The “enthralling page-turner” ( Library Journal ) now a major motion picture starring Jason Statham, Clive Owen, and Robert De Niro! Here is a gripping novel, inspired by real-life events, about a private team of British vigilantes that sets out to eliminate a gang of cold-blooded contract killers. From 1977 to 1990, four former British soldiers die, one by one, supposedly due to accident or illness. But soon a link is established between the victims: a shared mission in the desert kingdom of Oman, where they fought for a sultan against insurgents and ruined the life of a rival sheikh, who in turn has sent a band of assassins to methodically slay the soldiers and salvage his pride. Now these clever assassins are on the run from an underground group of SAS vets with nothing to lose, no time to waste, and a desire to dispense their own form of justice—no matter the cost. Previously published as The Feather Men “Marvelously entertaining.” —Kirkus Reviews   “Highly suspenseful.” —Publishers Weekly Ranulph Fiennes has traveled to the most dangerous and inaccessible places on earth. In the process he lost nearly half his fingers to frostbite, nearly died on several occasions, and raised millions for charity. He discovered the lost city of Ubar in Oman, was the first man to reach both poles by surface travel, and was also the first to cross the Antarctic continent unsupported. In 1993, Queen Elizabeth II awarded him the Order of the British Empire for “human endeavor and charitable services.” An elite soldier, athlete, mountaineer, and renowned explorer, Fiennes is also the author of nineteen books of both fiction and nonfiction. 1 Daniel had never left home before. Vancouver in the clean, crisp summer of 1945 was full of wonder to this prospector's son from a remote village on the Arctic coast of Alaska. The reason for this happy visit was the end of the war in Europe and the return of his father by troopship that day. Amid whirling bunting and the cheering of proud relatives, the veterans clambered off the Canadian Pacific steam train, some to renew their previous lives and loves, many to face the bitter realization of unattainable dreams or unexpected betrayals. Daniel did not notice that his father was thin and gaunt, for he was still a great bear of a man and he bore gift-wrapped parcels of exciting shapes. A taxicab took the family to their cheap lodgings close to Lion's Gate bridge. After tea and once the first waves of excitement were spent, Father made his long-planned pronouncement. "We have six days before the steamer takes us home, my hidjies." Nobody knew why he called them that-only that it had a good, warm meaning. "And we will never forget these days, because the Hun are smashed forever and we are together." The deep, flaky bilberry pie did the rounds again and everyone slept well despite their excitement, all six to the single bedroom. The days flickered by in a kaleidoscope of happiness. They watched folk skiing on the lower slopes of Mount Grouse, on long planks of wood that looked impossible to control. Many skiers came to grief and Dan and his family laughed till the tears came. They took a horse and cab to the wharves, bought toffee apples and walked hand in hand to watch the tradesmen at the sugar factory, and the trawlers with their brawny crews. Thousands more soldiers and sailors returned on giant troopships and the family joined the welcoming crowds. They saw the zoo and a pantomime, gazed at the sleaze of Gas Town and sang with gusto on the Sunday, for Mother and Father were keen Presbyterians, he with his Dutch Reform Church upbringing and she with a background of Wyoming and pioneer stock. The Sunday before they were to take the steamer north, Father sprang his big surprise . . . There was a traveling circus in town and, dammit, they would check it out that very night. Before the great event they squeezed into a packed church and joined in the songs of praise and the prayers of thanksgiving of the Vancouver people for the deliverance of their loved ones. Then to the circus. Clowns, elephants that could count, a giraffe, bears in kilts, dwarves, a sasquatch monster from the forests of the Rocky Mountain Trench, black fuzzy men, balloon shoots for prizes, and coconuts from the South Pacific propped on posts. Even at five, brought up among Eskimo children, Daniel could throw the wooden ball straight and true. And he could shoot a light gun with fair accuracy providing he could take his time. He glowed with pride at his armful of coconuts and wooden teddies. They cried with delight inside the sparkling waterways of the Canal of Love; they oohed and aahed with delicious horror in the House of Screams as ghouls of sacking and animal bones swished by on unseen pulleys. Everyone but seven-year-old Naomi, who hated heights, was awed when Father pointed to the monstrous Roller-Wheel with its eighteen swinging gondolas. Daniel sat on his narrow seat, filled with curiosity