By Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child
A mystery chamber.
A mysterious shipwreck.
A homicide within the desolate salt marshes.
A likely user-friendly inner most case seems to be even more complicated-and sinister-than unique Agent A.X.L. Pendergast ever may have anticipated.
Pendergast, along with his ward Constance Greene, travels to the old fashioned seashore village of Exmouth, Massachusetts, to enquire the robbery of a useful wine assortment. yet contained in the wine cellar, they locate anything significantly extra tense: a bricked-up area of interest that when held a crumbling skeleton.
Pendergast and Constance quickly research that Exmouth is a city with a truly darkish and bothered historical past, and this skeleton should be simply the 1st trace of an historical transgression, saved mystery a majority of these years. yet they are going to observe that the sins of the earlier are nonetheless a great deal alive. neighborhood legend holds that in the 1692 witch trials in Salem, the genuine witches escaped, fleeing north to Exmouth and settling deep within the surrounding salt marshes, the place they persisted to perform their depraved arts.
Then, a murdered corpse turns up within the marshes. the single clue is a chain of mysterious carvings. may well those demonic symbols undergo a few relation to the traditional witches' colony, lengthy believed to be abandoned?
A bad evil lurks underneath the outside of this sleepy seashore town-one with deep roots in Exmouth's grim heritage. And it can be that Constance, along with her personal bothered earlier, is the single one that actually comprehends the grim probability that she, Pendergast, and the citizens of Exmouth needs to face . . .
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Additional info for Crimson Shore (Pendergast Series, Book 15)
But I myself am a reserve ofﬁcer in the . ’ The policeman jerked a heavy thumb toward the offending sticker. ’ ‘Yes, Ofﬁcer. Certainly, Ofﬁcer. ’ The manager started digging with his nails at the sticker’s corners, in an attempt to peel it off. He didn’t do so well, because Terran technical superiority extended even to common adhesives. After several futile efforts, the manager threw the cop an apologetic look, went inside, came out with a knife, and tried again. This time he succeeded in tearing a small triangle from each corner, leaving the message intact.
But his greatest protection would be the mental block in every Sirian’s mind: they wouldn’t suspect that an Earthman was masquerading as a Sirian because the idea was too ridiculous to contemplate. Satisﬁed that he ﬁtted his rôle, Mowry emerged from the shelter of the trees, walked boldly across the road, and from the other side made a careful study of his exit from the forest. It was essential that he be able to remember it speedily and accurately. The forest was the screen of camouﬂage around his bolt-hole and there was no telling when he might need to dive into it in a hurry.
The chances were equally good that they’d spread the news, and gossip is the same in every part of the mighty cosmos: it gains compound interest as it goes the rounds. Within five and a half hours he’d disposed of eighty stickers without being caught in the act of affixing them. He’d taken a few risks, had a few narrow squeaks, but never was seen performing the deed. What followed the planting of the fifty-sixth sticker gave him the most satisfaction. A minor collision on the street resulted in abusive shouts between drivers and drew a mob of onlookers.