The Race Clive Cussler (new books to read txt) đź“–
- Author: Clive Cussler
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
BOOK ONE - “come, josephine in my flying machine”
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - “Hoopla!”
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
BOOK TWO - “balance yourself like a bird on a beam”
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
BOOK THREE - “up, up, a little bit higher”
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
BOOK FOUR - “in the air she goes! there she goes!”
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
EPILOGUE
DIRK PITT® ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
Crescent Dawn (with Dirk Cussler)
Arctic Drift
Dragon (with Dirk Cussler)
Treasure of Khan (with Dirk Cussler)
Black Wind
Cyclops (with Dirk Cussler)
Trojan Odyssey
Deep Six
Valhalla Rising
Pacific Vortex!
Atlantis Found
Night Probe!
Flood Tide
Vixen 03
Shock Wave
Raise the Titanic!
Inca Gold
Iceberg
Sahara
The Mediterranean Caper
FARGO ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
(with Grant Blackwood)
The Kingdom
Lost Empire
Spartan Gold
ISAAC BELL NOVELS BY CLIVE CUSSLER
The Spy (with Justin Scott)
The Wrecker (with Justin Scott)
The Chase
KURT AUSTIN ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
(with Paul Kemprecos)
Medusa
White Death
The Navigator
Fire Ice
Polar Shift
Blue Gold
Lost City
Serpent
OREGON FILES ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
(with Jack Du Brul )
The Jungle
The Silent Sea
Corsair
Plague Ship
Skeleton Coast
Dark Watch
(with Craig Dirgo)
Golden Buddha
Sacred Stone
NONFICTION BY CLIVE CUSSLER AND CRAIG DIRGO
The Sea Hunters
The Sea Hunters II
Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014,
USA • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Copyright © 2011 by Sandecker, RLLLP
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or
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Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cussler, Clive.
The race / Clive Cussler and Justin Scott.
p. cm.
ISBN : 978-1-101-54773-1
1. Bell, Isaac (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Fiction.
I. Scott, Justin. II. Title.
PS3553.U75R
813’.54—dc22
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the authors have made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the authors assume any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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PROLOGUE
“the moon is on fire”
Chicago
1899
A TALL DRUNK DANCED ALONE IN THE GUTTER, singing a Stephen Foster song loved by the Anti-Saloon League. The melody was mournful, reminiscent of Scottish pipes, the tempo a slow waltz. His voice, a warm baritone, rang with heartfelt regret for promises broken.
“Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me
“To drown my soul in liquid flame . . .”
He had a golden head of hair, and a fine, strong profile. His extreme youth—he could not have been more than twenty—made his condition even sadder. His clothes looked slept in, matted with straw, and short in the arms and legs, like handouts from a church basement or lifted from a clothesline. His linen collar was askew, his shirt was missing a cuff, and he had no hat despite the cold. Of gentleman’s treasures to sell for drink, made-to-order calfskin boots were all he had left.
He bumped into a lamppost and lost the thread of the lyric. Still humming the poignant tune, still trying to waltz, he dodged a potter’s field morgue wagon pulling up at the curb. The driver tied his horses and bounded through the swinging doors of the nearest of the many saloons spilling yellow light on the cobblestones.
The drunken youth reeled against the somber black wagon and held on tight.
He studied the saloon. Was it one where he would be welcomed? Or had he already been thrown out? He patted empty pockets. He shrugged sadly. His eyes roved the storefronts: five-cent lodging houses, brothels, pawnbrokers. He considered his boots. Then he lifted his gaze to the newspaper dealer’s depot on the corner, where press wagons were delivering Chicago’s early editions.
Could he beg a few pennies’ work unloading the bundled newspapers? He squared his shoulders and commenced a slow waltz toward the depot.
“When I was young I felt the tide
“Of aspiration undefiled.
“But manhood’s years have wronged the pride
“My parents centered in their child.”
The newsboys lining up to buy their papers were street-toughened twelve-year-olds. They made fun of the drunk as he approached until one of them locked gazes with his strangely soft violet-blue eyes. “Leave him alone!” he told his friends, and the tall young man whispered, “Thanks, shonny. Whuss yer name?”
“Wally Laughlin.”
“You’ve a kind soul, Wally Laughlin. Don’t end up like me.”
“I TOLD YOU TO GET RID OF THE DRUNK,” said
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