Sunken Pyramid (Rogue Angel, Book 45)
Alex Archer, Jean Rabe
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The note from her friend and colleague had read "I have quite the monster for you to chase, dear Annja." And then before she could speak to him, he'd been found dead in the hotel's stairwell. It didn't seemed possible. Annja Creed had been looking forward to three days of geeking out at the archaeology conference in Madison, Wisconsin, and then this tragedy strikes. And his is only the first death over the long weekend.
Determined to investigate her friend's death—and find out why another colleague she trusts is arrested as the prime suspect—Annja starts gathering the pieces of a cryptic puzzle. A small collection of Mayan gold medallions. The death of a potter. The violent appearance of a teenaged girl with a strange green knife. And at the center of the puzzle, an ancient mound pyramid purportedly hidden at the bottom of a Wisconsin lake. That's a discovery that could completely rewrite Mesoamerican history.
With each puzzle piece Annja Creed discovers, the mystery grows more dangerous. And what she knows can—and probably will—kill her.
involved a friend, like Edgar. It was just a matter of where she would start. Maybe with Peter. She got up and turned to go back to the lobby, to wait there until Detective Greene had finished questioning Peter. She’d ask Peter some questions of her own. “Ms. Creed!” She hadn’t noticed the conference chairman approaching her. “Ms. Creed, do you have a moment?” She was going to say no, but he barreled ahead. “We’ve moved some things. Dr. Chiapont’s seminar. Mrs. Hapgood’s canceled, of
herself to a hawk-nosed woman, who had apparently emerged from one of the divided rooms to see what the commotion was. “I am Katrina Jacoby here at the Great Lakes States Archaeological Conference in Madison, and I am speaking this afternoon with—” She put her recorder under the woman’s hawk nose. “Dr. Olivia Rouse.” Garin took the staircase up to the second floor, stepping past a fresh-faced, gangly-looking reporter trying to interview unsuspecting guests. The newsman looked young enough to
from the action on the street. He waved the snub-nosed gun at her. “You!” he said. Annja waited, tentatively reaching up and touching the back of her head, her fingertips coming away bloody. “Great.” She was sitting on the ground, the back of her pants damp from whatever garbage he’d sat her in. “You!” He pointed the gun at her and kicked at something on the ground between her knees. It was her purse, and he’d upended it. The contents were strewn among the litter. Her cell phone was in pieces
town. And they said they saw a log stretched out in the lake, right in their path. Well, they’d been reading about Her Imperial Snakeship, and so they were careful.” “But not careful enough.” This from Kip. “She dived and came up right next to ’em. Opened her mouth. Probably looked like that shark from the Jaws movie.” Sully took a turn. “Anyway, it was reported that a man on shore grabbed a shotgun, took his boat out and was taking aim when it disappeared again. Didn’t show up for a week or
done here,” Rembert said. There was an eagerness to his voice, but Annja couldn’t tell for certain if it was real or politely put on for Sully’s benefit. “I want to get shots at the beach. Annja mentioned some people think there’s a monster skull there. And then I want to get some video of her diving. I think you should close up shop and go out on the boat with us.” Sully grinned wide. “I’ll go get the air tanks. Do you have a place to get them filled?” Annja nodded. She’d already looked into