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The ny Public Library. A silent sanctuary of information; a 100-year-old labyrinth of towering bookcases, slim aisles and lengthy marble hallways. For health practitioner Stephen Swain and his daughter, Holly, it's the web site of a nightmare. simply because for one evening this historical construction is to be the venue for a competition. a competition within which Swain is to compete - even if he likes it or not.

The principles are easy: Seven contestants will input, just one will depart.

With his daughter in his fingers, Stephen Swain is plunged right into a terrifying struggle for survival. The stakes are excessive, the percentages brutal. He can decide to run, to conceal or to struggle - but when he desires to stay, he has to win. For during this contest, except you allow because the victor, you don't go away at all.

Readers worldwide were cheering approximately Matthew Reilly’s lightning quick event thrillers. Contest, the action-packed extravaganza that introduced this overseas bestselling profession, is classic Reilly at his explosive best.

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Then Balthazar had thrown a knife and pinned one among them to the railing . . . 0:29 0:28 0:27 Then Holly had pressed the elevator button they usually had run into the net room. Holly . . . Then the door. And undefined. 0:20 0:19 0:18 What was once it? Holly . . . It used to be there! someplace at the back of his brain. a manner in! Why couldn’t he commit it to memory? 0:14 0:13 0:12 imagine, Goddamn it, imagine! 0:11 0:10 Swain pursed his lips, frowning. 0:09 He swung his head from correct to left. No different home windows. Nowhere else to head. 0:08 imagine again. First ground. Bellos. Hoods. 0:07 Balthazar. Knife. 0:06 Elevator. Holly urgent the button. Holly . . . 0:05 Holly? whatever approximately Holly. 0:04 whatever Holly said?. 0:03 whatever Holly did? 0:02 And with the expiration of the countdown got here the horror of the realisation. Stephen Swain used to be lifeless. 5th stream 30 November, 8:56 p. m. within the janitor’s room at the 3rd flooring, Paul Hawkins sat down opposed to the wall beside Balthazar, and nodded, happy. around the ground from him, in entrance of the open doorway of the room, lay a wide puddle of hugely flammable methylated spirits—and subsequent to him, a field of outdated phosphorus-tipped suits. He have been pleasantly stunned at what he were capable of finding at the cabinets of the previous janitor’s room. He felt a bit more secure now. Any undesirable visitors passing via that doorway will be in for an important— after which, unexpectedly, he heard it. The home windows above him rattled a bit, whereas the ground shook lightly. Hawkins couldn’t rather wager what it used to be. however it appeared like a muffled explosion. Selexin and Holly stopped on the most sensible of the stairwell because the wood banister beside them started to shudder. ‘Did you pay attention that? ’ Selexin requested nervously. ‘I felt it,’ Holly acknowledged. ‘What do you think that it was once? ’ ‘It appeared like a blast of a few style. An explosion. From someplace outside—’ He minimize himself off. ‘Oh no . . . ’ ‘Clear! ’ ‘Commander’ Harry Quaid known as back. Marshall ducked in the back of the wall on the most sensible of the ramp as Quaid rounded the nook and joined him. the second one blast rushed outward from the ground of the concrete access ramp. A billowing cloud of gray smoke raced up the ramp and shot out onto the road, thundering previous Marshall and Quaid. Fragments of metal—the remnants of what have been the metal grating that closed off the library’s parking lot—clattered loudly to the floor. The smoke cleared and Marshall, Quaid and a small cohort of NSA brokers made their manner down the charred ramp, stepping over the gnarled items of metal that now littered the slope. Marshall stopped on the backside of the ramp and stared in awe on the sight sooner than him. around the vast oblong starting of the parking lot—filling the exploded around gap in the midst of the metal grating—was a major grid of vivid blue electrical energy, crackling and scorching, lashing out each few seconds with lengthy arms of high-voltage lightning. Marshall folded his palms as Quaid stood beside him, observing on the criss-crossing grid of sunshine earlier than them. ‘We knew it,’ Quaid acknowledged, no longer taking his eyes off the wall of blue gentle.

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