The Geneva Conspirator: the novel that reveals what no one dares to tell

28 September 202525 October 2026 / albalongablog / Leave a comment

How far would you be willing to go to discover the truth? The Geneva Conspirator It is not just a novel: it is a journey to the very heart of the conspiracies that marked the recent history of France. The Clearstream, elf, Taiwan frigates and rhodia cases left behind a trail of political intrigues, financial maneuvers and scandals that even today continue to resonate in the courts and in the headlines.

Inspired by this real magma, the novel builds a relentless thriller in which bankers, ministers and executives play a game without rules. Paul Reitzenstein, heir to a financial dynasty, becomes the epicenter of a fierce struggle where nothing is what it seems and each alliance covers up a betrayal. Secret meetings at midnight, missing files, fortunes that change hands in a matter of hours: the reader advances page after page with the feeling of witnessing a forbidden secret.

What differentiates The Geneva Conspirator from other novels of the genre is its style. With powerful images and a rhythm that combines the tension of a thriller with literary density, the author makes Lake Geneva, carpeted offices and guarded mansions become characters in their own right. It is not just a story of power: it is a sensory experience that surrounds the reader in an environment of constant suspicion.

If you enjoy novels where political suspense is mixed with the psychological portrait of complex characters, The Geneva Conspirator is your next essential read. A work that reminds us that, on the border between truth and lies, there is always someone willing to pull the strings.

Are you ready to delve into the conspiracy?

Buy it here:

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Automatic translation of the original article. The language of this page does not determine the language of the book: purchase links lead to the editions indicated, including editions in their original language.

THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

19 April 202414 September 2026 / albalongablog / Leave a comment

For more than three decades, a handful of brilliant forgers, all of them at the same time renowned painters, worked so hard and so well that today no one can put their hand in the fire and say, without batting an eyelid, that they possess the original of this or that painting, of any famous painter, of this or no matter what other era. The scientific experts, skilled in the most modern techniques of dating and attribution, the most prestigious gallery owners, art historians, auctioneers, and other intervenors in the field, have all let slip fakes that have consequently been catalogued as authentic and sold as such. The existence of two and even three or more apocrypha of many of them was later discovered. A strict censorship has been imposed on the media; a real veto has fallen from the highest levels that has turned the subject into a sacred taboo. For if it were to spread, panic would spread, as distrust spreads regarding what the system has turned into the supreme currency of exchange, which not only never devalues itself, but has, in recent years, increased in value according to a geometrical progression. The safe-haven value that has more than replaced gold. The elites who hold absolute power would lose colossal amounts of money and their influence would be diminished, to the detriment of their unspeakable projects. With a perfect mastery of the technique of thriller and suspense, Alba Longa tells us the story in which he himself was involved and, during which, he almost cost him his skin. THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR is set in cosmopolitan Nice that is about to experience the most dramatic events in its history. To tell the truth, you don’t come out well reading this novel. The reader is left with the impression that the most sacred words in the world today: freedom, democracy, human rights, social progress and so many others, are nothing but manufactured mirages, a smokescreen called NWO (New World Order) that prevents us from seeing ourselves for what we are: the new slaves of the Empire, at the unconditional service of other Nero and Caligula who are not mad, and for that very reason is more wicked than the former.

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Masks always speak with an English accent.

4 March 202414 September 2026 / albalongablog / Leave a comment

Clara Bardés, granddaughter of a famous deceased painter, has been hired to restore a series of paintings, some dating from the Middle Ages, which are preserved in the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. During a solitary visit to the upper part of the building, when the tourists have already left, she notices the deformed silhouette of Ergaster, a perverse torturer whom she believed to be dead and of whom she could have been another victim, along with Professor Alba Longa, had it not been for the fact that, at the last moment, Commissioner Tynianov intervened. The cathedral closed behind her, and the criminal, who had apparently not seen her, remained inside. Once in her apartment, terrified, she called Alba Longa and he contacted Tynianov. Between the three of them, pulling the thread of the presence in the cathedral of this murderer, a specialist in the so-called “death of a thousand cuts,” they discover a terrible conspiracy, the disastrous consequences of which are expected for the next few days.

Second year of Macron’s reign. As we predicted in the previous book, France is under the sign of chaos and desolation. For the twentieth consecutive Saturday, the streets of Paris and the main cities of the country are the scene of a confrontation, violent and intransigent, between a people and a police that has unconditionally placed she herself at the orders of an elite; which, by an anti-democratic and corrupting procedure of an already defective political system, has illegitimately seized all the organs of power and is not willing to yield an inch to the massive protests of an entire social body, whose standard of living has been dangerously degraded by the various previous governments, in which it already dominated, although not with the arrogance, with the morgue, with the absolute and unfailing contempt that it is doing now, completely devoid of any humanitarian feeling towards those who have no choice but to live on salaried work.

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Excerpt from The House Next Door

4 June 201725 October 2026 / albalongablog / Leave a comment

The Bardés mansion was, by far, living up to what I had imagined. Young Clara came out to open the door that gave access to the property.
-You come in, commander. Kindly follow me.
Clara led him to a vast glass gallery located at the opposite end of the building, where Bardés and Alba Longa were waiting for him, sitting in comfortable armchairs. There were two more around a table, on which a silver tray presented several bottles of different liquors. Schluter wondered what role Mr. Longa played in the family when he was home at such an early hour. Despite his undeniable good looks, he ruled out, due to age, that he was Clara's partner. There was no evidence that she had associated with anyone. Why would he do it, having the formidable financial support of his grandfather? Furthermore, yesterday he seemed to enter Villefranche's gallery for the first time. Perhaps he is an expert whom the family trusts, despite the fact that Bardés is not exactly new to the trade and the granddaughter has demonstrated remarkable competence, a quality that is all the more meritorious when her youth is taken into account.
"If you wish, you can give me your raincoat," Clara suggested.
The painter and his companion got up to complement Schluter. Clara made the presentations:
-My grandfather, Jacobo Bardés, and Professor Alba Longa, who you already know.
-Delighted.
-But take a seat, commander. Do you want something to drink?
-No, thanks.
-Perhaps a coffee?
-If it's not a bother…
-Of course not.
Jacobo Bardés himself began to pour the contents of a previously prepared coffee pot into some Sèvres porcelain cups.
"I presume," Jacobo Bardés broke the first spear, "that the renewed interest of the police in Brik's sketches stems from the sad events that occurred in the person of the gardener Vergari.
-The O.C.B.C. For many years it has been dealing with a vast operation of forgery of works of art that has its epicenter in France and that puts into circulation apocryphal works of extraordinary perfection. So much so that the most prestigious experts do not hesitate to validate them. Evidently the Vergari case drew our attention to these sketches that emerged, you will agree with me, in curious circumstances, to say the least. It's about having a calm spirit when it comes to your authenticity. Since, after the sale of the lot, yours is the closest, we have considered it convenient, if you allow us, to begin by analyzing it.
-Of course. Although, as you understand, we did not make a purchase of that magnitude lightly. As for me, I have made my mark in painting and, modesty aside, I consider that I understand something about the subject. Even so, we requested confirmation from several of the best international specialists. With which I just want to tell you that I approach this expert opinion with serenity.
Schluter adopted a serious attitude and concentrated on finishing the coffee in a couple of sips. Having done this, he stood up from his seat.
-Allow me to show you something.
The commander busily placed the suitcase flat on the floor, unzipped it, and selected something inside. Finally he took out a curious black cylinder, from which he removed the lid and, with great care, brought a piece of cloth to light.
-I suppose you recognize her, Mr. Bardés.
-Of course, it is “Chiron's Bath”. I painted it about five years ago.
-Would you be so kind as to study it carefully and tell us if you accept it as yours?
Bardés turned to his granddaughter.
-Clara, could you bring me an easel and the magnifying glass, please?
When he had the canvas well mounted on the wooden hulk, magnifying glass at the ready, the painter began to carry out the task that had been requested of him. First paying attention to every detail, in all areas of the painting. Then, lowering the optical instrument, he took the field, judging the luminosity, the effect of the colors, the impact of the piece. The exam had taken a long time, but at the end Bardés seemed satisfied.
-There is no doubt, it is the “Chiron Bath”.
Schluter smiled.
-Now do me the favor of examining this other one.
The commander took out another black tube and from it a painting exactly like the first. A new “Chiron Bath”.
Bardés contemplated it intensely, before asking Clara for a new easel, which he placed in front of the first. The painter first carried out an inspection similar to the previous one. Then, armed with his high-power magnifying glass, he moved from one painting to the next like a weather vane on a stormy day. Finally, visibly disconcerted, he exclaimed:
-I would say that both are the “Chiron Bath”.
-But you only painted one.
-Naturally.
-Difficult to determine which is true and which is false, even for you, who are the author.
Bardés looked like his future wax statue. But he still didn't give up. He launched into verifying a detail, which he was immediately going to check in the front panel and thus went from one to the other like a bee goes from flower to flower. In the end he had to give up.
-Both are the same. I couldn't say which of the two is mine.
"We are facing a brilliant forger," Schluter concluded.
Then he added:
-And prolific. Unfortunately.
Shortly afterwards, in a special compartment of the bank, both specialists devoted themselves to a particularly rigorous examination of the “Night-time” sketch that lasted about an hour. After which they reached the shared conclusion that there was nothing in it that would allow for a serious objection to its attribution to Brik. But who knows?