Conspiracies (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack Book 3)

Repairman Jack, F. Paul Wilson's vigilante hero from the New York Times bestseller The Tomb, returns in a thriller that thrusts him back into the weird, supernatural world that he thrives in.Looking for clues to the mysterious disappearance of leading conspiracy theorist Melanie Ehler, Jack attends a convention of bizarre and avid conspiracy theorists. It's a place where aliens are real, the government is out to get you, and the world is hurtling toward an inevitable war of good versus evil incarnate.Jack finds that nobody can be trusted--and that few people are what they seem. Worse yet, Jack's been having vivid dreams that make him wonder whether he's headed for a clash with his own past--maybe The Tomb's evil rakoshi beasts aren't through with him quite yet.At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Amazon.com Review

Don't bother calling Repairman Jack if your washing machine is busted. Jack is a fixer of a different nature: he investigates crimes that go beyond the norms of traditional law. In 1984's The Tomb, Jack tracked down a prized (and cursed) family heirloom; in 1998's Legacies, he sniffed out the sinister secret behind a man's last will and testament. The enigmatic sleuth makes his third appearance in Conspiracies. "I don't do missing wives," Jack protests at first, but the bizarre circumstances surrounding Melanie Ehler's disappearance convince him to help out the woman's distraught husband. Melanie is a leading voice in the conspiracy-theory movement, a true believer that crop circles, UFOs, and even El Niño are all part of the same vast plot against humankind. She dubs this her "Grand Unification Theory," or GUT. One week before announcing the GUT theory to the world, Melanie vanishes and Jack is plunged deep into her weird world as he attends the conference where Melanie was due to speak. Jack is initially amused by the eccentricities of the alien abductees and Satanic cult survivors Melanie counted among her colleagues; but an apparently supernatural force, a murder, a disappearing corpse, and a creature straight from the bowels of hell put his skepticism to the test.Conspiracies is another tightly plotted thriller from F. Paul Wilson, tinged with enough horror and supernatural suspense to please both mystery lovers and horror hounds. Repairman Jack reigns as one of the most alluring and mysterious private investigators in the business. --Naomi Gesinger

From Booklist

The third Repairman Jack novel (after The Tomb in 1984 and Legacies in 1998) is by far the best. Jack, a fix-it man who specializes in problems that frequently require him to face powerful foes and slip into the world of the supernatural, is hired to locate the missing wife of a businessman. This time he must find a missing woman who happens to be one of the world's leading conspiracy theorists (she was preparing to reveal her Grand Unification Theory, which would explain the truth behind all manner of strange goings-on). To find her, Jack must attend a convention of conspiracy buffs, most of whom seem more than a little strange. This is a funnier novel than the first two Repairman Jacks; those who look at conspiracy theories with a skeptical eye will have a great time, as will anyone who likes a well-plotted, spooky thriller. Wilson tells a great story. David Pitt

San Francisco Chronicle

“Repairman Jack is a wonderful character, ultracompetent but still vulnerable. While there's plenty of violence in Conspiracies, there's also a lot of humor.”

Dean Koontz on The Tomb

“Repairman Jack is one of the most original and intriguing characters to arise out of contemporary fiction in ages. . . .Hugely entertaining.”

Stephen King, President of the Repairman Jack Fan Club

“The Tomb is one of the best all-out adventure stories I've read in years.”

From the Publisher

Repairman Jack's exploits continue in ALL THE RAGE, the next installment of the Repairman Jack saga, with the Gauntlet hardcover in late-June.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

ConspiraciesTUESDAYIJack looked around the front room of his apartment and figured he was either going to have to move to a bigger place, or stop buying stuff. He had nowhere to put his new Daddy Warbucks lamp.Well, not new exactly. It had been made sometime in the 1940s, but it was in great shape. The base was a glazed plaster cast of Daddy from the waist up, his hand gripping a lapel of his tuxedo, a tiny rhinestone in place of his diamond stick pin. He was grinning, and his pupilless eyes showed not the slightest trace of concern about the lamp stem and socket shell emerging from his bald pate.Jack had found it in a Soho nostalgia shop, and talked the owner down to eighty-five dollars for it. He would have paid twice that. The apartment didn't need another lamp, but Jack needed this one. Warbucks was such a stand-up guy. No way Jack could pass it up. No bulb or lampshade, but that was easily remedied. Problem was, where to put it?He did a slow turn. His home was the third floor of a brownstone in the West Eighties, and smelled of old wood. Not surprising since the place was crammed with Victorian golden oak furniture. The walls and shelves were cluttered with memorabilia and tchotchkes from the thirties and forties. Everything in sight except for the computer monitor existed before he was born. Even the Cartoon Network--he could see the large-screen TV in the extra bedroom--was playing a toon from the thirties with a big-eyedowlet crooning how he loved "to sing-a, about the moon-a anna June-a anna spring-a ... ." And here in the front room, not a single empty horizontal surface left ...Except for the computer monitor.Jack placed the Daddy Warbucks lamp on top of the monitor, which sat atop Jack's antique oak rolltop desk. The processor sat on the floor in the kneehole, and the keyboard hid under the rolltop. The monitor didn't look comfortable perched up there, but then, the computer didn't really fit anywhere in the room--a plastic iceberg adrift in a sea of wavy-grained oak.But you couldn't be in business these days without one. Jack didn't understand all that much about computers, but he loved the anonymity they afforded in communications.He hadn't checked his email since this morning, so he lit up the monitor and rolled up the tambour top to reveal his keyboard. He logged on through one of his ISPs--Jack had multiple accounts under various names with a number of Internet service providers, and maintained a Web site through one of them. Everything he'd read said that people were increasingly looking to the Internet to solve all sorts of problems, so Jack figured he might as well make himself available to folks searching there for his kind of solution.Half a dozen emails from the Web site waited, but only one seemed worth answering, and that barely:Jack--I need your help. It's about my wife. Please call me or email me back, but =please= get back to me.It was signed "Lewis Ehler" and he'd left two numbers, one in Brooklyn, the other on Long Island.It's about my wife ... not some guy who wanted toknow if she was cheating, he hoped. Marital problems weren't in Jack's line.He had another job just starting up, but that promised to be mostly night work. Which meant his days would be free.He wrote down the numbers, then headed out to make the call.Copyright © 2000 by F. Paul Wilson

About the Author

F. Paul Wilson is the New York Times bestselling author of horror, adventure, medical thrillers, science fiction, and virtually everything in between. His books include the Repairman Jack novels―including Ground Zero, The Tomb, and Fatal Error―the Adversary cycle―including The Keep―and a young adult series featuring the teenage Jack. Wilson has won the Prometheus Award, the Bram Stoker Award, the Inkpot Award from the San Diego ComiCon, and the Lifetime Achievement Award of the Horror Writers of America, among other honors. He lives in Wall, New Jersey.

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