conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Midnight Runner about Dillon, MacNee, AudioFile with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sean Dillon is back in this sequel to the author's last thriller, EDGE OF DANGER, and there's no better person to portray him than Patrick MacNee. The sole survivor of an Arab terrorist family sets out to destroy everyone who had a role in her kin's demise. Dillon is her prime target. Though MacNee's voice is getting older and less crisp, his skills are still top-notch. His normal voice is cultured, but he can believably switch to Cockney, American slang, or Arabic in a flash. When the action steps up to a breathtaking climax, MacNee alters his pace. A.L.H. AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine-- Copyright AudioFile, Portland, Maine
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine-- Copyright AudioFile, Portland, Maine.H.L. A. When the action steps up to a breathtaking climax, MacNee alters his pace. His normal voice is cultured, but he can believably switch to Cockney, American slang, or Arabic in a flash. Though MacNee's voice is getting older and less crisp, his skills are still top-notch. Dillon is her prime target. The sole survivor of an Arab terrorist family sets out to destroy everyone who had a role in her kin's demise.Sean Dillon is back in this sequel to the author's last thriller, EDGE OF DANGER, and there's no better person to portray him than Patrick MacNee
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Midnight Runner
  DANIEL QUINN WAS A GOOD ULSTER NAME. IRISH Catholic, as a young man, his grandfather had fought with Michael Collins during the Irish War of Independence, and then, a price on his head, he'd fled to America in 1920.
  He'd become a construction worker in New York and Boston, but it was as a member of that most secret of Irish societies, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, that he'd begun to gain real power. Employers learned to fear him. Within a year, he was an employer himself and on his way to becoming a millionaire.
  His son, Paul, was born in 1921. From an early age, Paul was obsessed with flying, and in 1940, while a student at Harvard, he'd traveled to England on impulse and, using his father's name, joined the RAF as a fighter pilot, an American volunteer.
  His father, anti-Brit, was horrified and then proud of him. Paul earned a DFC in the Battle of Britain, and then moved on to the American Army Air Force in 1943 and earned another one there. In 1944, however, Paul Quinn was badly shot up in a Mustang fighter over Germany. Luftwaffe surgeons did what they could, but he would never be the same again.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Percy told him. "Such a nice girl. She's the last one I'd have suspected of being on drugs. And what worries me, too, is the position of our organization. That dreadful riot, the violence."
  A police car was outside the Canal Street house, two constables, a man and a woman. They checked the Escort and found the keys inside.
  There was a dim light at the back of the hall. They tried the doorbell but got no response, then went up a narrow footpath to the rear and found the kitchen light on. The man tried the door, but it was locked.
  Two young men turned the corner at the end of Canal Wharf by the wharf itself. They stopped at the railing to urinate and, in the same moment, looked down to where the tide was receding and saw Alan Grant's body, half in the water, half out.
  At Pristina, the first plane out to London was a Royal Air Force Hercules from Transport Command. Word had gone out and the crew was subdued but saw to Quinn's every need. He was sensible enough to eat some food, have a couple of coffees, and allow the RAF Sergeant looking after him to pour a little brandy in each.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He turned to call her again and saw her leaning out of the cockpit and picking up Rupert Dauncey's Walther, which had slid along the side because of the incline of the plane.
  As Dillon ducked, she fired wildly. The round plucked at his right sleeve, and he flung himself out of the door into water of mind-numbing coldness and struck out, grabbing for the raft's line. He hung on and turned. The Eagle had tilted more now, the tail up, the port wing under the water.
  She was still there in the cockpit, screaming at him, one hand gripping the open quarter-light, and then the tail lifted high and the Eagle simply slipped beneath the surface.
  He made it to the life raft and hauled himself inside. There were two paddles and a couple of survival boxes he didn't bother to open. He slid the paddles through the oarlocks, no other emotion left in him except a stubborn need to survive.
  He started to row toward the shore, distant in the mist and rain. It was a long way off, but not as far as Kate Rashid had gone.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As Dillon ducked, she fired wildly. The round plucked at his right sleeve, and he flung himself out of the door into water of mind-numbing coldness and struck out, grabbing for the raft's line. He hung on and turned. The Eagle had tilted more now, the tail up, the port wing under the water.
  She was still there in the cockpit, screaming at him, one hand gripping the open quarter-light, and then the tail lifted high and the Eagle simply slipped beneath the surface.
  He made it to the life raft and hauled himself inside. There were two paddles and a couple of survival boxes he didn't bother to open. He slid the paddles through the oarlocks, no other emotion left in him except a stubborn need to survive.
  He started to row toward the shore, distant in the mist and rain. It was a long way off, but not as far as Kate Rashid had gone.