Warren Adler's Heart of Gold... I Hated It...I Loved It! An Amazing Provocative Story!

The Black Madonna
of Częstochowa, Poland

“She wanted me to recommend a smart Jewish lawyer,” Linda said. “So I recommended you.” Linda had been going on about her trip to Poland to visit her aunt and how she had met this girl in a place called Jasna Gora, then later traveled with her on the Chopin Express to Vienna where they both caught the plane back to the States. 
“People who say that are usually Jewish or anti-Semites.” I told her. “Not all Semites are Jews,” she snapped. It was, I will admit, a very confusing distinction. 
Her name was Linda Czerwinski and she had the straight, turned-up nose, high cheekbones and the smooth, creamy skin of your average Polish girl under thirty. She was a nurse at Mount Sinai hospital where I had met her when I had to take a deposition from one of her patients. In her white uniform, especially those white stockings that clung to well-turned calves, she made my libido dance the dervish and I asked her out. 
On our first date she invited me into her apartment. “I’ve asked you here so that I may perpetuate the legend of the Polish woman.” 
“What legend is that?” I asked. She had already begun to unbelt, unbutton and unzip me. By the time an hour was over I had the legend fully committed to my memory, complete with visual images, verbal communications and footnotes. 
“We have to do everything and be better at it than most,” she told me in dead earnest. “Not like you Jewish boys whose mothers tell you how wonderful you are every time you move a muscle. Our men have to get their reassurance with this,” She patted me there. It was a unique piece of wisdom and I promised to remember it, especially if she provided me with periodic reminders, which she did with great enthusiasm. Often, because she knew how it moved me and how the usual pantyhose destroyed my reveries about what went on above the hem of that white uniform, she would wear white stockings fastened to a garter belt, a sight to make every Polish boy a patriot. Recalling the image made my heartbeat bang against my ribs and brought about other changes in my anatomy. I felt myself getting very anticipatory. When Linda slipped on the staircase at the hospital, I really put myself out to get her a good settlement. We got $35,500, which was pretty fine since the only clinical sign of injury was a black-and-blue mark on her right tush cheek, which I personally cured with gentle loving care. She hated the neck brace that I made her wear in public for four weeks, but she liked the diathermy, which she claimed made her sexy.
Since that was her normal state, it was impossible to confirm. Notwithstanding our relationship, I still took my third. Business is business. “I hope I’m not recommending a headache,” Linda mused aloud. 
“Why a headache?” There was a long pause at her end of the line. “She made some remarks that I don’t think you would take kindly. You know what I mean. About your people.” 
“So what else is new?”
“Don’t let it prejudice your willingness to help her.” 
“You know me well enough to know that I never let hate, bigotry or prejudice interfere with the normal pursuits of my practice. Besides, some of my best friends are Polack shiksas,” I snickered volubly, then lowered my voice. “Does she wear white stockings and a garter belt?” I didn’t get the reaction I expected. Just simple avoidance. My antenna sprouted into the ether. Something was awry. “I wanted to help her out. She’s staying with me at the moment.” 
“Did she have a misstep?” I asked hopefully. “Nothing like that. It’s something very big. She hasn’t told me. But she did say it involved a great deal of money.”
“And because any good Polack believes that all Jews care about is money, my name came to mind.” 
There was a belligerent edge to the remark. I often get touchy on that subject. Besides, there was something in Linda’s attitude that was sending strange signals. Maybe she had acquired another guy on the trip, someone that desperately needed her ministrations. “Maybe we should forget it, Miltie?”
“Lets not. It might ruin my people’s reputation.” She might have understood, but I wasn’t sure. I was being snarky and I think it floated over her gorgeous head. 
“Her name is Karla Smith.” 
“What happened to the tongue twister?” 
“Her father changed his name legally when he came to this country. She’s from Montana.” 
“Montana? There must be a Polish joke about that.” I was trying to get her back on the banter track, thinking that I might have misinterpreted my earlier conclusion. 
“This is not a joke Miltie,” Linda said, showing rare attitude. “With her father gone, she’s thinking about not going back home. Not until this other matter is settled.” 
“The money matter,” I prompted. “It’s all very mysterious. But I do believe her when she says it’s very big and very important. She’s that kind of person. The kind of person that would rather not say than tell a lie.” 
“Like me.” 
“Not like you Miltie. Not anything like you.” 
“There’s another ethnic slur in there somewhere,” I said. “On the one hand you tell me that she’s as right as rain and on the other you say she’s a Jew-baiting Polack.” 
“I didn’t say that. I said that she had made some remarks that indicate… well, that indicate...” 
“That she hates hebes.” 
“Nothing is black and white, Miltie. That’s not God’s design.” 
God’s design? It sounded ominous. “Where did you say you met her?” “Jasna Gora.” 
“Sounds like a rock group.” 
“It’s near Czestochowa.” 
“Gesundheit.” When she didn’t laugh, I knew that something had changed. Yet she knew she owed me some explanation and I waited to see what form it would take. Aside from her delicious sexuality, she was a deeply sensitive girl, totally without real guile...
“It’s the great spiritual center of Poland, the religious heart of the country. There is a monastery there and the famous painting of The Black Madonna, which has miraculous powers. I was there.” 
This was no tourist’s explanation. She was clearly enthralled. Apparently my sweet little Polack shiksa had found religion. 
“You can’t believe the spiritual force of it, Miltie,” she lowered her voice. “It’s changed my life. I’m not the same person, Miltie.”

~~~

Heart of Gold

By Warren Adler

I abhor slurs or stereotyping of race, religion and other common groups that are ridiculed at a minimum, or worse...This novel is being read at a time when we are seeing threats and actual acts of hatred toward our Jewish communities...and others... Reading the beginning of this book, my personal ire was high from reading headlines such as the following...

Leaping to West Coast: 29 Bomb Threats Against Jewish Targets Across U.S. in Fifth Wave

Where does the hate come from? It's one of the reasons I love reading books like this one where confrontation is made!

When Milton Gold meets a new client, Karla Smith, a Polish immigrant, he knows two things--he was surprised that he was instantly attracted to her... and second, that she hated Jews. 

So why seek out a Jewish lawyer?

I loved the character Milton Gold and his evolution through the book from a shady, shyster lawyer...to...well, I'll just say a quite different person. His sense of humor in dealing with those who tried direct or indirect references to his being Jewish, adds a splendid, cleverly played diversion of what was to come...

Karla Smith, whose name came from a legal change when her father had come to America, had learned her hatred and prejudice at the feet of her father, as he told her story after story of being take to Auschwitz, describing the camp in detail and what he was assigned to do. He also told her about the various people there in prison, including the Jewish, Polish and Germans, describing each of their roles there. 

One of the demands of Karla's father was that she attend and become an active Catholic. At the same time her father became more and more withdrawn from the world. But as he grew ill, he became worse in explaining what she was to do and where she should go after his death...She was to go back... She was to find her inheritance...

The only thing, Karla felt there was so much more about what her father was telling her. It seemed to be more a quest, than to find money for her future. But she had no idea what he had been trying to explain to her...

What she did know was that when she went back, she was to have hired a Jewish lawyer to help, and she would be looking for gold coins... suitcases full of them... Estimated value $100 Million...

Milton had just been ousted by his partner in an apartment manager scam, so he was ripe for accepting Smith as a client, even though it was hate she showed toward him and, I felt, annoyance, that she didn't know why her father had demanded she hire a Jewish lawyer...

Then Gold started the game...of giving back what he saw he'd be getting...

“Can I see you today?” Her insistence was compelling. It was then that I remembered what Linda had said. Instantly Smith’s image was embellished with a riding crop poised in pudgy fingers over a beefy palm and a swastika adorning the upper arm of a brown coat.
“I’m not sure,” I said, deliberately dangling the uncertainty just to make her as uncomfortable as her advance notices made me. 
“Maybe a quick lunch?” she asked. 
I felt the pressure of her determination. Not frantic, just intense. Her suggestion triggered a sense of mischief. 
“Why not?”
“Just tell me where. I’m a stranger to New York.” 
I cleared my throat to mask a chuckle I could barely control. “Moishe’s.” It was a Jewish delicatessen on Third and 20th. She repeated the name, giving it a totally wrong inflection. This time I laughed out loud. She ignored me. 
“What time?”
“Let’s say one.” It was after twelve. Wherever she was, she would have to hustle. I said goodbye and hung up feeling good about my little joke...
God, I loved this city, especially in the fall. Always in that season I forgave her her cranky moods and bouts of meanness, forgave her her tough old indifferent hide. She was the perennial whore with the heart of soft putty, indiscriminate as hell in the choice of those she took to her bed. Yet she took them all on with equal passion and enthusiasm. No prejudice in that big baby. Hell, you couldn’t blame her for getting fed up once in a while. Even the impending threat of bankruptcy and all the mismanagement corruption and crime in play felt like the Big Apple was simply going through a bad hangover which was sure to disappear as time went on. That’s the way Wise Willy put it. 

Moishe’s displayed a rather large Star of David on its street pane. Through it, I could see the high counter and below the display cases stocked with the savory items that were the staple of every Jewish delicatessen in the world. In the rear was the sitting part of the restaurant, a hodge-podge of mismatched tables and chairs, offering a near-perfect reflection of its customers. There were overweight Jewish merchants and manufacturers, three-piece suiters like myself from the nearby law offices and brokerages, scruffy old ladies and bent old men, secretaries advertising themselves in trendy designer clothes bought at discount, some Orientals returning the culinary compliment to their Jewish brothers and a smattering of blacks looking as comfortable as they might be at a Harlem food emporium. Hanging over this odd collection of human jetsam was the ubiquitous smell of garlic. 

A fat little man, Moishe himself, led me to a table for two adorned with a pile of sour pickles on a bed of sauerkraut in a brown plastic dish. Facing the window, I munched on a pickle and waited, watching for her through the Star’s inverted triangle. I knew it was her by the way she moved, carrying with her this air of single-minded, unstoppable purpose, like a racehorse with blinders crossing the finish line. How dare she look like that? I thought. A glob of pickle stuck in my throat and I had to cough it into my fist. Something hard inside of me was heating up. A sour backwash of anger bubbled into the back of my throat. This was no unattractive lady, and it only irritated me further to find myself assessing her objectively. She was on the delicate side, with dark curly hair clipped short and close to the head like a boy, although she wasn’t masculine in any way. In tight corduroy beige jeans and a brown turtleneck, her tight curvy figure moved with liquid grace as she came forward, growing cautious as she got closer, slowing as she approached the entrance. There she stood for a moment, nostrils flaring as she soaked in the peculiar odors, eyes squinting as she surveyed the unfamiliar conglomeration. She was, of course, equally out of place. 
A number of people turned to look at her. Maybe it was the way my face mooned up at her. Or maybe it was Linda’s description, but she picked me out quickly and came toward me. 
“Milton Gold?” she asked. 
When I nodded, she slid into the seat opposite me, smiled tentatively and met my gaze with total confidence. Close up, I could see flecks of yellow in her large brown eyes. Her nose arched gently to wide nostrils, below which her lips peaked in a cupid’s bow. A good tan covered her olive skin and made it two or three shades darker. Of course, she definitely did not look like the cliched image of the Polack Nazi Jew-baiter that I had conjured up in my mind as a result of my conversation with Linda. The surprise only fed my anger. “I hope this place meets with your approval,” I muttered. 
“Good as any,” she replied, unhitching her pocketbook from her shoulder and putting it on the table. Then she looked around again, making a more careful inspection of the surroundings. I half expected — and probably wanted — her to sniff her contempt. She didn’t. I decided it was because she felt superior to it, out of it, an uninvolved visitor. This conclusion did not do wonders for my disposition. Before we could get on with the obligatory small talk for openers, a henna-haired middle-aged waitress slapped two grease-stained menus on the black plastic table. She picked hers up, glanced at it with indifference, shrugged, and then put it down again. The waitress, typically impatient and intimidating, stood over us, pencil poised over her order book. “They make a helluva kosher corned beef sandwich,” I said, with a mischievous accent on the “kosher.” “The real thing.” I felt the urge to twist the knife. 
“I’ll have a roast beef on white with mayonnaise and a glass of milk,” she said. I wondered if this was her way of getting even. 
“You’re not serious? This is a Jewish delicatessen.” My remark obviously puzzled her. I exchanged confused glances with the waitress. 
“Sure about the white, hon?” the waitress asked. When the Smith girl nodded, she lifted her pencil and pointed to the window. “This is Kosher Bosher baby. Milk’s only for the Goyim.” She snickered. “But we can do you coffee, iced tea, all kind of soda...” “What she means is that they don’t mix meat and milk,” I interrupted. “An ancient tribal hangover from bygone days.” I looked up at the waitress. 
“She’s from Montana.” 
“That explains it,” the waitress said, “you look like iced tea.” 
“Fine,” she nodded, either ignoring or not understanding the little greenhorn by-play. I ordered a corned beef sandwich and a diet cream soda and the waitress padded away on her thick rubber soles. When she had gone, Karla Smith folded her hands on the edge of the table and we looked each other over. I felt certain that I was as much of a shock to her as she was to me. I noted that she wore a tiny silver cross high on her neck, just under the turtleneck fold. “Linda told me what you did for her,” she said slowly. 
For her, to her, or with her, I wondered. A flickering sexual impulse crossed my consciousness. “Everything, I hope.” I winked lasciviously. It made absolutely no impression. “We had…” I cleared my throat, mostly to add a little drama to my verbal missile, “… a brief involvement.” 
“She didn’t say,” she responded with no-nonsense assurance. I wasn’t certain, but since I apparently was spoiling for a fight, I thought it sounded a little like contempt. “Well we did,” I snapped. 
“It’s still none of my business,” she said calmly.
“It’s important.” I couldn’t think of why. Maybe it implied a certain level of acceptance in the world of Polack shiksas? 
“Not to me.” Here I was trying to get her riled and she was doing it to me without effort. 
“I’m seeing you only on her say-so, despite…” I paused, mostly to recover my perspective. I was only partially successful. 
A brief frown creased her forehead. Suddenly, I couldn’t get it out. “Despite what?” she pressed. 
“Never mind,” I said. I opened my palms. “Your smart Jewish lawyer.”

~~~

Soon Milton and Karla were preparing for a trip overseas, interestingly with Milton fronting the money??? By this time I had settled into accepting the prejudicial banter, believing that it was definitely required in the story being developed...But where was Adler going, I wondered...

Then it quickly became apparent that others knew--maybe it leaked when Karla had her father's documents translated, or maybe there had always been those who were watching, waiting... because, before long, Milton had been able to identify at least three different groups that were trying to get to Karla...and one had already attacked Linda, trying to find out information and she was recuperating in the hospital as they left the United States...

And the treasure hunt thrills begin! Karla had already made one trip to verify that there really was gold where she'd been told. But getting it out was the real problem. Still Karla kept her plans and thoughts about all that was happening close to her, refusing to even share with her lawyer, yet determined to have him involved.

The attacks and close encounters occurring in America were just the beginning as contact was initially made with the Polish Government to negotiate a settlement. Some were quite courteous and anxious to work with Karla, while others simply looked and acted like the thugs that they were...and the danger increased the longer they moved ahead with their efforts to get the gold...

The darkness of humankind who seek retribution, gold, or power that money brings were everywhere... and soon, Karla was hearing stories--stories about her father! Would Karla and Milton live through it all? 

What I will tell you is that Milton loved Karla enough by the time it happened, to kill a man who was torturing her trying to make her give up the location of the gold... But readers will wait to know how Karla feels about him, even though they'd begun an intimate relationship fairly early in their trip...

While Milton is an open book, Karla is an enigma, frustrating Milton on a daily basis. Still, he struggles with his feelings for her, knowing he really knows nothing about her... Then he finds out that what he knows is not the truth...

Adler keeps readers guessing, holding their breath, and turning pages quickly, with his psychological suspenseful, intriguing story that is edgy, and unpredictable. I, too, was falling deeper and deeper into the storyline, hoping against hope that there was still time to have the book end like I wanted it to! OMG! What an outstanding story that pits country against countries, criminals against other criminals, while one ignoble but loving daughter and one shrewd Jewish lawyer walks (or sometimes runs) through each escapade, determined to follow the path that is being carved for them as each new individual and group shows their determination to obtain that gold!

A powerful ending that I was totally satisfied with...and that's when I knew I really, really loved this latest book by best-selling author Warren Adler!

GABixlerReviews

Warren Adler is best known for The War of the Roses, his masterpiece fictionalization of a macabre divorce turned into the Golden Globe and BAFTA nominated dark comedy hit starring Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner and Danny DeVito. In addition to the success of the stage adaptation of his iconic novel on the perils of divorce, Adler has optioned and sold film rights to more than a dozen of his novels and short stories to Hollywood and major television networks. Random Hearts (starring Harrison Ford and Kristen Scott Thomas), The Sunset Gang (starring Jerry Stiller, Uta Hagen, Harold Gould and Doris Roberts), Private Lies, Funny Boys, Madeline’s Miracles, Trans-Siberian Express and his Fiona Fitzgerald mystery series are only a few titles that have forever left Adler’s mark on contemporary American authorship from page to stage to screen. Learn more about Warren Adler at www.warrenadler.com.

Acclaimed Author Warren Adler Presents Mother Nile An Amazing Tale of Egypt!

She had been King Farouk's favorite dancer but, ultimately, she was just another woman to throw away, like that last piece of sweet that he could not eat but wanted nobody else to have... The King lived for his excesses: power, food, and women controlled his life, all of his senses... Until she became pregnant just about the same time that he was announcing his wedding. Of course, Farrah's news meant nothing to him and he used his "pimp" to ensure that she disappeared... But Farrah was somewhat street savvy and realized what would probably happen. Still, she was not willing to get rid of the baby as everyone advised...

Mother Nile

By Warren Adler

The background historical facts of Egypt's politics during King Farouk's reign are all there in the latest novel by Warren Adler. However, Adler creates an enticing surrounding story  not only how Farouk was involved in all of the criminal activities in his town, but how his lust for power, combined with his constant desire for sexual relationships, affected those he chose each evening...He came often to the establishment where Farrah danced, having taken many of the other dancers other nights. But after he had chosen Farrah, she became his favorite.

Adler chooses to present Farouk from the eyes of  Farrah, who saw in him a lonely man, one who was searching for happiness. She provided him comfort and a semblance of love. Still, she was surprised and angered when he announced he was marrying to provide for an heir and her child was not considered! But there was another man who also loved Farrah--one she found to be disgusting. Farouk's pimp was much more...he had come in love and respect to serve the King, but was used as a loyal, but distant servant. So that when the King told him to "handle" Farrah, he did just that... Zakki had separated mother and child but did them no harm... at first...

Farrah returned to dancing and an American fell in love with her and took her home with him.

...She was too young to die, forty-
three. To Si, she had been a good,
blameless, and loving woman.
Watching her now, he realized
how little he knew about her.
Except that she loved him and
he lover her. Yet even as he
observed her agony, he felt that
she had cheated him, had left
him too much in the dark about
herself...
She looked at him for a long
time, until tears spilled over the
lower lips onto her cheeks.
Coming close, he kissed her and
gently wiped away the tears.
"Isis," she whispered, her lips
quivering...
~~~

"My baby," she said...
"My baby, Isis," she repeated.
..."You have a sister, Osiris..."
~~~

Si, the son of Farrah, is the main character of the novel, who finds out on his mother's deathbed that he has a sister, Isis. Si, whose full name is Osiris immediately thinks of the historical connection of the two names. I can only say that he became obsessed with finding his sister and why she had been left by their mother.

His mother had told him she'd left the baby with the family Al-Hakim in the City of the Dead. "Come to my sanctuary..."

With his father's blessing, Si was soon on his way to Egypt... with only the one clue...Isis was left in the City of the Dead... Fortunately his mother had taught him her native language... And fortunately, he met a young boy who agreed to show him how to find the home of Al-Hakim...

But Si quickly began experiencing surprises... First his guide was a young girl... Second, his presence in Egypt was quickly known and spread until it reached the ears of Zakki. Third, he began to be followed everywhere he went...and soon there was death--as those to whom he talked were later murdered! Zakki, too, now had an obsession...one that was unspeakable and for which he now required revenge!

Adler's historical family drama soon evolves into an exciting, albeit a graphically violent, thriller that begins the chase of Zakki's hired guns after Si and his now sidekick and friend, Abdel. At the same time, readers learn the whole story of Farrah's time and terrible loss in Egypt...

Si is able to pay for information extracted after long searches to find the next step and soon is traveling the Nile visiting various sites along the way, including...

In the distant, he could see the flat cliffs, glowing reddish in the blazing sun. As they moved closer, the old tombs and temples defined themselves, like chipped jewels in a diadem of uncertain settings, the centerpiece of which was the beautiful and awesome three-tiered Temple of Queen Hatshepsut. Watching it as they came closer, it struck Si how arrogantly it had defied time. "A woman built that," he whispered to 
Abdel, his lips brushing against her ear. She said nothing, although he sensed that she felt some flush of pride.

"There," Si whispered, surprised at his detailed recall, knowing that it had lain embedded in his subconscious..."Is Ay, Tutankhamun's successor, wearing the blue crown of the reigning Pharaoh, performing the open-the-mouth rite on the mummified boy king. And there...is Nut, mother of Osiris, who receives him as her son...
He wanted to shout for joy, to hear the sound of his voice echo in the tomb. "Don't you see," he cried, "The connection." He looked at her and held her close. "Of all of us. The endless river of blood. You and I. My mother. Isis." He felt the exhilaration, an epiphany. "From there to now is more than three thousand years. Don't you see? It is important to know that. The human link. Nothing dies. Nothing ever really dies." Perhaps, he thought, that's why he had come to prove that his mother had never died, a part of her was still planted in this land...

I was getting close to the end of the book and I hadn't a clue what was going to happen. I wanted a happy ending, but could I expect that given the trail of bodies that had fallen on the way? What I will tell you that is I was totally astonished! And yet, it made sense to me. I was relieved first, then ecstatic at the originality the author presents in his climatic ending. 

Before I close, I want to mention that I had not read this author before. His literary style engulfed this reader, and I sank deeply into the story while I was also enjoying the historical tour of Egypt. It definitely is a multi-genre book that is both satisfying historically while presenting a staggering tale of lust, death and more in an awe-inspiring look at what we humans are capable of. While his The War of the Roses won him many accolades, I personally am thrilled to be among the first telling you about his latest--a book I would have chosen to read of all his novels!
Highly recommended for so many reasons!


GABixlerReviews

Warren Adler is best known for The War of the Roses, his masterpiece fictionalization of a macabre divorce turned into the Golden Globe and BAFTA nominated dark comedy hit starring Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner and Danny DeVito. In addition to the success of the stage adaptation of his iconic novel on the perils of divorce, Adler has optioned and sold film rights to more than a dozen of his novels and short stories to Hollywood and major television networks. Random Hearts (starring Harrison Ford and Kristen Scott Thomas), The Sunset Gang (starring Jerry Stiller, Uta Hagen, Harold Gould and Doris Roberts), Private Lies, Funny Boys, Madeline’s Miracles, Trans-Siberian Express and his Fiona Fitzgerald mystery series are only a few titles that have forever left Adler’s mark on contemporary American authorship from page to stage to screen. Learn more about Warren Adler at www.warrenadler.com.

Fantastic Historical Thriller, Mona Lisa's Secret by Phil Philips

The Mona Lisa. The best known, most visited, most written and sung about, as well as the most parodied work of art in the world, was staring Joey right in the face. La Joconde’s eyes seemed to follow him as he walked to the other side of the room, deep in thought. 
A cold shiver ran down Joey’s spine as his brain struggled to assess what he possessed. ‘Come on, this has got to be a fake,’ he said. ‘The real one hangs in the Louvre.’
 ‘If it’s a fake your father sure has gone to huge lengths to keep it preserved,’ Marie countered.
~~~

In the heat of summer, renaissance restorer Bernard Martino entered the Louvre and forced his way down the seemingly endless corridor of vaulted archways in a hurry. His loose white shirt clung to his back in places as he pushed through the masses of sweaty tourists that flowed like a sluggish river through the galleries. In the distance of the Denon Wing loomed the gateway to the Louvre’s most popular section – La Grande Galerie – which housed the most valuable Italian masterpieces of all time. Bernard panted with the effort of forcing his unfit, slightly overweight forty-year-old frame through the crowds...
He stopped to take a breath, his eyes darting upward to the security cameras mounted high on the walls, turning to capture his every move.
At the end of the hall Bernard turned right through the wooden-framed doors of the Salle des Etats – the large rectangular chamber that housed the Mona Lisa. He turned to the northwestern wall. A cluster of tourists were lined up to see Leonardo da Vinci’s most famous work, what the French like to call La Joconde. He sprinted forward, pushing through the people like Moses parting the Red Sea. 
‘Hey, wait your turn,’ shouted an elderly lady with thick-framed glasses in English. ‘Ta zài tui,’ spoke a Chinese man, shaking his head, clearly not happy. 
But Bernard didn’t care. Today, he needed to do something. As he reached the front of the queue he saw the Mona Lisa in all its glory, set into a raw sandy wall six feet from where he stood. It sat behind two wooden barriers inside a vitrine. 
Facing the painting, Bernard ducked under the first curved wooden barrier, then slid under the wooden benchtop that sat beneath the Mona Lisa. He could hear the puzzled murmurs coming from the crowd of people around him. 
‘Was macht er?’ 
‘He can’t go over there!’ 
Concealed in front of him on the wall was a cream cover plate; he flipped it open to reveal a unique keyhole. With shaking fingers, he took out the gold key and slid it into the hole, turning it clockwise. Instantly, the bulletproof glass panel protecting the priceless Mona Lisa tilted upward. Following the grooves in the wall and the high ceiling, it ascended smoothly, exposing the oil painting. There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd as they noticed the moving glass. For security reasons, only a handful of people were privileged to see how the Mona Lisa was extracted to be restored and cleaned before being placed back on display, and now hundreds of people had witnessed it. 
Bernardo quickly slid out from under the wooden bench and began to unscrew the lid on his water bottle using his gloved hand, careful not to spill the contents. 
‘What’s he doing?’ asked a young female tourist with a Canon DSLR camera strapped around her neck. At that moment the three guards entered the room with their weapons raised and ready to fire...
‘Behold the famous painting,’ he said, pointing to it, and felt a wave of pride wash over him at what he had achieved over the years. It was truly his best work. And yet the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile now hung unprotected, laid bare by a man who wanted to destroy it. 
‘Don’t do it,’ said the lead guard. 
Bernard continued to speak, his voice booming across the room. ‘Painted by the famous Leonardo – da Vinci …’ he said theatrically. 
‘Stop!’ the guard warned once more, his voice strong and direct. ‘We’ll be forced to shoot you.’ 
‘You have all been deceived,’ said Bernard, motioning his arm backwards while holding the bottle tightly, ready to move it forward and splash the contents all over the masterpiece in front of him.
 ‘No! Put the bottle down. You move again and we will shoot.’ 
Bernard began to weep. He knew there was no going back from this. ‘I will show you the truth,’ he cried. ‘Your Louvre curator Pierre Savard, a man I thought was my friend, has betrayed you … just as he has betrayed me.’
 ‘Hand the bottle over,’ said the guard again. 
‘He doesn’t want you to know,’ said Bernard. The guard touched his ear as if someone on the other end had given him instructions. He eyes burned into Bernard’s. ‘I have been ordered to shoot you if you continue.’ 
Bernard smiled sarcastically at the guard. ‘Pierre Savard, the man in your ear, wants to keep me quiet, because he doesn’t want the world to know that the Mona Lisa is a —’ 
Bernard didn’t finish that sentence.
~~~

Mona Lisa's Secret

By Phil Philips

I was hooked right away by the clever way the author opens the book. Joey Peruggia, a descendant of a criminal family has turned legit...It is 2016, and he's involved with Marie a beautiful woman ten years older, who has extensive knowledge in art and history. In fact, Joey has enjoyed learning from their countless discussions and even, later in the book, is able to use what he's learned to help in a difficult situation.

The fluidity of the historical perspective within a present-day thriller is very well done, mainly because of these two characters... Especially when, by accident, they find a hidden room where Joey is now living and had inherited from his family. Joey is the last member of his immediate family and knows nothing about his family's history except from second and third-hand stories passed down through generations. So both Joey and Marie are shocked when they discover...the Mona Lisa, hidden in a secured space within this hidden room. Both look at it carefully and believe it is probably the original, which had been stolen by his ancestor. When that had occurred, he was supposed to have given the painting back to the Louvre, but if a copy had been made, that had been the perfect time to make the switch!

Above the desk, high up on the wall, rested a poster of the Louvre’s famous glass pyramid. Joey’s father, Alexander, was the grandson of Vincenzo Peruggia, the man who stole the original Mona Lisa back in 1911. Paris and Leonardo da Vinci had always had a special place in his father’s heart...

Marie was regarded as one of the best, most respected connoisseurs in the art world, having worked all over the globe, including at the Louvre. She was now the proud owner of her own art studio in Santa Monica. Author of two novels entitled Art of the Renaissance and The Great Italian Masters of All Time, she had seen and studied up close many renaissance paintings in her career, but Joey knew this particular painting made her deliriously happy. 

‘The brushstrokes are perfectly carried out, done in the old sfumato technique,’ Marie murmured, as though she were back in the Louvre explaining it to an audience. ‘A smoked sense is felt when gazing at the renaissance painting. The flesh tones are rich and vibrant. The eyes are filled with a story. She is beautiful.’

 ‘So … what are you saying?’

 ‘Joey … I can’t really believe I’m about to say this, but I don’t think this is a fake.’

 ‘You don’t? But how can that be?’

 ‘She’s perfect. I can’t see any flaws.’

~~~

Fortunately, Joey and Marie both agree that they should return the Mona Lisa to the Louvre where it belongs... And that's when the true adventure begins, as was hinted at in Chapter 1...

Marie talked to the Curator, with whom she'd been working for so many years, feeling like he'd become something like an uncle,  and he was certainly extremely happy to hear from her and asked that they immediately come to France...

Before Vincenzo Peruggia stole the Mona Lisa in 1911, the painting was considered an exceptional piece of art, nothing more. But after its return in 1913, it became a legend. From that point on, the Mona Lisa was considered irreplaceable, a masterpiece. The robbery had catapulted her to stardom, and she was now the most recognizable painting on the planet.
Joey’s great-grandfather was the reason behind her celebrity status. He himself had become a hero in Italy, for trying to return La Joconde to his home country; the country of the artist.
 ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! The man who stole the Mona Lisa was your great-grandfather?’
 ‘Yep.’
 ‘But he was caught and the Louvre took back the painting in 1913.’
Joey nodded thoughtfully.
 ‘But what if that’s not what really happened? How do we explain the presence of a painting of the Mona Lisa in my father’s secret room? A painting that has been sitting in some kind of air-controlled vial and has the Louvre’s personal seal stamped on it? This painting and the one in the Louvre can’t both be genuine.’
 ‘But if we’re right, your great-grandfather must have exchanged the real painting for an exceptional fake, a fake that could escape detection. Can it be possible he succeeded?’
 Marie had a thought. ‘Hang on, the letters in the safe, maybe they can help explain —’~~~

One hint before I close...this book is not about Mona Lisa... It's about her secret!!! 

And Marie and Joey are about to discover the first part... as well as discover that their lives are in serious danger!

What a double whammy! Just when readers are getting excited about the original Mona Lisa having been found, once Joey and Marie enter the Louvre, an entirely different story explodes and we are left gasping, wondering what is really going on... This does result in a traditional "treasure hunt" hero and Joey surprises us by changing from his carefree life as a rich heir into a brilliant hero that at every challenge is winning out over those who are searching for the original Mona Lisa for an entirely different reason...

No matter what the outcome, I was thoroughly enjoying this new hero that arose from the past criminal family involvement to, as they say, save the day for the world! I loved it! I read or watch a lot of movies with this theme and I must say that this book comes right up there in thrilling excitement that will capture your attention from the first to last page. 

An interesting little tidbit about this book...I had received the request for review but was unable to load either of the ebooks that I'd received...together with several suggestion alternatives to use the file... Instead, I went out and bought my own copy. Wow...I'm so glad I didn't miss this one! The variety of twists were amazing. Kudos to the author! I suggest you watch this writer because he may be the newest best-selling author in this particular genre!

GABixlerReviews

Phil Philips is driven and passionate, known by friends and family as a renaissance man, into anything and everything. Phil comes from a vast digital media background with over seventeen years working in the advertising industry. Phil thrives to create pieces of artwork, whether it’s designing a magazine layout, building websites, editing a video composition, painting in oils, or writing page turning thriller novels. Phil’s writing style has been linked to James Patterson and Matthew Reilly.

Phil lives in Sydney, Australia with his wife and two kids and is the author to two action packed thriller novels Fortune in Blood and Mona Lisa’s Secret.

Web of Betrayal by Clare F. Price Takes Readers to Historical Power Struggles As World Wide Web Began!

Clare Price is a former technology reporter, technology marketing vice president, and author of five books on marketing; Five Easy Pages: The Essential Marketing System.
Clare saw the birth of the commercial Internet firsthand as a research director with the Gartner Group, the global leader in information technology consulting. As a principle analyst in Gartner’s Internet Strategies Service, Clare assisted many of the world’s biggest technology companies (IBM, Microsoft, Cisco, HP, Sun Microsystems, Oracle) in their bid to make the information highway a reality.
Clare began writing at age five with her short story, “My Dog Nicky.” In her career she has been a business journalist, tech industry journalist, Internet industry analyst and a VP of marketing for several software startups.
In addition to The 5 Easy Pages Essential Marketing System, Clare has written more than 700+ articles in the areas of information technology, marketing and business strategies and growth.
She has been a featured speaker for the American Marketing Association, SARTA, the California Society of Association Executives, Women in Technology International (WITI), eWomen Network, uLinkNetwork, and the U.C. Davis Graduate School of Management.
Clare is an Ohio native and a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley, with a B.A. degree in Rhetoric. She currently lives in Sacramento, California with her two Shetland Sheepdogs, Dan and Toby. This is her first novel.

~~~

Heading into the historical background for the Internet is an important activity, so immediately I checked out the author's background... Nearly all of my professional career involved the use of, or development of computer systems, so I wanted to also learn from this book about what I personally saw happening... I got a little more than I bargained for, because I spent the first pages trying to figure out who the companies actually were in the battle... LOL

In any event, the author's credentials were out there loud and clear for me and after I got passed her not using real company names, I sunk deep into the story and loved it!  One ingenious action the author provided in the book is the inclusion of  QR codes to pull part of the time period directly to the reader... I cheated and brought some of those here as I usually do...

Web of Betrayal

By Clare F. Price

It only took the prologue to point out that Toby Eastman is a very dangerous man. Note that it is 1993 and he's in Colombia, due to his impending connection to drug lord Enrique Valdez. The fact that Arno, who had made the arrangements for the meet, was burned that night, slowly, was not part of the plan. You'd think that would have made him just a little concerned, wouldn't you?

Toby Eastman is a man you enjoy hating... He's willing to do anything to finish what he's started and a main revenge plan is what he's involved in now... It was ironic to me that what began to happen was due to his own actions. He'd sent a disk to a former colleague who he trusted, with only a statement that it was confidential. The man had thought it was a puzzle like they had always worked on! So when the man received it, he sent it on to several others of his "boys..." Individuals who had been working with him for quite some time.

Soon, they all started dying, seemingly accidentally...

"Henry, that disk wasn't just another puzzle,"
Toby said vehemently. "That disk has
information on it that belongs to some very
powerful men."
Henry's eyes blinked rapidly. He looked at Toby
as if he'd never seen him before. "Toby what
have you gotten yourself into? I'm sorry...
You're sorry? Toby queried silently. It's
too late for sorry...
"I'm sorry, old friend. I truly am," he
whispered, his lips brushing against Henry's
ear. "But if it hadn't been me, it would
have been them."
~~~

The fire crackled. A tongue of flame broke free, reigniting dying embers, warming the room. Toby leaned back in his chair, took a small sip of his brandy and glanced around the tight space.

Henry Rhodes's bachelor's quarters held the same comfortable clutter that Toby remembered...Henry sat in the other armchair, his feet barely reaching the floor. Like his home, Toby thought, enjoying the constancy, Henry hadn't changed much in the last eighteen years...

Despite the warmth of the fire and the brandy coursing through his veins, Toby knew he couldn't afford to relax; not until he had the computer disk back safely in his possession...

"And how are your boys?" Toby asked.

"I've got a couple of boys who are real crypto-wizards. Give even you a run for the money," Henry said, chuckling mildly as he set down the empty glass.

Henry referred to all the young engineers he'd shepherded through the company as "his boys," even the women. Although Henry had been a talented software programmer in his own right, his company soon recognized he had an even greater ability to mentor the young college recruits they hired...

"No more for me, Henry. I have to go," he said, rising. "I really just came to pick up that disk I sent you a few weeks ago."

Henry looked up at Toby embarrassed, his smile sheepish.

"I know you told me to keep that one strictly confidential, Toby. But your puzzles are always the best. It was just too tempting."

"What do you mean?" Toby asked, forcing a casualness he did not feel.

Sliding into a velveteen seat, Peter took
in the scene. The Hilton's gaudy bar, so
reminiscent of the 1970s, with its hot-
pink chairs and, red glow-in-the-dark
carpet... was proudly pretentious in a
way that only the leisure suit crowd
could truly appreciate...
Expectation, excitement and urgency
pulsed through the crowd's chatter...
~~~

"I couldn't crack it. I tried, but it was beyond me...When I couldn't solve it, I sent it to the boys to see what they could do with it." Henry's tone was mildly irritated, as if Toby had forgotten who was the student, and who the master.

                    ~~~

It was January, 1994, when Peter Ellis hits Las Vegas and immediately realized how much he hated the town, thinking it was going to be a long three days!

He was struggling after a fiasco had occurred the previous year. That it happened was bad enough...

That it involved his sister was worse...

I'm not saying anything more about

Margaret turned back to
Adam and issued her
demands. "We want a
complete retraction, a new
accurate story written by
someone else on your
staff, and a personal
apology in writing from Mr.
Ellis here, or we will file a
multimillion dollar law suit
against the Valley Tribune
this afternoon."
~~~

this one--she doesn't deserve it! LOL! You'll quickly find out more about her and Peter during their early years... and find out just how cruel she is!

That she was involved in Peter's being accused of a fabricated story was, in my opinion,  due to her, even if the book really didn't say so... And now Peter was back to square one, rebuilding his reputation as a news reporter. Fortunately, his immediate supervisor was doing as much as he could to support him...

But then his girlfriend dumped him. She had tried to stick by him, but he had started to drink and Jessica had decided to move on... Only to become involved with an important player in the major stories he was soon to be following! Because he's been placed back on covering the CES trade show. David Lockwood was the keynote speaker and why he was here...

It may sound like Peter is on the way out, but, far from it! While you watch him, he picks up pieces of information and ultimately learns about three deaths that are linked to the activities that were now happening. Then, at this show, he was the only individual who pieced together Lockwood's presentation. Tracked him down and broke the lead story on 
his work!

Ellis to Lockwood:
"I got the message. I know what you're doing."
"I got it from the Holograms...
"Three points." Peter responded, fighting to keep his voice calm...
"First message you sent: all of those holograms illustrated firsts...
"Second message: those holograms moved out over the heads of the audience...
I liked the third message the best...Each of those holograms was more than a technical breakthrough, though that was impressive enough...They also opened up a new universe...
...One question. Mr. Lockwood, just one. Am I right? Yes or no?"
"Sapphire. Internet streaming video. Yes or no?" Peter asked again...

Lockwood turned toward Peter, his brow eyes so intense Peter felt as if they were boring a hole in his skull. "I'll give you some free advice. Follow the old saying and write about what you know." Capping the statement with a cryptic smile, Lockwood existed without another word.

Peter's story on David Lockwood's Sapphire Project scooped everyone...

~~~

The forty-by-sixty-foot, three-story
high Draco booth was one of the
largest and allest on the trade show
floor. In a nod to Law Vegas itself,
the Draco logo, a green and yellow
abstract of the Dragon constellation
blinked in neon boldness at the top
of the towering booth structure. Peter
had to crane his neck to see it.
~~~

Peter was Back! But that was only the beginning...and there were enemies out to see him fail!

His sister was watching every move he made for her own personal reasons. Jessica's new lover was a major player at Draco Communications who was slowly moving to a top position...

And let's not forget our major villain...he's got it in for Peter because he picked up on the murders and is following a trail...

But then there is MediaBuilders who are fighting to be at the top against Draco and some are fighting for both sides. In fact, you'll have a hard time keeping track of who may be involved because the players are, or have been, involved during previous activities. The one thing that comes out, of course, is that those who are honest move to make things right! And that's what readers will enjoy watching and trying to decide in advance what will happen!

Peter was there to meet Alex Kavanaugh. He already knew Alex knew little about the actual technological advances now underway...but...this was the guy who Jessica was now involved with, apparently pretty seriously. Alex was loving, and didn't mind, showing, that he enjoyed having Peter in the position of the jilted lover... Peter was still trying to get Jessica back at that point...

The booth contained four rooms divided by thermoform vinyl partitions. The one closet to the walkway, meant to draw in curious passersby, was styled as a tribute to Route 66 and hung with photographs taken along the venerated route. A video clip from the 1960s TV show of the same name ran in a loop in the background with Nat King Cole's recording of the famous theme song. A classic blue 1966 Corvette convertible roadster parked in the center of the display would be raffled off for charity at the close of the show. Peter made a mental note to buy a ticket for that one...

The screen faded to black. Peter turned to Kavanagh. "Impressive, Alex. I want it. So when can I have it?"

"It's 1994, Peter," Alex replied. "You'll have it before you know it."

"You want to be a little more specific," Peter said, knowing full well that most of the applications Draco was touting here were years if not decades away. "Realistically, you guys are laying pipe."

"If by laying pipe you meant creating the fiber optic backbone we need to send digital signals across the country, then yes, we're laying pipe. We've got about half our SONET backbone finished and it'll be completed by the end of the year," Alex agreed...

Anything else I can answer for you?" he asked

..."Just one more thing. Let's say, just for kicks, that you do get some cable partners. They the key question is how are you going to get those applications to the consumer? They need a way to access all those goodies on the information highway. And I'm hearing access is through Horizon."

Alex's jaw clenched briefly. He relaxed it and smiled  a little too broadly. His face took on the expression of an indulgent uncle humoring a bright but confused child...

Peter was throwing the technology at Alex fast, hoping to catch him off-balance. From the cautious expression on Alex's face, Peter thought he was succeeding...

Alex refused to take the bait. "I'd help you if I could, Peter," he said, standing. "But really, that is a question for our engineers.  As I said, I'm happy to arrange an interview..."

~~~

And then Peter met Jordan and he found himself falling in love for the first time, but of course there were also issues between them to be solved... Such as her love of music...

"David Sanborn," Jordan said, rejoining him on the sofa. "What do you think?"

"Nice."

The disheartened look on her face surprised him. "Very nice," He tried again, but her expression didn't change.

"Why don't you play some more?" he asked, buy time to discern her mood.

"Really?" That seemed to cheer her up. At least he was heading in the right direction.

"Yeah."

"Okay, this is a classic," She pulled an old vinyl record from her shelf, put it on the turntable and turned toward him. "Tell me how it makes you feel."

Peter leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. He had no idea why this exercise was so important to Jordan, only that it was for the moment, that was enough for him. He focused on the sounds and let him mind do what it did best: parse and analyze the data his senses were collecting.

"I'm on a city street, urban, kids are throwing coins in a gutter. Somewhere where stuff should be happening, maybe in the past, but not now. Like Hollywood and Fine."

"Are you serious? You got that from this song?" Jordan sounded incredulous.

Peter opened his eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"Because that's actually what that song is about, "It's Wes Montgomery's "Bumpin' on Sunset."

~~~

Lots going on in this one--a thriller that will entice you from many directions to both enjoy and watch as corporate deals play a deadly part in bringing the World Wide Wed to all of us to enjoy! Check this one out! You'll be glad you did...

GABixlerReviews

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