The Da Vinci Code meets Rumi in a global thriller/mystery
Rumi and the Retribution
Gabriel McKnight Book 1
by Pooneh Sadeghi
Genre: Global Thriller, Mystery
You Are What You Seek.
Gabriel McKnight, a decorated former U.S. Navy SEAL and bestselling author, sees his perfect life come unraveled when he’s named the prime suspect in a murder case after his twin brother vanishes without a trace.
Now on the run from the law, Gabriel embarks on a desperate worldwide quest to clear his name and uncover his brother’s fate.
His only ally is Noor Rahman, the scion of a once-powerful Iranian dynasty whose past intertwines with a mysterious book of Rumi’s poems left behind by her deceased parents.
Together, Gabriel and Noor decipher cryptic passages suggesting a link between the historic murders of Noor’s family and his brother’s disappearance. From the back alleys of Washington, D.C., to the bustling streets of Paris, and the vibrant vistas of Tehran, they navigate a labyrinth of danger and deception leading them inexorably to Rumi’s mystical resting place in Turkey.
But discovery comes with a perilous cost. With every revelation, Gabriel and Noor inch that much closer to unlocking the sinister truth behind their parallel destinies.
Can they outwit their unseen foes and decode the final mysteries before they themselves become the final casualties in this deadly game?
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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rumi-Retribution-Gabriel-McKnight-Book-ebook/dp/B0CZ1DBZLR
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/rumi-and-the-retribution/id6504419789
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Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/rumi-and-the-retribution-gabriel-mcknight-book-1-by-pooneh-sadeghi
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/214676717-rumi-and-the-retribution
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
Paris, July 14, 1997
Dying for your loved ones is a noble sacrifice, but outsmarting a killer before you die is a sweeping triumph. That’s what Shiraz Rahman thought as she rushed out of the Trocadero metro station on a balmy summer evening.
The sun had begun its descent, making way for midnight blue skies. Paris dressed in lights, welcoming all to its various restaurants and cafés. Shiraz’s gaze darted around as she turned into the Delessert Boulevard. Her posture was stiff, her pace fast, and her breath labored.
Up ahead, the Café Delessert bustled with activity. Waiters rushed about delivering trays of food. The aroma of coffee and French cuisine drifted in the air. Parisians and tourists clustered around the tables lined by the sidewalk, their carefree laughter carrying into the night.
Shiraz recalled the days when she, too, laughed freely, unaware of the evil surrounding her. A loud clatter broke through the night. Shiraz bit back a scream and jerked around.
A waiter had dropped a tray on the sidewalk. He bent over to pick it up. Shiraz clutched her purse and hastened her pace. Every so often, she looked back to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
The Delessert Boulevard swarmed with people. It was no surprise. This area offered the best view of the Eiffel Tower. Each year, thousands of people gathered here to celebrate and watch the dazzling fireworks display from the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadero gardens.
It seemed like a normal night, and by all accounts it should have been, but Shiraz knew better. I will die tonight. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. I’m not afraid. I’m prepared.
After all, her daughter’s life depended on it. Noor, my sweet Noor! Shiraz rubbed her chest as she considered her options another time.
There was one way to keep Noor safe, and when the time was right, Noor would know the truth. Shiraz had made sure of it. She approached her bookstore and risked another glance over her shoulder.
A shiver ran up her spine. The killer was in the crowd, waiting for an opportunity to strike. She squared her shoulders. Come and get me. That’s all you’ll get.
She entered her bookstore and let her head fall against the door. The scent of worn leather, polished wood, and new books were welcoming and familiar.
Jean Luc, her friend, and the bookstore’s sole employee, sat by the reading nook. Shiraz pasted a smile on her face. “Why are you working when you should be outside celebrating with the rest of the country?”
Jean Luc placed a book on a shelf close to the armchair he occupied. “Cheri, we have a splendid view. I can watch the celebration from here.”
Shiraz placed her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows into a mock frown. “It’s Independence Day. Go drink wine, celebrate your freedom, and flirt with someone nice. I’ll close the store tonight.”
“Come with me,” Jean Luc pleaded. “We’ll find two delicious men and party all night.”
Shiraz snorted. “The only man I’ll ever love is Parviz.” She rushed on before Jean Luc could say anything. “I know my husband died years ago, but what Parviz and I had was unique. Something like that happens once in a lifetime.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “That’s why I’m closing, and you’re leaving. It’s your turn to find your soulmate.”
A movement outside of the window caught her eye. For an instant, Shiraz saw a familiar figure standing in the crowd outside of her store. She gripped the armchair and craned her neck to get a better look.
The Trocadero gardens overflowed with people wearing France’s national colors. Its fountains switched from red to blue and back. The Eiffel Tower shone tall and proud.
Her heart thudded wildly. “Why did it take me so long to figure out the truth?”
“Shiraz, are you all right?” Jean Luc asked, concern evident in his ruddy round face. “You were mumbling to yourself.”
Shiraz studied her hands. Her knuckles had gone white. She let go of the armchair and relaxed her features. “I’m fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.”
Jean Luc looked uncertain. “Are you sure you want to stay here?”
Shiraz bobbed her head. “Yes, Noor and I have plans. Go enjoy your evening.”
Jean Luc finally gave in and left the store. Shiraz shut the door behind him then poured herself a cup of tea. She sat behind the counter and picked up a volume of Rumi’s poems.
“Life is a multitude of patterns that rise, fall, and flow together. You taught me that.” She traced her hands along the book’s spine. “It’s Noor’s turn to find her place and purpose in life. I know you’ll guide her as you did me.” Shiraz opened the book and lost herself in Rumi’s compelling verse.
The sound of chimes announced a newcomer. Footsteps echoed in the silent store. The grandfather clock ticked in the corner, counting every second that remained of her life. Shiraz closed the book and stared into the stone cold eyes of a killer.
The killer aimed a gun at her. “I put the ‘Closed’ sign up. Let’s go to the back of the store.”
Shiraz grimaced, revulsion evident in her face. “I can’t believe it. All the lies, and the betrayal. How could you do it?”
The killer spoke with a coldness Shiraz had never heard before. “Easily. Now move. I don’t have all night.”
She rose and headed toward the small office at the back of the store. Her enemy held the gun at her back and pushed her into the office. She stumbled and straightened herself. “I know why you’re here. You shouldn’t have come.”
“Where is the package?”
Shiraz raised her chin. “I don’t know.”
Her enemy slapped her with enough force to knock her head against the bookshelf behind the desk. Shiraz stumbled and straightened herself. She spat blood, and at that moment the future of her daughter was all that mattered. Her face flushed.
There was a moment of stillness on both sides, then Shiraz charged her foe. She was no match for her opponent’s strength, but it took her assailant off guard.
They fell to the floor in a struggle. Shiraz kicked her opponent as hard as she could and struggled to rise to her feet. Outside, voices rose as thousands of Parisians sang their national anthem.
The murderer grabbed Shiraz’s ankle and dragged her back down. Shiraz reached out and grabbed the volume of Rumi’s poems. She knocked her assailant over the head with the book.
“Argh!” her assailant grunted, nonplussed.
Shiraz wobbled to her feet. Her breath hitched as she forced her shaky limbs to move. She made it halfway to the exit when the murderer grabbed a fist full of her hair and dragged her back to the office.
Shiraz’s chest heaved, and her lungs burned as she gulped air.
The killer aimed the gun at her. “I’m in no mood to play games. I’ll ask one more time. Where is the package?”
Shiraz met her foe’s gaze defiantly, and for an instant, her mouth turned up. “You’ll never find it.”
Nostrils flared. “Then you’re no use to me.”
Gunshots echoed in the store just as the fireworks at the Trocadero started. Shiraz blinked. She felt nothing for a few seconds, then fell to the floor as pain gripped her body. She tried to rise. Her body didn’t cooperate. Her body twitched and convulsed as blood drained from her wounds. She flung her hand out, trying to reach for the telephone cord a few feet away. Her vision grew blurry, and her breath came gasps.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when footsteps approached her. A man bent over her. Shiraz squinted through the haze of pain. It was Morris, her late husband’s friend. Morris pressed his hands over her wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. He shouted something, but a tremor shook her body, drowning out his words.
She coughed blood.
Sweat formed on Morris’s upper lip. “Hold on.” He tore strips of his own shirt to bind her wounds. The pain began to ease and grow distant. A bright haze filled her vision. Shiraz felt light, as if she was floating. She looked up and blinked.
Her late husband, Parviz, stood by the doorway of her office. He gazed at her lovingly, then opened his arms.
No, not yet! Shiraz mustered all her strength and gripped Morris’s arm. “Noor,” she whispered.
Morris’s eyes glistened with tears. He nodded grimly. “I’ll keep her safe. You have my word.”
Satisfied she’d done everything she could for her daughter, Shiraz Rahman took her last breath and stepped into her husband’s arms.
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About the Author
I was born to a diplomat and housewife in Tehran-Iran then whisked across the globe to whatever country my parents had been assigned to.
Raised to appreciate various cultures, landscapes, languages, and viewpoints, my life was one grand adventure until a revolution took place in my country and turned our lives upside down.
Between then and the age of eighteen I had experienced both the joy, freedom, and magic our world offers as well as wars, deprivation, and oppression.
My undergraduate studies were in the Middle East and my post graduate studies were at the Sorbonne University in Paris, France.
So, when did I become a writer? Books had always been my greatest friends, teachers, refuge, and the inspiration to forge my own future.
In college I realized I wanted to write engaging mysteries and thrillers. At the same time, I wanted to give readers more than a story. I wanted to share the rich beauty of Persian literature as well as that of other cultures.
For that I embarked on a twenty-two-year journey, traveling to various countries, and experiencing life while establishing a successful career.
Gabriel McKnight and his first story had been on my mind for several years yet it wasn’t until my mid-forties that I picked up the proverbial pen. The time had come to share my stories.
The next step was making my dream come true. I queried several agents and one glorious day in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic my wonderful literary agent reached out to me with an offer for representation. She took my story to publishers and before I knew it, we had a publishing contract –and here we are.
Today, I live in Oklahoma City, USA with my family and two dogs. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s the power of words. Words can heal, teach, entertain, inspire, and evoke change. I hope you enjoy Gabriel’s adventures as much as I enjoyed writing them.
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Author Links
Website: https://poonehsadeghi.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61557188217131
X: https://x.com/SadeghiPooneh
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/poonehsadeghi_/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Pooneh-Sadeghi/author/B0D7DPZ2VD
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/50396878.Pooneh_Sadeghi
