Speaking in Tongues

The world has changed and so has Bond, James Bond.
    Jeffery Deaver brings superspy 007 into the twenty-first century with his #1 bestseller
    CARTE BLANCHE
    “Brilliantly captures Fleming’s style . . . with Deaver’s trademark twists flying.”
    —The Washington Post
    “Ian Fleming was a master. . . . Deaver too is a genius and this publishing marriage was truly made in heaven.”
    — The Sunday Express
    “The pairing is as smooth as vodka and vermouth.”
    — Parade
    “A new, streamlined incarnation for a new generation of global fears.”
    —The Guardian
    “[A] worthy homage. . . . Think of Jack Bauer let loose in Whitehall.”
    — The London Times
    “Thrilling and genuinely surprising.”
    — Heat
    “Deaver combines the best of Fleming’s crisp, eclectic style without compromising his own ability to tell a cracking story.”
    — Literary Review
    “Intricate and inventive, surprising and satisfying.”
    — Publishers Weekly
    “Fantastic. . . . Jeffery Deaver truly got it .”
    — Ann Arbor News
    Suspense fiction that “stokes our paranoia” (Entertainment Weekly), from the inimitable Jeffery Deaver!
    EDGE
    “Wildly twisted . . . a nail-biter.”
    — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
    “Ingenious.”
    — The New York Times Book Review
    “Deaver unveils some nifty new tricks in this edge-of-your-seat thriller.”
    — Publishers Weekly
    “Twist-filled. . . . The odds seem to change with each turn of the page.”
    — The Wall Street Journal
    The “grand master of the ticking-clock thriller” (Kathy Reichs) puts special agent Kathryn Dance on a harrowing online manhunt
    ROADSIDE CROSSES
    Chosen as a Hot Summer Thriller on TheDailyBeast.com!
    “Clever and twisted. . . . Don’t miss this one.”
    — Library Journal
    “The techno-savvy Deaver . . . has one of those puzzle-loving minds you just can’t trust.”
    —Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times
    “Deaver’s got the world of social networking and blogs down cold. . . . That dose of realism adds a fresh, contemporary edge.”
    —David Montgomery, TheDailyBeast.com
    Be sure to read his ninth sizzling Lincoln Rhyme bestseller
    THE BURNING WIRE
    “Deaver, master of the plot twist, does his usual magic. . . .”
    — Booklist
    “Shocking twists . . . electrically charged.”
    — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
    And praise for all of the Lincoln Rhyme novels, “masterpieces of modern criminology” (Philadelphia Daily News)
    “A thrill ride between covers.”
    — Los Angeles Times
    “Devious and heart-stopping.”
    — Ottawa Citizen
    “Dazzling.”
    — The New York Times
    “Prime Deaver . . . prime entertainment.”
    — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
    “Deaver must have been born with a special plot-twist gene.”
    — Booklist
    “Keeps the pulse racing while challenging the emotions. . . .”
    — Orlando Sentinel
    “A mastermind of manipulation.”
    — Library Journal
    “High-tension wired. . . . Deaver . . . fills every keystroke with suspense.”
    — People

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In the beginning was the Word. Man acts it out. He is the act, not the actor.
    —Henry Miller

I
THE
WHISPERING
BEARS

Chapter One
    Crazy Megan parks the car.
    Doesn’t want to do this. No way.
    Doesn’t get out, listens to the rain . . .
    The engine ticked to silence as she looked down at her clothes. It was her usual outfit: JNCO jeans. A sleeveless white tee under a dark denim work shirt. Combat boots. Wore this all the time. But she felt uneasy today. Embarrassed. Wished she’d worn a skirt at least. The pants were too baggy. The sleeves dangled to the tips of her black-polished fingernails and her socks were orange as tomato soup. Well, what did it matter? The hour’d be over soon.
    Maybe the man would concentrate on her good qualities—her wailing blue eyes and blond hair. Oh, and her body too. He was a man.
    Anyway, the clothes covered up the extra seven . . . well, all right, ten pounds that she carried on her tall frame.
    Stalling. Crazy Megan doesn’t want to be here one bit.
    Rubbing her hand over her upper lip, she looked out the rain-spattered window at the lush trees and bushes of suburbia. This April in