THE TROUBLESHOOTER

Every disaster has a first domino. Ace Sterling's job is to find it before it falls-or contain the wreckage when he's too late.
They call him the Troubleshooter. No agency employs him. No business card explains him. When a dam's sensors start lying about how close it is to failure, when a jetliner loses its hydraulics over open ocean, when a hospital's fire-safety systems start working against the patients they're supposed to protect, somebody makes one quiet call-and Ace Sterling shows up with a headset, a legal pad, and thirty minutes to keep the catastrophe small enough to survive.
He used to write reports after buildings fell. A hillside collapse he arrived at one week too late taught him the only report worth writing is the one that never has to exist. Now he gets there before the headline does.
But the emergencies stop looking random. A dam. A plane. A hospital. A city's drinking water. An election night that isn't supposed to be close enough to hack. Somewhere behind the failures, something patient is running experiments-learning exactly how much damage a system can survive, and exactly how far Ace will go to stop it from finding out.
The deeper he digs, the less it looks like sabotage and the more it looks like curriculum. Every crisis he walks away from teaches somebody something. Every fix he improvises gets graded. And the closer he gets to whoever-or whatever-is designing the tests, the more he realizes the real fight was never about any single dam or plane or bridge. It's about who gets to hold the override switch on the systems the whole world has quietly agreed to trust.
The Troubleshooter is a high-velocity systems thriller for readers who like their disasters technically real and their heroes smarter than the room. Ace Sterling doesn't have superpowers-he has physics, structural engineering, and a refusal to trust a screen over what he can feel with his own hands. Told in tight, escalating set pieces across dams, aircraft, hospitals, elections, freight lines, and a data center trying to melt itself for a reason, this is a book about the last line of defense between "close call" and "catastrophe"-and the terrifying good sense of the person willing to stand in it.
For readers of Michael Crichton, Daniel Suarez, and anyone who's ever wondered what actually happens in the thirty minutes before a disaster makes the news.
The failures are connected. The clock is always running. And somewhere, someone is taking notes.