|
 |
|
|
|
Here is the full reference card for this book...
If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.
Roof of Hell by Roger Alidade 275 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0387; ISBN 1-55369-574-7; US$25.50, C$29.15, EUR21.00, £15.00 Eric, a successful corporate geophysicist faces a moment of truth about the meaning of life when he decides to strike out on his own to search the treacherous waters around the Aleutian Island known as the 'Roof of Hell', for a legendary WWII Japanese submarine filled with treasures.
Read more!
about the book
about the author
praise for the book
sample excerpts
catalogue info
Need it right now? You can download the Adobe Reader eBook version of ROOF OF HELL from or 
About the Book
Eric, a successful corporate geophysicist, faces a moment of truth about the meaning of his life when he decides to strike out on his own to search the treacherous waters around the Aleutian Island known as the "Roof of Hell", for a legendary WWII Japanese submarine filled with treasures.
The legend of this renegade sub surfaced when an ancient small jade Buddha statue with sparkling emerald eyes is discovered in the cooler of a fishing boat in the far Aleutian Islands, almost forty years after WWII has ended. The statue soon falls into the hands of Naomi, a successful lawyer in New York. Naomi finds her Japanese past shameful, and has bitterly tried to ignore it all her life. The statue jars her completely with a peak at a truth about her heritage and family she never dared think about. Learning that the statue came from a renegade Japanese sub filled with other looted treasures, she hires Eric, a geophysical consultant, to help her find that sub.
Eric, gripping the seat of the single engine plane that roller coasters its way out the Aleutian Island chain and into Dutch Harbor, Alaska, is shocked to learn that he is not just on a routine salvage job in a nearby harbor, but on a treasure hunt for a mythical submarine lost almost forty years ago, somewhere in the open Bering Sea surrounding the islands. The seas are amongst the meanest in the world, and unnamed volcanoes smolder, ready to explode on every island. Eric blanches at the very thought of searching in such a place with practically nothing to go on. It is illogic as all hell to his scientist mind, but Naomi's flashing eyes, and utter determinism, cause Eric to pause long enough to realize he must lead the incredulous search, or forever live with the dull ache within him about who he had become.
But Eric is severely handicapped. His crew and equipment are worse than third-rate to the shiny RV Meditteranean, cruising the waters nearby and looking for the same submarine. When failure becomes their only option, Eric cannot bear to look into Naomi's teary eyes, nor into his soul. Preparing to return to port, Eric learns from a crazed crew member, Frankie, of the massive tidal wave, or tsunami, that destroyed the Scotch Cap Lighthouse in 1946, on nearby Unimak Island, a place of eternal volcanic violence known as the "Roof of Hell", Eric forms a theory, just as crazy as Frankie himself, about what happened to that sub, but they must race into the waters next to the surging Mount Shishaldin, now belching ash high into the sky, to prove his theory, and then escape before the eruption obliterates everything around it, including them.
They discover the horrific truth about what happened to that renegade Japanese submarine and the men aboard, and with the discovery, Naomi learns the truth of something she had refused to believe for so many years; and Eric discovers a surprising answer to his personal crisis... but not before the Roof of Hell traps them in a maelstrom of unimaginable violence.
|
Praise for ROOF OF HELL
"Join Eric, a corporate scientist, as he embarks on a treasure hunt for his
client, Naomi. Naomi hires Eric to help her find the treasures that are a
part of her family's heritage. These treasures are said to be on a sunken
Japanese submarine for WWII. In order to recover the treasures they must
enter a island known as 'The Roof of Hell'.
"As they embark on their adventurous trip out to sea they are completely
unaware of all the events and violence that will occur.
"I loved both the main characters' (Eric and Naomi) in this adventurous book.
They come to life on paper. You will feel and experience their emotions
throughout the entire book. In addition, you will begin reading 'The Roof of
Hell', and you will find yourself not being able to put it down. Each
chapter ends making you want to go to the next to find out what will happen
next between Eric, Naomi, and their adventure.
"'The Roof of Hell' was a wonderful and unforgettable read! This is one that
will stay with you even after you have put the book down. One you will
probably want to pick up and read again and again."
Reviewed By: Misti Jackson, Author & Reviewer at
http://www.geocities.com/illinoiswriterus/
|
About the Author
Roger Alidade has worked as a geophysicist for a major corporation for over twenty years. His hobbies include reading, golf and exploring the earth.
Roger can be reached via telephone at 832-444-7725.
He is listed at
|
Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents
CHAPTER 2
"All right, all right," Frank said calmly, almost
commandingly. "Let's not come to blows here. Why don't I
go check the graph now, okay? If there have been real
tremors, you guys can blow this island before it gets too
late." He glanced up at the window towards the nearest
volcano, Pogromni. "Besides, I don't see any plumes. And,
there's still more'n four hours or so of good light."
The others looked around the table and shrugged at one
another. It sounded like a reasonable plan to them.
"While I'm doing that, why don't you fire up the grill
again. I'm hungry already for more of those steaks."
"Stop worrying about your damned steaks," Bob said as
he tried keep his hands steady to light a cigarette.
"Just cook 'em the way I like 'em and I won't worry
about a thing," Frank joked as he reached for his jacket and
left the room heading for the concrete bunker on top of the
nearest hill.
Half way up the pathway, the earth jumped under
Frank's feet, knocking him to his knees. "Damn," he said,
rising back to his feet. He looked around but there were no
indications that the sky was falling. He broke into a run. He
had to see what the instruments were showing. If it looked
like there was going to be a real problem, he wanted to get
the hell off the island along with the others.
Frank pushed open the heavy metal door to the bunker
and then slammed it behind him. Without bothering to take
off his gloves, he hurried to the seismograph. He gasped for
air.
Frank studied the chart wide-eyed. The needle had just
pegged out a minute earlier. Suddenly it swung wildly and
rapidly side to side across the paper. "What the hell -" he
began, but he was cut short by a roaring sound unlike any
he'd ever heard before. The needle moved faster screeching
like knives slashing though silk. The floor trembled. Frank
staggered back and lost his balance. He fell backward onto
the concrete floor.
He struggled back onto his feet. When he did, he braced
himself against the wall of the bunker and drove himself
forward until he was at the thick plate window that
overlooked the lighthouse and the sea.
There was no water in Unimak Pass!
"My God!" he cried out.
Then he saw it. The bulge in the distant waters. The
bulge was growing! It soon became a wall of water,
continuing to rise up as if gravity had been reversed, rise up
in a way that he could not imagine. It wouldn't stop! A
frothy white line formed at the crest. The wall of water was
huge now . . . and it glowed. Frank leaned forward, gaping.
It was coming right for them! He screamed at Tommy and
the others below, "Look out!" but his voice just echoed
within the bunker. He screamed again, then stopped.
The wind rushing over the top of the monster wave,
made a high-pitched freight train whistle that came right
through the thick glass, filling Frank with a bone-deep
terror. The wave rose impossibly higher, dwarfing the
lighthouse.
Frank squinted his eyes in disbelief. In the hellish
wave, he saw the babies he'd been sketching in his
sketchpad, dancing. Dancing on a submarine. The Japanese
baby girl and the baby boy. Hand in hand. Dancing.
Mocking him. Laughing at him.
"Bastards!" he cried out at them. "Bastards!"
What happened next seemed to happen in horrifyingly
slow motion to Frank. The wall of the huge wave swept
completely over the lighthouse below him. Then, frothing
and roiling, it continued to rush across the island, slamming
into the hill and exploding up toward the bunker.
"Lord Christ!" he screamed as the water churned up
and against the window, crashing it inward. He toppled
backward hitting his head on the concrete. Frigid seawater
poured over him.
When he came to, later, most of the water in the room
had receded. His head throbbed. He shivered inside his wet
clothes. He suddenly recalled what had happened, rose
unsteadily to his feet, and slogged to the door and yanked it
open.
The seas had returned to Unimak Pass. But ...
There was no lighthouse!
Nothing!
Frank slowly slumped to the floor of the doorframe. His
lips trembled. "No," he moaned. "No ..."
The men were gone!
The cards ... the steaks ... all gone!
He stared at the now calm sea. He tried to figure it out
once again. Suddenly he gripped his shaking hands
together, shaking so hard his body shook. And it came
back. His face contorted into a twisted mask of absolute
horror, but not at the scene below.
CHAPTER 31
Naomi remained still for a moment after Eric had
rushed from her room. Despite the alcohol on his breath,
the feel of his kiss lingered on her lips. She brought her
fingertips to them and touched them lightly. Then, realizing
what might be at stake, she hurriedly dressed and went to
find the cook.
Eric left Naomi's room and went directly to the hold.
The captain and Frankie were no longer there. The
hovering stench of alcohol remained however. He flicked
on the lights. He shook his head, trying to clear it so he
could think.
"Come on, Eric," he urged himself. "Focus!"
He moved the worktable to the side of the room. Then
he took each of the side scan strips and laid them carefully
on the floor, piecing the strips together like parts of a
puzzle. A large mosaic-like picture of the ocean's floor
emerged. There were gaps between the areas they had
concentrated their surveys. He stood up and stared at it.
Even as a larger picture, it still seemed as featureless as it
had when each of the strips were originally printed. He
recognized all the main features, their ship with ordinance,
the channels, the boulders, and the largely featureless
seafloor elsewhere. He noted the randomly marked,
isolated sharp features, mostly ten feet long or smaller. The
same ones he had transferred to his overlay.
"Damn," Eric sighed to himself. He'd had a nagging
suspicion for days that those isolated little blips meant
something. "If my theory is true, there should be a pattern."
There's always a pattern.
He stepped back. Then he stepped closer. Under the
fluorescent light in the hold, the more he stared at the
picture, the more little things seemed to jump out at him.
But then, when he leaned closer - even getting down on his
knees and bringing his face almost to the strip - the pattern
he thought he'd seen seemed to disappear.
But then, from another angle, the pattern would return,
but weak.
In desperation, he reached for a red pen and, one by
one, circled more of the small, erratic features as they
appeared to him. Now he included every little blip in the
mosaic. Every shadow that showed on the strip, indicating
that there was something standing up from the seabed.
Everything that gave the appearance of an unnatural
feature. Even the "ghost" features that seemed to appear
from one angle but not another.
After he had circled a number of these features, he got
up from his knees and stood back.
"Goddammit!" he seethed. The markings all looked so
random. He began to feel a dull, aching pain in the back of
his head, accompanied by a raw gnawing in his belly.
"Where the hell is that coffee?" he muttered.
He put his hands on his hips and stepped back from the
strips. Then he moved closer. He got down on his belly and
re-examined closely some of the features he'd circled. Then
he got up and backed away from the picture as far as the
door of the hold. "There's got to be a pattern," Eric
muttered. He got lower and lower, staring across the greatly
foreshortened seafloor. This was an old interpreter's trick,
used before computers took over from paper. A trick he had
learned from Harry at IMC. IMC used to keep a special
"squeeze" camera, one of only two like it in the country to
rescale seismic records in one dimension only,
photographically. It greatly improved the correlation of
features, like channels and faults, across the squeezed
dimension. Things that were impossible to connect looking
head on would jump out at you when squeezed. He didn't
recall anyone doing that for maps.
First he worked the east end of the strips, slowly, then
the west. Finally he crawled on hands and knees, butt in the
air, right cheekbone to the cold metal floor, along the south
side of the mosaic. "Holy shit," he whispered, beginning to
see something. "Holy shit!" He closed his eyes to push
back his headache, willing in his mind for the pattern to
still be there when he opened them, and not be the result of
his drinking. When he looked again, the pattern he'd seen,
that he expected to see, remained.
"Holy shit!"
Many of the red circles he'd drawn formed distinct
lines that radiated in a way that brought them into
intersection in an area just south of the last area that he'd
surveyed.
He went over to the nautical map and with a deft, sure
hand and ruler, quickly sketched in the lines.
"Voila!"
Every line intersected precisely at a point just north of
Ugamak Island.
CHAPTER 34
Eric was out of options. "Go!" he yelled.
Naomi and Eric shouldered the wounded Captain and
followed Frankie in the dim light. The smoke became thick
again. Everyone coughed and choked. Eyes burned.
Dammit, don't listen to him! He's delusional again."
The Captain gurgled, speaking for the first time in hours.
Eric ignored him.
"Hurry!" Eric shouted, as he and Naomi half dragged
the Captain along.
Miraculously, in minutes, a squat military bunker, with
a single low door, appeared that Frankie seemed to find
effortlessly.
They paused. Eric shouted, "Naomi, you go in first."
Naomi flopped onto her belly, and squeezed through in
her rubbery suit.
Eric started to help lift the Captain. Frankie waved him
off.
"You go in next, so you can pull the Captain through."
Frankie spoke firmly. Eric looked at Frankie and started to
argue, but Frankie wouldn't look back at him.
There was no time to argue. It made sense. Eric leaped
into the doorway. His heart raced in fear when he became
stuck. Naomi grabbed his arms and pulled with grunts
while he twisted and turned. He finally popped into the
dark interior.
Outside, O'Shay pushed Frankie's hands away.
"No time, old boy. "We have to make sure that door
stays closed. He kicked a rusty bolt at Frankie. "Batten
down the hatches," he ordered, gasping heavily with the
effort.
Without hesitation, Frankie slammed the heavy metal
door closed and, with a calm left hand, jammed in the bolt.
Eric scampered to the tiny viewing slit near the top of
the bunker's steel door and looked out. "What the hell are
you doing?" he demanded as he pushed on the door.
"Taking care of you." Frankie retorted. He then stared
real hard at Eric. Eric couldn't see into the dark spaces
under Frankie's brows. But he could see that Frankie
appeared completely calm. And sane.
"Now take care of her," Frankie gently urged, not
moving his gaze from Eric.
Then he stiffened his spine, backed up a step and spoke,
"Captain Frank McDermitt, U.S. Army, Special
Operations." and saluted smartly.
Eric stared blankly, dumbly at Frankie. Frankie
suddenly flashed his toothy grin back at Eric, and spoke a
final time, "You know, Frank is not such a bad name for a
baby boy."
Then Frank turned and walked away from the window.
Eric watched in horror at what Frankie and the captain
had committed to.
Frankie leaned over to help the Captain up. They
shuffled away from the bunker.
Eric turned and looked at Naomi in the dimmest of
light. She was standing, very still in her survival suit,
pressed against the wall and staring back at him.
Eric turned back to the slit and screamed. "Frankie!
Captain!" He pressed his shoulder into the door. He had to
help them! It wouldn't budge. He cried out again. But his
voice suddenly drowned in a whistling sound like nothing
he had ever heard before. He stopped yelling and listened
to the eerie ghostly sound. The last time an unknown sound
had created such a fear in him was the first time he heard a
rattler in the hayloft when he was seven. This was much
worse. He slammed the tiny porthole shut and threw the
latch, which surprisingly still worked.
"What now?" Naomi's voice trembled.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."
Catalogue Information
