Pandora's Temple by Jon Land

Published by Open Road Media on November 20, 2012 

Nine Blaine McCracken novels were published between 1986 and 1998. I haven't read any of them, but I gather that McCracken was once a CIA operative who, at some point, turned freelance. In the tenth book, Pandora's Temple, McCracken is pushing sixty and hasn't worked in a couple of years, but quickly proves he is still worthy of his "McCrackenballs" nickname. Yeah, that's really his nickname. Homeland Security hires McCrackenballs to rescue some kidnapped college students who are imprisoned in a drug lord's fortress. Homeland Security can't send in Special Forces commandos because that might disturb delicate trade negotiations. Apparently, Homeland Security doesn't think Mexico will notice the Hellfire missiles that an American drone fires into the fortress to give McCracken an assist. The missiles are probably unnecessary because McCracken is backed up by his buddy Johnny Wareagle, who carries an M-16 in each hand, firing both unerringly at scores of aim-challenged Mexicans.

The mayhem in Mexico is just a prelude to the real adventure. A drilling rig named Deepwater Venture, operated by a company called Ocean Bore, is in the Gulf of Mexico, drilling in an unlikely spot to yield oil. When the drill reaches a record depth, what it releases isn't a fossil fuel. The crew disappears in a flash of light, an event that (for no obvious reason) prompts Homeland Security to declare a Level Six emergency (end of the world imminent). McCracken and Wareagle, being retired and having no official connection to the government, are naturally sent to the Deepwater Venture to find out what's going on. I mean, why would Homeland Security send Navy SEALs to investigate a Level Six emergency on a drilling rig when it can send two old guys instead? Of course, when killer robots and ninja warriors attack the offices of Homeland Security (don't ask), McCracken and Wareagle are the only two people in the building who aren't cowering or dying, so they are clearly the right men for the job.

The mystery beneath the sea could be a new source of unlimited energy. It could be a weapon. Or it could be a force too powerful to imagine. I'll leave it to a physicist to decide whether Jon Land's explanation of the mystery is based on plausible science or gibberish, although my money is on the latter.

From shaky science to Greek legends, I was unable to suspend my disbelief of the story told in Pandora's Temple. Not for a second. The plot is outlandish and the characters aren't within spitting distance of credibility. I suppose that makes my enjoyment of Pandora's Temple a guilty pleasure. I'm almost ashamed of myself for liking it. The story is filled with stereotyped heroes (including Wareagle, the Indian warrior with connections to the spirit world, and Captain Seven, the dope smoking Grateful Dead fan with a genius for technology) and cartoon villains (including a reclusive billionaire who wants to control the world's energy supply, the leader of a Japanese doomsday cult, and an environmental terrorist bent on revenge). The plot is so absurd that it borders on comedy.

So why did I enjoy Pandora's Temple? For all the silliness -- maybe because of all the silliness -- the fun factor is supercharged. Actions scenes are vibrant. Many of them are unexpectedly creative and would probably look great on film. In one scene, Land found an excuse to put a sword in McCracken's hand, giving him a chance to play gladiator. Land's prose is unchallenging but never dependent upon cliché. The story surges forward with the fury of a hurricane and, like a hurricane, it moves in unexpected directions. As outrageous as the plot might be, it consistently held my attention. All I ask from escapist fiction is to be entertained, and in that regard, Pandora's Temple delivers. Guilty pleasure or not, I enjoyed every word of it.

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