The Last Oracle and The Doomsday Key: A Sigma Force Bundle
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out. He crossed the lab and swiped his proximity keycard to unlock the door. 5:30 P.M. Monk climbed into the cab outside the train station. His partner was already in the backseat, giving directions to the driver. “Carl Icahn Lab on the Princeton campus. It’s on Washington Road.” Monk settled into the seat next to him, straightened his suit jacket, and leaned back. He rested a briefcase on his lap. He stared down at the custom-made Tanner Krolle case and ran a hand over its English bridle
Ukraine Nicolas crossed through the ghost town’s amusement park. Old yellow bumper cars sat in pools of stagnant green water, amid waist-high weeds. The roof of the ride had long since collapsed, leaving a frame of red corrosion arched over it. Ahead, the park’s giant Ferris wheel—the Big Dipper—rose into the late-afternoon sky, limned against the low sun. Its yellow umbrella chairs hung idle from the rusted skeleton. A symbol and monument to the ruin left behind in the wake of Chernobyl.
of the desk. Gunfire echoed down to them. Painter brought up the camera feed from the top level of Sigma and displayed it on the screen behind his desk. He tore his eyes away from Lisa and checked the other monitor. Smoke filled the passageway. Helmeted figures in Kevlar vests and face masks ran low through the pall, rifles on their shoulders. “I can’t believe the bastard’s goddamn nerve,” Sean said. There was no need to guess who he meant. Mapplethorpe. “They’re going for the girl,” Sean
harm’s way and dropped it into that empty dark sea. So it might live anew. Outside now, more leaves tumble, and shadows of memory fill in gaps, forming the true face of the one who wore this body now. This old face would be forgotten eventually, but not the boy who gave up his life so something new could be born. Often in his dreams, he sees that boy running over fields, topping a hill, waving back—then gone. So happy now. The new boy who sits in the chair stares out the window. Sometime
pistol. It’s not much but—” The cautious tromp of boots suddenly changed cadence. The slow step turned into a heavy-footed run. Boots pounded toward their position. Gray’s whispering must have been heard. Kowalski lifted his pistol, ready to shoot, but Seichan placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder. The pounding passed their position and continued down the boardwalk, heading toward the far side. They were running off. Something had spooked them. “The police…” Gray guessed aloud. “‘Bout