Walk the Edge of Panic

Karl Goodman

Review

Whitney Evans is a Mormon journalist, leading a quiet life in Utah following his wife's death. But not for long. Soon he becomes embroiled in a world of excitement and danger. Involved in a turbulent political struggle in Guatemala, Whitney's life changes drastically. He is entranced by Geri Taylor, the beautiful blonde hired to secretly involve him in a complex smuggling scheme.

Marked for murder, Whitney is befriended by Juan Barrera, a professional killer whose desire to change his life forces Whitney to re-examine his own religious convictions. In the depths of the Guatemalan jungles, Whitney, Geri and Juan fight for survival against a radical political faction gone haywire, and struggle against a smuggler's plan to have them eliminated. They depend on each other and learn to love one another. And they come to depend on God as their lives become a roller-coaster ride escalating at a horrifying pace.

From cover to cover, Walk the Edge of Panic explodes with excitement! Its fast-paced tension-filled adventure will have you biting your nails and holding your breath to the very last. Once you enter its pages, it will grasp and hold you, and you too will walk the edge of panic!

Sample Page

Mr. Bentley had carefully set the stage. Placards bearing a description of the purpose and original site for most of the artifacts in his outer office had been placed with each article. All were clearly labeled as copies; each placard noted where the original had been found.
Her appointment time had been explicit. She was not to be a minute early nor a minute late . . . exactly one P.M. She waited at first in patience as her appointment time passed. Then she stood up and began to look cursorily at the artifacts. Her glance fell on one particularly impressive jade mosaic mask. It was labeled as pre-classic, from Teotihuacán. It was pre-classic certainly, but there was no way it could be from Teotihuacán. It was clearly Mayan. She would bet on Uaxactun or . . . no, it was Miraflores.
Her reaction was an "Hmmph." There was something more about the mask that drew her attention, however. She ignored signs that admonished her not to touch the displays. She picked up the mask and held it in better light, glanced around, and took a manicure file from her purse, and scratched at the back surface of the copy.
She replaced it and then began a close examination of other "copies" on display. Many were mis-labeled, and of some she was not sure, but she would have bet a years' salary that most were not copies at all.
When she heard the drawing of the draperies that had covered the glass doors separating the outer office from the "inner sanctum," as she had mentally labeled it, she stood examining the "copy" of an ornately carved Chac Mool rain god that would have required a crane to move it into place.
Mr. Bentley joined her. "Sorry to be late. I was held up in a telephone conference." He waved expansively at his collection of artifacts. "The largest collection of copies to be seen outside of only a few museums in the world. Are you impressed?"
"I'm impressed."
He deliberately led her to the first mask that he had watched her pick up. "I particularly like this fellow from Teotihuacán. How about you?"
She didn't have the faintest idea what Mr. Bentley wanted from her. She had a good job with Parker Imports. It allowed for a lot of travel, and a salary far above most expectations. She wasn't looking for a job, and she felt no compunction at deflating the ego of any man who seemed to take such joy in flaunting his affluence.
"I hate to tell you, but he's not from Teotihuacán. He's Mayan and probably from Miraflores."
She noticed that she hadn't disturbed his composure at all. "Is that all that you find wrong with this particular copy?"
"He's a lousy copy, that's all."
This did seem to disturb his composure somewhat. His hand flew up and he stroked his little mustache briefly. She had successfully identified the real origin of the mask. He was obviously disappointed that she had not also been as apt in recognizing the validity of the mask itself.
"Well. I have been assured that the mask follows in complete detail all characteristics of a real mask."
"It does. That's the problem. That's no more a copy than I am. It's genuine."
His pensiveness immediately disappeared. "Ahhh! And the rest of my collection?"
"I don't know what you're trying to prove, Mr. Bentley. But the rest of your collection, with a couple of exceptions, is also genuine, as I'm sure you know."
"Would you mind pointing out to me the ones that you take exception to and telling me why you don't accept them also as genuine." It wasn't a request at all, but an imperial edict.
She quickly and accurately identified the real artifacts. She pointed out two that were probably as good a copy as man could make, but defInitely copies.
"As for how, it's kind of instinct with me. Placing an item of pottery or plaster, stone or whatever in a manure pile for a year or two makes an excellent aging process, but that's easy to spot. These three here, I'd have to study and do some analysis to be sure of. But I suspect this one is genuine and these two are fake."
"It is now my turn to be impressed, Miss Taylor. You have just passed a test in advanced artifactology. Your score was one hundred percent. Quite amazing, I think. Come with me to my office. I'll explain the purpose of having you subjected to this particular test, which I admit is a quirk of my own."
Once again it was an imperial edict.

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Title: Walk the Edge of Panic Author: Karl Goodman Retail Price: $12.98 Available: Now ISBN: 0-88290-309-8 Order Number (SKU): 1962 Pages: 192 Size: 6" X 9" Binding: Hardbound with jacket