The Ancient Breed Read Online Free PDF

mine to evaluate what possible civilization gave birth to these .” He kicked the second stack over in frustration.
    “But why are the bones dismembered like that?” Berger glanced at Russ. “Could McKutchen’s big shovels do that to those bones?”
    George threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Ed, my boy, the shovels didn’t do that. They couldn’t possibly do that so cleanly.”
    Berger’s expression was flushed red with anger. “Then suppose you tell me how it did happen, morgue boy.”
    Russ moved closer to the coroner. He was keenly interested in the answer, now that Dr. Patrick had just cleared Warnke Construction of all liability for disturbing the bones.
    “The answer’s simple,” George said. “Something real big and mean and hungry pulled these humans and near-humans apart like we do Buffalo wings and ATE them . ”
    Russ and Berger exchanged uneasy glances.
    George propped his hands on his hips. “What we’re standing on here, gentlemen, is that creature’s bone pile.”

3
    F
    BI Orion Sector Director Nick Bellamy slid his Glock’s safety off before warily opening one of the receiving dock doors of the warehouse. The three-story structure stood like a black monolith just outside Washington DC along the Potomac River, where the moon’s reflection was a silver sliver on the placid surface. Nick’s muscular frame cast an angular shadow as he stepped inside. The cavernous interior was shrouded with a deep gloom, and the heavy air stank of rodent droppings and acrid machine oil.
    Nick waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before slipping deeper inside. A towering forest of wooden crates and palates loaded with machine parts formed a considerable canyon maze. High-pitched squeaking assailed his ears and he froze. Rats. He hated rats. He moved forward, wishing that he had brought his night-vision goggles so he wouldn’t step on the damned things.
    After a few minutes, all Nick could discern were unfamiliar silhouettes, which made him an easy mark for an ambush. But he had to take the risk. This rendezvous was critical for ensuring the safety of an unidentified United States government official targeted by terrorists. The FBI and CIA had been monitoring increased worldwide terrorist communications, and many of the conversations pertained to a single unnamed operation. Although the specific details were ambiguous, the general idea wasn’t. One of America’s high-level government leaders was in extreme jeopardy.
    Nick had arranged this warehouse meeting with a terrorist defector who had phoned the FBI last week and offered to provide the details of this mysterious operation. He insisted that he knew the targeted official’s name and had a list of the terrorist cell members operating on American soil. In exchange for this information, he demanded sanctuary in the Witness Protection Program. As an act of good faith, the defector had detailed many top-secret terrorist activities that could be substantiated by the bureau’s computer. His information was verified and his credibility established.
    Nick checked his lighted watch dial and continued to wait for the defector to show. The man was three minutes late.
    A door creaked open somewhere in the vast building, but Nick wasn’t able to trace the direction of the sound. He stiffened, vigilant. Several minutes later, Nick was alerted to the defector’s approach by the soft scuffing of feet on the gritty concrete floor.
    Showtime.
    Nick stepped out from behind a tower of crates. “Don’t move,” he whispered.
    The tall figure stopped.
    “Lesson,” the terrorist said quickly.
    “Teacher,” Nick responded.
    Both men relaxed.
    “Were you followed?” Nick demanded.
    “If I was, I shook them.”
    “You’ve got the information?”
    The terrorist patted the bulge beneath his shirt. “It’s all here inside the envelope. You’ll get it as soon as you show me the Witness Protection papers,” he replied. His voice trembled and his eyes