By Gregg Loomis
A homicide on the British Museum sends Lang Reilly racing around the globe looking for a formerly unknown Gospel—while a mysterious association will cease at not anything to avoid him.
"The overseas surroundings and fast paced motion grip, and luckily, Loomis's convincing protagonist possesses the intelligence and emotional intensity to hold the reader… [Readers] trying to repeat The Da Vinci Code event could be satisfied.” −Publishers Weekly
“Gregg Loomis is fail-proof.” – clean Fiction
“Gregg Loomis writes an grand mystery with extra twists and turns than a maze." −Harriet Klausner, i admire a Mystery
“Thriller fanatics will savor Gregg Loomis because it isn't any mystery that he offers breathtaking novels.”−Midwest ebook Review
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Extra info for The Coptic Secret (Lang Reilly Thrillers)
He pointed past the edge of the umbrella at the eaves of the mansion. If the wind comes too fast from the south, it whistles in the eaves. It can keep you awake nights. The explanation should have quieted her nerves, but it did not. That cry seemed too filled with emotion to be made by something inanimate. Suddenly, she remembered things that she should have asked Richard. Why had he been late? Why did Catherine, the waitress, fear him so? What was this curse that Aunt Cora talked about and which he called a psychiatric problem"?
He was watching her over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. Unexplainably, she remembered that he had opened her suitcases upon placing them in her room. She had still not been able to decide whether or not he had been snooping, whether such a gesture was only meant as a final courtesy. But this very direct gaze of his seemed to pry at her own eyes, to peel back her brain and seek for secrets. She didn't like that at all. �My room is wonderful, she said. I'm anxious to explore the grounds and do some riding.
Later that night, Cora came to Jenny's room. She was dressed in a lovely yellow lounging robe which contrasted with her dark beauty and her cultured dignity to make both those qualities even more evident. Jenny secretly hoped that, when she was Cora's age, she would look as feminine and sophisticated as her aunt. If I reach her age, she amended. And immediately, she wondered why she always had to have such negative thoughts. �I'd like to talk to you about Freya, Cora Brucker said. She sat on the edge of the bed.