Download E-books Tracker: A Short Story Exclusive (Sigma Force Novels) PDF

By James Rollins

From New York Times bestselling writer James Rollins comes a stirring tale of a soldier and his army conflict puppy who're drawn right into a darkish secret tracing again to global conflict II and a misplaced treasure tied to the bones of the dead.

Off the streets within the medieval center of Budapest, Captain Tucker Wayne and his conflict puppy, Kane, rescue a mysterious girl fleeing 3 armed males. the key she holds will unencumber a bad treasure, one steeped in blood and treachery, tied to a criminal offense going again to the autumn of Nazi Germany and a historical past of soreness and discomfort that reaches out from the prior to wreak havoc this present day. In a last showdown within the depths of a misplaced cemetery, truths should be unearthed, treasures uncovered, and the destiny of all will leisure upon the shoulders of 1 guy and a puppy whose braveness is past measure.

Included with this exciting tale is sneak peek at Bloodline, the place the additional exploits of Tucker and Kane may be revealed.

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Then Domonkos’s pocked face seemed and barked new orders, smiling largely. Tucker might nearly see the sheen of gold in his eyes. Had they really chanced on the stolen treasure? Tucker was once pressured to his toes and made to persist with Domonkos down into the crypt. He guessed they wanted as many able-bodied males as attainable to haul up the treasure from under. Tucker fastened the stairs, trailed via the opposite males. The slim stairs descended from partitions made from brick to a tunnel chiseled out of typical stone. He misplaced count number at 100 steps. dialog had died down as they descended, stifled by means of the load of stone above and the goals of riches lower than. quickly all Tucker heard used to be the lads respiring round him, their echoing footfalls, and someplace some distance less than the drip of water. strong. eventually, the tip of the staircase seemed, lit through the glow from Csorba’s flashlight. achieving the cavern, Domonkos entered prior to them, sweeping his arm to surround the gap as though welcoming them to his domestic. He came across his voice back and chattered fortunately to his comrades. Tucker took a couple of steps into the distance, awed by means of the traditional vault, dripping with water, feathered with thick capes of flowstone and spiked above through stalactites. Tucker puzzled what percentage Jewish slaves Oberführer Erhard Bock had labored to demise to tunnel into this mystery cavern, what percentage others had died to maintain its secret—and as he stared over at Csorba, he puzzled how this Jewish student may possibly so blithely his personal historical past and get ready to scouse borrow gold soaked in his ancestors’ personal blood. Csorba stood subsequent to a stack of crates, each one a cubic foot in measurement and emblazoned with a swastika burned into the wooden. He had damaged one open, pulled down from the pinnacle of the pile. 1000s of gold ingots, each one the scale of a stick of butter, spilled around the ground. Csorba grew to become, wide-eyed. He spoke to the others, who all cheered. He even shared the scoop with Tucker. “Erhard Bock lied,” he stated, awe filling his voice. “There aren't thirty-six crates right here. There are over 80! ” Tucker calculated in his head. That equaled over $200 million. no longer a nasty haul in case you don’t brain murdering a few blameless cemetery caretakers, a kindly college professor, his daughter—not to say yours really. And who is familiar with what number extra? He’d heard and noticeable adequate. He slipped out his pistol, raised it, and shot 3 times. 3 head photographs. 3 our bodies fell. The final used to be Domonkos, who sank with the main bewildered expression on his face. He couldn’t convey all 4 again to the skin through himself. Too dicy. yet he may possibly deliver one, the guy in the back of all of this. Csorba stumbled into the crate and yanked his instant detonator out of his pocket. “Another step and I’ll press it. ” To see if he’d really do it, Tucker took that step and one other. He observed the man’s thumb tremble at the button. Then, with a wince, Csorba eventually pressed it. “I . . . I warned you. ” “I didn’t pay attention any explosion,” Tucker stated. “Did you? ” Csorba pressed it a number of extra instances. Tucker closed the space, plucked the lifeless detonator out of his grip, grew to become it off, and pocketed it.

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