The Tower: Part Three

The Tower: Part Three
Simon Toyne

PART 3 OF 4. This book has been serialised into 4 parts. This Sunday Times bestselling conspiracy thriller from the author of SANCTUS is guaranteed to blow you away.After centuries of secrecy, the forbidden Citadel in the historic Turkish city of Ruin opens its gates. A deadly disease has ravaged everything within. Charity worker Gabriel Mann is dying – but may also hold the only cure.Without him, ex-journalist Liv Adamsen stands alone against those who want her silenced. However, Liv soon has far bigger concerns than just her own life…In America, FBI agent Joe Shepherd searches for NASA’s missing head scientist. His investigation unearths a global conspiracy that is preparing for an event beyond all reckoning.But nobody is ready for what is coming. And when it does – it will change everything.

THE TOWER: PART THREE

SIMON TOYNE

Table of Contents

Cover (#u8f729100-8b1c-5c0a-8e50-7ef3bc8726c1)

Title Page (#ue40fcbba-85e6-5f98-8d67-bff28e73e37c)

Chapter 23 (#u55e6a723-15b9-5f7a-a379-c258762b0ed0)

Chapter 24 (#u63f6bf4b-ce55-588f-87b2-b070ec869228)

Chapter 25 (#u8b87a37a-94e5-5ca2-a30a-27fa936f4170)

Chapter 26 (#u03cc77fa-72b5-5d78-bc2b-98f34c59dbd1)

Chapter 27 (#u90dadd54-d40c-5aea-a111-1afc32241204)

Part III (#u4b9eef4b-95dc-5831-92d1-31b408c028cf)

Chapter 28 (#u4cb5274d-9f25-594e-bab5-4f4b86694184)

Chapter 29 (#ub9cc63f0-ed00-5be8-ac53-a0ccc57842b7)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Part IV (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Simon Toyne (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

23 (#ulink_fca5abb5-3e2a-5a39-bb2f-2c69b381cd58)

The C-130 bumped and lurched as the wheels lifted from the tarmac of Turner’s Field. Shepherd was strapped tight into a jump seat facing inward in the paratrooper position, the sound of the four turboprops filling his ears and vibrating through his entire body as they struggled to grab hold of the slippery air.

They were in what was known as a Bubird, part of the Bureau’s varied and colourful fleet of mostly confiscated aircraft. The C-130 was generally used for transport rather than passengers, but this had happened to be the one gassed up and ready to go when Franklin put in the call. It had previously belonged to a Mexican drug cartel, the pilot had cheerfully told Shepherd as they were prepping for take-off. The Mexicans had obviously stripped the interior to the bare fuselage in order to cram in as much product as possible. So far no one had deemed it necessary to put any of those little comforts back in again – things like sound-proofing or heating or padding for the sharp, metal-edged seats that were already cutting off the circulation below his knees. He adjusted his position in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, hugging to his chest the field laptop Agent Smith had given him and wrapping the shoulder strap round his hand for extra security.

They started to bank to starboard, into the weather over Chesapeake Bay, and the plane shook in protest, dipping and yawing as the wind batted it around like a kid’s toy.

Franklin was strapped into an identical chair directly opposite. He had the visor down on his flight helmet, so Shepherd couldn’t tell whether he was looking at him or not. Shepherd felt pretty sure Franklin would can him from the investigation at the first opportunity and send him straight back to Quantico, exhausted and way behind on his work. At least it was nearly Christmas, so he could catch up over the break when everyone else went home.

Home

He closed his eyes and did his best to zone out the hellish flight, remembering back to a time when the word home had almost meant something to him. His folks were already old when they had him – a mistake, his aunt had said, but then she said a lot of mean things. They died within months of each other when he was five years old. What little he could still remember of them played out like scratchy fragments of old newsreel: his father, cowed and frail, sitting alone at the dinner table, his weak eyes magnified behind foggy glasses, always fixed on an open book in front of him; his mother, staring out of the kitchen window, a slender cigarette pointing out at who knew what, looking like she envied the smoke for being able to drift away and escape. They were aged beyond their years: she from the cigarettes she could never give up, he from a life of worn-down disappointment.