The Last Oracle (Sigma Force)
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In Washington, D.C., a homeless man takes an assassin's bullet and dies in Commander Gray Pierce's arms. A bloody coin clutched in the dead man's hand--an ancient relic that can be traced back to the Greek Oracle of Delphi--is the key to a conspiracy that dates back to the Cold War and threatens the very foundation of humanity. For what if it were possible to bioengineer the next great prophet--a new Buddha, Muhammad, or even Jesus? Would this Second Coming be a boon . . . or would it initiate a chain reaction that would result in the extinction of humankind?
Vital seconds are ticking rapidly away as Pierce races across the globe in search of answers, one step ahead of ruthless killers determined to reclaim the priceless artifact. Suddenly the future of all things is balanced on the brink between heaven and hell--and salvation or destruction rests in the hands of remarkable children.
another park. The signal grew stronger as Gray neared a shadowy copse of red-twig dogwood and Natchez crape myrtles. A bench stood next to a knee-high bed of hydrangeas. Gray stepped to the bench. In the secluded spot, the millirems ticked up higher again. Had Polk waited here? Was that why the residual radiation trace was stronger? Gray shifted a flowering branch of a crape myrtle and found a wide view of the Mall stretching ahead, including a straight-on view of the Smithsonian Castle. Had
children?” She strode away. Now was not the time for subtle actions. She still had ten children. That would be enough. She confirmed her order. “Loose the cats, too.” 11:45 A.M. Pyotr sat between Marta’s legs. Her strong, warm arms wrapped around him. He didn’t like to be touched, but he let her. The sweet earthy smell of her damp fur swelled around him. He heard the hush-hush of her breathing, felt the beat of her large heart in his own spine. He had known Marta all his life. He had
forward with a clatter. At the base of his skull, the shiny steel handle of a throwing dagger protruded. Beyond the body, Luca stood outside by the dancing fountain. The Gypsy had another dagger ready in his hand. Gray kicked away the loose rifle, which Kowalski retrieved. Luca rushed up to them and yanked out his knife. “Thanks,” Gray said. “I was outside smoking when the gunfire began,” the man explained and waved to the courtyard. “Tracked its source across the street. Went over there. I
this larger river, buried in a dense fir forest. Monk had studied the topographic map several times. It seemed they were following along the watershed that drained the eastern slopes of the Ural Mountains. On the western side, the Urals shed their rainwater and snowmelt into the Caspian Sea; on this side, it all flowed into a region of massive rivers and hundreds of lakes, all of which eventually emptied into the Arctic Ocean. What the Russians were planning… Shock had rung in his voice.
need medical attention to prevent losing his leg to infection from the muddy water. But first he had a job to do. Failure was not an option. Limping on his bad leg, Borsakov set off after his prey. 16 September 7, 8:11 A.M. Pripyat, Ukraine “Wake up!” Gray heard the words, but his brain took another moment to decipher them. A stinging slap cut through his grogginess. Light filled his head then dissolved into watery images. Luca leaned over him and shook Gray’s shoulders.