Hopper Jeff (77 results)

Paperback. Condition: New. Former Unrestricted World Checker Champion introduces you to the game and lets you in on championship secrets. Shots and traps, opening "blitzkrieg" moves, end game, more.

Hardcover. Condition: Very Good. It's a well-cared-for item that has seen limited use. The item may show minor signs of wear. All the text is legible, with all pages included. It may have slight markings and/or highlighting.

Condition: Good. Reprint. Used book that is in clean, average condition without any missing pages.

Paperback. Condition: Good. No Jacket. Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 0.6.

Condition: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condition: New. In.

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of Elijah Kane's dilapidated shed, a rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of his own heart. The flickering fluorescent light above cast long, dancing shadows across the cluttered workbench, illuminating the small, battered laptop screen. On it, a waveform pulsed, a distorted heartbeat of a 911 call. This wasn't just any call; this was the last gasp of Sarah Walker, a young woman found dead beside Route 29, her life extinguished as abruptly as the connection to the emergency operator.He'd spent weeks chasing ghosts, sifting through the digital detritus left behind by the Charlottesville Police Department. Weeks spent wrestling with bureaucratic red tape, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of official indifference. Weeks spent staring into the void left by a system that seemed designed to bury, not solve, crimes. And yet, here it was - a crack in the facade, a glitch in the matrix. A corruption in the audio file, a missing segment of seconds, whispering secrets the official report conveniently omitted.The official report had been a masterpiece of bureaucratic minimalism: a terse description of the body, a vague mention of "possible intoxication," and a dismissive conclusion of "accidental death." The initial responding officers had clearly lacked the diligence - or perhaps the will - to properly investigate. There'd been no thorough search for witnesses, no serious attempt to reconstruct the timeline. It was as if they'd wanted to close the case as quickly as possible, sweeping Sarah Walker's death under the rug. That very negligence, however, had become the linchpin for Kane's obsessive investigation. His own troubled past, marked by similar instances of systemic failure, fueled his relentless pursuit of justice.The corrupted section of the 911 call was maddeningly brief, only a few seconds missing, yet the silence within that gap resonated with a chilling significance. It was a void that swallowed sound, a digital black hole obscuring a critical piece of the puzzle. He listened again, the woman's voice - high-pitched and strained - rising in panic, then cut off sharply. The metallic click of the disconnected call was followed by an eerie static hiss, a digital whisper that sent a shiver down Kane's spine. He enhanced the audio, isolating the frequencies, trying to salvage something from the digital wreckage.He wasn't supposed to be here, shouldn't even have access to this recording. His expulsion from the force, a brutal and public affair born of a botched investigation and a subsequent cover-up, had left him an outcast, a pariah in the world he once knew intimately. The badge he'd once worn with pride was now a symbol of failure, a constant reminder of the trust he'd broken, the lives he'd failed to protect. Yet, the fire still burned within him, a flickering ember of justice, fuelled by a burning sense of responsibility, and a nagging suspicion that something far more sinister was at play.The rain continued its relentless assault, and Kane felt a kinship with the storm raging outside. He was a storm himself, a force of nature unleashed, driven by a righteous anger and a relentless determination. He was an anomaly, an outcast, a man haunted by his past failures, yet possessed by an unwavering dedication to seeking the truth, no matter how elusive or dangerous it might be. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. The wind howled like a banshee across the desolate expanse of the Ural Mountains, a mournful keening that echoed through the skeletal silhouettes of the pines. February 1959. The air, a biting -40 degrees Celsius, clawed at exposed skin, turning it numb and brittle. Snow, driven by the relentless wind, sculpted the landscape into a surreal, icy wasteland. This was the domain of death, a place where the unforgiving elements held absolute sway. Here, amongst the jagged peaks and frozen valleys, nine young souls, seasoned hikers all, would meet their end in a manner so bizarre, so inexplicable, that it would forever be etched in the annals of unsolved mysteries: the Dyatlov Pass incident.Their final days, pieced together from fragmented journal entries and the chilling photographs recovered from the scene, paint a picture of growing unease, a creeping dread that mirrored the encroaching blizzard. The entries, initially filled with the youthful exuberance of adventure, gradually morph into notes of escalating anxiety. A sense of foreboding permeates the pages, a chilling premonition of the horrors to come. Igor Dyatlov, the group's leader, a seasoned mountaineer with a reputation for meticulous planning, had noted several anomalies in his journal - strange luminous glows in the sky, unnerving sounds emanating from the distant peaks, an inexplicable sense of being watched, followed.The photographs offer a chilling visual testament to their final hours. They show the hikers, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and bewilderment, huddled together against the relentless onslaught of the blizzard. Their tents, inexplicably slashed from the inside, offer a silent, ghastly clue to the chaos that ensued. The images are not just snapshots of a catastrophic event; they are haunting portraits of humanity's vulnerability in the face of something utterly incomprehensible. The stark, frozen landscape becomes a canvas on which the drama of their last moments is played out.The blizzard itself was a character in this tragic narrative, a relentless antagonist that mirrored the internal conflicts that gnawed at the survivors. Its ferocity reflected the unseen terror that seized them, a primal fear that transcended the mere threat of hypothermia or exposure. The snow, a pristine white in the photographs, becomes tainted with the horror that unfolded, each fallen snowflake a silent witness to a tragedy beyond explanation. The wind, a relentless, icy breath, whispered secrets across the desolate landscape, secrets that would take decades to even begin to unravel.One survivor, Yuri Volkov, escaped this frozen tomb, emerging from the heart of the blizzard a shell of his former self. His testimony, delivered in fragmented whispers, paints a horrifying portrait of the night's events-a night that seemed to rewrite the laws of nature. He spoke of a "cold fire," an unnatural force that assaulted their senses, a presence that felt both ancient and intensely malevolent. His words were laced with fear, punctuated by silences filled with an unspoken terror that clung to him like the clinging frost.Volkov's physical injuries were as unsettling as his fragmented memories. Fractured bones, inexplicable burns on his skin, and a pervasive frostbite that defied medical understanding - these weren't the wounds of a mere accident. They bore the mark of something else, something unnatural. His psychological state was even more alarming, marked by bouts of catatonia, vivid hallucinations, and a pervasive sense of being watched, of being hunted. He seemed haunted by something far more insidious than the memories of a brutal winter storm, a thing that reached into his very being, its icy tendrils twisting his mind and soul. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. The humid Louisiana air hung heavy, thick with the scent of Spanish moss and the faint, metallic tang of the nearby refineries. Inside, the air was different. Nolan Vance's home office, tucked away in a rambling Victorian house on the outskirts of South Lake Charles, was a chaotic symphony of blinking lights, whirring fans, and the low hum of powerful servers. Empty coffee cups littered the desk, their contents long since congealed into a sticky residue. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his work.Nolan, a man whose outward appearance suggested a quiet life of spreadsheets and sensible shoes, was anything but ordinary. His true vocation was far more clandestine, far more intricate. He was an architect of digital deception, a master craftsman of the perfect alibi. His clients were not the type who sought assistance with scheduling conflicts or forgotten anniversaries; they were players in a darker game, individuals who needed their digital footprints erased, their movements obscured, their pasts rewritten.His fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of motion that belied the precision of his work. Lines of code scrolled across the multiple monitors, a complex tapestry of logic and obfuscation. This wasn't just about deleting emails or wiping hard drives; this was about constructing a meticulously crafted digital fortress, a flawless narrative woven from seemingly innocuous data points. He was building a lie so convincing, so airtight, it would withstand the scrutiny of the most seasoned investigators.The client this time, a man named Sal Demarco, was a notorious figure in the local underworld, known for his ruthlessness and his insatiable appetite for risk. Demarco was currently embroiled in a particularly nasty business deal - a land dispute involving a significant piece of waterfront property with rumored ties to organized crime. Nolan's task was to create a digital alibi for Demarco, placing him miles away from the scene of a potential altercation, should one arise.Nolan worked with a surgeon's precision, meticulously crafting a plausible timeline. He manipulated GPS data, subtly altered cell phone tower pings, and even fabricated social media posts, all designed to create a believable narrative of Demarco's whereabouts on the night of the planned confrontation. He used advanced techniques of data masking and encryption, ensuring that any attempt to penetrate his fabrication would be met with a wall of impenetrable code. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.

Condition: New. The Red Door Community (Paperback or Softback) 0.46.

Condition: New. SUPER FAST SHIPPING.