Gideon's Corpse (Gideon Crew series)
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child
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A top nuclear scientist goes mad and takes an innocent family hostage at gunpoint, killing one and causing a massive standoff.
A plume of radiation above New York City leads to a warehouse where, it seems, a powerful nuclear bomb was assembled just hours before.
Sifting through the evidence, authorities determine that the unthinkable is about to happen: in ten days, a major American city will be vaporized by a terrorist attack.
Ten days. And Gideon Crew, tracking the mysterious terrorist cell from the suburbs of New York to the mountains of New Mexico, learns the end may be something worse--far worse--than mere Armageddon.
lurch. Blearily, Gideon opened his eyes. For a moment, still in thrall to the dream, he reached out as if to grasp and steady the fringes of the carpet. Instead, his fingers encountered metal, knobs, the smooth face of a glass dial. “Don’t touch that!” Fordyce barked. Gideon sat up suddenly, only to be restrained by the seat harness. Immediately, he remembered where he was: in a small plane, heading for Santa Cruz. He smiled, remembering. “More turbulence?” No answer. They were flying through
his direction. “Let me have one.” With a wry smile she slid one from her packet, lit it for him, flipped it, and inserted it between his lips. A short, bowlegged, cranky-looking man with a shaved head came walking down the street on stubby legs, bawling in a megaphone. She held her cigarette behind her back and Gideon followed suit. “Isn’t that—?” “Claudio Lipari. The director. A real Nazi.” Gideon noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. A dozen sedans were arriving,
the three of them almost going down. But under Alida’s expert handling, the animal recovered and she brought him to a halt, covered with sweat and trembling. “We’ve got to keep going,” Gideon said. Ignoring him, Alida patted Sierra’s neck, leaning over murmuring soothing words into his ear. In the background, Gideon could hear approaching cars, roaring and bouncing along the prairie above and beyond the edge of the canyon, out of sight. She straightened up. “I’m surrendering you.” “They’re
in ’46. One thing they learned from the Demon Core was that a high dose of gamma radiation makes you go crazy. The symptoms are just what you saw with Chalker—mental confusion, raving, headache, vomiting, and an unbearable pain in the gut.” “That puts a whole new spin on things,” said Hammersmith. “The real question,” said Gideon, “is the form that craziness took. Why would he claim they were beaming rays into his head? Experimenting on him?” “I’m afraid that’s a classic symptom of
asked. “Just a moment,” Dart replied. His voice sounded thick, distracted. Another minute passed. Fordyce could hear Dart’s breathing. When he came back on, his voice had changed. It was steadier, calm. “Where did you get this?” “Off a computer owned by Simon Blaine, the novelist.” “But…in what context?” “It’s a proposal for a thriller.” “Who else knows about it?” “Just Gideon.” “What the hell are you doing teamed up with Crew?” “He’s the one who found it.” “It’s obviously a fake!” Dart