Restless Soul (Rogue Angel, Book 28)
Alex Archer, Jean Rabe
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In 1966, a group of battle-weary American GIs trekked through the Vietnamese jungle knowing each step could mean facing the enemy's guns. But instead of ambush, they stumbled upon a hidden treasure beyond their wildest dreams. It was a discovery that exacted a terrible cost.
A vacation spot picked at random, Thailand is intended to provide relaxation time for globe-trotting archaeologist Annja Creed. Yet the irresistible pull of the country's legendary Spirit Cave lures Annja and her companions deep within a network of underground chambers—nearly to their deaths. The ancient burial sites have slumbered through the ages. Yet no rest is found there—just the voices of the dead. When the dead speak, will they help Annja uncover the perplexing past of a remarkable find or will they call her to join them?
hammer. Just as she drove it into the rock, she heard a great whoosh. She didn’t have to look to know what had happened. The river had forced its way up the tunnel and into the once-dry chamber. Pack over one shoulder, rope over the other, Annja worked fast. Using the pitons as steps, she climbed. The light was faint, and it shifted as Luartaro sloshed around and inspected the cavern. She was certain he was looking for other passages. She prayed he would find one. The rush of water was loud,
saw her and swiveled his machine gun up and fired a burst. Bullets chewed into the trunk of an acacia tree near her, and she leaped for the tree to use it as cover. More shots rang out and wood splinters stung her face. The men shouted and raced toward her. She pushed off from the tree and darted toward another thick trunk, barely managing to slip around it before more shots plowed into the vegetation. At least they were concentrating on her. Perhaps Luartaro and Zakkarat were safely away,
up in its intensity, and the soft chatter of the villagers. “Hurry, Zakkarat.” “Hurry? You do not understand tribal life, Ann-ja-creed,” Zakkarat said. “These villages are ancient and remote. You cannot do things quickly here. And you cannot go too slowly because time is not measured in hours, or maybe even days. I doubt anyone here owns a watch.” Annja noted that Zakkarat’s own watch had been broken, too. “Time is measured in seasons and years. And distance? It is not a measure of kilometers or
it back when you can. He doesn’t care about baht beyond using it to buy gasoline.” “I promise,” Annja said, facing Erawan. “I promise to bring it back as soon as possible—and give him baht for gas. Please thank him for me. And please remember to tell all of these people about the men and the guns and—” The wind gusted, bringing a shower of rain inside the building. Thunder boomed and beyond the doorway fingers of lightning flickered. The dog yapped shrilly. A single burst of gunfire sounded. A
he said. “‘It is young men dying in the fullness of their promise.’ I promise it won’t get me.” ISBN: 978-1-4268-7974-6 RESTLESS SOUL Special thanks and acknowledgment to Jean Rabe for her contribution to this work. Copyright � 2011 by Worldwide Library All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying