Today, we’re previewing the first chapter of The Bonaparte Secret by Gregg Loomis. The fifth in the series, this book brings the return of your favorite spy, Lang Reilly, and promises new cities, new adventures, and new thrills!
If you haven’t yet heard of the Lang Reilly series, now’s your time to jump on board, folks! These books offer globe-spanning search and suspense in the classic Da Vinci Code style. Publishers Weekly says that “Loomis’s convincing protagonist possesses the intelligence and emotional depth to carry the reader…[Readers] looking to repeat The Da Vinci Code experience will be satisfied.”
So carry on, dear readers, and delve into the first half of the first chapter below! As you read, ponder this question: if Lang Reilly asked you to accompany him on his next mission, where would you want to go, and what is it you’d want to be searching for? Post your answer in the comments section below and you’ll be in the running to win a copy of The Pegasus Secret, the first book in the series! Check in each Thursday this month for consecutive chapter previews and a chance to win books 2, 3, and 4.
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Pétionville, Port- au- Prince, Haiti
November of last year
Chin Diem, undersecretary for foreign relations of the People’s Republic of China, admired the view. Spread out below the mansion’s picture window was the city, its lights cradled below the mountain like a handful of jewels. Fortunately, far below. Far enough that the stench of open sewers, uncollected garbage and burning charcoal that had assaulted his nose upon his arrival could not reach him. Neither could the flies and mosquitoes that seemed the country’s most populous fauna. Up here the residences were multimillion dollar mansions on multiacre lots. Their owners shopped regularly in Paris or Milan. The residents of Pétionville owned over 90 percent of what little wealth Haiti possessed. And that had come largely from offshore, untraceable investments originally funded mostly from foreign aid, money that had seen the beginnings of schools, the foundations of hospitals, projects never finished as funding trickled into well- connected pockets.
There was no din of hucksters up here, selling everything from carved figures with grotesquely enlarged penises to flyridden food to black market– discounted gourdes, the national currency, which proclaimed itself to equal twenty- five cents American but was actually without value outside the country.
The night and distance also blotted out the movement. Port- au- Prince was a city in constant action. No Haitian, from naked children to shirtless men to skirt- wearing women, young or old, was ever still. Not unless they were squatting beside the ubiquitous charcoal fires on which they prepared every meal on the filthy, noisy streets in front of rickety shacks or apartments.
Or, perhaps, were dead. Read more of this post