The Explorer's Code
When renowned young oceanographer Cordelia Stapleton accepts an award on behalf of her greatgreat- grandfather—a famous Victorian polar explorer—at the dazzling Oceanographic Institute Ball in Monaco, she has no idea of the dramatic changes the night will bring. After the banquet, wealthy archaeologist John Sinclair presents her with a long-lost family heirloom—an Arctic exploration journal from 1908 holding the clue to a valuable land deed. The multi-million-dollar legacy is hers to claim, if she can find the deed. She and John team up for an explosive hunt that sweeps from the glamorous Queen Victoria ocean liner to a dig site in Turkey, from a beautiful old Parisian home to a lavish estate in the British countryside, culminating in the high Arctic archipelago of Svalbard. Behind them every step of the way are a consortium of Russian underworld criminals, Texan religious fanatics, a sinister botanist, and a sexy American spy, all hunting for the deed . . . and all pursuing Cordelia.
Discovering the Bradford Folio
Read an Excerpt
For the last hour, John Sinclair had been crouched over a fragment of bone sticking up from the earth. With a small camel-hair brush he flicked away grains of soil.
“Karl, take a look at this,” he shouted over his shoulder. There was no reply.
Sinclair stood and looked around the site. Ephesus was strangely deserted. The silent ruins stretched out for miles in the sunshine, and not a soul was moving among the white chunks of marble. Even the few off-season tourists had left. He glanced at his watch, dustproof, shockproof, and well suited to his work. It was noon.
He... see more
Cordelia Stapleton unzipped her full-body dive skin, peeled it off, and flung it on the deck in a sodden black heap. Underneath was a blue tank suit. She could feel the ocean water evaporate instantly from her back, leaving the sensation of dried salt on her shoulder blades. Her dark hair was still wet, splayed like tentacles over her shoulders.
Dripping, she walked over to the bin of towels. She took one and rubbed her limbs vigorously, conscious of the deep tiredness that comes after swimming for hours. She massaged her leg muscles to warm them up. Cordelia was long and lean,... see more
Charles Bonnard looked away from the majestic view of the sea and saw the light blinking on his cell phone. He retrieved it from the stone parapet and sat down in the alcove. After looking at the water, his eyes had to adjust to the shade. It took a moment to register the number of the missed call.
John Sinclair’s international cell number—that was odd. They weren’t supposed to talk until the end of the week. He pressed the voice-mail retrieve button and listened.
“Charles, I’m heading to Monaco a few days early . . .”
... see more
John Sinclair leaned over the balustrade of the Hotel Metropole. It was a gorgeous day. The breeze was blowing, the megayachts were bowing to one another in the marina, and the sunlight was sprinkling the sea with diamonds. At 1 p.m., Sinclair was still in his robe and unshaven. His head was pounding from a massive hangover, and the sunlight was searing his corneas.
God damn it, Shari. He remembered how she had looked last night. The breathtaking beauty of her as she walked into the terrace restaurant. Her white silk dress flowing around her magnificent body. She was ethereal. Golden hair... see more
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