Dr. Shannon Kelsey: A respected archaeologist, a woman of fierce independence and beauty, her passion for the great ancient mysteries has brought her to the mountains of Peru, where she stands on the threshold of an astounding discovery and on the verge of death. . .Joseph Zolar: Within a labyrinth of legitimate business enterprises, he has created a vast international empire built on illegal trade in antiquities. Now he has set his sights on the ultimate prize-golden antiquities worth almost a billion dollars and from his lavish headquarters he coolly signs the death warrant of anyone who da
Chapter 1 A Sunny Day in Londontown 3Chapter 2 Cops and Royals 14Chapter 3 Flowers and Families 37Chapter 4 Players 53Chapter 5 Perqs and Plots 67Chapter 6 Trials and Troubles 80Chapter 7 Speedbird Home 101Chapter 8 Information 115Chapter 9 A Day for Celebration 130Chapter 10 Plans and Threats 146Chapter 11 Warnings 156Chapter 12 Homeing 172Chapter 13 Visitors 187Chapter 14 Second Chances 198Chapter 15 Shock and Trauma 221Chapter 16 Objectives and Patriots 233Chapter 17 Recriminations and Decisions 245Chapter 18 Lights 257Chapter 19 Tests and Passing Grades 268...
THE STAR-BEARER AND RAEDERLE OF AN SAT ON the crown of the highest of the seven towers of Anuin. The white stone fell endlessly away from them, down to the summer-green slope the great house sat on. The city itself spilled away from the slope to the sea. The sky revolved above them, a bright, changeless blue, its expression broken only by the occasional spiral of a hawk. Morgon had not moved for hours. The morning sun had struck his profile on the side of the embrasure he sat in and shifted his shadow without his notice to the other side. He was aware of Raederle only as some portion of the l
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS A debt of gratitude to Emily Bestler, Jason Kaufman, Ben Kaplan, and everyone at Pocket Books for their belief in this project. To my friend and agent, Jake Elwell, for his enthusiasm and unflagging effort. To the legendary George Wieser, for convincing me to write novels. To my dear friend Irv Sittler, for facilitating my audience with the Pope, secreting me into parts of Vatican City few ever see, and making my time in Rome unforgettable. To one of the most ingenious and gifted artists alive, John Langdon, who rose brilliantly to my impossible challenge and created the amb
Missing Mile, North Carolina, in the summer of 1972 was scarcely more than a wide spot in the road. The main street was shaded by a few great spreading pecans and oaks, flanked by a few even larger, more sprawling Southern homes too far off any beaten path to have fallen to the scourge of the Civil War. The ravages and triumphs of the past decade seemed to have touched the town not at all, not at first glance. You might think that here was a place adrift in a gentler time, a place where Peace reigned naturally, and did not have to be blazoned on banners or worn around the neck. You might
Red Nails Jewels of Gwahlur Beyond the Black River RED NAILS For some two years, as captain of the Wastrel, Conan continues a highly successful career as a freebooter. However, the other Zingaran pirates, jealous of the outlander in their midst, at last bring him down off the coast of Shem. Escaping inland and hearing that wars are in the offing along the borders of Stygia, Conan joins the Free panions, a band of condottieri under the mand of one Zarallo. Instead of rich plunder, however, he finds himself engaged in uneventful guard duty in the border post of Sukhmet, on the
Another Disc day dawned, but very gradually, and this is why. When light encounters a strong magical field it loses ail sense of urgency. It slows right down. And on the Discworld the magic was embarrassingly strong, which meant that the soft yellow light of dawn flowed over the sleeping landscape like the caress of a gentle lover or, as some would have it, like golden syrup. It paused to fill up valleys. It piled up against mountain ranges. When it reached Cori Celesti, the ten mile spire of grey stone and green ice that marked the hub of the Disc and was the home of its gods, it built up i
Through the curtained windows of the furnished apartment which Mrs. Horace Hignett had rented for her stay in New York rays of golden sunlight peeped in like the foremost spies of some advancing army. It was a fine summer morning. The hands of the Dutch clock in the hall pointed to thirteen minutes past nine; those of the ormolu clock in the sitting-room to eleven minutes past ten; those of the carriage clock on the bookshelf to fourteen minutes to six. In other words, it was exactly eight; and Mrs. Hignett acknowledged the fact by moving her head on the pillow, opening her eyes, and sittin
It was hot. The shallow place where I lay atop the desert ridge was like an oven, the rocks like burning coals. Out on the flat below, where the Apaches waited, the heat waves shimmered and danced. Only the far-off mountains looked cool. When I tried to push out my tongue to touch my cracked lips it was like a dry stick in my mouth, and the dark splashes on the rock were blood ... my blood. The round thing lying yonder with a bullet hole in it was my canteen, but there might be a smidgen of water left in the bottom - enough to keep me alive if I could get to it. Down on the flat lay my sorr
CHAPTER XIWho Stole the Tarts?The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne whenthey arrived, with a great crowd assembled about themall sortsof little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards:the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier oneach side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit,with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in theother. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a largedish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice...
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE NEIGHBOURING FAMILIESby Hans Christian AndersenONE would have thought that something important was going on inthe duck-pond, but it was nothing after all. All the ducks lyingquietly on the water or standing on their heads in it- for theycould do that- at once swarm to the sides; the traces of their feetwere seen in the wet earth, and their cackling was heard far and wide.The water, which a few moments before had been as clear and smoothas a mirror, became very troubled. Before, every tree, every...
THE SKETCH BOOKENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICAby Washington Irving"Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation, rousingherself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invinciblelocks: methinks I see her as an eagle, mewing her mighty youth, andkindling her endazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam."MILTON ON THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.IT IS with feelings of deep regret that I observe the literaryanimosity daily growing up between England and America. Great...
SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE DYING DETECTIVEby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleMrs. Hudson, the landlady of Sherlock Holmes, was a long-sufferingwoman. Not only was her first-floor flat invaded at all hours bythrongs of singular and often undesirable characters but herremarkable lodger showed an eccentricity and irregularity in hislife which must have sorely tried her patience. His incredibleuntidiness, his addiction to music at strange hours, his occasionalrevolver practice within doors, his weird and often malodorous...
The Cruise of the DolphinThe Cruise of theDolphinby Thomas Bailey Aldrich1- Page 2-The Cruise of the Dolphin(1 An episode from The Story of a Bad Boy, the narrator being TomBailey, the hero of the tale.)Every Rivermouth boy looks upon the sea as being in some waymixed up with his destiny. While he is yet a baby lying in his cradle, hehears the dull, far-off boom of the breakers; when he is older, he wanders...
How Tell a Story and Othersby Mark TwainCONTENTS:HOW TO TELL A STORYTHE WOUNDED SOLDIERTHE GOLDEN ARMMENTAL TELEGRAPHY AGAINTHE INVALIDS STORYHOW TO TELL A STORYThe Humorous Story an American Development.Its Differencefrom Comic and Witty Stories.I do not claim that I can tell a story as it ought to be told. I onlyclaim to know how a story ought to be told, for I have been almost dailyin the company of the most expert story-tellers for many years.There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kindthe...
VBEHAVIORGrace, Beauty, and CapriceBuild this golden portal;Graceful women, chosen menDazzle every mortal:Their sweet and lofty countenanceHis enchanting food;He need not go to them, their formsBeset his solitude.He looketh seldom in their face,His eyes explore the ground,The green grass is a looking-glassWhereon their traits are found.Little he says to them,So dances his heart in his breast,...