CHAPTER XIWho Stole the Tarts?The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne whenthey arrived, with a great crowd assembled about themall sortsof little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards:the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier oneach side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit,with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in theother. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a largedish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice...　

　　It was hot. The shallow place where I lay atop the desert ridge was like an oven, the rocks like burning coals. Out on the flat below, where the Apaches waited, the heat waves shimmered and danced. Only the far-off mountains looked cool.　When I tried to push out my tongue to touch my cracked lips it was like a dry stick in my mouth, and the dark splashes on the rock were blood ... my blood.　The round thing lying yonder with a bullet hole in it was my canteen, but there might be a smidgen of water left in the bottom - enough to keep me alive if I could get to it.　Down on the flat lay my sorr　

　　Through the curtained windows of the furnished apartment which Mrs. Horace Hignett had rented for her stay in New York rays of golden sunlight peeped in like the foremost spies of some advancing army. It was a fine summer morning. The hands of the Dutch clock in the hall pointed to thirteen minutes past nine; those of the ormolu clock in the sitting-room to eleven minutes past ten; those of the carriage clock on the bookshelf to fourteen minutes to six. In other words, it was exactly eight; and Mrs. Hignett acknowledged the fact by moving her head on the pillow, opening her eyes, and sittin　

　　　　 Red Nails　　 Jewels of Gwahlur　　 Beyond the Black River　　　　RED NAILS　　　　　　For some two years, as captain of the Wastrel, Conan continues a highly successful career as a freebooter. However, the other Zingaran pirates, jealous of the outlander in their midst, at last bring him down off the coast of Shem. Escaping inland and hearing that wars are in the offing along the borders of Stygia, Conan joins the Free panions, a band of condottieri under the mand of one Zarallo. Instead of rich plunder, however, he finds himself engaged in uneventful guard duty in the border post of Sukhmet, on the 　

　Another Disc day dawned, but very gradually, and this is why.　When light encounters a strong magical field it loses ail sense of urgency. It slows right down. And on the Discworld the magic was embarrassingly strong, which meant that the soft yellow light of dawn flowed over the sleeping landscape like the caress of a gentle lover or, as some would have it, like golden syrup. It paused to fill up valleys. It piled up against mountain ranges. When it reached Cori Celesti, the ten mile spire of grey stone and green ice that marked the hub of the Disc and was the home of its gods, it built up i　

　　　　Missing Mile, North Carolina, in the summer of 1972 was scarcely more than a wide spot in the road. The main street was shaded by a few great spreading pecans and oaks, flanked by a few even larger, more sprawling Southern homes too far off any beaten path to have fallen to the scourge of the Civil War. The ravages and triumphs of the past decade seemed to have touched the town not at all, not at first glance. You might think that here was a place adrift in a gentler time, a place where Peace reigned naturally, and did not have to be blazoned on banners or worn around the neck.　　You might　

　　ACKNOWLEDGMENTS　A debt of gratitude to Emily Bestler, Jason Kaufman, Ben Kaplan, and everyone at Pocket Books for their belief in this project.　To my friend and agent, Jake Elwell, for his enthusiasm and unflagging effort.　To the legendary George Wieser, for convincing me to write novels.　To my dear friend Irv Sittler, for facilitating my audience with the Pope, secreting me into parts of Vatican City few ever see, and making my time in Rome unforgettable.　To one of the most ingenious and gifted artists alive, John Langdon, who rose brilliantly to my impossible challenge and created the amb　

Chapter 1 A Sunny Day in Londontown 3Chapter 2 Cops and Royals 14Chapter 3 Flowers and Families 37Chapter 4 Players 53Chapter 5 Perqs and Plots 67Chapter 6 Trials and Troubles 80Chapter 7 Speedbird Home 101Chapter 8 Information 115Chapter 9 A Day for Celebration 130Chapter 10 Plans and Threats 146Chapter 11 Warnings 156Chapter 12 Homeing 172Chapter 13 Visitors 187Chapter 14 Second Chances 198Chapter 15 Shock and Trauma 221Chapter 16 Objectives and Patriots 233Chapter 17 Recriminations and Decisions 245Chapter 18 Lights 257Chapter 19 Tests and Passing Grades 268...　

THE STAR-BEARER AND RAEDERLE OF AN SAT ON the crown of the highest of the seven towers of Anuin. The white stone fell endlessly away from them, down to the summer-green slope the great house sat on. The city itself spilled away from the slope to the sea. The sky revolved above them, a bright, changeless blue, its expression broken only by the occasional spiral of a hawk. Morgon had not moved for hours. The morning sun had struck his profile on the side of the embrasure he sat in and shifted his shadow without his notice to the other side. He was aware of Raederle only as some portion of the l　

Dr. Shannon Kelsey: A respected archaeologist, a woman of fierce independence and beauty, her passion for the great ancient mysteries has brought her to the mountains of Peru, where she stands on the threshold of an astounding discovery and on the verge of death. . .Joseph Zolar: Within a labyrinth of legitimate business enterprises, he has created a vast international empire built on illegal trade in antiquities. Now he has set his sights on the ultimate prize-golden antiquities worth almost a billion dollars and from his lavish headquarters he coolly signs the death warrant of anyone who da　

　On a Saturday morning in early August in 1969, a series of bizarre and inexplicable events occurred aboard the fifty-five-thousand-ton luxury liner S.S. Bretagne as it was preparing to sail from the Port of New York to Le Havre. Claude Dessard, chief purser of the Bretagne, a capable and meticulous man, ran, as he was fond of saying, a "tight ship". In the fifteen years Dessard had served aboard the Bretagne, he had never encountered a situation he had not been able to deal with efficiently and discreetly. Considering that the S.S. Bretagne was a French ship, this was high tribute, indeed. H　

A MATTER OF MILLIONS　　THE Clipper smacked the blue of Biscayne Bay and settled into a lazy squat, from which it taxied toward a landing. An audible sigh of relief came from the roped-off crowd that lined the shore of Dinner Key. Little wonder that the sigh was heard, for the throng was immense.　　Seldom did the population of Miami, citizen and tourist, assemble en masse at the Marine Airways Base to witness the arrival of a Clipper plane. But the winged ship just in from the Caribbean was worthy of a huge turnout. Not only because its passengers were something of celebrities, but because of　

　TO TRACEY　We praise the Golden One, the Lady of Heaven, Lady of Fragrance,Eye of the Sun, the Great Goddess,Mistress of All the Gods,Lady of Turquoise, Mistress of Joy, Mistress of Music . . .that she may give us fine children,happiness, and a good husband.　　- Epithets of Hathor,piled from various sources　　 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS　　To err is human, and I am and I do, despite the fact that I go to considerable effort to get even small details right. I do not scruple to make use of my friends in this endeavor; several of them have read all or part of the manuscript and made suggestions. I am particula　

Dudley DementedThe hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing -for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was　

　THE SWEETHEART OF A KING.　　The scene was not exactly new to me. Moved by the spirit of adventure, or by an access of ennui which overtakes me at times, I had several times visited the gaudy establishment of Mercer, on the fashionable side of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties. In either case I had found disappointment; where the stake is a matter of indifference there can be no excitement; and besides, I had been always in luck.　But on this occasion I had a real purpose before me, though not an important one, and I surrendered my hat and coat to the servant at the door with a feeling of satisfactio　

　Prologue　　Darkness had descended on Manassas, Virginia, the countryside alive with nocturnal undercurrents, as Bourne crept through the woods bordering the estate of General Norman Swayne. Startled birds fluttered out of their black recesses; crows awoke in the trees and cawed their alarms, and then, as if calmed by a foraging co-conspirator, kept silent.　Manassas! The key was here! The key that would unlock the subterranean door that led to Carlos the Jackal, the assassin who wanted only to destroy David Webb and his family. ... Webb! Get away from me, David!" screamed Jason Bourne in the s