View Full Version : Treasure Hunt, suspese-thriller

November 15th, 2006, 01:20 PM
Hi everyone,

Here's a little excerpt taken from my debut novel Treasure Hunt, recently released throught Chippewa Publishing.

Treasure Hunt
By J. H. Bográn
Excerpt from Chapter 1
1978<o =""></o>
Bill Porter’s nerves sent frayed messages to his brain. His plan should work, yet being alone provided hazards. He caught himself again thinking about his chances. If it worked, it would be one of the major bluffs in history. A good bluff must seem realistic to be believable. The real part of his bluff— getting his handgun and the two grenades on board—was easy enough. One just had to know how to do it. Having authentic flying credentials was indeed a point in his favor. Bill used his pilot credentials to avoid security checks. As deference to him, the stewardess let him on with two handbags.<o =""></o>
The plane taxied and started climbing up to thirty-five thousand feet before turning east to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1 ="">Miami</st1></st1:city>. The flight went smoothly, with no air bumps at all. It would be a shame to ruin it, Bill thought. Then again, if his plan worked out there was a chance that the passengers would not notice a thing.<o =""></o>
The Fasten Your Seat Belts sign went on, along with the No Smoking sign. Porter could hear the flight attendants busy in the galley. He lit a cigarette and decided to begin his job right after a good smoke. He stood up and opened the overhead compartment, grabbed one of his handbags and unzipped it. Reaching inside, he pulled out a medium size manila envelope. He placed the envelope under his armpit and managed to zip his bag and shut the compartment without dropping the package. He then sat down and resumed his smoking.<o =""></o>
The flight attendants served the front rows, moving slowly since the plane was full. Bill picked the flight carefully. He knew his business well. He was right and congratulated himself for it. After the flight attendant passed by his seat, he stood up and introduced himself to her as a pilot from another airline. He told her he wanted to pay a courtesy visit to the cockpit, if possible.<o =""></o>
He endured her glance inspecting him from head to toe, then the flight attendant directed him to the front of the plane with a smile, “I think you know your way around this bird. When you reach the galley, ask Kelly to knock on the cockpit for you. Regulations, you understand.”<o =""></o>
“No Problem. Thanks.” Bill started walking towards the front. All he needed now was in the manila envelope in his right hand. While walking down the aisle, he switched the package to his left hand. He held it from the downside and placed it in a way that the opening flap was pointing to the front. The envelope was not sealed but the flap did not permit seeing inside. Nobody was curious of a man walking with a letter sized manila envelope in his hand. That part of the plan worked, too. He finally reached the galley and asked for Kelly. <o =""></o>
“That would be me,” a tall shorthaired blond girl in a tight uniform replied. She was carrying a tray with three cups of coffee. She could not be more than twenty-two.<o =""></o>
“Hi. My name is Lance Harper,” Bill lied. “I’m a pilot from the Eagle and I want to say hello to my colleagues in the cockpit. Do you think they’d mind?”<o =""></o>
“I don’t see why, but let me go ask them, okay?”<o =""></o>
“Hmm. I’d prefer to surprise old Bob,” said Bill as he winked at her.<o =""></o>
The attendant frowned as if making her mind then nodded in agreement. She then took the two steps that separated the galley from the cockpit. <o =""></o>
Kelly knocked on the door. “I have coffee for the crew,” she said loud enough to be heard. Security features made the door so that it could only open from the inside. Porter was sure she could not see him reaching for something inside the envelope. <o =""></o>
When Kelly entered the cockpit there was a collective cheer, welcoming the coffee more than the girl. Suddenly Bill pushed her forward and she lost balance of the tray, spilling the three coffee mugs on the floor. From then on, everything happened very fast.<o =""></o>
Porter forced himself into the small crowded cockpit, closing the door behind him. As he raised his right arm the crew saw a revolver in his hand, but only for a brief second. The flight engineer lost consciousness and went limp in his chair as his assailant hit him hard with the butt of the gun. <o =""></o>
“Now listen up!” he began. “I know you’re not gonna like this, but now I’m the captain of this fucking plane. Is that clear?” At first, Bill pointed the gun directly at Kelly, but started moving it slowly to the right and left to cover the pilot and co-pilot as well. Bill despised profanity but in certain circumstances it was useful as intimidation.<o =""></o>
The expression on the captain’s face changed from surprise to worry. “Sir, I don’t know your intentions, but the people on the ground are not gonna...”<o =""></o>
“Shut up! Relax, we’re not going to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1 ="">Cuba</st1></st1:country-region>,” shouted Bill figuring that would be the pilot’s assumption.<o =""></o>
“I hope <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1 ="">Nicaragua</st1> </st1:country-region>isn’t your destination either,” said the co-pilot under his breath before he could restrain himself.<o =""></o>
Bill heard him anyway. “Not really, but close.”<o =""></o>

END OF EXCERPT<o =""></o>

About the author:<o =""></o>
Born and raised in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1 ="">Honduras</st1></st1:country-region>, J. H. Bográn has always been interested in writing. Son of a journalist, he ironically prefers to write fiction rather than fact. In his professional life he has worked in the garment industry for the past 15 years, in the areas of Quality and Merchandising. In true Honduran tradition, where college classes start after 5 p.m. so students can hold down day jobs, he went to work fresh out of high school, and took night classes to finish college.
He currently resides in his hometown, happily married, and looking after his three sons. <o =""></o>

You can find out more about J. H. Bográn by visiting his website. (http://www.jhbogran.tk/)

November 15th, 2006, 02:12 PM
How fantastic! I love books of this genre! Looking forward to reading it!

November 15th, 2006, 08:48 PM
Careful ladies... make no sudden moves... whisper softly, and extinguish all flames so as not to scare away the -- maaannnnnnn! :eek:

Congrats, Jose. It's a great book.

November 20th, 2006, 07:14 AM
Hi everyone I figured I better put my input in here since I finally got to read TREASURE HUNT also and liked it a lot.... it has a ton of background or rather foreground information to start it off but the main story is a thief hiring a thief to get his stolen money back and I loved that part especially using the world wide web to do it. It was fun and defnitely jam packed with a little bit of everything. Congrats on a great book J.H. Glad to have been able to say hi to you in chat this week too, that was fun.

I hope everyone gets a chance to tell all their friends and family about it if they are into suspense, it is definitely a book that crosses the genders of our readers, so maybe we can bring in some of our male readers to come in and respond too in here.

Anyway thanks again for a great book J.H. Bográn will now be a name known for this genre.


November 21st, 2006, 12:15 PM
Thank you for the kind words Lainey.
It was nice to chat with you, looking forward tonight, this time I'll try to make it earlier though...lol

June 1st, 2007, 06:55 PM

June 4th, 2007, 11:19 PM
JH knows I mght have been one of the first to review it but not the last it is still getting RAVE reviews so everyone should definitely go check it out.


June 5th, 2007, 11:37 AM
Decided it was about time I posted a new excerpt from Treasure Hunt:

Title: Treasure Hunt
Author: J. H. Bográn
ISBN: 1-933400-16-1
Publisher: Chippewa Publishing LLC
Genre: Thriller
Category: Suspense
Rating: Strong Content (Language, violence, and strong themes may apply.)<o></o>
By J. H. Bográn

Falcon ached from fatigue when he arrived at his apartment around nine in the evening. One of the first things he did after signing the lease was change the lock to an electronic system. He punched his code on the electronic keypad and opened the door.
A ray of light from the kitchen caught his eye as he entered the dark living room. Careful not to make any noise, he dropped himself to the floor and crawled towards the area, reaching the door within a couple of seconds. Suddenly the door swung open—thankfully to the inside—and a tall man walked out. Falcon could only raise his head and clinch his jaw before he saw a black leather shoe land directly in front of his face.
The man looked down. “Oh, hello, Alex. I was not aware you’d arrived,” said the man in a heavy English accent as he hopped over Falcon and walked to the couch in the living room.
Falcon could see the shadow of the man as he sat down and placed a glass on the table next to him. “Hello, Dan. Made yourself at home, haven’t you?” Beck got up from the floor, and dusted himself off.
“Father Daniel to you, my son!”
“Don’t give me that. I only call you Father in church.” Falcon closed the door, picked up his bags and walked to the bedroom on the other side.
“Now that you mention it, when was your last confession?” Dan teased.
“Last November.” Falcon watched as his visitor looked for something on the table.
“Well, then. I think you are past due for one.” Dan smiled at his friend.
“I just got here,” Falcon complained.
“You should be glad to see me here waiting for you,” said Father Daniel.
“You were not waiting for me! Now really, what are you doing here?” Falcon yelled from the bedroom as he threw his bags on the bed and headed back out.
“I have an unwelcome guest in my chapel, so I slipped out. I told him I was counseling a troubled marriage so he could not come with me.”
“Who could that be? I mean, you’d rather come here and watch TV instead of attending to him?” Falcon handed the remote control to his guest.
“Somebody I don’t like very much, but I cannot tell you why,” Father Daniel mumbled as he switched on the TV set.
Falcon was happy to be home. He sat close to his guest and watched the news.
“By the way, your tax forms arrived in the mail.”
“Thanks, I’ll get to them before I leave again.”
“I do not understand it. You must be the only thief who pays taxes. Why?”
“Don’t worry about my taxes, I don’t really declare as much as I make. The reason is simple enough. I want to have a life when I retire and be able to live in the open.”
“And when will that be? You are not getting any younger.”
Falcon laughed. “You sound like a mother who wants grandchildren! Besides, you are not getting any younger either!”
Father Daniel Weiss became friends with Alexander Beck over ten years ago, before either of them entered their adult careers. When Daniel was ordained and assigned to one of the few Roman-Catholic churches in London, Falcon realized he needed something in his life to keep him sane considering his profession. He figured there was none better than a close friend to do that. Falcon confessed all of his dark secrets and deeds to Father Daniel. Falcon accepted the fact that Daniel understood the reason for the confession but did not approve of his way of living. Dan was constantly on his case. Falcon knew that Daniel’s religion bound him to keep his secrets, but he vowed not to take advantage of it.
Unknown to his guest there were two heavily loaded Swiss bank accounts carrying special instructions: if the accounts presented no movement in one full year, Father Daniel Weiss was to be contacted and asked to name a beneficiary for the account. The priest would not take dirty money. Beck knew that. Daniel would fund charities with it. On the other hand, if Falcon got married and left a family behind when something happened, he could trust Daniel to care for them in his absence.
“You are also running low on rum,” Daniel bantered.
“Funny! I only drink scotch, but don’t worry; I’ll see to your needs. Are there any scraps of food in the kitchen?” asked Falcon as he rose from the seat.
“Not really. There’s a large collection of cans. You are in luck, however; I ordered some Chinese just before you arrived.”
“Now, that is good news. Thank you Father for feeding the hungry.”


Available in e-format at: Chippewa (http://chippewapublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=129), Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Treasure-Hunt-J-H-Bogran/dp/1933400161/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_1/104-9156544-4265522), Mobipocket (http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/BookDetails.asp?BookID=32736) , Fictionwise (http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook41881.htm) and Coffee Time Romance (http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/../BookStore/index.php?main_page=pubs_product_book_info&cPath=31&products_id=251&zenid=6f6ef3f8b8f26f40a0d5f83dff95c7ce)

August 15th, 2007, 02:36 PM
This next excerpt takes place in the early 90’s. Alexander Beck, The Falcon, is operating in London. Fate should see him to end up knelt outside a confessional booth telling his secrets to a former high-school body turned priest.
It is a back-story to Treasure Hunt as it explains how The Falcon ended up renting a pad in England.

Absolution Withheld
By J. H. Bográn
© Copyright 2007

The thief known as Falcon had been sitting inconspicuously in the second row pew when he saw his old friend Daniel Weiss dressed in the traditional black cassock worn by Roman Catholic priests. The man of God walked purposefully towards the confessional, opened the centered front door of the booth and disappeared inside. What is he doing here?, wondered Alexander Beck, a.k.a. the Falcon, his thoughts suddenly swept away by the sea of memories triggered by the chance sighting of a mere old school chum. He patiently waited in line to take his turn at the confessional. At last, he entered and knelt.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he began with the prayer learned many years before.
The wooden window slid open, the priest’s profile visible through the multiple small square holes.
“Tell me, my son.” The voice was soft, benevolent and the London accent unmistakable.
Alexander lost his voice after that initial exchange. He had come to the church to do a job, not to practice confession of his sins, much less seek absolution. Now he felt his past catching up with him, and quite a past it was for a twenty-three-year-old man. Debating what to tell, what to keep secret, he found himself barely able to mumble. It had not been by chance that he took that particular confessional, the third on the row of five positioned on the right side of the ample nave. Perhaps it was divine intervention that, while trying to pry from beneath the booth something he had hidden only the night before, he had run into a man he used to know, a man who now happened to be a part of the Church. After a second’s hesitation, he sighed deeply as he made up his mind.
“I am a sinner,” his head down, “I steal from people.”
“To steal is a grave sin, my son. Why do you do it?”
“Because I’m very good at it,” he stated in an even voice.

End of Excerpt

The story is available through the Amazon Short Program, reasonably priced at US$0.49, you can download it HERE! (http://www.amazon.com/Absolution-Withheld/dp/B000U201BG/ref=sr_1_6/105-2981989-7654040?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1185898450&sr=1-6)

Want more of The Falcon? Then get Treasure Hunt, available through Chippewa Publishing LLC (http://chippewapublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=129&osCsid=a1ffaf200429925392c7e94862240995)