Perhaps I'm a bit too high-brow. I read this book, trying to hearken back to when I used to read thrillers all the time. I used to delve into murder mysteries and even fancied that I missed my calling as a forsensic science investigator. I can still enjoy books such as Stiff by Mary Roach, but these thrillers where people are killing each other and running for their lives no longer holds a fascination for me. I nearly (literally) had a panic attack in the first 50 pages. My husband's philosophy comes back to me: garbage in, garbage out.
I'm not saying that this is garbage, but I certainly do believe that it doesn't offer anything to the greater literary tradition. This is simply a brain-candy book, not particularly well-written, easy on the mind, simple writing style, etc.
The story line is high intensity, but also rather predictable. I wanted to be surprised by the ending, but really the whole book felt predictable to me. It did drive up the adrenaline, but I found that a rather uncompelling reason to read it.