Blue LabyrinthBook - 2014
Special Agent Pendergast-one of the most original, compelling characters in all of contemporary fiction-returns in Preston and Child's new exhilarating novel
A long-buried family secret has come back to haunt Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast.
It begins with murder. One of Pendergast's most implacable, most feared enemies is found on his doorstep, dead. Pendergast has no idea who is responsible for the killing, or why the body was brought to his home. The mystery has all the hallmarks of the perfect crime, save for an enigmatic clue: a piece of turquoise lodged in the stomach of the deceased.
The gem leads Pendergast to an abandoned mine on the shore of California's Salton Sea, which in turn propels him on a journey of discovery deep into his own family's sinister past. But Pendergast learns there is more at work than a ghastly episode of family history: he is being stalked by a subtle killer bent on vengeance over an ancient transgression. And he soon becomes caught in a wickedly clever plot, which leaves him stricken in mind and body, and propels him toward a reckoning beyond anything he could ever have imagined....
Baker & Taylor
Investigating the murder of his most ruthless, most feared enemies, Aloysius Pendergast journeys to an abandoned California mine only to uncover a dark secret from his family's past and a plot by a vengeful killer.
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“I prefer hypocrisy to poverty.”
He was as tense and nervous as a cat in a new house.
"... We’ve got eyewitnesses. We’ve got you on video. If you don’t start cooperating, you’re going to be so far up shit creek that not even Lewis and Clark could paddle you back. Last chance.”
...they described a man tall of carriage, hands like nervous white spiders, skin as pale as marble, eyes like silver concha ...
Here were cases full of such odd things as wigs, doorknobs, corsets, busks, shoes, umbrellas and walking sticks, along with bizarre weapons—harquebuses, pikes, shestopyors, bardiches, poleaxes, glaives, bombards, and war hammers...
He stopped to catch his breath—damn, he’d have to go on a diet after the past two weeks of poi, kalua pig, opihi, haupia, and beer.
and they realized they had eaten, among other things, fish lips and intestine soup (Sup Bibir Ikan) and cow’s stomach simmered with bacon, cognac, and white wine (Tripes à la Mode de Caen).
D’Agosta had watched this exchange without a word. “You just put your boot so far up his ass, he’ll have to eat his dinner with a shoehorn.” “I can always count on you for a suitable bon mot.”
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