By Gregg Loomis
A scientist in Amsterdam—murdered. one other scientist in Atlanta— murdered, and his magazine stolen. firstly Lang Reilly the single connection. in any case, either scientists labored for his origin. but if anyone took a shot at Lang to scare him away, it purely made him extra decided to discover the reality. Lang’s seek will lead him alongside a twisted path to Brussels, Cairo, Vienna, Tel Aviv…and deep into the secrets and techniques of the earlier. What’s the relationship among the murdered scientists and an historic parchment, lately unearthed? What revelations does it include, and what robust team is keen to kill to ensure its secrets and techniques stay hidden? With the stability of strength within the center East in danger, Lang has to stick alive lengthy sufficient to discover the reply to a secret that has wondered historians for hundreds of years.
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Thriller grasp Lee baby returns with an particular publication novella. in the course of a savage warmth wave and an notorious homicide spree, a blackout awakens the darkish facet of town that by no means sleeps—and a tender Jack Reacher takes motion as in basic terms he can.
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July 1977. Jack Reacher is nearly seventeen, and he stops in big apple urban as a way to stopover at his brother at West aspect. The summer season warmth is suffocating, the town is bankrupt, and the mad gunman referred to as Son of Sam continues to be at the free. Reacher meets a lady with an issue, and concurs to assist her . . . yet then the facility grid fails and the lighting move
out, plunging the lawless urban into chaos. What does a traveling youngster do at the hours of darkness? If that traveling youngster is Jack Reacher, the answer's plenty.
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After he by chance shoots at a stressful standoff, FBI Hostage Rescue group member Mark Sanders is distributed to St. Louis to paintings as a box agent and get his bearings whereas the undesirable press begins to settle. simply weeks clear of returning to Quantico to renew his paintings at the HRT, Mark has an opportunity come across with an past love, Emily Lawson.
On a sour November night, younger Mary Yellan trips around the rainswept moors to Jamaica hotel in honor of her mother's demise request. while she arrives, the caution of the coachman starts off to echo in her reminiscence, for her aunt endurance cowers sooner than hulking Uncle Joss Merlyn. petrified of the inn's brooding energy, Mary progressively unearths herself ensnared at nighttime schemes being enacted in the back of its crumbling walls—and tempted to like a guy she dares now not belief.
Antiques and ladies are quite the single issues that I'm attracted to. Getting them within the correct order could be a challenge, simply because even a faux vintage may be completely fascination - specifically if it drives an individual to devote murder.
Antiques and ladies are what led me to Venice at the path of the killer, and there my modest abilities observed me blagging my means right into a task as a journey advisor in addition to lending a hand as a sculptor. My credentials as a travel advisor have been as bogus because the forgery i used to be chiselling and it becan to consider like in all places I grew to become, not anything used to be because it seemed.
Antiques and ladies virtually bought me killed whilst the bullets all started flying . . .
- Obsession (Alex Delaware, Book 21)
- A Killing Resurrected (Neil Paget, Book 8)
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- The Kraken Project (Wyman Ford, Book 4)
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Additional resources for The Sinai Secret (Lang Reilly Thrillers)
He paused, switched on the ﬂashlight, and searched among the vertical posts, along the horizontal supports. On the catwalk, I ducked my head behind the storage chest. A moment later the probing light swept over me, east to west, back again, and then away. Although Boo had moved past me and stood with his head through a gap in the railing, watching the giant, he remained visible only to me. When the searcher had moved out of sight into the labyrinth of posts and purlins and struts, I rose to my feet.
I propped the ﬂashlight on his chest. Because his head was raised on a mound of sand, the bright beam bathed him from chin to hairline. If something like Godzilla woke in a Paciﬁc abyss and decided to come ashore to ﬂatten our picturesque community, this guy’s face would dissuade it from a rampage, and the scaly beast would return meekly to the peace of the deeps. With the fog-diffused lights of town to guide me, I slogged across the wide beach. I did not proceed directly east. Perhaps Flashlight Guy had told the pier crew that he was on the shore due west of some landmark, by which they could ﬁnd him.
Eye of newt. Wool-of-bat hair. Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips. A lolling tongue like a ﬁllet of fenny snake. He was not exactly Odd Hours 51 ugly, but he looked peculiar, as if he’d been conjured in a cauldron by Macbeth’s coven of witches. When he had fallen, a slim cell phone had slid half out of his shirt pocket. If he was in league with the trio at the pier, he might have called them when he heard me swimming ashore. After rolling him onto his side, I took the wallet from his hip pocket. Supposing he had summoned help moments before I had come ashore, I needed to move on quickly and could not pore through his ID there on the beach.