One of my greatest joys as a book critic is finding little known indie/self-published debut novels and championing them for the world to read (see: James Roberts‘ Pardon Me, or anything by Unsung Stories but particularly Rym Kechacha’s Dark River.) As such, I’m always open to queries and will rarely turn anything down, schedule permitting. So when this small press thriller came into my inbox, in my favorite genre no less, I was excited to get started.
The Tech is ostensibly the story of FBI Supervisory Special Agent Alexandra Cassidy, a unit leader whose specialty is whipping rogue and misfit teams into shape, partially due to her penchant for rule-breaking herself. She’s sent to Arizona to take charge of yet another ragtag crew but finds herself hip deep in a bank robbery investigation almost as soon as she walks into the office. The case is wrapped up within 24 hours, and then the team is sent to investigate the kidnapping of three teenaged girls, leading to a multi-state bust in record time. Alexandra is a little disconcerted at the high success rate she’s clocking, but her concerns are quickly swept aside by the growing suspicion that these and other cases that are filtering into the office are related, and may have been masterminded by a sinister cabal that will soon turn its sights on her. But somebody else is already pulling her strings: an attractive, if mild-mannered FBI tech named Mike Patterson who’s hiding any number of secrets from Alexandra and her team.
The first problem with this FBI thriller is that none of this is how the American judicial system works. Witnesses are Mirandized but assured they’re not under arrest, and warrants are handed out almost willy-nilly. Don’t even get me started on the complete illegality of everything Mike does and how the half-assed attempts to turn his evidence into stuff that’ll hold up in court is doubtful at best. It’s pretty clear that this book was written by someone without much experience with America, never mind the local law enforcement: in just the most memorable example, no New Yorker in their right mind would pronounce the Texan city the same way they’d pronounce Houston St, if they pronounced that last correctly. The dialog overall is heavily British-inflected which, alas, is only the least of the things that strain credulity to its breaking point in this novel.









