You were "discovered" by your American publisher after a full-page essay by Steven King appeared in Entertainment Weekly. How did that feel? What was your reaction after reading that piece?
I was blown away. My first impulse was to grab an armload of magazines from the newsstand and shove copies into people's hands. But I was at Dulles airport in Washington, and decided that running through the terminal waving and shouting would be a bad idea. I was thrilled that an author of Stephen King's stature, whose books I love, was praising my work. And I was grateful and amazed at his generosity in supporting another writer so enthusiastically. I only hope that someday I can offer the same support to others that he's given to me.

You are an American writer living in the U.K., writing American thrillers. How do you ground your novels so firmly in the States while living abroad? What has the British reception of you work been like?

Chapter 1
Fire alarms sang through the skyscraper, piercing and relentless. Under the din people poured across the marble lobby toward the doors, dodging fallen ceiling plaster and broken glass. Outside, Montgomery Street crackled with the lights of emergency vehicles. A police officer fought upstream to get inside. The blonde was ten feet behind, struggling through the crowd.

The man in the corner paced, head down, needing her to hurry.

People rushed by him, jumpy. "Everything crashed off the bookshelves. I thought for sure it was the Big One."

The man turned, shoulders shifting. The Big One? Hardly. This earthquake had just been San Francisco's regular kick in the butt. But it was bad enough. On the street, steam geysered from manholes. And he could smell gas. Pipes had ruptured under the building. The quake was Hell saying, Don't forget I'm down here—you fall, I'm waiting for you.