The Charlemagne Pursuit: A Novel (Cotton Malone)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
As a child, former Justice Department agent Cotton Malone was told that his father died in a submarine disaster in the North Atlantic. But what he now learns stuns him: His father’s sub was a secret nuclear vessel lost on a highly classified mission beneath the ice shelves of Antarctica.
Twin sisters Dorothea Lindauer and Christl Falk are also determined to find out what became of their father, who died on the same submarine–and they know something Malone doesn’t: Inspired by strange clues discovered in Charlemagne’s tomb, the Nazis explored Antarctica before the Americans. Now Malone discovers that cryptic journals penned in “the language of heaven,” conundrums posed by an ancient historian, and his father’s ill-fated voyage are all tied to a revelation of immense consequence for humankind. As Malone embarks on a dangerous quest with the sisters, he will finally confront the shocking truth of his father’s death and the distinct possibility of his own.
from me. Not this time.” “Let go.” But it was a weak command. “You are a despicable bastard. The sight of you makes me sick.” “Your mother has made clear that if we conceive she will give it all to you.” He wrenched her close. “Hear me, woman. Everything to you. Christl has no need for children or a husband. But maybe the same offer was made to her, as well? Where is she right now?” He was close. In her face. “Use your brain. Your mother has pitted the two of you against each other to learn
flying to their destiny. Was something there? If so, was it good or bad? After suiting up, they’d each packed their insulated rucksacks. She’d brought only a change of clothes, a toothbrush, some toiletries, and an automatic pistol. Her mother had sneaked it to her in Ossau. Since this was not a commercial flight, there’d been no security inspections. Though she resented allowing her mother to make yet another decision for her, she felt better with the gun nearby. Christl’s head turned. Their
paw prints in the dirt and dust that led to and from the open panel. “Apparently they know what’s behind that wall.” The dogs’ bodies tensed. Both started barking. Her attention returned to the animals. “They need to go.” Their guns remained aimed, the dogs holding their ground, guarding their meal, so Davis shifted to the other side of the doorway. One of the dogs lunged forward, then abruptly stopped. “I’m going to fire,” he said. He leveled his gun and sent a bullet into the floor
EIGHTEEN BAVARIA 10:30 PM Wilkerson downshifted the Volvo and slowed. The high way was descending, on its way into a broad Alpine valley cut between more towering ranges. Snow appeared from the darkness, swept free from the windshield by the wipers. He was nine miles north of Füssen, in black Bavarian woods, not far from Linderhof, one of mad King Ludwig II’s fairy-tale castles. He came to a stop and turned onto a rocky lane that wound farther into the trees, a dreamy stillness surrounding
slant of the openings, the iron gate at the entrance all indicated the rudimentary times in which they were created. He stared around at what was once important—half place of worship, half citadel, a fortified locale on the outskirts of an empire. Each exhale vaporized before his eyes. His gaze continued to rake the ground, but he saw no evidence of others. He advanced into a maze of columns that supported an intact roof. The sense of vastness disappeared upward into shadowy vaults. He