Posted by
David Hinz on Sunday, April 29, 2007 10:31:07 PM
We live today in the information age. With print-on-demand, anyone can write and publish a book or novel. The problem is how to market and sell that book once it is published.
Major book publishers are not interested in an unpublished author, preferring instead to stick with better-known, successful authors. But, in order to become a well-known and successful author, you need to be published.
Enter the Information Superhighway – the internet. Having tried unsuccessfully to entice a major publisher to look at my work, I have decided to publish a few excerpts from my novel on selected sites on the internet. It is my hope that a publisher will read these excerpts and take an interest in reading the entire manuscript.
Working title:
Thinking Outside The Box
A Novel About Terrorism
A brief synopsis:
Jamal and Siad were both American Muslims with longstanding and personal reasons to both hate their country and to be willing to die to punish it. With help from radical Islamic terrorists, they develop a plan to blow up a major college football stadium during the game.
Commander Thomas Lainge was looking forward to his retirement from the Navy when the President asked him to take over as head of NSA. When one of his analysts detects what he believes to be a terror cell, he must convince a FISA judge to allow him to wiretap an American citizen.
Ishmael was a Muslim student, so horrified by the attack on 9/11 that he vowed to work with the FBI to root out possible terrorists within his own Muslim community.
These characters and others are thrown together into a tale that combines fact with fiction, intertwining events we read about today, with a plot that might, or might not happen tomorrow. The novel is fast paced with non-stop action, told in a way that keeps the reader on the edge of his seat.
A real page-turner, the number one complaint of those that have previewed the novel is; they wanted more!
An Excerpt from Chapter 9
Somewhere in Italy
Mahmoud had ceased to wonder at how he had been caught. The most careful of men, he had at first tried to dissect his every move, gleaning the missteps that had led to his arrest. Unable to pinpoint any errors on his own part, he was now resigned to whatever fate Allah had in store for him.
The near silence was broken suddenly as the door through which the nurse had entered was thrust open, banging against the wall. Small flakes of paint fell to the floor, attesting to the fact that this was not the first time for this occurrence. Mahmoud’s head snapped up as two men entered. His attention was riveted on the one in front, carrying a small leather satchel. Almost unnoticed, the second man slipped behind Mahmoud, as the first man placed the satchel on a small table in front of him, and opened it.
Carefully, he removed a small hand-held propane tank with an adjustable nozzle. Setting the tank upright on the table, he next took out a hand igniter, twisted the knob on the nozzle to allow gas to escape, and ignited it. Slowly twisting back the knob, he adjusted the gas down to a barely visible blue flame.
Mahmoud’s eye never left that flame, even as the man removed a small stand and adjustable clamp from the bag, setting it up next to the flaming tank. It was not until he had also removed a long ugly looking knife and anchored it into the clamp that his attention was diverted from the flame.
As the man placed the end of the knife in the flame, that flame flared yellow where it contacted the blade. Staring now at the knife, Mahmoud’s eyes visibly narrowed, a questioning look coming for the first time over his face.
Unnoticed, the second man slipped up behind Mahmoud, just beyond the range of his vision, whispering into his ear in Arabic.
“You have seen my knife before, my friend.” There was no friendliness in his voice, which, even in a whisper, rang loudly through the room. “I see you recognize it. Are you surprised to see it again…here…now?”
An Excerpt from Chapter 26
In Ann Arundel County, MD
The house remained deadly quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of the computer in the corner of the living room. Always on, the whisper of the cooling fan told him it was doing its job. Tiptoeing up the carpeted stairway he first of all looked in on the boys, the door to their rooms both slightly ajar. No nightlight lit the upstairs of his home, but his eyes had quickly adjusted to the dim light, and enough moonlight came through the open windows to provide all the light he needed. They both appeared to be soundly sleeping, the covers thrown about, half on and half off the bed, in typical boy fashion. Their rooms gave the appearance of having been ransacked, a sure sign that Peg had not yet ordered their bi-monthly cleaning.
They were now in the middle of their second full week of school, their book bags each stacked next to their bedroom doors. Naturally neither bag was orderly, as books and papers protruded from their open tops. He wondered if they had homework. A touch of guilt crossed his mind. He imagined Peg standing over them, helping them with their Math or their English homework. His conscience told him that was his duty to perform, a duty that he was derelict in his performance.
He had slipped his shoes off before ascending the stairway. Now, carrying them in his left hand, he entered his own bedroom. He recognized his wife as a lump on the right side of the bed, completely covered, with her pillow thrown over her head. He’d often kidded her about that, telling her that she wouldn’t even be able to hear a fire alarm the way she slept. Her reply was inevitably that it was his duty, as the man, to waken her in case of a fire.
Slipping across to the master bath, he closed the door to the bath before switching on the overhead light. The sudden brightness momentarily stunned him, his eyes, however, quickly adjusting. Reaching into the shower, he turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before stepping inside. Removing his shirt and dropping it to the floor he surveyed his own image in the mirror. He looked tired, he decided. He was looking forward to taking a break. It would be good for him to get away this coming weekend. The stress of this job was enormous.
He dropped the remainder of his clothing in a pile next to the hamper, and stepped through the frosted door into the shower. The moment the hot water contacted his skin he felt relief. The steam rising around him instantly warmed him like a sauna. For several minutes he just stood there, allowing the water to wash over his body. The noise of the shower prevented him from hearing the door to the bath open and then click closed again.
Taking a handful of shampoo from the bottle in the corner, he scrubbed it into his hair. With his back to the shower door, he did not notice the shadowy figure that swept across in front of the shower.
An Excerpt from Chapter 5
FISA Courtroom Washington, DC
Something in his body language must have hinted that he was about to speak out to the judge, because he felt the Attorney General’s hand lightly rest upon his shoulder with just the hint of pressure applied with the fingers. In a very unobtrusive manor, he was being told by the Attorney General to “Shut up.”
“Your honor,” he began again, only to once again be interrupted from the bench.
“The standards for a wiretap under the FISA provision when it involves surveillance of a US citizen or an alien residing legally within our borders are clear. The Attorney General must present a case to present before the court stating the facts and circumstances relied upon . . . to justify belief that the target is an agent of a foreign power or engages . . . in international terrorism.”
“I thank you for that explanation,” the Attorney General replied dryly, the irony showing in his voice. What the judge had just told him was nearly word for word from the statute. If the judge perceived any hint of rebuke in his words, she showed no sign of it.
“If the court will examine the documents presented, she will see that a very strong case has been made that we are dealing with a clandestine organization…possibly an al Qaeda terror cell…that is using disposable cell phones to communicate with persons both
outside and within our borders,” the Attorney General reiterated.
“The court will notice,” he continued, “in those conversations captured outside our borders…a clear pattern of behavior has been established to indicate…”
Once again the judge interrupted the AG, stopping him in mid-sentence.
“I have examined those ‘intercepts’ and I see no clear pattern, except the fact that there are a lot of wrong numbers being dialed. If we are to wiretap anyone who misdials a number, it would seem to me that government resources will be tied up for decades listening to innocent persons.”
If you are a book editor or publisher, please contact me through the email address at: dahinz@aol.com If you are not a book publisher, please pass this on to someone who is.