The Last Oracle (Sigma Force)

By James Rollins

In Washington, D.C., a homeless guy takes an assassin's bullet and dies in Commander grey Pierce's palms. A bloody coin clutched within the useless man's hand--an old relic that may be traced again to the Greek Oracle of Delphi--is the major to a conspiracy that dates again to the chilly warfare and threatens the very starting place of humanity. For what if it have been attainable to bioengineer the following nice prophet--a new Buddha, Muhammad, or maybe Jesus? may this moment Coming be a boon . . . or wouldn't it begin a sequence response that will lead to the extinction of humankind?

important seconds are ticking speedily away as Pierce races around the globe looking for solutions, one step prior to ruthless killers decided to reclaim the worthwhile artifact. all at once the way forward for all issues is balanced at the breaking point among heaven and hell--and salvation or destruction rests within the fingers of exceptional little ones.

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The taller boy shushed him with a glare and glanced towards the open doorway. the kids then break up up and crossed round the mattress. The chief and the woman all started liberating the straps that certain his limbs. The smaller boy held again, eyes large. Like his partners, the kid used to be wearing unfastened pants and a dismal grey turtleneck sweater with a vest over it, in addition to an identical cable-knit hat. The boy stared directly at him, unnervingly so, as though analyzing whatever on his brow. along with his hands freed, he sat up. The room swam back, yet now not up to sooner than. He ran his give up his head, attempting to regular himself. below his palm, he came upon his scalp soft and a prickly line of sutures in the back of his left ear, confirming this supposition. Had he been shaved for surgical procedure? nonetheless, as his palm ran around the gentle most sensible of his head, the feeling felt in some way regular, common. earlier than he may perhaps think about this contradiction, he pulled his different hand into view. Or quite attempted to. His different arm led to a stump on the wrist. His center thudded more durable in surprise. He must’ve been in a terrible twist of fate. His last hand trailed around the soft sutures at the back of his ear, as though attempting to learn Braille. evidently a contemporary surgical procedure. yet his wrist used to be calloused and lengthy healed. nonetheless, he may virtually experience his lacking hands. Felt them curl right into a phantom fist of frustration. The taller boy stepped again from the mattress. “Come,” he stated in English. From the clandestine nature of his unencumber and furtive activities of his liberators, he sensed a few quantity of threat. wearing a skinny sanatorium dress, he rolled his ft to the chilly tiled flooring. The room tilted with the movement. Whoa… A small groan of nausea escaped him. “Hurry,” the taller boy instructed. “Wait,” he stated, gulping air to settle his abdominal. “Tell me what's going. ” “No time. ” The tall boy stepped away. He used to be gangly, all limbs. He tried to sound authoritative, however the cracking in his voice betrayed either his early life and his terror. He touched his chest, introducing himself. “Menia zavut Konstantin. you need to come. sooner than it really is too past due. ” “But I…I don’t…” “Da. you're harassed. For now, understand your zavut is Monk Kokkalis. ” creating a half-scoffing noise, he shook his head. Monk Kokkalis. The identify intended not anything to him. As he tried to voice his confrontation, to right the error, he discovered he had no ammunition, just a clean the place his identify generally resided. His middle clutched right into a strained knot. Panic narrowed his imaginative and prescient. How may well that be? He fingered the sutures back. Had he taken a blow to the pinnacle? A concussion? He hunted for any reminiscence past waking up right here during this room, yet there has been not anything, a wilderness. What had occurred? He stared back on the EKG computer screen nonetheless attached to his chest through taped lead wires. And over within the nook stood a blood strain display screen and an I. V. pole. So if he may perhaps identify what lay round him, why couldn’t he keep in mind his personal identify? He sought for a earlier, anything to anchor him. yet past waking up right here during this darkish room, he had no reminiscence.

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