The Tombs (Fargo Adventure, Book 4)
Clive Cussler, Thomas Perry
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Sam and Remi Fargo return in this astonishing new thriller from #1 New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler—and embark on their most daring quest to date.
When an archeologist friend requests their help to excavate a top-secret historical site, the Fargos are intrigued. But they have no idea that their discoveries will set them on a hunt for a prize beyond all imagination.
The clues point to the hidden tomb of Attila the Hun, who was reportedly buried with a vast fortune of gold, jewels, and plunder: a bounty that has never been found.
As they follow a trail throughout Europe, it leads them not to one tomb, but five. The Fargos also find themselves pitted against a thieving group of treasure hunters, a cunning Russian businessman, and a ruthless Hungarian who claims direct descent from Attila himself—and will stop at nothing to achieve his destiny…
his stronghold on the Hungarian Plain surrounded by his hundreds of thousands of fanatical followers, all the way back to the very first moment of his career. Now we know that the start wasn’t a triumph. It was the moment when an orphaned twelve-year-old stood in his father’s grave, about to be sent away as a hostage. And what he did was vow to conquer Rome and be buried here.” “But he didn’t conquer Rome.” “He reached the point where it was in his power to do that but chose instead to
fiu. Good boy.” They heard the voices of Selma, Pete, and Wendy calling to them. “Sam! Remi! The police! There must be hundreds of them. They’re here.” “Oh, darn,” said Remi. “We wanted the police to be a surprise.” Sam looked around. “We’re going to have to practically rebuild this place from scratch.” “Draw the contractors a picture,” said Remi. “Maybe while they’re working on it we can give the others a vacation, take Zoltán down to Louisiana with us, and do some more
appeared. Ardaric, Onegesius, and the three sons of Attila—Ellak, Dengizich, and Emakh—and a great host of warriors, gathered at the edge of the encampment to greet them. When the thousand riders drew up, they dismounted and bowed to the assembled chiefs. In a singular honor, the chiefs bowed back. Ellak, the eldest heir of Attila, stepped up to the leader of the burial party, a man named Mozhu. He put his hand on Mozhu’s shoulder and said, “Tell us.” Mozhu said, “We took the High King
could have done that, they would have. And we haven’t seen a lot of candidates for the right spot before now.” Remi climbed up to stand on the seat of the convertible and then put one foot on the top of the door to raise herself a little more. “Uh-oh,” she said. “What is it?” “I wish we had binoculars with us. I think somebody has been digging out there in the flat part of the field.” “Is it east of the outcropping?” “Yes, and it seems about the right distance.” She
phone down on his large, highly polished rosewood desk and looked at it expectantly. The telephone rang almost immediately and he picked it up. “Hello, Sergei.” “I was surprised to hear your voice, Arpad. You’re a fat, lazy plutocrat to call me at night.” “Ideas come to me like birds flying in my window. When I see a good one, I snatch it out of the air regardless of the hour.” “I like ideas. You can tell me yours. This is a scrambled line.” “All right,” Bako said. “I have