Giordino...simply sighed in resignation. "Who else," he asked no one in particular, "but Dirk Pitt could tramp off into a blizzard on an uninhabited backwater island in the Antarctic and discover a beautiful girl?"
Giordino...simply sighed in resignation. "Who else," he asked no one in particular, "but Dirk Pitt could tramp off into a blizzard on an uninhabited backwater island in the Antarctic and discover a beautiful girl?" --
Though neither of them had ever called their meeting a case of love at first sight, they'd both agreed it had certainly been a case of "pretty damned sure at first hour."
While like most men, Sam prided himself on being equipped with a supernatural internal compass that kept him from ever being lost, he'd also learned to concede those rare times when that compass seemed to be temporary disrepair.
Deep, choking sobs that sounded like his soul was being torn apart. He clutched at his father and Max took his in his arms. "I am so sorry dad." Kyle sobbed. "And I forgive you because that is what fahters do" said Max"
Deep, choking sobs that sounded like his soul was being torn apart. He clutched at his father and Max took his in his arms. "I am so sorry dad." Kyle sobbed. "And I forgive you because that is what fahters do" said Max" --
Hitting the first molecules of the upper atmosphere created friction that merely warmed the rod. The lower it fell, the more the heat built, until the entire length of the rod glowed red then yellow, and, finally, a brilliant white.
Not to worry," said Giordino with humorous detachment. "If the inscriptions prove ancient, they're probably nothing but a book of ancient recipes." "Recipes for what?" inquired Helm. "Goat," said Giordino moodily. "A thousand and one ways to serve goat."
Readers, A few years ago, while I was writing Flood Tide, I realized that Dirk Pitt needed some help on a particular assignment, and so I dreamed up Juan Cabrillo. Cabrillo ran a ship called the Oregon, on the outside completely nondescript, but on the inside packed with state-of-the-art intelligence-gathering equipment. It was a completely private enterprise, available for any government agency that could afford it. It went where no warshi..
fisherman had to be a combination biologist, meteorologist, mechanic and mariner. Their livelihood, their very lives, depended on their store of practical knowledge.
Don't give up on Jim Sandecker," said Gunn. "He may have been blocked by the White House in securing the Roosevelt, but I'll bet you a dinner with soft lights and music that he'll come up with a replacement." "You're on," she said, smiling thinly. "That's a bed I'll gladly lose." He looked up curiously. "I beg your pardon?" "A Freudian slip." She laughed tiredly. "I meant 'bet."
In this century wars will not be fought over oil, as in the past, but over water. The situation is becoming desperate. The world's water is strained by population growth. There is no more fresh water on earth than two thousand years ago when the population was three percent of its current size. Even without the inevitable droughts, like the current one, it will get worse as demand and pollution increase. Some countries will simply run out..
A season with the herd and you'll be riding like an arat," Noyon said, referring to the local horsemen. "A season in that saddle and I'd be ready for traction," Giordino grumbled."
Giordino, on the other hand, simply sighed in resignation. "Who else," he asked no one in particular, "but Dirk Pitt could tramp off into a blizzard on an uninhabited backwater island in the Antarctic and discover a beautiful girl?"
Yes, I am aware of the enticements required to obtain them," Kang replied with distaste. "I believe the Russians could teach the West a thing or two about capitalistic extortion."
He opened the door, and his smile faded as his eyes went to the DUNKIN' DONUTS emblazoned on the flat cardboard box in Paul's hands. Perlmutter recoiled like a vampire being offered garlic, and would have fled into the house if Trout had not lifted the box's lid.
If his submarine were caught on the surface in broad daylight, the mission to free Napoleon Bonaparte from exile would be over before it began. Delacroix lowered his spyglass and called down through the hatch. "Prepare to dive the boat!" Three men quickly lowered the sail in the gusting wind. With the bright sun at his back, Delacroix took one last look at the approaching frigate before ducking below and closing the copper hatch. His nostri..
We've been through all this a thousand times. I won't subject myself to the indignities of pregnancy. I won't swish crap-laden diapers around in a toilet bowl ten times a day. Let someone else populate the earth. I'm not about to split off my soul, like some damned amoeba.
Hold on,' he shouted to the woman, realizing even as he spoke that she wasn't holding anything at all, but guessing that 'hang in there' would have had a terrible ring to it.
Joe had the distinct impression they were getting in deeper than they expected with each turn, almost as if they'd hooked a small fish that had been eaten by a larger fish and was being chased by a giant shark.
The captain moniker derived from a tired blue hat he wore on his head. It was the classic captain's hat favored by rich yachtsmen, sporting crossed gold anchors on its prow. Dahlgren's hat, however, looked like it had been run over by an M-1 tank.
Josh Thomas was sitting in Egan's study, reading a chemical analysis journal, when he froze in fright. The rug in the center of the room suddenly rose from the floor as if a ghost were inside and then flew aside. A trapdoor beneath swung open and Pitt's head popped up like a jack-in-the-box. "Sorry to intrude," said Pitt with a cheery smile. "But I just happened to be passing by."
A season with the herd and you'll be riding like an arat," Noyon said, referring to the local horsemen. "A season in that saddle and I'd be ready for traction," Giordino grumbled." --
Two unarmed men against six loaded for bear. We need to even the odds." "Got a plan?" asked Giordino. "I certainly do." Giordino gave the little man with the academic, nerdy look a bemused stare. "Is it evil, rotten, and sneaky?" Gunn nodded, with an impish grin. "All that, and more." THE"
As they exited the conference room, Summer tugged at Dirk's elbow. "So what did the data from Perlmutter cost you?" she chided, knowing the gourmet historian's penchant for culinary blackmail. "Nothing much. Just a jar of pickled sea urchins and an eighty-year-old bottle of sake." "You found those in Washington, D.C.?" Dirk gave his sister a pleading look of helplessness. "Well," she laughed, "we do have six more hours in port."