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SEARCH AND DESTROY

A CAL SHEPARD BLACK OPS THRILLER

JT SAWYER
 CONTENTS

Thank You

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64

More Adventures to Come

Contact Information
Additional Titles by JT Sawyer
About the Author
 Copyright April 2021, Search and Destroy, by JT Sawyer
www.jtsawyer.com
Edited by Emily Nemchick
Cover art by ZamajK

No part of this book may be transmitted in any form whether electronic, recording,
scanned, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission of
the publisher.
This is a work of fiction and the characters and events portrayed in this book are
fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, incidents, or
events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
 THANK YOU

Thank you for buying this book! I hope you enjoy reading it as much
as I enjoyed researching and writing it.
Join my email list if you would like to receive notifications on
future releases or a FREE copy of the Cal Shepard short story, Lethal
Conduct, which recounts Cal’s harrowing mission in North Africa with
his former search & destroy unit.
 PROLOGUE

B ethesda , Maryland

T he high - end security system , video surveillance cameras and three

bodyguards at Ian Landis’ two-story home on the northern edge of
the city would be enough to deter anyone who was unwelcome. It
would even enable Landis to quickly scurry into the panic room with
the steel door in the back bedroom in the event that someone was
brazen enough to breach his layered security protocols. There he
could wait safely, clutching his .357 revolver, until the police arrived
within their eight-minute response time.
These things had entered Cal Shepard’s mind during the past few
days of planning, and he knew that eliminating a target like Landis
would require reverse-engineering a solution, beginning with the
panic room, whose vault-like door required a sufficient amount of
energy to open and close.
All panic room designs depended on a numeric keypad that in
turn depended on electricity still flowing to the house. Even the
pricey panic rooms that were built by specialty contracting firms like
the one Landis had used or the type that Cal had penetrated before
in Middle-Eastern palaces employed a dedicated hardline
independent from the home’s main power source and circuit
breakers.
 The weak link in each case was always the electrical conduit
leading into the house from a subterranean cable linked to a hidden
service box buried in the ground near the utility line, which the
contracting company tapped into.
No juice, no numeric keypad, and no access to the $50,000 panic
room.
Cal scanned his phone one more time, examining the blueprint
image for the layout of Landis’ house coupled with the copious notes
he had taken during the past three nights of physical surveillance
around the property with a tiny drone obtained from a colleague at
Langley.
For several hours since sunset, he’d remained hidden in the thick
tangle of scrub oak at a nature preserve a quarter-mile distant from
Landis’ home, peering through his binoculars at the two Colombian
bodyguards casually strolling near the back porch while the third
man was on the second-floor balcony, which overlooked the country
club grounds to the east.
The forested hillside in this valley was peppered with large
mansions with liver-shaped pools amid neatly manicured lawns just
like this, giving the illusion that you were out in the country when in
fact you were never more than thirty minutes from the city center.
Though Landis divided his time between his home, DC and
Texas, he spent most of his nights here, out of the spotlight, so his
sexual habits didn’t draw attention to him and sully his image as an
upstanding businessman and oil lobbyist in political circles on the
Hill.
Cal watched the black four-door Crown Victoria turn into the
driveway then head up the hill towards the house, stopping briefly to
deposit a young woman in a sleek black dress and heels.
The bodyguard nearest the swimming pool walked towards her,
opening the front door and motioning for her to go inside after
letting his eyes linger on her figure. Cal briefly saw Landis in the
foyer, his face paler than usual and his eyes darting nervously
beyond the woman towards the driveway before the guard closed
the door.
 The man had good reason to be nervous, since he was one of
the principal architects behind framing Shepard for the murder of his
wife and friends.
And now your day of reckoning has come.

C al had shown up at the natural area an hour before sunset for

much of this week, blending in with the other joggers and hikers as
he trotted along the web of trails, eventually making his way to the
eastern flank of the property, which overlooked the luxurious homes
across the two-lane road. There he would wait until night descended
before secreting himself into the cluster of oak scrub to monitor his
target.
Unlike other outings, tonight he was armed with a daypack that
contained a windbreaker, trauma kit, binoculars, a suppressed Glock
19 with a red-dot scope, three spare mags, a lock-pick set and a
small specialized shape charge with a detonator. And unlike any
other recon mission he’d been on, this time he was also equipped
with four bricks of cocaine.
Shepard sat perched like a wildlife biologist intent on studying a
particular animal.
Only this one is feral…a traitor to its own kind.
Shepard would study him like he had each of his intended targets
during the past sixteen years of working in clandestine ops with the
Special Activities Division.
Only Landis was special, and this job was unsanctioned.
It was personal on a level Shepard had never felt before.

I an L andis normally would not have been able to control himself in

the presence of such an exquisite being as the leggy brunette
following him up the stairs, but his stomach was on fire from
another bout of anxiety that even his prescription meds could no
longer keep at bay.
With the three mercenaries turned bodyguards watching him and
the state-of-the-art security system wired throughout every window,
door and entry point onto his property, he tried to reassure himself
that he would remain out of Shepard’s grasp.
The man should have been put down already, like the rabid dog
he is.
His employer in Texas had assured him that Shepard didn’t know
enough yet to alter their upcoming plans in Venezuela, but Landis
didn’t like waiting for a wild card like the former agency operator to
rear its head.
Disgraced agency operator is more like it. And number one on
the FBI’s Most Wanted list.
He entered his rectangular suite at the rear of the hallway, the
woman’s heels clacking on the marble floor as she trailed behind
him. Landis saw her reflection on the floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind
his bed.
He motioned with his hand for her to go to the bed, then he
went into the bathroom, removing a nearly depleted bottle of anti-
acid from the medicine cabinet and crunching down on a handful of
tablets. When he was done, he picked up a finger-sized glass vial
and tapped a fine line of unadulterated Colombian cocaine onto the
counter then snorted the substance.
The woman remained silent, as she had been instructed to do,
keeping her gaze low. Landis wiped his nose of the powdered brain
candy, walking towards her. Now, he could see the girl in her beyond
the makeup and lip gloss used to cloak her underage appearance.
His hands trembled as his eyes drifted along her soft neck, a
feeling of dominion washing over him.

A n hour after the call-girl left, Shepard saw the master suite on the
north side go dark. He leaned back, unzipping the main
compartment of his daypack on the ground beside him and removing
a small palm-sized drone. It was a newly developed model fashioned
in the recesses of the CIA’s R&D division, and even he was
impressed with the tech that was packed into the tiny device.
After activating the drone, he pulled out his iPhone, the dimmed
screen showing a keypad and camera-eye view. He enabled the
infrared beams that would flood the grounds around Landis’ home,
blotting out the security cameras.
Shepard depressed the timer, which began counting down from
sixty seconds, then he set it on the ground in an open spot outside
the canopy of the grove.
He crept from his wooded perch down the grassy slope and
through more bushes until he was at the base near the inky-black
street. There was no sidewalk or lights, and the curb abutted the
preserve. He paused, crouching in the waist-high shrubs, watching
the pre-programmed drone leaving its resting spot and heading
towards the south end of the property directly across from him.
Shepard counted to twenty, waiting for the drone’s IR beams to
kick in as it hovered in place twenty yards from the side entrance of
the house, then he sprinted across the street to a spot where the
eight-foot-high wooden fence met a drain culvert that had just
enough wiggle room to squeeze through.
With the first obstacle out of the way, he removed the
suppressed Glock from his pack then placed three spare mags in the
left cargo pocket of his pants. Shepard wound his way past a water
fountain, pausing beside the trunk of a large Italian cypress tree,
then he made his way for forty yards to a gray faux rock, which
covered the utilities box for the house. He counted off six paces,
stopping at a sandstone slab. Unlike the other slabs in the hedges,
this one’s edges were free of overgrowth, which he had noted during
a previous flight with the drone.
Shepard hooked the fingers of his free hand under the corner
and lifted the slab, staring down at the secondary utility box for the
panic room. He removed the palm-sized shape charge from his pack
and set it along the side of the box, depressing the timer then
replacing the heavy sandstone.
 He swiveled his head around, listening for movement, then
retraced his steps back towards the outer edge of the swimming
pool, hunkering down in the hedges.
The two henchmen had moved, with one standing near the rear
corner of the porch while the other man was patrolling near the
sauna adjacent to the pool. The span of thirty yards between them
would require accurate pistol work and minimal expenditure of
rounds if Shepard was going to drop them both before the second
man could react.
Shepard had pulled off precision low-light shooting in more
demanding parts of the world, but he always had his team for
backup, along with Predator support and a sniper for overwatch.
Now, it was him against three ruthless mercs and with every police
department along the East Coast searching for him. And if this went
south fast, there’d be no helicopter extraction to whisk him away in
the night back to friendly forces.
But the past week of being on the run had taught him that there
were no more friendlies.
He raised the Glock, lining up the red dot sight, then steadied his
breathing, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline pulsing through his
veins as it had a thousand times in the past before an engagement
where well-honed fighting skills and overwhelming violence were
about to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting enemy.
Shepard squeezed off a single round, striking the burly guard to
the right in the temple. The bullet blasted a chunk of bone splinters
and red mist onto the ivory-colored wall behind him. Shepard swiftly
swung his weapon to the left, squeezing off two rounds at the
second man. The bullets found their home in his nose and forehead,
dropping him backwards onto the grass.
Shepard leapt up, rushing to the back porch then picking up the
first man’s Beretta pistol and tucking it into his belt.
Trotting to the left, he rounded the corner of the house. He
retrieved a palm-sized stone from the walkway, thrusting it into his
pocket, then crept to the side door, removing his lock-picking tools.
Despite bringing a bump key matched to this particular style of
deadbolt, bypassing a door lock was a two-handed operation.
 He tucked his Glock under his arm, inserting the key then giving
the back of the key a light tap with the rock. He heard the
comforting sound of the key overriding the pins in the internal
mechanism of the deadbolt, then he turned the lock, pausing to
open the door as he glanced down at his watch.
Five, four, three, two, one…
Shepard heard a brief thud in the shrubs behind him as the
designated circuit breaker for the panic room and the security alarms
on the doors and windows detonated.
He had to move fast now, as the henchman upstairs would be
checking in with the men on the ground if he noticed that the
security switchboard inside was no longer illuminated.
Shepard opened the door, his Glock extended out, sweeping the
spacious kitchen in each direction then flicking off the lights so he
wasn’t backlit when he entered the dining room. He did a visual
sweep of the billiards room and solarium to the right then cautiously
approached the winding staircase, hugging the wall as he made his
way up.
He heard a man speaking in Spanish as the last guard muttered
into his walkie-talkie to the dead thugs by the pool. Shepard set his
suppressed Glock on a small table beside him then did a partial
chamber check on the Beretta before pointing it upstairs. He heard
the henchman shouting followed by his footsteps as he rushed out
of the room.
Three nine-millimeter rounds in the chest put a stop to the
lumbering figure as he bolted from the upstairs lounge, the man
collapsing and rolling down the steps.
Shepard stepped over the body, pausing to put another round in
the head, then he retrieved his Glock and bounded up the steps. He
heard the sound of the lock being engaged on the rear bedroom
suite to the right, knowing Landis was probably rushing to the panic
room door in the back closet.
Shepard did a visual check of the two other rooms he passed,
then removed the last shape charge from his pack, placing it on the
gold faceplate of the steel door of the master bedroom. He
depressed the five-second timer, jumping back around the corner as
it blew open the door.
He waited for the coming volley of rounds from Landis’ revolver,
the five bullets punching through the drywall around the doorframe.
Once Shepard heard the weapon’s hammer click repeatedly, he
rushed from his position, darting inside the room.
Aiming low, he squeezed off two rounds from his Glock into the
half-naked figure crouched in the closet doorway. The bullets tore
through the man’s right leg, striking the femur and hip joint and
sending Landis to the ground howling.
Shepard moved to the closet, kicking the revolver out of the way
then dragging Landis by his arm into the bedroom. He pressed his
shoe down on Landis’ wound, causing the man to shriek again as
the ivory tiles turned crimson.
“I can give you something for the pain if you tell me what I want
to know… Who paid you to put the hit out on Burke and his people?”
Landis waved his hands, his cheeks quivering as he gasped in a
breath. “Please, I didn’t know they would all die. I only did what I
was told.”
“By who?” He put more of his weight down on the man’s leg.
“Roth…I work for Vincent Roth.”
Shepard narrowed his eyes, vaguely recalling the name. “The
Texas billionaire?”
Landis gave a weak nod in between whimpers.
“Why…why would he possibly want Burke out of the way?” He
canted his head slightly, hearing the sound of sirens in the distance.
“The election…the election is too…too critical…”
Landis nodded, his eyes starting to roll back as his face became
ashen. “Please help me.”
“What election? Here?”
Shepard grabbed the man’s hair, shaking his head. “What fucking
election?”
The pool of blood beneath Landis’ body had doubled in size, and
he knew the man would probably bleed out before the medics
arrived. Landis’ head went limp as he began slumping into
unconsciousness.
 Shepard stood up, scanning the room before settling on a desk in
the corner. He walked over, grabbing the flash drives next to the
laptop then pausing to stare at a photo that showed Landis in
between two men, one of whom Shepard was sure was Roth. He
shoved the photo in his cargo pocket then turned, pausing before
Landis, who was moaning and reaching his hand up towards
Shepard.
“Help me.”
“I promised something for the pain.” Shepard leaned forward,
resting the end of the suppressor on his forehead then squeezing
the trigger. He stepped towards the vanity, setting his pack down
and removing the four bricks of cellophane-wrapped cocaine, neatly
stacking them on the counter.
He retraced his steps out of the bedroom, moving towards the
dead henchman lying near the top of the steps. He removed the
weathered Tokarev pistol from the man’s bear-like hands, replacing it
with the suppressed Glock, then Shepard retreated down the steps
to the back entrance.
He opened the basement door, heading below and locating the
security system master board. Shepard pried open the panel,
removing the memory cards for the interior of the house, then exited
the way he came.
Just to be safe.
Crouching beside the first thug he’d killed, Shepard inserted the
man’s Beretta into his curled fingers.
He bounded along the south end of the property, climbing over
the fence and trotting across the street to the nature preserve.
Moving up the hill through the oak scrub, he squatted down,
removing his iPhone and recalling the drone to his location.
He saw the flutter of red and blue lights along the winding road
that led up to the cluster of homes on the hill. Shepard crouch-
walked back to the dirt trail that led to his stolen Honda a mile to the
west.
As he jogged back in the dark, he ran through the mental
checklist of the growing number of names on his list. Some of them
were already scratched out, while another figure had just been
added.
There was still work to be done.
Men to hunt down.
Their reckoning was coming.
And before it was over, he knew there would be blood spilled far
beyond the borders of this state.
 1

L angley , Virginia, Four Weeks Earlier

C al always marveled at the view from the seventh floor at CIA

headquarters, feeling like the serene cobalt sky outside was in such
stark contrast to what his employer represented. He was grateful
that a seasoned former operator like Neil Patterson was holding the
reins as Director of Clandestine Affairs from this lofty perch, and that
the man was still grounded in the realities of what agents like Cal
went through in the field.
Shepard looked around the spacious office then over at his boss,
who had just sat down at his desk. “I’m going to miss these weekly
meetings. They remind me of old times when you were my team
leader.”
Patterson chuckled, waving a hand at his room. “Except I’ve
come to prefer this setting over a musty cave in Helmand Province
or the sub-Saharan.”
“You’ve gone soft on me.”
“Too much time doing briefings in DC will do that.”
“That just creates a different edge, is all. Still, it must be a
challenge sitting before a committee of policy police all the time,
knowing you can’t just twist off someone’s head when they disagree
with you.”
 “With civility comes great responsibility and self-control, my
friend,” said the older man with a hint of sarcasm.
“I seem to recall when you recruited me sixteen years ago out of
ASU, you talked about righting the wrongs of the world…saying that
the work we were going to do would require civility to be stripped
away at times.”
“Well, those were different times for sure, and the administration
back then provided more operational freedom on our early missions
in Afghanistan and the Middle East.” Patterson winced slightly as he
stood up.
“That old injury acting up today?”
Patterson frowned, thrusting his thumb at different joints. “Which
one, the knee replacements or the fused cervical vertebrae?”
“Well, looks like Langley won’t be using you in any of their
recruitment brochures.”
He pulled his broad shoulders back, arching his head up and
stretching. “You on the other hand…you’re almost like a refurbished
car that’s gotten a factory tune-up with eight months back here
working as a civilian contractor. I bet you’re not chewin’ on
Ibuprofen every morning like you used to.”
With the physical and mental trauma that took its toll on field
operators, Patterson knew the troublesome terrain that his star
agent was headed for if he didn’t take a break, which was why he
had assigned Shepard to work for a Virginia-based defense
contractor for the past eight months.
After Cal received a traumatic shoulder wound from a firefight
during a mission in Algeria last winter, the man was flown home to
recuperate and undergo physical therapy. Patterson thought the
timing fortuitous, since Cal could still provide consulting services for
a new threat-detection software called Perseus that was being
developed by computer engineer Stephen Burke.
Shepard would be the perfect fit with his years of field
experience and trigger-time battling some of the world’s most
notorious terrorists and assassins, and would provide the vital
human intelligence component that would keep the ever-cerebral
Burke grounded in reality.
 Known only to a handful of people at Langley, Shepard was one
of a small group of operators from the Special Activities Division who
comprised an elite search-and-destroy (SD) unit with the sole focus
of hunting down other assassins.
Beyond their training in covert ops, the SD members all received
an additional sixteen weeks of combatives and close-quarters
training followed by nearly two months of advanced survival and
evasion skills in order to operate unsupported behind enemy lines for
extended periods. Patterson and the other co-founder of the unit,
Ryan Foley, placed a heavy emphasis on fieldcraft and advanced
urban sniping and concealment to create the ultimate self-reliant
hunter of men. In its first year in operations abroad, Shepard’s SD
unit racked up more confirmed kills than all of the other clandestine
units combined within that same region.
Once Burke’s security clearance was approved by Patterson and
the National Director of Intelligence who oversaw all of the U.S.
intelligence agencies, Burke was given full access to Shepard’s
wealth of knowledge on target acquisition, staging methods, weapon
selection, human-asset recruitment, and evasion methods.
The two men seemed to feed off of each other, with Burke
providing insights into the technological side of things that Shepard
had been relying on for years overseas while the weathered field
agent gave a glimpse into the methodologies of a master assassin-
hunter. By the end of their third month of working together, it was
evident to Patterson that Burke and Shepard had become good
friends.
“So, are you looking forward to returning to fieldwork again?”
“All except the part about me being apart from Cassie for months
at a time. I got kinda spoiled being home for so long.”
“Well, once your contract ends with Perseus, you’ll have ten days
to regroup, then you’ll join your team…this time in Nigeria, unless
things drastically change between now and then.”
“‘Regroup’…something I should know about?”
“That’s code, bonehead, for a short vacation with your expectant
wife. You’ve earned it, and Cassie probably won’t argue the point
either. God knows when you’ll be back stateside for an extended
period, so just enjoy the time.”
“Aye, aye.” He gave a two-fingered salute. “I do appreciate it. I
really do.”
“So, Burke is nearly done with Perseus. Hard to believe it was
almost two years ago that I met with him about the project.” He
leaned back, settling his gaze on Shepard. “I hope it wasn’t too
grueling working for a civilian outfit.”
“His staff are top-notch and highly motivated—some of the finest
tech people I’ve ever been around. And Burke is, well, just Burke.
Pretty sure he was a distant relative of Einstein’s.
“I remember the days when we performed everything in-house.
Now, civilian contracting firms like Burke’s make up more than half
of the outsourcing we do for training and resource development.
Hell, even our new operators were just run through an evasive
driving course with a former NASCAR driver, and I just signed off on
a handful of our teams to go through a desert survival course with a
former SAS guy who runs his own school in South Africa.”
“Yeah, but it’s also good to get an outsider’s take on things.
When all the training is handled internally, it becomes too myopic.”
“There you go, makin’ up words again.”
Shepard laughed. “If only you read something besides intel and
budget reports, you’d find there’s a whole other world of the English
language to discover.”
Patterson stood, walking to the large window that overlooked the
bustling streets below. “Are you pleased with what Burke has done
with Perseus? I haven’t had much information from him on his
progress during this past month other than your reports here.
There’s a lot riding on this.”
“It’s pretty astounding. It’s going to be a shot in the arm for our
analysts. The speed that Perseus harvests data will increase our pre-
emptive abilities like nothing we’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not sure if Burke mentioned this or not, but he had a hand
in the early development of our threat matrix that used facial
recognition software to collate and identify connections to terrorists,
jihadists, and even cartel-related ties. It’s primitive compared to
what Perseus will be capable of, but it helped the agency during the
early days, tracking down Al Qaeda so our drones and our ground
teams could do their jobs.”
Patterson looked out the window again, his gaze distant. “Think
of the operators who might still be here today if we’d had Perseus
during all those years of running missions. That was one of the other
reasons, a huge one, why I was so eager to sign off on Burke
developing the program.”
“Won’t be long before the agency will be training operators just
as heavily in cyber-skills as in the hard physical skills of shooting and
tradecraft.”
The older man nodded. “That will be for another director to
worry about. As you know, the completion of this contract with
Burke also marks the end of my days here. I’ll be retiring to Florida…
and never having to deal with the cold again.”
“And taking up whittling or chess because you’re so fucking
bored.”
“Nah, I’ve played enough chess of sorts in my lifetime, though I
do relish a good game of poker.”
“Well, this place won’t be the same without you. Not many guys
have sat in this office who came up from field ops. Frankly, I can’t
tell you what a relief it was hearing your voice on the other end of
the line when I’d call from some shithole four thousand miles from
here, needing an evac or resupply, and knowing me and my team
were in good hands…and with someone who knew what the hell we
were going through.”
Patterson pursed his lips. “Maybe you’ll be in this office some
day?”
Shepard smirked. “I’m not the statesman you are, sir, nor do I
have any desire to sit across from a panel of cake-eaters at the
Capitol on a daily basis.”
“Fair enough.” He glanced over at Shepard then returned to his
desk, opening the bottom drawer and removing a bottle of bourbon
and two glasses. “Though Perseus may put guys like you out of a
job one day.”
 “I hope not. I don’t want to turn into one of those closet drunks
you hear about, bending at the elbow behind their desk all day
long.”
Patterson muffled a laugh. “Piss off, you little shit, or I’ll put this
$300 bottle away that I brought just for this occasion.”
Shepard stood, reaching for a glass as Patterson began pouring
them drinks. “Then here’s to an early retirement courtesy of Perseus,
I guess.”
They clanked glasses then drank the amber elixir. Shepard
eagerly swigged it down, slamming the glass on the desk in victory.
“Did you even taste it or were you just driven by your usual
competitive impulse to finish first?” said Patterson, still relishing the
remnants of the bourbon in his glass.
“Yes to both, but next time, I’ll give you a head start.”
“Shut up and get your ass out of here already. Go irritate Burke
for a while.”
Shepard grinned, heading to the door. “Thanks again for having
me on this assignment and for the upcoming time off. As always, I
owe you one.”
Patterson held up his glass. “I think it’s more than that, but who’s
counting.”
Shepard chuckled on his way out. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you win a
few hands of poker when I come visit in Florida.”
 2

B urke C orporation

A n hour later , Cal parked his Jeep at the rear of the eight-story
building in Arlington, Virginia then trotted to the double doors that
led to the security checkpoint.
He scanned his badge at the entrance, pausing to nod at Reggie
Sinclair, the burly head of security, who was seated at a desk just
inside the lobby.
“You still getting in all the sleep you can before the big day?
Once your little one arrives, it’s all triple espressos,” said Reggie.
“My wife and I still have six months, so I think we’ll be OK.
Besides, I don’t plan on having twelve bambinos like you.”
“It’s four, actually, and I made sure of that a few months back,”
said Reggie, mimicking a scissors motion with his fingers.
“Oh, sorry, man. Is that why your voice is higher-pitched now?”
Shepard chuckled, scooting through the security line as the young
woman behind him muffled a giggle.
Shepard enjoyed the banter between him and Reggie, who was
the only guy in the building not in a suit and tie. Reggie was a
former MP who had spent eight years in the army before
transitioning to the world of private security and executive
protection. He also served as Burke’s bodyguard when the CEO
ventured into the public eye.
Bypassing the growing crowd at the elevator, he headed to the
stairwell entrance at the end of the hallway, opting for some exercise
enroute to the eighth floor. He had missed out on his usual three-
mile run around the neighborhood in lieu of having breakfast with
his wife Cassie at home, going over colors and decorations for the
baby’s nursery in the back bedroom of their house. Deciding on
whether to go with ballerina pink, coral pink or birthday candle pink
seemed tedious, but he had no complaints sitting beside his wife,
who always appeared more radiant than the day before.
Only two weeks left working for Burke, then his eight-month-long
contract as an advisor to the CEO would be coming to an end. It was
the longest he had ever stayed in one place during his sixteen years
with the CIA, the bulk of which had been with the Special Activities
Division in various hotspots around the world.
For the first time in his career, he was torn between being eager
to return to his former work in clandestine ops overseas and wanting
to remain stateside with Cassie and the baby girl he was about to
become a father to.
If he hadn’t met his wife at a DOD interagency meeting four
years earlier, he doubted he would have ever formed a long-lasting
relationship with anyone in the civilian world. Now, they were
expecting their first child, and he was about to be reactivated to join
his old unit, pulling him back into the world of clandestine ops.
Initially, Shepard had figured his work on the Perseus project
would be a deskbound position analyzing data related to past
terrorist events, but he had taken a liking to the soft-spoken CEO
and gained new insights into the technological end behind the
scenes related to mission logistics, satellite intel and drone data that
he had been utilizing as an operator for years.
Burke had first made his name in the world of geospatial and
satellite imagery software, attracting the attention of the DOD and
NSA, whom he worked for periodically as a civilian consultant before
forming his own corporation ten years ago in Arlington. Two years
ago, he was approached by Neil Patterson, who proposed a contract
to formulate software that would enable a government agency to
target politically driven assassinations connected with forthcoming
coups.
After being given the green light by the Director of National
Intelligence, Jason Begley, who oversaw the fiscal expenditures by
the CIA and other U.S. intel-gathering agencies, Perseus was on the
fast track for development.
Patterson signed off on Burke receiving the highest level of top-
secret clearance that a civilian could possess, which enabled him to
obtain intel from NSA feeds involving phone calls, surveillance
cameras, and emails along with patterns in social media, geopolitical
issues, and online news events. To further refine the system,
Patterson eventually included databases from TSA, Customs, and
Interpol.
But the shortcoming that became evident to Burke after sixteen
months of grueling research was that Perseus was too technology-
driven and was lacking the critical human element involved in threat
analysis and counterterrorism—someone versed in direct action
using covert methods of eliminating high-value political targets so
Perseus could learn and assimilate the patterns used in both rogue
and sanctioned assassinations throughout the world.
Shepard could serve as a consultant, providing the real-world,
gritty feedback that was sorely lacking in Perseus’ early formatting.
Terrance “Cal” Shepard was the missing component that Burke
needed and allowed Perseus’ far-reaching capabilities in anticipatory
threat neutralization to be fully realized.
At first, their meetings strictly revolved around understanding the
surveillance methods and human intelligence gathering involved in
the acquisition of a terrorist target, but Shepard’s considerable input
eventually led to Burke realizing that there were cultural,
geographic, and even ethnic factors that played into an operator’s
field assessment and ultimately how the target would be eliminated.
Far from being a one-shot kill from a distant sniper rifle by an
agency operative, Shepard instilled in Burke that killing enemy
combatants involved a wealth of skills, including hand-to-hand
combat, knife-fighting, explosives, hand-formulated poisons, and
IEDs, to name a few, and that the successful execution of a mission
was supported by a network of deskbound intelligence analysts,
indigenous assets, satellites, drones, and air or amphibious assets to
insert and extract the covert action teams.
The emphasis on logistical support was stressed repeatedly, and
Shepard tried to inculcate in Burke that neutralizing a terrorist
abroad wasn’t a lone wolf activity like in the movies. A .50 caliber
bullet sent downrange to snipe a target probably had a cost of $50K
or more, given what it took to get that shooter in place at a
particular moment in time on foreign soil while covering his tracks
for a safe exfil and avoiding any geopolitical repercussions in the
aftermath.
But covert action was still far less costly than a small ground war,
and Burke and Shepard both wondered if the Perseus technology
would make men like Shepard a relic from another era.
As he exited the door on the eighth floor, he rounded the corner,
pausing by the desk of a petite brunette who was hammering away
on her laptop.
“Morning, Becky, how are you doing?”
“Just fine, but I’ll be even better once this report is finally typed
up. Mr. Burke has us working double-time to get things finished
before the end of next week.”
“Looking forward to moving on to another research project?”
“That would be nice, but I’m sure bummed you’re not coming
back. Did you get another consulting gig somewhere else?”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. And you’ll be missed as well. It’s just
time for me to move on. Government contracts are like that—feast
or famine.”
“But we’ll see you at the party tonight, right…and your wife?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, planning to only make a brief
appearance at the celebratory gathering at Burke’s estate outside
the city. Giving high-fives amid champagne toasts was something
unfamiliar to him. After a successful mission, he and his team
debriefed then took a shower and got a solid night’s sleep before
awaiting orders for their next target. Though there was relief and
gratitude for a mission that unfolded according to plan, celebrating
and backslapping were outside the norm for an SAD operator.
“Yeah, Cassie and I will be there. I wouldn’t miss your famous
pineapple upside-down cake, after all.”
He thrust his chin at Burke’s office across the floor of open
cubicles. “Better get in to see the boss before he summons me on
the overhead.”
She smiled, returning to her computer screen as Cal meandered
past the other staff, exchanging brief pleasantries along the way
with the rest of Burke’s cyber-security personnel, whom he had
grown attached to during his employment.
In their eyes, he was a subject-matter expert in high-risk
security, having previously worked for the State Department on
providing protection details for embassy personnel and
ambassadors. His identity came with a full cover story and fabricated
background complete with a comprehensive work history he had
committed to memory. It wasn’t hard to pull off the ruse since he
had perfected it, with a guilty conscience, on his wife during their
time dating. Once they were engaged and she had been further
vetted by the agency, he was given the go-ahead by Patterson to
divulge that he worked in covert affairs for the CIA, but that was the
extent of her knowledge of what he did.
Such was the schizophrenic way of life that permeated every SAD
operator’s psyche. He remembered the first time he called home on
a satellite phone after a grueling mission near the Pakistan border,
where he and his team had dispatched a notorious bombmaker and
his crew. Cassie did all the talking, about her work as a paralegal at
the Pentagon followed by her Pilates class and pasta dinner on the
back patio of their home as Cal stared down at the droplets of blood
on his dusty boots while the odor of dried animal dung wafted
through the wind coming off the mountain pass behind him.
As he entered Stephen Burke’s office, the scene began to play
out like it had during the past nine months, with the shrewd older
man typing away on his laptop and, without looking up, reciting a
quote from one of the literary classics and seeing if Cal would
respond with recognition. Whether it was Dante, Poe, or Homer, Cal
usually surprised Burke with his knowledge of literature, and he was
grateful for his mother’s background as an English teacher.
Cal stopped beside Burke’s desk as the older man leaned back,
interlacing his hands behind his wavy silver hair and smiling.
“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love. If
you want me again look for me under your boot soles.”
Burke gave a wolfish grin, flexing his eyebrows after reciting the
old quote. “Ha, I’ve got you at last.”
Cal’s eyes darted along the tiled floor then up to the well-stocked
bookcase beside the large window. “Resist much, obey little.”
The older man clapped his hands, smiling. “Bravo. Walt Whitman
would be proud, my boy.”
“How’s it coming?” He pointed to the man’s laptop, which was
connected by ether wires to a massive central processing station
that occupied much of the back wall. That was the heart of Perseus,
the mainframe that Burke had spent the past two years building and
then the past nine months teaching. It was also the reason why Cal
was standing in the room and not on some windswept battlefield
four thousand miles away.
Burke rested his furrowed hands upon the edge of the desk as if
he was a proud parent peering over the edge of a crib. “Soon…very
soon, then he will be on his way from walking to running.”
“You really know how to redefine being a nerdy scientist,
Stephen.”
Cal figured his circuit and cloud-based creations were the only
children the man would ever father given his propensity for his work
and the fact that he logged more hours in this office than at home
with his wife, who was usually traveling abroad on fundraising
activities for their various charities.
“True enough, but one cannot remain a lion on the prowl forever.
Sometimes, you have to find that perch over the river and settle
down to enjoy the view.”
“You talking about me now or you?” Cal waved his hand around
the room. “You’ve been at this game a long time and can have
anything you want in life given your wealth, so when are you going
to find that perch?”
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19

ADDITIONS TO THE THIRD EDITION.

Book VIII.—Acoustics.

Sound.
The Velocity of Sound in Water. 599

Book IX.—Optics.
Photography. 601
Fluorescence. 601

Undulatory Theory.
Direction of the Transverse Vibrations in Polarization. 603
Final Disproof of the Emission Theory. 604

Book X.—Thermotics.—Atmology.

The Relation of Vapor and Air.

Force of Steam. 606
Temperature of the Atmosphere. 607

Theories of Heat.
The Dynamical Theory of Heat. 608

Book XI.—Electricity.
General Remarks. 610
Dr. Faraday’s Views of Statical Electrical Induction. 611

Book XII.—Magnetism.
Recent Progress of Terrestrial Magnetism. 613
Correction of Ships’ Compasses. 616

20

Book XIII.—Voltaic Electricity.

Magneto-Electric Induction.
Diamagnetlc Polarity. 620
Magneto-optic Effects and Magnecrystallic Polarity. 621
Magneto-electric Machines. 623
Applications of Electrodynamic Discoveries. 623

Book XIV.—Chemistry.

The Electro-chemical Theory.

The Number of Elementary Substances. 625

Book XV.—Mineralogy.
Crystallography. 627
Optical Properties of Minerals. 629
Classification of Minerals. 630

Book XVI.—Classificatory Sciences.

Recent Views of Botany. 631
Recent Views of Zoology. 634

Book XVII.—Physiological and Comparative Anatomy.

Vegetable Morphology. 636
Animal Morphology 638
Final Causes. 642

Book XVIII.
Geology. 646
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES.

The letters a, b, indicate vol. i., vol. ii., respectively.

Abdollatif, b. 443.
Aboazen, a. 222.
Aboul Wefa, a. 180.
Achard, b. 174.
Achillini, b. 445.
Adam Marsh, a. 198.
Adanson, b. 404, 405.
Adelbold, a. 198.
Adelhard Goth, a. 198.
Adet, b. 279.
Achilles Tatius, a. 127.
Æpinus, b. 197, 203, 209.
Agassiz, b. 429, 521, 540.
Agatharchus, b. 53.
Airy, a. 372, 442, 477; b. 67, 120.
Albategnius, a. 177, 178.
Albertus Magnus, a. 229, 237; b. 367.
Albumasar, a. 222.
Alexander Aphrodisiensis, a. 206.
Alexander the Great, a. 144.
Alfarabi, a. 209.
Alfred, a. 198.
Algazel, a. 194.
Alhazen, a. 243; b. 54.
Alis-ben-Isa, a. 169.
Alkindi, a. 211, 226.
Almansor, a. 177.
Almeric, a. 236.
Alpetragius, a. 179
Alphonso X., a. 151, 178.
Amauri, a. 236.
Ammonius Saccas, a. 206, 212.
Ampère, b. 183, 243, 244, 246, 284.
Anaxagoras, a. 78; b. 53.
Anaximander, a. 130, 132, 135.
Anaximenes, a. 56.
Anderson, a. 342.
Anna Comnena, a. 207.
Anselm, a. 229.
Arago, b. 72, 81, 100, 114, 254.
Aratus, a. 167.
Archimedes, a. 96, 99, 312, 316.
Arduino, b. 514.
Aristarchus, a. 137, 259.
Aristyllus, a. 144.
Aristophanes, a. 120.
Aristotle, a. 57, 334; b. 24, 58, 361, 412, 417, 420, 438, 444, 455, 583.
Arnold de Villâ Novâ, a. 228.
Arriaga, a. 335.
Artedi, b. 423.
Artephius, a. 226.
Aryabatta, a. 260.
Arzachel, a. 178.
Asclepiades, b. 439.
Asclepigenia, a. 215.
Aselli, b. 453.
Avecibron, a. 232.
Averroes, a. 194, 210.
Avicenna, a. 209.
Avienus, a. 169.
Aubriet, b. 387.
Audouin, b. 483.
Augustine, a. 197, 220, 232.
Autolycus, a. 130, 131.
Auzout, a. 474.

Babbage, Mr. b. 254, 555.

Bachman, b. 386.
Bacon, Francis, a. 278, 383, 412; b. 25, 32, 165.
Bacon, Roger, b. 55.
Bailly, a. 199, 445.
Baliani, a. 326, 347.
Banister, b. 380.
Barlow, b. 67, 223, 245, 254. 24
Bartholin, b. 70.
Barton, b. 125.
Bauhin, John, b. 381.
Bauhin, Gaspard, b. 381.
Beaumont, Elie de, b. 527, 532, 533, 539, 583, 588.
Beccaria, b. 199.
Beccher, b. 268.
Bede, a. 198, 232.
Bell, Sir Charles, b. 463.
Bélon, b. 421, 476.
Benedetti, a. 314, 321, 324, 336.
Bentley, a. 422, 424.
Berard, b. 154.
Bergman, b. 266, 281, 321.
Bernard of Chartres, a. 229.
Bernoulli, Daniel, a. 375, 378, 379, 380, 430; b. 32, 37, 39.
Bernoulli, James, a. 358.
Bernoulli, James, the younger, b. 42.
Bernoulli, John, a. 359, 361, 363, 366, 375, 393, 430; b. 32.
Bernoulli, John, the younger, b. 32.
Berthollet, b. 267, 278, 281.
Berzelius, b. 284, 289, 304, 335, 347, 348.
Bessel, a. 272.
Betancourt, b. 173.
Beudant, b. 348.
Bichat, b. 463.
Bidone, a. 350.
Biela, a. 452.
Biker, b. 174.
Biot, b. 75, 76, 81, 223, 249.
Black, b. 160, 272, 281.
Blair, b. 67.
Bloch, b. 425.
Blondel, a. 342.
Bock, b. 371.
Boëthius, a. 197, 208.
Boileau, a. 390.
Bonaparte, b. 241, 296.
Bonaventura, a. 233.
Bontius, b. 422.
Borelli, a. 323, 387, 393, 405, 406.
Bossut, a. 350.
Boué, Ami, b. 523.
Bouguer, a. 377.
Bouillet, b. 166.
Bourdon, b. 461.
Bournon, b. 326.
Bouvard, a. 443.
Boyle, a. 395; b. 80, 163, 263.
Boze, b. 198.
Bradley, a. 438, 441, 456, 463, 465.
Brander, b. 508, 516.
Brassavola, b. 368.
Brewster, Sir David, b. 65, 75, 81, 113, 119, 123, 331, 332.
Briggs, a. 276.
Brisbane, Sir Thomas, a. 478.
Brocchi, b. 519, 576, 589.
Brochant de Villiers, b. 527, 532.
Broderip, b. 562.
Brongniart, Alexandre, b. 516, 530.
Brongniart, Adolphe, b. 539.
Brook, Taylor, a. 359, 375; b. 31.
Brooke, Mr., b. 325.
Brougham, Lord, b. 80, 112.
Brown, Robert, b. 409, 474.
Brunfels, b. 368.
Bruno, Giordano, a. 272.
Buat, a. 350.
Buch, Leopold von, b. 523, 527, 539, 557.
Buckland, Dr., b. 534.
Budæus, a. 74.
Buffon, b. 317, 460, 476.
Bullfinger, a. 361.
Bullialdus, a. 172, 397.
Burckhardt, a. 442, 448.
Burg, b. 443.
Burkard, b. 459.
Burnet, b. 559, 584.

Cabanis, b. 489.
Cæsalpinus, b. 316, 371, 373.
Calceolarius, b. 508.
Calippus, a. 123, 140.
Callisthenes, a. 144.
Camerarius, Joachim, b. 372.
Camerarius, Rudolph Jacob, b. 458, 459.
Campanella, a. 224, 237.
Campani, a. 474.
Camper, b. 476.
Canton, b. 197, 198, 219.
Capelli, a. 435.
Cappeller, b. 318. 25
Cardan, a. 313, 319, 330, 335.
Carlini, a. 456.
Carne, b. 538.
Caroline, Queen, a. 422.
Carpa, b. 445.
Casræus, a. 326.
Cassini, Dominic, a. 454, 462, 479; b. 33.
Cassini, J., a. 439, 463.
Castelli, a. 340, 342, 346, 348.
Catelan, a. 358.
Cavallieri, a. 430.
Cavendish, a. 456; b. 204, 273, 278.
Cauchy, a. 379; b. 43, 127.
Caus, Solomon de, a. 332.
Cesare Cesariano, a. 249.
Chalid ben Abdolmalic, a. 169.
Chatelet, Marquise du, a. 361.
Chaussier, b. 463.
Chladni, b. 40, 41.
Christie, b. 254.
Christina, a. 390.
Chrompré, b. 304.
Cicero, a. 119.
Cigna, a. 376; b. 202.
Clairaut, a. 367, 377, 410, 437, 451, 454; b. 67.
Clarke, a. 361, 424.
Cleomedes, a. 161, 167.
Clusius, b. 378.
Cobo, b. 379.
Colombe, Ludovico delle, a. 346.
Colombus, Realdus, b. 446, 450.
Columna, Fabius, b. 381.
Commandinus, a. 316.
Comparetti, b. 79.
Condamine, a. 453.
Constantine of Africa, b. 367.
Conti, Abbé de, a. 360.
Conybeare, b. 519, 525.
Copernicus, a. 257.
Cosmas Indicopleustes, a. 196.
Cotes, a. 366, 425.
Coulomb, b. 204, 207, 209, 221.
Crabtree, a. 276, 302, 304.
Cramer, b. 35.
Cronstedt, b. 341.
Cruickshank, b. 240.
Cumming, Prof., b. 252.
Cunæus, b. 196.
Cuvier, b. 421, 422, 466, 478, 481, 487, 492, 516, 517, 520, 522.

D’Alembert, a. 361, 365, 367, 372, 374, 376, 378, 446; b. 33, 37.
D’Alibard, b. 198.
Dalton, Dr. John, b. 157, 169, 174, 285 &c., 288, &c.
Daniell, b. 178, 554.
Dante, a. 200.
D’Arcy, a. 380.
Davy, b. 291, 293, 295, 301.
Daubenton, b. 476.
Daubeny, Dr., b. 550.
Daussy, a. 459.
De Candolle, Prof., b. 408, 473.
Dechen, M. von, b. 533.
Defrance, b. 516, 518.
Degerando, a. 194, 228.
De la Beche, Sir H., b. 519.
Delambre, a. 442, 447.
De la Rive, Prof., b. 187.
Delisle, a. 431.
De Luc, b. 167, 177.
Démeste, b. 319.
Democritus, a. 78; b. 360.
Derham, b. 165.
Desaguliers, b. 193.
Descartes, a. 323, 328, 338, 343, 354, 387, 423; b. 56, 59, 220.
Des Hayes, b. 519.
Desmarest, b. 512, 515.
Dexippus, a. 208.
Digges, a. 331.
Dillenius, b. 402.
Diogenes Laërtius, a. 187.
Dioscorides, b. 364, 367.
Dollond, a.475; b. 67.
Dominis, Antonio de, b. 59.
Dubois, b. 445.
Dufay, b. 194, &c., 201.
Du Four, b. 79.
Dufrénoy, b. 527, 532.
Dulong, b. 150, 187.
Duns Scotus, a. 233, 237.
Dunthorne, a. 435.
Dupuis, a. 125.
Durret, a. 288. 26
Dutens, a. 82.
Duvernay, b. 475.

Ebn Iounis, a. 177.

Encke, a. 451, 467, 483.
Eratosthenes, a. 158.
Ericsen, b. 167.
Eristratus b. 453.
Etienne, b. 445.
Evelyn, a. 422.
Euclid, a. 100, 101, 131, 132.
Eudoxus, a. 140, 143.
Euler, a. 363, 367, 370, 377, 380, 437; b. 32, 40.
Eusebius, a. 195.
Eustachius, b. 445, 453.
Eustratus, a. 207.

Fabricius, a. 207.
Fabricius of Acquapendente, b. 456.
Fabricius, David, a. 300.
Fallopius, b. 445.
Faraday, Dr., b. 245, 254, 291, 292, 296, 302.
Fermat, a. 341, 353.
Fitton, Dr., b. 524.
Flacourt, b. 379.
Flamsteed, a. 304, 409, 410, 419, 427, 435.
Fleischer, b. 57.
Fontaine, a. 372.
Fontenelle, a. 439; b. 265, 509.
Forbes, Prof. James, b. 155.
Forster, Rev. Charles, a. 243.
Fourcroy, b. 278, 281.
Fourier, b. 141, 147, 152, 180.
Fowler, b. 242.
Fracastoro, b. 507.
Francis I. (king of France), a. 237.
Franklin, b. 195, 197, 202.
Fraunhofer, a. 472, 475; b. 68, 98. 128.
Frederic II., Emperor, a. 236.
Fresnel, b. 72, 92, 96, 102, 114, 115, 179.
Fries, b. 418.
Frontinus, a. 250.
Fuchs, b. 334, 369.
Fuchsel, b. 513.

Gærtner, b. 404.
Galen, b. 440, 443, 444, 445, 462, 464.
Galileo, a. 276, 319, 322, 324, &c., 336, 342, 345.
Gall, b. 463, 465.
Galvani, b. 238, 240.
Gambart, a. 451.
Gascoigne, a. 470.
Gassendi, a. 288, 341, 390, 392; b. 33.
Gauss, a. 372, 448.
Gay-Lussac, b. 158, 169, 179, 283, 290.
Geber, a. 178, 224.
Gellibrand, b. 219.
Geminus, a. 118, 143, 166.
Generelli, Cirillo, b. 587.
Geoffroy (botanist), b. 459.
Geoffroy (chemist), b. 265.
Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, b. 477, 480, 483.
George Pachymerus, a. 207.
Gerbert, a. 198.
Germain, Mlle. Sophie, b. 43.
Germanicus, a. 168.
Gessner, b. 316, 372, 508.
Ghini, b. 376.
Gibbon, a. 242.
Gilbert, a. 274, 394; b. 192, 217, 219, 224.
Giordano Bruno, a. 272, 273.
Girard, a. 350.
Girtanner, b. 169.
Giseke, b. 398.
Glisson, b. 466.
Gmelin, b. 348.
Godefroy of St. Victor, a. 231.
Goldfuss, b. 519.
Göppert, b. 578.
Göthe, b. 63, 469, 473.
Gough, b. 171.
Graham, a. 471; b. 219.
Grammatici, b. 435.
Grazia, Vincenzio di, a. 346.
Greenough, b. 527.
Gregory, David, a. 426, 435.
Gregory VII., Pope, a. 227.
Gregory IX., Pope, a. 237.
Gren, b. 174.
Grew, b. 457, 475.
Grey, b. 194.
Grignon, b. 319.
Grimaldi, a. 341; b. 60, 79. 27
Grotthuss, b. 304.
Guericke, Otto, b. 33, 193.
Guettard, b. 510.
Gulielmini, b. 317.
Guyton de Morveau, b. 278, 281.

Hachette, b. 350.
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Haidinger, b. 330.
Halicon, a. 150.
Haller, b. 401, 466.
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Haly, a. 222.
Hamilton, Sir W. (mathem.), b. 124, 130.
Hampden, Dr., a. 228.
Hansen, a. 372, 374.
Hansteen, b. 219.
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Harris, Mr. Snow, b. 209.
Harrison, a. 473.
Hartsoecker, a. 474.
Harvey, b. 446, 449, 456.
Hausmann, b. 329.
Haüy, b. 320, &c., 325, 342.
Hawkesbee, b. 193, 195.
Hegel, a. 415.
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Henckel, b. 318.
Henslow, Professor, b. 474.
Heraclitus, a. 56.
Herman, Paul, b. 379.
Hermann, Contractus, a. 198.
Hermann, James, a. 359, 362, 363; b. 386, 387.
Hermolaus Barbarus, a. 75.
Hernandez, b. 379.
Herodotus, a. 57; b. 361, 506.
Herophilus, b. 441.
Herrenschneider, b. 145.
Herschel, Sir John, a. 467; b. 67, 81, 254, 333, 555, 559.
Herschel, Sir William, a. 446; b. 80.
Hevelius, a. 450, 471, 480.
Higgins, b. 287.
Hill, b. 319, 403.
Hipparchus, a. 144.
Hippasus, a. 107.
Hippocrates, b. 438.
Hoff, K. E. A. von, b. 545, 550.
Hoffmann, b. 527.
Home, b. 518.
Homer, b. 438.
Hooke, a. 324, 353, 354, 387, 395, 396, 401, 406; b. 29, 41, 62, 77, 79, 85.
Hopkins, Mr. W., b. 40, 557.
Horrox, a. 276, 303, 395.
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Howard, Mr. Luke, b. 179.
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Hugo of St. Victor, a. 231.
Humboldt, Alexander von, b. 219, 523, 538, 549.
Humboldt, Wilhelm von, b. 240.
Hunter, John, b. 476.
Hutton (fossilist), b. 519.
Hutton (geologist), a. 456; b. 515, 584.
Huyghens, a. 337, 343, 353, 357, 377, 387, 412; b. 33, 62, 70, 86, 87.
Hyginus, a. 168.

Iamblichus, a. 214.
Ideler, a. 113.
Ivory, a. 372.

Jacob of Edessa, a. 209.

Jameson, Professor, b. 338, 514.
Job, a. 124.
John of Damascus, a. 206.
John Philoponus, a. 206.
John of Salisbury, a. 232, 234.
John Scot Erigena, a. 229.
Jordanus Nemorarius, a. 314, 331.
Joseph, a. 226.
Julian, a. 215.
Jung, Joachim, b. 384.
Jussieu, Adrien de, b. 407.
Jussieu, Antoine Laurent de, b. 406.
Jussieu, Bernard de, b. 406.

Kæmpfer, b. 379.
Kant, b. 490.
Kazwiri, b. 583.
Keckerman, a. 235.
Keill, a. 367, 426; b. 264.
Kelland, Mr. Philip, b. 127, 130. 28
Kempelen, b. 47.
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Kircher, a. 218.
Kirwan, b. 274, 278.
Klaproth, b. 279.
Klingenstierna, a. 475; b. 67.
Knaut, Christopher, b. 386.
Knaut, Christian, b. 386.
König, b. 519.
Krafft, b. 142, 225.
Kratzenstein, b. 166.
Kriege, b. 380.

Lacaille, a. 442, 454.

Lactantius, a. 195.
Lagrange, a. 367, 369, 375, 381, 444; b. 35, 37, 39.
Lamé, b. 129.
La Hire, a. 439, 463.
Lalande, a. 440, 447.
Lamarck, b. 408, 478, 518.
Lambert, b. 40, 142, 221.
Landen, a. 375.
Lansberg, a. 288, 302, 303.
Laplace, a. 370, &c., 444, 457; b. 36, 140, 147, 184.
Lasus, a. 107.
Latreille, b. 485.
Lavoisier, b. 274, 275, 276, &c., 280.
Laughton, a. 424.
Launoy, a. 236.
Laurencet, b. 484.
Lawrence, b. 565.
Lecchi, a. 350.
Leeuwenhoek, b. 457, 460.
Legendre, b. 223.
L’Hôpital, a. 358.
Leibnitz, a. 360, 391.
Le Monnier, a. 435, 437, 463.
Leonardo da Vinci, a. 251, 318; b. 507, 586.
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Le Roi, b. 167, 178.
Leslie, b. 145, 151, 181.
Levy, b. 331.
Leucippus, a. 78, 84.
Lexell, a. 447, 452.
Lhwyd, b. 508.
Libri, b. 151.
Lindenau, a. 440.
Lindley, b. 474, 519.
Linnæus, b. 318, 388, 423.
Linus, b. 61.
Lister, b. 509, 511.
Littrow, a. 477.
Lloyd, Professor, b. 125, 130.
Lobel, b. 381, 408.
Locke, a. 422.
Longomontanus, a. 297, 302.
Louville, a. 431, 439.
Lubbock, a. 372, 373, 459.
Lucan, a. 190.
Lucas, b. 62.
Lyell, b. 500, 529, 545, 560, 562, 590.

Macleay, b. 418.
Magini, a. 270.
Mairan, a. 361.
Malpighi, b. 456.
Malus, b. 71, 74.
Manilius, a. 168.
Maraldi, a.439; b. 79.
Marcet, b. 187.
Margrave, b. 422.
Marinus (anatomist), b. 462.
Marinus (Neoplatonist), a. 215.
Marriotte, a. 343.
Marsilius Ficinus, a. 238.
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Martyn, T., b. 402.
Mæstlin, a. 271, 287.
Matthioli, b. 381.
Maupertuis, a. 367, 431, 453.
Mayer, Tobias, a. 165; b. 146, 206, 221.
Mayo, Herbert, b. 464.
Mayow, b. 277.
Mazeas, b. 80, 199.
MacCullagh, Professor, b. 123, 130.
Meckel, b. 486.
Melloni, b. 154.
Menelaus, a. 167.
Mersenne, a. 328, 342, 347, 390; b. 28.
Messa, b. 445.
Meton, a. 121.
Meyranx, b. 484.
Michael Scot, a. 226.
Michell, b. 511. 29
Michelotti, a. 350.
Miller, Professor, b. 331.
Milton, a. 200, 275, 340.
Mitscherlich, b. 334.
Mohs, b. 326, 329, 345, &c., 349, 351.
Mondino, b. 445.
Monge, b. 274.
Monnet, b. 510.
Monnier, b. 197.
Monteiro, b. 331.
Montfaucon, b. 196.
Morin, a. 288.
Morison, b. 383.
Moro, Lazzaro, b. 587.
Morveau, Guyton de, b. 278, 281.
Mosotti, b. 211.
Munro, b. 476.
Murchison, Sir Roderic, b. 530.
Muschenbroek, b. 166.
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Naudæus, a. 226.
Naumann, b. 331, 352.
Newton, a. 343, 349, 353, 355, 363, 399, &c., 420, 432, 463; b. 33, 39, 59, 70, 73, 77, 88,
142, 450.
Nicephorus Blemmydes, a. 207.
Nicholas de Cusa, a. 261.
Nicomachus, a. 104.
Nigidius Figulus, a. 219.
Nobili, b. 154.
Nollet, b. 196.
Nordenskiöld, b. 350.
Norman, b. 218.
Norton, a. 331.
Numa, a. 118, 261.

Odoardi, b. 513, 515.

Oersted, Professor, b. 243.
Œyenhausen, b. 533.
Oken, Professor, b. 477.
Olbers, a. 448.
Orpheus, a. 214.
Osiander, a. 268.
Ott, b. 145.
Otto Guericke, b. 193, 195.
Ovid, b. 506.

Pabst von Ohain, b. 341.

Packe, b. 509.
Pallas, b. 476, 513.
Papin, b. 173.
Pappus, a. 188.
Paracelsus, a. 226; b. 262.
Pardies, b. 61.
Pascal, a. 346.
Paulus III., Pope, a. 267.
Pecquet, b. 453.
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