I bought CENTRIFUGE by J.C. Pollock, or I should say my mom bought it for me, the same day we bought David Morrell’s novelization of RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II. That summer, perhaps more than any other, lay the foundation for what was to come. Though I have not read it in thirty-five years, I still have my original copy and distinctly remember former Army Special Forces officer and Vietnam veteran Mike Slater, his Lake Buccanneer aircraft, dogs, CIA, conspiracies, SOG, the KGB, and underwater knife fights. It had everything a kid growing up in the 80s with sights set on special operations could hope for. I am hesitant to read it again for fear it will have lost some of its magic over the ensuing years. Then again, it might take me right back to the summer of 1985 when the road ahead was free and clear. My guess would be that if you were to track down a copy and give it a read, even all these years later you would find J.C. Pollock’s influence distinctly imprinted on the pages of my novels. He was one of my early professors in the art of storytelling.