnt been cleaned since the ship had been built. The odor emanating from the toilet was overpowering. Holland went behind his desk and plunked himself into a chair that squealed in protest. Lozada was amazed to see him plug bare wires from a desk lamp into the wall, snatching his hand back and cursing when the inevitable sparks shot from the outlet. The lamp winked on anyway. Take a load off, Holland said, and gestured to a couple of chairs on the other side. Lozada perched himself on the edge of the seat to avoid a glistening spot of some unknown substance. Gao mimicked his uncomfortable posture. Before they could get started, a huge black man rushed into the room carrying an enormous dead rat by the tail, startling Lozada and Gao. I found it, Captain! the man yelled in victory. The critter was what clogged us up? The crewman nodded. The heads should be working now. Be sure to get more rat traps while were here. Were going through them like crazy. While Holland was distracted by the rat, Lozada surreptitiously took his photo with his camera phone. Aye, sir. The crewman left just as quickly. At least somethings going right today, Holland said as he rummaged through his desk. He produced two binders, one containing the cargo manifest and shipping orders, and the other with the registry and crew manifest. Lozada flipped through the cargo information first. This says that youre carrying fertilizer, he said. Holland nodded and picked up a toothpick from his desk that he stuck in his mouth. Thats right. Five thousand tons from Houston. Only a thousand of it is for Venezuela. The rest is going to Colombia. Were also taking on some lumber while were here. Youre new to Puerto La Cruz. I havent seen you before. I go where they pay me to go. Most of the time its the northern Caribbean, but Im happy to visit your fine country for a change. Satisfied that the cargo information was in order, Lozada next perused the crew manifest. Nothing stood out. It was just a mix of Filipino and Nigerian crewman. The Liberian registry also checked out. He passed the binders to Gao, who inspected them and then set them on the desk. Hows it looking? Holland asked. Im afraid our dockworkers are very busy tonight, Lozada said. I dont know if they have time to help with your cargo until tomorrow. Holland grinned. Maybe I can change that. He opened a drawer, withdrew an envelope, and handed it to Lozada. That should cover any overtime. Lozada riffled through the money inside and counted five hundred American dollars. Although he was here on a mission, there was no sense in letting this opportunity for a bribe go to waste. We all good? Holland asked. Lozada glanced at Gao. Have you seen what you need to see? Gao gave a curt nod. Lozada pocketed the envelope and stood. Everything seems to be in order, Captain Holland. You may begin unloading immediately. Thats mighty nice of you, Mr. Lozada. Let me walk you out. They made their way back to the gangway. Nice doing business with you, Holland said with a tip of his hat. Now if youll excuse me, Ive been waiting to make use of the facilities for hours, if you know what I mean. Adios. Lozada couldnt wait to get away from this putrid mess. He smiled wanly and nodded goodbye. When they were safely back on his launch and he could breathe fresh air again, he shrugged at Gao as the operator motored away. At least we know now this isnt the one, he said. You are wrong, Gao said. This is the ship youre looking for. Lozada looked at Gao in amazement and then up at the disgusting captain walking back toward his cabin. Youre joking! That thing isnt fit to be a garbage scow. Its all a clever disguise. I have been on that ship before. Look, weve all heard the rumors. A normal-looking cargo ship bristling with weapons that is used to spy on countries around the world. Some say its British, some say American or Russian. No one knows its name. No one can agree on what it looks like. All we have are vague second-hand stories about the ship getting into sea battles with Chinese destroyers, Iranian submarines, and Burmese gunboats. Supposedly it has missiles and torpedoes and lasers, armor three feet thick, and can withstand anything short of a nuclear blast. Does that barely-floating embarrassment look like a warship to you? Gaos expression was deadly serious. I didnt see any torpedoes or lasers, but I was stationed aboard the destroyer Chengdo, and I was one of the marines sent onto that ship to capture it. We were repelled by a well-trained force armed with the latest weaponry. Lozada laughed. I could return with two men from the police force and seize that vessel without a problem. I advise against that. Your admiral has information that you dont. I suggest you call and report my conclusions. Lozada narrowed his eyes at Gao. Give me one reason why I should believe you. The ships name. Dolos. Do you know what it means? Of course. A dolos is a molded concrete block. We pile them up to form breakwaters. Theres another meaning. I did a search on my phone on the way here. Dolos is the Greek god of deception. You are meant to think its harmless. Lozada checked his own smartphone and came up with the same result. He frowned. It was flimsy evidence, but he could be in serious trouble if he didnt report back to Admiral Ruiz and then was proven to be wrong. All right, he said, and dialed the number hed been given. He asked for Admiral Ruiz and was connected immediately. A distinct hiss came over the line before he heard a click. This is Admiral Dayana Ruiz, a female voice said in Spanish. Who is this? Admiral, this is Commander Manuel Lozada, he said nervously. Seor Gao is confirming that this is the spy vessel. What do you think? I think its nothing more than a cargo ship two voyages away from going under. Did you take his photo as I ordered? Yes, Admiral. Send it to me now. Lozada messaged the picture to her. After a slight pause, she said, Thats him. Holland is the same man as the one in my photo. We have intelligence identifying him as the captain of the spy vessel. Lozada felt a rush of adrenaline. Admiral Ruiz was the most powerful woman in the Venezuelan navy and next in line to be defense minister. He could write his ticket if he captured a foreign spy. Ill have them arrested at once. Her voice stabbed through the phone like an ice pick. You will do nothing, Commander. Im aboard the frigate Mariscal Sucre. We are currently three and a half hours from Puerto La Cruz. If the rumors are true, we will need all the firepower at my disposal. I plan to capture the vessel myself. Lozada swallowed hard at her blood-curdling tone. I must warn you, Admiral, the Dolos is carrying four thousand tons of fertilizer. Ammonium nitrate is volatile. If a fire is started by gunfire, it could blow up and destroy the entire harbor. How long before she is scheduled to depart? Four hours. Then well lie in wait outside the harbor. Let her get her cargo on board and set sail. Well intercept her in open water. And if they do have all those mythical weapons on board? It doesnt matter. Mariscal Sucre is more than capable of sinking her. does bookbub cost money Piranha (The Oregon Files)
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful. Good, but not his best!By Yogi BearNot one of his best by a long shot. I have always enjoyed the "Oregon Files" Series and the characters are compelling, but this time he chose a topic that I couldn't in my wildest imagination to be believable. I love science fiction with all the special effects but this special telescope used to spy on everyone no matter where they are (unless they are underwater) was a bit hard for me to handle. Loved the characters, as always. But I 'm not giving up on him, he can't hit it out of the park every time.3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. The Crew Of The Oregon Is BackBy Jeffrey T. MunsonJuan Cabrillo and the crew of the Oregon return in another fast-paced adventure.In 1902, a German scientist is killed when the ship he is on is destroyed in the eruption of Mt. Pelee. Claiming to have found Oz, the scientist was on the verge of a dramatic breakthrough.Fast-forward to over a century later. Cabrillo and his crew become entangled with a Venezuelan admiral intent on sinking their ship. The female admiral is in possession of stolen American technology known as Piranha; a small undersea craft which can drill perfect holes in the hull of a ship. The admiral received her technology from a traitorous American weapons designer. To make matters even worse, this same person seems to have also completed the work started over a century earlier by the German scientist killed in the volcanic eruption. Now, this person has the ability to see practically anywhere at any time.Intent on taking control of the U.S. government, the designer's next target has become Air Force 2; the private plane of the vice-president of the United States.Meanwhile, Cabrillo has faked the sinking of the Oregon to throw the weapons designer and his accomplices off their trail, but will Juan and his team be able to stop this madman before it's too late?I found "Piranha" to be a great read. I miss Jack Du Brul's writing style, but I feel that Boyd Morrison did an excellent job telling this story. The characters are as lively as ever, and the story is well-conceived and full of action, adventure, and surprises. Highly recommended.0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. I have loved The Oregon Files seriesBy CustomerI have loved The Oregon Files series, so I was predisposed to love this book, too. While it was good, I didn't love it as much as the others. This book was filled with action and things blowing up and getting shot, accompanied by a well-described cafeteria of weaponry. For some, I guess that would be a "plus." I felt that the action and weaponry took over the available space on the page. Unlike previous books, there was minimal character development, not even getting well acquainted with most characters. I missed, too, the descriptions of life on the Oregon itself. The Piranha was worth reading, but, to me, it slipped into the stereotypical car/boat chase to blow up the bad guys to the detriment of getting to know the characters well and seeing them grow and change.