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Zusatztext Praise for Lincoln Child and The Forgotten Room “Intriguing. . . . Lincoln Child is a master at mystery plots.” — The Florida Times-Union “Electrifying . . . One of Child’s best yet.” — Library Journal (starred review) “Reflects the best of the ‘mad scientist and locked room’ mysteries of the early twentieth century . . . Fun and intriguing.” — Associated Press “Chilling. . . . Child makes the most of the creepy setting! his unusual lead character! and an intricate plot.” — Publishers Weekly “[A] very imaginative story for those who prefer a soft blending of mystery and paranormal.” — Booklist “Lincoln Child’s novels are thrilling and tantalizing.” —Vince Flynn! #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Last Man “Child’s characters are first-rate! as is his writing.”— The Washington Post Book World “The genius-touched Child writes paragraphs of polymathic detail. . . . Terrific.” — Kirkus Reviews Informationen zum Autor Lincoln Child is the New York Times bestselling author of The Third Gate , Terminal Freeze , Deep Storm , Death Match , and Lethal Velocity , as well as coauthor, with Douglas Preston, of numerous New York Times bestsellers, most recently Crimson Shore . He lives with his wife and daughter in Morristown, New Jersey. Klappentext A long-lost experiment of unknown intent. . . A hidden room in a vast seaside estate. . . An investigator marked for danger. . . On a sprawling estate on the coast of Rhode Island, at the nation's oldest and most prestigious think tank, an unfathomable tragedy takes place. No one knows what to make of the disturbing evidence left behind. Then reports begin to surface of increasingly bizarre behavior among the organization's distinguished scientists. Called upon to investigate these strange happenings, history professor and analyst of inexplicable phenomena Jeremy Logan comes across an ingeniously concealed room in a long-dormant wing of the mansion. What he discovers within may provide answers-and, in the process, unleash a new wave of catastrophe.1 It was perhaps the most unusual sight ever beheld on the august and stately grounds of the Glasgow Institute of Science, founded in 1761 by grant of charter from George III. A large podium, studded with microphones, had been erected on the Great Lawn, directly in front of the administration building. Before it had been set some three dozen folding chairs, on which sat reporters from local newspapers, the Times of London, Nature magazine, Oceanography, Time, and a host of others. To the right of the podium were two television cameras, one from the BBC and the other from CNN. To the podium’s left was a large wooden scaffold, upon which sat a large, strange-looking machine of dark metal: a cross between a cigar tube and a pincushion, about thirty feet long, with a bulky attachment protruding from its upper edge. The restless chatter among the reporters grew muted as the main doors to the administration building opened and two men stepped out into the September afternoon sunlight. One was plump and short, with a shock of white hair and wearing a thick tweed coat. The other was tall and quite thin, with rather severe features, light brown hair, and alert gray eyes. Unlike the first man, he was dressed in a conservative dark suit. The two approached the podium and the older man cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began, “thank you for coming. I am Colin Reed, provost of the Glasgow Institute of Science, and to my right is Jeremy Logan.” Reed took a sip from a glass of water on one side of the podium, cleared his throat again. “You may well know of Dr. Logan’s work. He is perhaps the only, and certainly the preeminent, enigmal...
