Robert Ludlum:The Cry of the Halidon
- Taschenbuch 2019, ISBN: 9780006496793
Bloom Books. Good. 5.19 x 1.5 x 8 inches. Paperback. 2012. 514 pages. <br>And in this quiet moment as I close my eyes, spent and sated, I think I'm in the eye of the storm. And… Mehr…
Bloom Books. Good. 5.19 x 1.5 x 8 inches. Paperback. 2012. 514 pages. <br>And in this quiet moment as I close my eyes, spent and sated, I think I'm in the eye of the storm. And in spite of all he's said, and what he hasn't said, I don't think I have ever been so happy. When literature student Anastasia Steele goes to interview young entrepreneur Christian Grey, she encounters a ma n who is beautiful, brilliant, and intimidating. The unworldly, i nnocent Ana is startled to realize she wants this man and, despit e his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to h im. Unable to resist Ana's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spi rit, Grey admits he wants her, too--but on his own terms. Shocke d yet thrilled by Grey's singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. F or all the trappings of success--his multinational businesses, hi s vast wealth, his loving family--Grey is a man tormented by demo ns and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks o n a daring, passionately physical affair, Ana discovers Christian Grey's secrets and explores her own dark desires. An Instant #1 New York Times Bestseller More than 165 Million Copies Sold Wo rldwide One of 100 Great Reads in the Great American Read 133 Weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List This book is inten ded for mature audiences. Editorial Reviews Review A GoodReads Choice Awards Finalist for Best Romance In a class by itself. - Entertainment Weekly About the Author E L James is an incurabl e romantic and a self-confessed fangirl. After twenty-five years of working in television, she decided to pursue a childhood dream and write stories that readers could take to their hearts. The r esult was the controversial and sensuous romance Fifty Shades of Grey and its two sequels, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Fr eed. In 2015, she published the #1 bestseller Grey, the story of Fifty Shades of Grey from the perspective of Christian Grey, and in 2017, the chart-topping Darker, the second part of the Fifty S hades story from Christian's point of view. She followed with the #1 New York Times bestseller, The Mister in 2019. Her books have been published in fifty languages and have sold more than 165 mi llion copies worldwide. E L James has been recognized as one of Time magazine's Most Influential People in the World and Publishe rs Weekly's Person of the Year. Fifty Shades of Grey stayed on th e New York Times bestseller list for 133 consecutive weeks. Fifty Shades Freed won the Goodreads Choice Award (2012), and Fifty Sh ades of Grey was selected as one of the 100 Great Reads, as voted by readers, in PBS's The Great American Read (2018). Darker was long-listed for the 2019 International DUBLIN Literary Award. Sh e was a producer on each of the three Fifty Shades movies, which made more than a billion dollars at the box office. The third ins tallment, Fifty Shades Freed, won the People's Choice Award for D rama in 2018. E L James is blessed with two wonderful sons and li ves with her husband, the novelist and screenwriter Niall Leonard , and their West Highland terriers in the leafy suburbs of West L ondon. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. C HAPTER ONE I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Dam n my hairit just won't behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for be ing ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying fo r my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to br ush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I att empt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail a nd hope that I look semi-presentable. Kate is my roommate, and s he has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I've never heard of, for the student ne wspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram f or and one essay to finish, and I'm supposed to be working this a fternoon, but notoday I have to drive 165 miles to downtown Seatt le in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holding s, Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of ou r university, his time is extraordinarily preciousmuch more preci ous than minebut he has granted Kate an interview. A real coup, s he tells me. Damn her extracurricular activities. Kate is huddle d on the couch in the living room. Ana, I'm sorry. It took me ni ne months to get this interview. It will take another six to resc hedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I c an't blow this off. Please, Kate begs me in her rasping, sore thr oat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorg eous, strawberry blond hair in place and green eyes bright, altho ugh now red rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympa thy. Of course I'll go, Kate. You should get back to bed. Would you like some NyQuil or Tylenol? NyQuil, please. Here are the qu estions and my digital recorder. Just press record here. Make not es, I'll transcribe it all. I know nothing about him, I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic. The questions wi ll see you through. Go. It's a long drive. I don't want you to be late. Okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later. I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Kate, would I do this. I will. Good luck. And thanks, Anaas usual, you're my lifesaver. Gathering my backpack, I smile wryly at her, then he ad out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Kate talk me into this. But then Kate can talk anyone into anything. She'l l make an exceptional journalist. She's articulate, strong, persu asive, argumentative, beautifuland she's my dearest, dearest frie nd. The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, Washington, toward Interstate 5. It's early, and I don't have to be in Seatt le until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Kate has lent me her sp orty Mercedes CLK. I'm not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would ma ke the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the mile s slip away as I hit the pedal to the metal. My destination is t he headquarters of Mr. Grey's global enterprise. It's a huge twen ty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architec t's utilitarian fantasy, with GREY HOUSE written discreetly in st eel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when I arri ve, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormou sand frankly intimidatingglass, steel, and white sandstone lobby. Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, bl onde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharp est charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She lo oks immaculate. I'm here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Steele for K atherine Kavanagh. Excuse me one moment, Miss Steele. She arches her eyebrow as I stand self-consciously before her. I'm beginnin g to wish I'd borrowed one of Kate's formal blazers rather than w orn my navy-blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one an d only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots, and a blue swe ater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils o f my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn't intimidate me. Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Steele. You 'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor. She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in. S he hands me a security pass that has visitor very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. Nothing changes. I in wardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators a nd past the two security men who are both far more smartly dresse d than I am in their well-cut black suits. The elevator whisks m e at terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide op en, and I'm in another large lobbyagain all glass, steel, and whi te sandstone. I'm confrontd by another desk of sandstone and anot her young blonde woman, this time dressed impeccably in black and white, who rises to greet me. Miss Steele, could you wait here, please? She points to a seated area of white leather chairs. Be hind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room w ith an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty match ing chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling wi ndow with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through th e city toward the Sound. It's a stunning vista, and I'm momentari ly paralyzed by the view. Wow. I sit down, fish the questions fr om my backpack, and go through them, inwardly cursing Kate for no t providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thi rty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I've never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews , preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer m y own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a ch air in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a c olossal glass-and-stone edifice. I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Steele. Judging from the building, which is too clinical a nd modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair- haired to match the rest of the personnel. Another elegant, flaw lessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. Wha t is it with all the immaculate blondes? It's like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up. Miss Steele? the latest blond e asks. Yes, I croak, and clear my throat. Yes. There, that soun ded more confident. Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I tak e your jacket? Oh, please. I struggle out of the jacket. Have y ou been offered any refreshment? Umno. Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble? Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young wom an at the desk. Would you like tea, coffee, water? she asks, turn ing her attention back to me. A glass of water. Thank you, I mur mur. Olivia, please fetch Miss Steele a glass of water. Her voic e is stern. Olivia scoots up and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer. My apologies, Miss Steele, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes. Olivia returns with a glass of iced water. Here you go, Miss St eele. Thank you. Blonde Number Two marches over to the large de sk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She si ts down, and they both continue their work. Perhaps Mr. Grey ins ists on all his employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if tha t's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dress ed, attractive African American man with short dreads exits. I ha ve definitely worn the wrong clothes. He turns and says through the door, Golf this week, Grey? I don't hear the reply. He turns , sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Ol ivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She's more nervous than me! Good afterno on, ladies, he says as he departs through the sliding door. Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Steele. Do go through, Blonde Number Two says. I stand rather shakily, trying to suppress my nerves. G athering up my backpack, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door. You don't need to knockjust go i n. She smiles kindly. I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet and falling headfirst into the office. Double crapme and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Grey's office, and gentle hands are around me, helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cowhe's so young. Mis s Kavanagh. He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I'm uprigh t. I'm Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to sit? So youngand attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copp er-colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shre wdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice. Um. Actually I mutter. If this guy is over thirty, then I'm a monkey's uncle. I n a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers tou ch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey. And you are? His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from h is impassive expression. He looks mildly interested but, above al l, polite. Anastasia Steele. I'm studying English literature wit h Kate, um . . . Katherine . . . um . . . Miss Kavanagh, at WSU V ancouver. I see, he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a sm ile in his expression, but I'm not sure. Would you like to sit? He waves me toward an L-shaped white leather couch. His office i s way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a modern dark wood desk that six people could co mfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. E verything else is whiteceiling, floors, and walls, except for the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty -six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisitea series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they lo ok like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking. A local artist. Trouton, says Grey when he catches my gaze. The y're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary, I murmur, dis tracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one s ide and regards me intently. I couldn't agree more, Miss Steele, he replies, his voice soft, and for some inexplicable reason I f ind myself blushing. Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the wh ite leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and ret, Bloom Books, 2012, 2.5, Collins, UK, 1997. Reprint. Paperback. Good. Paperback. 526 pages. *** PUBLISHING DETAILS: Collins, UK, 1997. Reprint. *** CONDITION: This book is in good condition. More specifically: Covers have light creasing. Spine has minor lean and moderate reading creases. . Pages are reasonably tanned. *** ABOUT THIS BOOK: McAuliff has been given two million dollars for a geological survey of Jamaica's dark interior. All Dunstone Ltd requires is his time, his expertise, and absolute secrecy. But British Intelligence is aware of the deal, and they've let Alex in on a secret: the last survey team Dunstone despatched to Jamaica vanished without trace. For Alex, it's too late to turn back. He already knows about Dunstone - which means he knows too much. From the moment he lands in Jamaica he is a marked man. But who wants him dead? In an island paradise where even a beautiful woman could be a spy, Alex's only clue to survival is a single, mysterious word: Halidon... *** Quantity Available: 2. Category: Fiction; Thrillers; ISBN: 0006496792. ISBN/EAN: 9780006496793. Inventory No: 14090222.. 9780006496793, Collins, 1997, 2.5<
