Phoenix Force Fan

I was looking forward to this installment of the series. I was expecting an emotionally charge, crackling tale of courage and loss. Instead, I am left insulted. This was not Yakov Katzenelenbogen who Mike Newton inserted into this story. This was an alien pod person. A shade posing as the real thing, and not even getting that impersonation correct. We had a man who assaulted an innocent bystander in an airport restroom just for disguising clothing - a bystander who also by sheer coincidence happened to be dressed as the flashiest drag queen short of Nathan Lane in banana pants. Katz wouldn't have done that. We had a man who murdered unarmed, helpless, even naked human beings. Katz is the kind of man who was genuinely apologetic for ripping the testicles off an armed Yakuza murderer with his prosthesis. Not that Mack Bolan fared any better, being ordered around by Hal Brognola, instead of keeping Katz on the scene and "in sight" for use as an intelligence resource and a third member of his strike team. The conclusion of the novel could have been reached the same way without Katz becoming a cold-blooded murdering shadow of what he once was, or being treated as a doddering old man. This was also a Bolan who I seriously doubted. He shot security guards - rent a cops for an Oil Company - who Bolan had no idea if they were involved in the terrorist conspiracy. He killed two men who were responding to an illegal, potentially homicidal attack, as part of their duty as security officers protecting the lives of people working in an office building. This wasn't like the armed hit crew in the limousene packing submachine guns, hired killers sought for a job. These were guys wearing bad fitting uniforms whose only crime was needing a paycheck to make sure their children ate or at least get a case of beer on Friday night. I thought it would be a minor abberation, but then came the murder of the sailor on the yacht. Here was a man trying to prevent the violent, armed hijacking of a ship and the potential murder of his shipmates. This man as well wasn't a part of some hateful, slaughtering conspiracy. He was a chump on a boat. And Bolan shot him through the heart without concern. I also find it hard to fathom that David McCarter, the still volatile under the surface leader of Phoenix Force, the man who became almost like a surrogate, rebellious son to Yakov Katzenelenbogen, would pack Katz off to the old folk's shelter, rather than giving Brognola, Bolan, or both men, a loud, down-home Cockney "SOD OFF, YOU FUCKING WANKER!" in support of his former commander. Do not get me started about the way the rest of Phoenix Force seemed to drag their feet at the concept of Katz' disappearance. This was not an Executioner novel. This was not a novel about Yakov Katzenelenbogen. This was not a novel that featured David McCarter and his relationship with Yakov Katzenelenbogen. This was a novel that saddened and disappointed me because it held none of the comraderie of the men of Phoenix held for each other.