He must be stopped.
I’m serious here. Somebody needs to notify the authorities, because Michael Harvey is bound to create havoc and mayhem with his new thriller, “The Third Rail” (Knopf). Even though you know it’s fiction, the novel is so accomplished, featuring such deft pacing and a tension level that never lets up, not to mention a menacingly plausible plot, you’ll find yourself altering your morning commute.
Why? Because “The Third Rail” is about the targeting of CTA riders. Harvey, who has worked as a filmmaker and journalist in Chicago, does for the Windy City what Michael Connelly did for Los Angeles: He commandeers it, warts and all, and wrangles it into his fiction. If you read this book and you know Chicago, you’ll appreciate the way Harvey knows it, too, from its alleys to its “L” stops to its power structure; if you read this book and you don’t know Chicago — you soon will.
Because the staccato chapters often end with a bang of revelation, I can’t tell you much about the plot without spoiling the gritty thrill ride that Harvey has concocted. This much, though, I’ll say: Once again, Michael Kelly, the ex-cop with the soft spot for classic literature, is on the case. He’s determined to find the sniper who has turned Chicago’s transit system into a shooting gallery — although what he finds is a lot worse, it turns out, than a few seemingly random shootings.
And once again, Harvey conveys the distinctive look and unique feel of Chicago with a few restless strokes of description. The author offers the city in all of its grimy beauty: “He walked south on State Street and took a left on Lake. The building was about four or five stories high, cut rough from blocks of Indiana limestone and black with soot from the big city’s breath.”