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The aliens were much better at their job than all the king's horses had been with Humpty Dumpty.First, they simply disassembled Edward Berner-tissue by tissue, nerve by nerve. In tanks they stored the million remnants and shreds that had been Berner, and they changed his brain into a fantastic recording device.Then they simply put him back together.Sinew by sinew, cell by cell.But it was not the same Ed Berner. The new Ed Berner was stronger, healthier-stronger and healthier than any other man. And with a sexual appetite and a promised lifespan greater than anyone on Earth.He was very nearly invincible.Very nearly.Unfortunately, there was a deadly law. The aliens had forgotten to make the new Ed Berner a wiser one...

Pete Sawyer is a private eye of a different kind. The son of a World War II American pilot and a brave French resistance fighter, he grew up on both sides of the Atlantic -- though he prefers his sun-dappled villa on the Riviera to most other places. He takes pleasure in a fine wine...and a good gun. His French name is Pierre-Ange, and it suits him. In English, it means Stone Angel.When a beautiful young woman, dripping wet and alone, wandered onto his patio, ex-cop and private eye Pete Sawyer knew he was looking at trouble. He also knew he would take the job. It sounded simple enough: deliver a letter to a local Riviera resident. But when Pete arrived, the man had vanished and his wife was being worked over by two thugs.That was only the beginning of a murderous trail of diamonds and death that led from the Code d'Azur into the exotic heart of Morocco. There, in the stark Sahara, Pete would spark a bloody showdown that few would live to talk about....

Pete Sawyer is a private eye of a different kind. The son of a World War II American pilot and a brave French resistance fighter, he grew up on both sides of the Atlantic -- though he prefers his sun-dappled villa on the Riviera to most other places. He takes pleasure in a fine wine...and a good gun. His French name is Pierre-Ange, and it suits him. In English, it means Stone Angel.On a midnight in December, Fritz Donhoff -- Pete's partner and surrogate father -- is shot down in Paris. Fritz has left a case behind that Pete can't turn his back on. Susan Kape, the beautiful young oil heiress, hungers for a foothold in the international art world -- and an Etruscan tomb filled with priceless relics may help her get it. All she needs is an easy eighteen million dollars and Pete's protection while she has the discovery authenticated in Italy. Pete Sawyer must call on all his creative powers as a sleuth and survivor to solve this inspired mystery -- while a gallery of murder victims collects artlessly around him...

Short Description

The girl had lost her guitar-playing boyfriend, but he had left her the most deadly legacy of all -- fear. And now it was up to me to protect her from the gun-carrying thugs who were relentlessly tracking her down. Hoodlums, hootenannies, and homicide!#10 in the Mac detective series!

Lemmy Caution investigates a counterfeiting case and a suspicious suicide. Are the two cases connected? Before the action is over, he'll travel from New York to the desert outside Palm Springs- encountering beautiful dames-and more than a few desperate men...who aren't afraid to kill!

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was an American author who wrote several works of historical and social fiction, including the classic short story "e;The Yellow Wallpaper."e;

In a future where interstellar space travel is commonplace, following the invention of the Nulgrav Drive, planetoids and meteorites pose the only threat to spacecraft. The solution: a space engineering company, Planetoid Disposals Ltd., is created to destroy rogue stellar bodies and sweep the space lanes clear of debris. With the Galactic Patrol enforcing peace throughout the galaxy, it is a time of prosperity. But when a non-human race finds a way to checkmate the Patrol, it means war with humanity. The Vendians launch their mighty fleet against an unearmed Earth, and only Planetoid Disposals' fleet of ships stands in their way...

Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine is back with a new issue and a new editor. Here are tales in mystery and detection in the classic manner, with a fine selection of new stories, features, and a classic Holmes reprint. Here are:BEAUTY AND THE BEYOTCH, by Barb GoffmanTHE CASE OF THE COLONEL'S SUICIDE, by Rafe McGregorTHE HOLMES IMPERSONATOR AND THE BAKER STREET IRREGULARS, by Janice LawTHE BODY IN THE BACKYARD, by Peter DiChellisThe Adventure of the Geek Interpreter, by Hal CharlesCEREAL KILLING, by J.P. SeewaldLAST WISH AND TESTAMENT, by V.P. KavaFROM GREEN TO RED, by Mike McHoneFAILURE TO OBEY, by Rebecca K. JonesTRACE EVIDENCE, by Keith BrookeTHE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND STAIN, by Sir Arthur Conan DoyleFeatures by Darrell Schweitzer, Kim Newman, and Martha Hudson.Now edited by Carla Kaessinger Coupe.

Robert Edmond Alter, best known as a mystery author, turns his considerable talents to stories of heroes and courage under difficult circumstances. These true-life historical retellings include tales of war, heroism, adventure, and survival-all of which required courage under extreme pressure or life-threatening circumstances.

One of famed crime author Robert Edmond Alter's less-well-known books, Henry M. Stanley: The Man from Africa concerns the life of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, explorer, journalist, soldier, colonial administrator, author and politician who was famous for his exploration of Central Africa and his search for missionary and explorer David Livingstone, whom he later claimed to have greeted with the now-famous line: "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"

Leo's mother, Madam Sara Bresson, wasn't good with babies. She never claimed to be. She had her Gift, her charisma, her successful career as a Spiritualist medium, and there simply wasn't room in her life for sleepless nights or soggy nappies. Therefore, with her husband (Leo's father Maurice Moon, a music hall conjuror and xylophone player) out of the picture having recently decamped, she donated Leo as soon as was decent to her widowed mother Clare.An agreeably wealthy woman, Clare had conveniently just returned from India following the alcohol-related death of her husband, a senior officer in the British army there. Clare welcomed a grandchild. It was good to be needed.Now, today, eighty-odd years later, Leo is living again in the house in Cheltenham that his grandmother Clare bought all those years ago. And D. G. Compton, previously better known perhaps as a science fiction writer, has set himself a biographical task here, charting at least a few of the more significant vicissitudes, big and little, that have shaped Leo's nature and life, and have left us with this slightly wise (he hopes) old gent.

The masked woman called herself Madame Madcap, and she gathered a gang of cutthroats determined to loot high society of all its riches... starting with the notorious womanizer Hamilton Brone. She worked her criminal magic... and grew rich as millionaires swooned at her feet. Members of her gang worshipped her. She could do no wrong. And yet a curious pattern began to emerge, and a strange vengeance took shape -- not just against the men of high society, but against the men of her own brave band of criminals!

The Willows is a novella by Algernon Blackwood, first published in 1907. It is often considered one of Blackwood's greatest works and a classic of supernatural fiction. The story is renowned for its atmospheric tension and exploration of the unknown.Two friends, the unnamed narrator and his companion known as "The Swede," embark on a canoe trip down the Danube River. They venture into a remote and desolate region filled with dense willows, far from civilization. The landscape is eerie and otherworldly, with the river seeming to possess a life of its own.As they set up camp on a small island surrounded by willows, they begin to experience strange and unsettling phenomena. The willows seem to move and whisper, creating an overwhelming sense of unease. The natural environment appears hostile and alive, contributing to the growing tension.The protagonists soon realize they are not alone. They sense the presence of malevolent, unseen entities that inhabit the area. These forces are beyond human understanding and defy logical explanation. The isolation, coupled with the oppressive atmosphere, drives the men to the brink of madness.Throughout the story, Blackwood masterfully builds a sense of dread through his vivid descriptions of the landscape and the psychological effects on the characters. The story's power lies in its ability to evoke the unknown and the inexplicable, leaving readers with a lingering sense of fear and wonder.

Before she tried to be a good woman she had been a very bad woman ' so bad that she could trail her wonderful apparel up and down Main Street, from the Elm Tree Bakery to the railroad tracks, without once having a man doff his hat to her or a woman bow. You passed her on the street with a surreptitious glance, though she was well worth looking at ' in her furs and laces and plumes. She had the only full-length mink coat in our town, and Ganz's shoe store sent to Chicago for her shoes. Hers were the miraculously small feet you frequently see in stout women.

Now we are led, protesting, up to a grubby urchin of five and are invited to watch him through twenty years of intimate minutiae. In extreme cases we have been obliged to witness his evolution from swaddling clothes to dresses, from dresses to shorts (he is so often English), from shorts to Etons. With which modest preamble you are asked to be patient with Miss Fanny Brandeis, aged thirteen. Not only must you suffer Fanny, but Fanny's mother as well, without whom there could be no understanding Fanny. For that matter, we shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Brandeis were to turn out the heroine in the end. She is that kind of person.

The ill nature of the cartoon, for instance, which showed Tish in a pair of khaki trousers on her back under a racing-car was quite uncalled for. Tish did not wear the khaki trousers; she merely took them along in case of emergency. Nor was it true that Tish took Aggie along as a mechanician and brutally pushed her off the car because she was not pumping enough oil. The fact was that Aggie sneezed on a curve and fell out of the car, and would no doubt have been killed had she not been thrown into a pile of sand. It was in early September that Eliza Bailey, my cousin, decided to go to London, ostensibly for a rest, but really to get some cretonne at Liberty's. Eliza wrote me at Lake Penzance asking me to go to Morris Valley and look after Bettina. . . .

For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable; for twenty years I had had the window-boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brown linen; for as many summers I had said good-bye to my friends, and, after watching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supply does not depend on a tank on the roof. And then -- the madness seized me. When I look back over the months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I have turned very gray -- Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off. "No," I said sharply, "I'm not going to use bluing at my time of life, or starch, either."

Twelve Stories and a Dream -- "A Dream of Armageddon": "That book," he repeated, pointing a lean finger, "is about dreams. Dreams tell you nothing." I did not catch his meaning for a second. "They don't know," he added. I looked a little more attentively at his face. "There are dreams," he said, "and dreams."

The biological truth Wells has given us would slow down an alien encounters on Star Trek or Farscape, where intrepid adventurers rarely worry about local languages, much less breathing the local air. The aliens have invaded because they have a fondness for human blood, sucked from living beings (how they discovered they had a taste for us is unclear, but it makes dramatic theater, anyway). If you haven't read Wells, you need to; Wells created a landmark -- he is a thoughtful social commentator, a pioneer of what makes SF intellectually appealing, and a damned fine storyteller, too.The novel is the first-person narrative of both an unnamed protagonist in Surrey and of his younger brother in London as southern England is invaded by Martians.

A century ago, H.G. Wells was one of the men who all but created the science fiction novel. Wells wrote three classics in four years: The Time Machine (1895), The Invisible Man (1897) and The War of the Worlds (1898). The Invisible Man, owes an obvious debt to Frankenstein, as it explores the nature of mankind, asking weather an invisible man still be bound by the morality that seems natural to us. Seems like a natural thing, doesn't it? But listen to the story Wells tells, and the doubt he places on a thing seemingly obvious: A researcher working (more or less) as a graduate student in physics, discovers a treatment that will make himself invisible. Griffin -- our invisible man -- may well be morally bankrupt before he takes the treatment. He begins by making himself invisible to avoid paying his rent -- and, as he sneaks out of the building, he sets it afire as a "lesson" for his landlord. He steals money entrusted to his father -- and causes his father to suicide in shame . . . but that's only the beginning . . .