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Critical Mass

On their own, they're deadly. Together, they could save the world—or destroy it.
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Author: Cyrus Keith

The NADIA Project Series: Book 3

Release  February 2013

Genre: Thriller Sci-Fi

Tags  NADIA Project, Thriller, Science Fiction, Action, Artificial persons, Replicants, Cyrus Keith, Antimatter, Living weapon, Secrets, Cabal, Conspiracy

Editor  Fiona Young-Brown

Line Editor  Greta Gunselman

Cover Designer  Delilah K. Stephans

Words  92217

Pages  323

ISBN  978-1-77127-255-1

Price  $5.95

Back Cover


Jenna Paine is a super spy, genetically enhanced to be more than human. Nadia Velasquez is a living weapon of mass destruction. When the secret organization who built them both decides they are no longer useful, two enemies are thrown together for the only purposes they could have in common: survival and revenge.

There's only one way out of The Pinnacle, and that's on a coroner's slab. Jenna lives through a treacherous attack vowing to exact her vengeance on the people who trained her to be the most deadly agent on the planet.

Wounded and on the run, she turns to the man who's sworn to make her face charges for her involvement in The Pinnacle's nefarious schemes.

After years spent hiding from The Pinnacle, Nadia runs into the one thing she never counted on: Shelf life. As her body breaks down, she realizes it's only a matter of the short time she has left to redeem her existence and give her daughter a chance to live free.

In the final showdown, the two transhumans join forces against a common enemy, and The Pinnacle come to know the deadly significance of…

Critical Mass



Jon followed the nurse through two sets of double doors that opened when she held a card in front of a scanner.

“In here,” she droned, “Bed 17—” She stopped dead in the center aisle, her hands limp at her sides. Three federal officers and the staff nurse lay sprawled on the floor in widening pools of blood. Along the wall on the right side of the ward, a conspicuously empty spot where a bed should have been was strewn about with the refuse of haste: blood smears on the floor and walls, supplies spilled from their drawers and cabinets, an IV stand lying on its side.

Jon’s hand leapt to the radio microphone clipped to his collar. “Pete, Will! Lock the hospital down, now! We have an incident.”

His shout knocked the nurse out of her shock. She sprinted to a small panel on the wall and punched a large blue button. Before she reached the first victim, a smooth tone sounded through the PA, followed by a female’s calm, practiced voice: “Code Blue, Station Two.”

Kneeling down next to another of the inert bleeding forms, Jon checked the wounds: a single, deep slash across the throat. Bright red arterial blood was still pulsing onto the floor, though the strength of the spurts was weakening at an alarming rate. “This one’s alive, but barely. How’s that one?”

The nurse’s voice was choked, hoarse, as if she’d been screaming inside her own head since they’d walked into this nightmare. “He’s gone.” She looked over at Jon. “Use your finger and thumb. Press on the arteries on either side of his windpipe. I’ll be right there.” She stood and yanked the top drawer open on a crash cart against the nearest wall. A second later, she was crouching next to Jon on the floor, tearing open a suture kit. “Okay, get out of the way. Check on Susan.”

The doors burst open. In reflex, Jon rolled over. His pistol slid easily from his shoulder rig. The group running into the ward stopped dead, their hands raised as they saw the 9mm. Jon’s heart pounded in his throat. As he recognized the scrubs and uniforms, he lowered his weapon, hands shaking.

Pandemonium erupted as the team flew into action. Jon stumbled over to a wall. His left hand came up to his face to cover the tears rising in his eyes, but he stopped when he saw the red blur. His hand was covered in Isaac Simpson’s blood.

His legs collapsed and he slid to the floor amid the voices of the crash team, working on Isaac and the staff nurse. “O-negative over here, I need blood now!” Another voice came from the other side of the room. “Susan? Susan, come on. Stay with us, hon. Dammit, breathe!

The radio on his hip broke squelch. “Shots fired! Shots fired on the front lawn, officer needs assistance!” In the background, Jon heard the bark of pistol fire.

That snapped Jon back to reality. Dammit, I’m done being helpless. Let’s get these bastards…” He fought back to his feet. The weight of the pistol in his hand reassured him as he walked, then ran toward the front of the hospital. Anger spurred him on, faster and faster. His feet pounding in the halls matched his racing pulse as he burst through the foyer and out into the front lawn.

Two agents were down, but they’d accounted for three of the enemy. Will Houghmaster hunched behind a low brick wall, ducking down as another hail of bullets flew from the two remaining Pinnacle attackers in hospital garb. A third was helping a gown-garbed man into the back of an SUV.

Jon never broke stride. He dashed across the lawn, making a beeline for the vehicle. The enemy agents turned their fire on him. He might have ducked, might have even run away, but now, he was too mad. He ran harder, his anger turning into a furious, heart-pounding rage. The man helping the other into the SUV was just closing the door when Jon crashed into him. The door slammed shut on the man’s arm. He screamed at the loud, harsh crack as the bone gave way.

Kicking back from the SUV’s side, Jon fired into the driver and ducked as bullets whined around him.

A loud wet slap to his left caught his attention, and he turned his head to see one of the remaining gunmen hit the ground under Will’s fire.

Jon snapped off two more shots at the lone remaining Pinnacle agent. One of them hit home, and blood sprayed from the man’s chest as he fired back.

Something punched Jon in the thigh. A moan crawled from his throat as he dropped to the grass. The dull pain in his thigh rose to a screeching crescendo as his own hot blood spilled over his hands.

Footsteps hurried across the grass. More than one strike team… another attack— Jon tried to raise his weapon, but it suddenly felt so heavy, he couldn’t lift his arm. His vision closed to a tunnel…


"This book was not something I would have picked up by myself. I’m not much for political spy thrillers. But I made an exception for this book…and am glad I did.A fast-paced thriller that will keep you guessing…and make you question what defines human." 5 STARS...GOOD BOOK ALERT REVIEW...READ THE FULL REVIEW




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