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RELIC DOUGLAS PRESTON PDF

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Preston, Douglas & Child, Lincoln - Relic 2 - Reliquary · Read more Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child - The Cabinet of Curiosities · Read more. Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child - The Cabinet of Curiosities · Read more Preston, Douglas & Child, Lincoln - Relic 2 - Reliquary. Read more. PDF and EPUB Relic, PDF ePub Mobi Relic, Downloading PDF Relic, Book PDF Relic, Read online Relic, Relic Douglas Preston pdf, by Douglas Preston.


Relic Douglas Preston Pdf

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Read Relic by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. Relic, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's thriller that introduces FBI Special Agent Pendergast. Just days Read Online Relic (Pendergast, Book 1) pdf. Authors Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child began wring together in Museum, and Relic was published in pages of a book, and the reason Preston &.

In addition, an inverted cone of liquefied, superheated rock rose, spread outward as countless red-hot blobs of glass, called tektites, and blanketed the Western Hemisphere.

Over millions of years, bits of it found their way to other planets and moons in the solar system. Mars was eventually strewn with the debris—just as pieces of Mars, knocked aloft by ancient asteroid impacts, have been found on Earth. A study in the journal Astrobiology estimated that tens of thousands of pounds of impact rubble may have landed on Titan, a moon of Saturn, and on Europa and Callisto, which orbit Jupiter—three satellites that scientists believe may have promising habitats for life.

Mathematical models indicate that at least some of this vagabond debris still harbored living microbes. The asteroid may have sown life throughout the solar system, even as it ravaged life on Earth. The asteroid was vaporized on impact. Its substance, mingling with vaporized Earth rock, formed a fiery plume, which reached halfway to the moon before collapsing in a pillar of incandescent dust. Computer models suggest that the atmosphere within fifteen hundred miles of ground zero became red hot from the debris storm, triggering gigantic forest fires.

As the Earth rotated, the airborne material converged at the opposite side of the planet, where it fell and set fire to the entire Indian subcontinent. Meanwhile, giant tsunamis resulting from the impact churned across the Gulf of Mexico, tearing up coastlines, sometimes peeling up hundreds of feet of rock, pushing debris inland and then sucking it back out into deep water, leaving jumbled deposits that oilmen sometimes encounter in the course of deep-sea drilling. The damage had only begun.

Scientists still debate many of the details, which are derived from the computer models, and from field studies of the debris layer, knowledge of extinction rates, fossils and microfossils, and many other clues.

But the over-all view is consistently grim. Photosynthesis all but stopped, killing most of the plant life, extinguishing the phytoplankton in the oceans, and causing the amount of oxygen in the atmosphere to plummet.

After the fires died down, Earth plunged into a period of cold, perhaps even a deep freeze. About seventy-five per cent of all species went extinct. More than When the asteroid struck, it vaporized layers of limestone, releasing into the atmosphere a trillion tons of carbon dioxide, ten billion tons of methane, and a billion tons of carbon monoxide; all three are powerful greenhouse gases.

The impact also vaporized anhydrite rock, which blasted ten trillion tons of sulfur compounds aloft.

The sulfur combined with water to form sulfuric acid, which then fell as an acid rain that may have been potent enough to strip the leaves from any surviving plants and to leach the nutrients from the soil. This is called the KT boundary, because it marks the dividing line between the Cretaceous period and the Tertiary period.

Mysteries abound above and below the KT layer. In the late Cretaceous, widespread volcanoes spewed vast quantities of gas and dust into the atmosphere, and the air contained far higher levels of carbon dioxide than the air that we breathe now.

The climate was tropical, and the planet was perhaps entirely free of ice.

Yet scientists know very little about the animals and plants that were living at the time, and as a result they have been searching for fossil deposits as close to the KT boundary as possible. Consequently, numerous paleontologists have argued that the dinosaurs were on the way to extinction long before the asteroid struck, owing perhaps to the volcanic eruptions and climate change.

Other scientists have countered that the three-metre problem merely reflects how hard it is to find fossils. Locked in the KT boundary are the answers to our questions about one of the most significant events in the history of life on the planet. If one looks at the Earth as a kind of living organism, as many biologists do, you could say that it was shot by a bullet and almost died. I would prefer not outlining the details via e-mail, if possible.

At first, I was skeptical. DePalma was a scientific nobody, a Ph. I thought that he was likely exaggerating, or that he might even be crazy. Paleontology has more than its share of unusual people.

But I was intrigued enough to get on a plane to North Dakota to see for myself. At the time of the impact, the Hell Creek landscape consisted of steamy, subtropical lowlands and floodplains along the shores of an inland sea. The land teemed with life and the conditions were excellent for fossilization, with seasonal floods and meandering rivers that rapidly buried dead animals and plants. Dinosaur hunters first discovered these rich fossil beds in the late nineteenth century.

In , Barnum Brown, a flamboyant dinosaur hunter who worked at the American Museum of Natural History, in New York, found the first Tyrannosaurus rex here, causing a worldwide sensation. One paleontologist estimated that in the Cretaceous period Hell Creek was so thick with T.

The Cabinet of Curiosities

It was also home to triceratops and duckbills. However, this moves causes Pendergast to be removed from the case even as he comes close to discovering the true nature of the killer. Fear runs rampant in the museum, causing many of its workers to call in sick and others to quit their jobs.

Despite this fear, writer William Smithback Jr. Smithback is already at the museum to write a book about the Superstition Exhibit, but finds himself so heavily censored that he begins to wonder if maybe it might not be a better idea to break his contract and sink his teeth into the murder mystery.

On the night of the Superstition Exhibit's opening, it seems everyone who is someone in New York society has shown up. The new FBI agent in charge has had the museum locked down tight, leaving just one security gate open to allow people to flow in and out of the museum.

This proves to be a mistake when, at practically the same time, the computer room suffers gunshots, causing the power to go out, and a body is found in the exhibit.

The one open security gate closes, locking D'Agosta, Pendergast, and Smithback in the museum. Pendergast leads D'Agosta and Smithback's group into the subbasement while he and Margo hunt the creature on other floors of the building.

D'Agosta leads a group that includes the mayor through the subbasement of the museum while Pendergast baits the creature with Margo's help. The trail cleverly worked its way through the blackwater swamps surrounding the base of the tepui, the soggy, jungle-clotted plateau that lay ahead.

The trail had the logic of a human trail, Whittlesey thought. It moved with obvious purpose; animal tracks often wandered. And it was heading for a steep ravine in the shoulder of the approaching tepui. Crocker must have come this way. He stopped to consider, unconsciously fingering the talisman—a gold arrow overlaid by another of silver—that had hung around his neck since childhood.

Only the Kothoga could have created this path. As he approached the plateau, he could see a few braids of water cascading down its steep flanks.

He would camp at the bottom tonight, and make the thousand-meter ascent in the morning. It would be steep, muddy, and possibly dangerous. If he met the Kothoga—well, he would be trapped. But he had no reason to think the Kothoga tribe was savage. After all, it was this other creature, Mbwun, to which local myth cycles ascribed all the killing and savagery.

Strange—an unknown creature, supposedly controlled by a tribe nobody had seen. Could Mbwun actually exist? Conceivably, a small remnant could be alive in this vast rain forest; the area was virtually unexplored by biologists. But first, Whittlesey realized, he had to locate Crocker. Suddenly, a sharp sickly smell assailed his nostrils, and he stopped. There was no mistaking it—a dead animal, and a big one. He took a dozen steps as the smell intensified.

The Relic Summary & Study Guide

His heart quickened with anticipation: There might be artifacts left at the site—tools, weapons, perhaps even something ceremonial in nature. He crept forward. The sweet nauseating reek grew stronger.

He could see sunlight in a patch of canopy high above his head—the sure sign of a nearby clearing. He stopped and tightened his pack, not wanting to be hampered in case he had to move fast. The narrow trail, walled in by brush, leveled off and took a sudden turn into the head of the small clearing. There, on the opposite side, was the carcass of the animal. The base of the tree it lay against had been ritually carved with a spiral, and a bundle of bright green parrot feathers lay on top of the gaping, greasy brown rib cage.

A cloud of fat flies roared and swarmed about the open rib cage. Whittlesey noticed that a severed left arm was lashed to the tree trunk with a fibrous rope, the palm sliced open. A number of spent cartridge casings lay around the body.

Then he saw the head.

Instinctively, Whittlesey began stumbling backward. He saw how rows of claws had flayed the body with obscene, inhuman strength. The corpse looked stiff. Perhaps—if God was merciful—the Kothoga had already departed. Then he noticed that the rain forest, normally overflowing with the sounds of life, was silent. With a start, he turned to face the jungle. Something was moving in the towering brush at the edge of the clearing, and two slitted eyes the color of liquid fire took shape between the leaves.

With a sob and a curse, he drew his sleeve across his face and looked again. The eyes had vanished. There was no time to lose—he had to get back down the trail, away from this place. His path back into the forest lay directly ahead. He stood well back in the shadows of the warehouse alley, watching. Light rain obscured the bulky outlines of the tethered freighters and narrowed the dock lights into pinpoints. Steam rose as the rain hit the hot deck-boards, bringing with it the faint odor of creosote.

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From behind him came the nocturnal sounds of the port: It had been such a sweet deal. Here, it was mostly light trade, small freighters bound up and down the coast. The setup had all the right ingredients. Those instincts paid off down here. Deliberately, he spoke Portuguese badly, haltingly, so he could read eyes and gauge responses. Ricon, junior assistant to the harbormaster, was the last link Ven had needed. Ven was alerted when a shipment was coming in from upriver.

The Day the Dinosaurs Died

He always knew what to look for, the boxes were always the same. Then, he just made sure they were the last cargo loaded onto the designated freighter headed for the States. Ven was naturally cautious. But each time Ven had eased up a little, and in a few days the warning bell had gone away. Now he checked his watch. He heard a door opening, then closing, from around the corner. Ven drew himself up against the wall.

Heavy footfalls sounded against wooden planking, then the familiar form passed under a streetlight. When the footsteps receded, Ven peered around the corner. The office was dark, deserted, as he knew it would be. With a last glance, he edged around the corner of the building, onto the docks.

An empty backpack slapped damply against his shoulders with each step. As he walked, Ven reached into a pocket, withdrew a key, and clenched it tightly.

That key was his lifeline. Ven passed a small freighter berthed along the wharf, its heavy hawsers dripping black water onto rusted bitts. The ship seemed deserted, not even a harbor watch on deck. He slowed. The warehouse door lay directly ahead, near the end of the main pier.

Ven glanced quickly over his shoulder. Then, with a quick turn of his hand, he unlocked the metal door and slipped inside. Pulling the door closed, he let his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Halfway home. He just had to finish up in here and get the hell out. As soon as possible. Because Ricon was growing greedy, cruzeiros running through his hands like water. Just that morning, Ricon and the foreman had been talking fast and low, the foreman looking over at Ven.

Inside, he saw the darkened warehouse resolve itself into a vague landscape of cargo containers and packing crates. He moved forward carefully, threading a path through the vast mountains of cargo.

Months before, Ven had asked about these crates. Except by Ven. There was just enough room behind the forgotten crates for him to stash his shipments until the outgoing freighters were loading. He smiled in the darkness. Now, he checked his own cache. Just a single box this time, whose contents would fit nicely into the corners of his backpack. He knew where the markets were and what to do. As he was about to squeeze behind the large crates, Ven stopped abruptly.

There was a strange odor here: A lot of odd cargoes had come through the port, but none smelling quite like this. He slid forward, between the Museum cargo and the wall.

He heard, rather than saw, something moving in the cramped space. The pungent odor welled forward, blanketing him with its rotten stench.

Suddenly, he was slammed against the wall with terrific force. Pain exploded in his chest and gut. He opened his mouth to scream, but something was boiling in his throat, and then a stab like lightning tore through his skull, leaving only darkness behind.

Juan yelled, breaking into a trot. Hey, no touching the elephants. The boy looked scared and snatched back his hand; he was still at an age where a uniform impressed him. Older ones—fifteen, sixteen—would give Juan the finger sometimes. They knew he was only a museum guard.

Lousy fucking job. One of these days he was going to finish that equivalency shit and take the police exam. He watched suspiciously as red-hair and little brother walked around the cases in the darkened hall, looking at the stuffed lions. Where the hell were the parents? Now Billy, the redhead, tugged his little brother into a chamber filled with African artifacts.

A row of masks with flat wooden teeth leered at them from a showcase. They began to move through a vast, echoing hall filled with totem poles. At the far end, a woman holding a red flag was leading the final tour group of the day, her voice shrill.

When the group disappeared around a corner, the hall fell silent. The last time they had been there, Billy remembered, they had seen the biggest brontosaurus in the world, and a tyrannosaurus and a trachydent.

The teeth on the tyrannosaurus must have been ten feet long. That was just about the greatest thing Billy had ever seen. Maybe the dinosaurs were through the next door.

But that led only to the boring Hall of Pacific Peoples, full of jades and ivories and silks and bronze statues.

Billy snorted.The flood had entombed everything immediately, so specimens were exquisitely preserved. The cycads and ferns look almost primordial. He stopped and tightened his pack, not wanting to be hampered in case he had to move fast. The floor of the hut was sunken several feet, and Crocker almost broke his neck on the way in.

Everyone was talking at once:

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