When you first think of this word, it is with a slippery slope in mind.
I’ve been on a few of those in my time.
And while we’re on the subject, those inclines measured in degrees are very important if you want a train to get up and down the side of a mountain.
For the train, that’s an incline plane, the point where traction alone won’t get the iron horse up the hill.
Did I say ‘Iron Horse’? Sorry, regressed there, back to the mid-1800s in the American West for a moment.
It’s not that important when it comes to trucks and cars, and less so if you like four-wheel driving; getting up near-vertical mountainsides often present a welcome challenge to the true enthusiast
But for the rest of us, not so much if you find yourself sliding in reverse uncontrollably into the bay. I’m sure it’s happened more than once.
Then…
Are you inclined to go?
A very different sort of incline, ie to be disposed towards an attitude or desire.
An inclination, maybe, not to go four-wheel driving?
There is another, probably more obscure use of the word incline, and that relates to an elevated geological formation. Not the sort of reference that crops up in everyday conversation at the coffee shop.
But, you never know. Try it next time you have coffee and see what happens.
Hang about. Didn’t I read somewhere you need to plan your novel, create an outline setting the plot points, and flesh out the characters?
I’m sure it didn’t say, sit down and start writing!
Time to find a writing pad, and put my thinking cap on.
I make a list, what’s the story going to be about? Who’s going to be in it, at least at the start?
Like a newspaper story, I need a who, what, when, where, and how.
Right now.
I pick up the pen.
Character number one:
Computer nerd, ok, that’s a little close to the bone, a computer manager who is trying to be everything at once, and failing. Still me, but with a twist. Now, add a little mystery to him, and give him a secret, one that will only be revealed after a specific set of circumstance. Yes, I like that.
We’ll call him Bill, ex-regular army, a badly injured and repatriated soldier who was sent to fight a war in Vietnam, the result of which had made him, at times, unfit to live with.
He had a wife, which brings us to,
Character number two:
Ellen, Bill’s ex-wife, an army brat and a General’s daughter, and the result of one of those romances that met disapproval for so many reasons. It worked until Bill came back from the war, and from there it slowly disintegrated. There are two daughters, both by the time the novel begins, old enough to understand the ramifications of a divorce.
Character number three:
The man who is Bill’s immediate superior, the Services Department manager, a rather officious man who blindly follows orders, a man who takes pleasure in making others feel small and insignificant, and worst of all, takes the credit where none is due.
Oops, too much, that is my old boss. He’ll know immediately I’m parodying him. Tone it down, just a little, but more or less that’s him. Last name Benton. He will play a small role in the story.
Character number four:
Jennifer, the IT Department’s assistant manager, a woman who arrives in a shroud of mystery, and then, in time, to provide Bill with a shoulder to cry on when he and Ellen finally split, and perhaps something else later on.
More on her later as the story unfolds.
So far so good.
What’s the plot?
Huge corporation plotting to take over the world using computers? No, that’s been done to death.
Huge corporation, OK, let’s stop blaming the corporate world for everything wrong in the world. Corporations are not bad people, people are the bad people. That’s a rip off cliché, from guns don’t kill people, people kill people! There will be guns, and there will be dead people.
There will be people hiding behind a huge corporation, using a part of their computer network to move billions of illegally gained money around. That’s better.
Now, having got that, our ‘hero’ has to ‘discover’ this network, and the people behind it.
All we need now is to set the ball rolling, a single event that ‘throws a cat among the pigeons’.
Yes, Bill is on holidays, a welcome relief from the problems of work. He dreams of what he’s going to do for the next two weeks. The phone rings. Benton calling, the world is coming to an end, the network is down. He’s needed. A few terse words, but he relents.
John has found Zoe after playing a little cat and mouse in the streets near the hotel. Back at the hotel, they just get back to the room when a member of Worthington’s hit team arrives and comes off second best.
Of course, the rest are stationed at the obvious exits, and it takes some effort to get away.
Even that escape is fraught with danger, but with all the cunning she can muster, Zoe makes sure they get back to Vienna.
With Worthington’s hit team hot on their trail, a diversion at the main railway station helps aid their departure.
By now, two things are certain:
Worthington is behind the latest attempted hit, and they are both in the firing line, and
John had to decide whether or not he wanted a life always looking over his shoulder.
No prizes for guessing his choice!
…
We’re still in Bratislava with Zoe, making a few repairs, having been injured in the getaway from the hotel, where bullets were flying around indiscriminately.
In a nondescript hotel near a railway station, the favourite accommodation for assassins, maybe, there’s enough time for John to get the message that Zoe is not happy with him bringing along a hit squad.
And, they’re on the news, that is to say, they know who it is that’s on the news; the blurry figures are too indistinct for anyone else to identify them. It was disconcerting to be called criminals fleeing the scene of a crime.
Back in London, Sebastian is about to have a set-to with Worthington, who has decided that Sebastian is too close and might compromise his black op, so he’s sending him to Paris.
Here, we learn that Sebastian has both Isobel and Rupert locked in the basement cells, awaiting interrogation, and that Worthington orders him to send them home.
Of course, Sebastian is not going to do anything of the sort.
He knows they know where John is, and by implication, where Zoe is, and wants to know.
In the first edit, I suspect I will have to mention Sebastian ‘arresting’ Rupert and Isobel just to keep continuity, and no unfathomable surprises later on.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
It can relate to an object such as an engine in a car when sitting at traffic lights. Then the engine is not in gear or under any load, therefore it is idle.
That he is idle might mean he is currently not working or refuses to work. Then it could be said he is bone idle which is to say he is any or all of lazy, or shiftless, even indolent
It could refer to the time when nothing is happening.
It could also refer to money in accounts not earning any interest
How many of us indulge in idle chatter, which is meaningless?
And how many of us have made an idle threat, especially to a child who refuses to go to bed, or sleep.
This is not to be confused with idol
An idol is generally thought of as a representation of a god, one used as an object of worship.
An idol can also be a person who is greatly admired, like a celebrity or superstar or a hero.
It could also be a figment of the imagination.
Then there is idyll which could be an extremely happy place, or a picturesque period or situation, one that is unsustainable
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
The view in the front of me, and everyone else, didn’t change. I didn’t expect it to. It was dark and sometimes eerie out in space, and like us, eventually, hurtling towards the unknown.
But, that was yesterday.
That all changed a little over an hour ago when we made the first contact with another race. Admittedly it was not the ideal way to start a new relationship, but it was a start.
I had no doubt the diplomatic team was hard at work coming up with ideas on how we were going to approach these new people.
But in the meantime, we were, quite literary, hurtling through space faster than any human’s had before.
The chief 3ngineer was right when he said the problems were fixed, and the main drive was online and ready to go.
At first, it seemed like nothing had happened when Mr. Saville pressed the button. Then, gradually, the speed indicator moved, from 3.5 to 5, then to 7, and finally, 9. Nearly three times faster than anyone before.
Which brought a new set of issues. We would be arriving at the two ships, apparently waiting for us, a lot quicker than the original estimate of 7 hours.
It was now down to about 45 minutes, and we were going to need a plan of action.
There was a platoon of special soldiers on board, an odd addition to what was supposed to be peaceful exploration, but their inclusion was non-negotiable. I knew the previous captain was not very happy with them being on board, and the one conversation between the captain and their leader was quite acrimonious.
I hoped to improve relations and stepped off the bridge to go visit the commander.
They had a separate section of the ship, where they had quarters, training, and planning facilities. The commander, Lieutenant Colonel Baxter, had an office, and his 2ic met me at the elevator and escorted me to it.
“Not the best was to become captain of a ship,” he said.
“If I had a preference, no. I assume the Admiral had spoken to you.”
The Admiral seemed to have spoken to everyone, perhaps to ensure that I would get the support I needed. Captains were generally a lot older than I was and commanded respect through years of service and experience.
Though I didn’t lack years of service, I did lack experience in running a ship like the one I was now on. But, I told myself, I would not have been made number one if I didn’t merit it.
“We’re going after the people who took the captain and one of our scientists, yes. I see we’re about a half-hour before we encounter two alleged sentry ships.”
“Possibly. But you will need to supply a four-man team in case we have to go off ship, for security purposes only.”
“And if diplomacy doesn’t work.”
His shoot first and ask questions later policy was not going to go down well, it certainly didn’t with the previous captain, and it wouldn’t with me either.
“I’m sure we all know what that will mean when the time comes. The official book on this vessel doesn’t mention anything about armaments, but if I know anything about the military, I’m sure there are defensive weapons installed. I know you told the captain that there were none to your knowledge but we both know this ship would have never left the dock without some form of defenses.”
I could read between the lines. I had a lot of spare time on those interminable cargo runs and read a great deal about the space program, and the hopes and aspirations of a lot of countries in exploring, but not with the means to do it on their own.
Where sport was once the means to unite the world, now it was space, and I had wanted to be a part of it.
In all that reading, it was the obscure references that told the real story. Nothing could get off the grounds without military cooperation, and to get that, some concessions had to be made.
Like Baxter and his men. And for the installation of a host of new weapons, specifically for space. A little further reading showed the advances made in adapting laser technology, and I suspect this ship had a few, as well as other weapons. I hadn’t seen any ray guns, but there were prototypes, and they’d been around for several years.
“I couldn’t say, even if I wanted to. You know how it is.”
“Well, let’s hope your desire for secrecy doesn’t imperil the mission because if it does, you’ll be the first visitor in the brig.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. That’s just a fact. Now, once more, is there anything you need to tell me, that will be useful in any negotiation with the two ships we were about to encounter.”
He looked at me with what I would have guessed was contempt, but that was how he viewed everyone. There was no doubting his capability, his service record, or his loyalty. But space was different to anything else he’d encountered.
“If they give you any trouble, you let me know. That spare console on the bridge, it controls the ship’s defenses.”
I was smart enough not to ask what those defenses were. We’d all find out soon enough if it came to that.
“Then you’d better send someone up. We might need him.”
“Her actually. Gunnery Sargent Walker.”
Going back up in the elevator I looked at my hands and they were shaking. The first day out, and I was all but ready to go to war.
Not expected, not wanted, but sadly a fact.
When I stepped onto the bridge, the viewing screen showed the two ships, very close, and very detailed.
The second officer was saying, “We arrived early, and if I may ask, why didn’t we just go around them?”
“I’m curious about what they might have to say.”
“And if they shoot at us?”
“I’m sure Baxter will have something to say about that. Is the spare console manned?”
“Yes. By a Gunnery Sargent, part of the military team on board.”
“Good. Now let’s see if we can strike up a conversation.”
This is a residential tower down at the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, with every apartment on the beachside overlooking the ocean.
There could almost be a Die Gard scenarion going on here, but I like the idea of a drama unfolding in the penthouse, like
The husband comes home and finds the wife with her personal trainer, who is getting too personal, and he is about to thrown him over the balcony. That’s a long way down.
Uber eats arrive at the door, but it’s really two wannabe ransomers who take the daughter, tie her up, then start making absurd demands, and the daughter almost throws the two of them over the balcony.
But, not one to miss an opportunity, or get her stepmother, who is younger than her, into all sorts of trouble.
The brother of the owner, a single father is killed in a freak accident, and his son has to be taken in, brought back to the penthouse, and thinks he’s struck it rich. The conniving brat is about to be taught a lesson he’ll never forget when he discovers all is not what it seems.
Or my absolute favorite, I win the lottery, move into the apartment, and so do the other 27 layabout members of my family.
This story is now on the list to be finished so over the new few weeks, expect a new episode every few days.
The reason why new episodes have been sporadic, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.
But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.
Things are about to get complicated…
“Turn around and head towards the trees, we’re not very far from you,” the voice in my head said.
I turned, saw the trees and moved towards them.
“Straight ahead.”
Then I could just see her, beside one of the tree trunks, under the cover of the canopy.
For the moment we would not be seen, but if someone was looking intently, we would be seen.
Jennifer was kneeling, her knees and weight keeping the assailant on the ground. She handed me the gun, a silenced Baretta, with the distinct aroma of a discharged bullet.
Jennifer had pulled off the balaclava. Jan.
Not working for Severin, but Dobbin. Or someone else?
“Who ordered the hit?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Not entirely unexpected.
I pulled out my phone and dialled the number for the Detective Inspector that had been at Maury’s crime scene. I knew there was going to be a need to call her in the not-too-distant future. And Jan needed to be in a safe place where she couldn’t be got at.
“Who is this?”
My number would have come up as a ‘private number’.
“We met at the hotel where Maury died.”
“The spy?”
“Of sorts. I’m sorry to say that his companion, Severin, is also now very dead in the rotunda at the Italian Gardens at Hyde Park. I’d get someone down here before the body is removed or found by a member of the public.”
I heard a scream and deduced it came from the rotunda.
“Too late. Hurry before the crime scene is contaminated.”
“Where are you?”
“Nearby. And if you’re especially quick, we have a surprise for you.”
Two constables arrived in four minutes, most likely nearby for another reason. The Detective Inspector and her Sergeant arrived within 20 minutes, but by that time Jennifer and Jan had retreated to the car, parked away from the gardens.
Anyone seeing us heading away would have picked us for three drunken fools escorting a friend who had passed out. Jan had struggled to get free, and it had been necessary to subdue her.
I had wanted to ask further questions, but circumstances didn’t allow it. Not yet.
Leaving Jennifer with Jan, securely tied up, but looking like she was sleeping of a long drinking session, I went back to the crime scene just as the Detective Inspector was coming out of the rotunda.
She recognised me and called me over to the tape that separated the public from the scene. The forensic team had just arrived and was setting up. I doubted she would let me into the crime scene area, but I had seen enough when I’d been there with Severin.
“Why are you here, and give me a good reason not to take you into custody.”
“He called me earlier and wanted to talk. I think he found out Maury was dead, and he was next. I didn’t kill him, but I know who did, but I’m not sure we’re going to be able to prove it.”
“That weedy little man that saved your ass the last time?”
“Richards or Dobbin? Either or together or one of their henchmen. Not sure, to be honest. All I knop is it’s possible Maury was killed during an intense interrogation. I suspect Severin was killed to silence him.”
“Because of what?”
“I believe it is about the existence of a formula for a biological weapon.”
The Power of Silence: Why Saying Less Can Make Your Interviews—and Your Writing—Far More Compelling
“Silence is a source of great strength.” — Lao Tzu
In a world that rewards constant chatter, it’s easy to forget that the most memorable moments often happen when nobody is speaking. Whether you’re sitting across from a subject in a face‑to‑face interview or watching a scene unfold on the page, strategic silence can turn good material into something unforgettable.
In this post, we’ll explore:
Why silence works – the psychological and narrative reasons it matters.
Interview tactics – how to harness pauses, breathing space, and non‑verbal cues.
Writing tricks – letting characters speak for themselves and using “silence” in prose.
Common pitfalls – what to avoid when you try to be “quiet”.
Grab a notebook (or a blank document) and let the quiet speak to you.
1. The Science Behind the Pause
What Happens When You’re Silent
Why It Helps Your Audience
The brain fills in gaps – humans love pattern‑completion.
Listeners/readers become active participants, constructing meaning in the spaces you leave.
Emotional intensity rises – a pause creates tension.
The audience anticipates what comes next, sharpening focus on the upcoming reveal.
Trust is built – you’re not trying to steer the conversation.
Interviewees feel heard, while readers sense authentic, unmanipulated dialogue.
Memory retention improves – novelty stands out.
Unusual moments (a lingering silence) stick in the mind longer than a flood of words.
In short, silence is not “nothing”; it’s a catalyst that amplifies whatever follows it.
2. Interview Techniques: Let the Interviewee Own the Story
a. The “Goldilocks” Pause
What it is: A deliberate, 2‑5‑second silence right after a question or a key statement.
Why it works: It gives the interviewee mental space to think, often coaxing deeper, less rehearsed answers.
How to practice:
Ask a question.
Resist the urge to fill the void with “uh‑uh” or “so…”.
Count silently (1‑2‑3…) and then listen.
Example – Instead of “What made you decide to start the company?” followed immediately by “And how did you fund it?”, try: “What made you decide to start the company?” (pause) “Take your time.” (pause again) …and you’ll hear the story unfold organically.
b. Mirror the Body Language
Technique: Nod, maintain an open posture, and let the interviewee see you’re engaged without speaking.
Result: Non‑verbal affirmation often encourages the interviewee to keep talking, turning a silence into a “safe‑space” signal.
c. Avoid “Filler” Questions
Bad habit: “Do you like that?” or “Is that right?” after every answer.
Better approach: Let the previous answer breathe. If you need clarification, phrase it as a reflection: “So you’re saying…?” – then pause.
d. The “Quiet Re‑Ask”
When you need deeper detail, repeat the last few words of the interviewee’s answer, then stay silent.
Interviewee: “We had to scrap the original design.” You: “Scrap the original design…?” (silence) Result: The interviewee often fills in the missing “why” or “how”.
3. Writing Tricks: Let Your Characters Speak for Themselves
a. Show, Don’t Tell—Through Silence
Scene: A mother and her teenage son sit across a kitchen table after a heated argument.
Traditional “telling”: “She was angry, and he felt guilty.”
Silence‑driven “showing”:The spoon clinked against the porcelain, a rhythm that grew louder as the minutes stretched. She stared at the steam rising from her tea; he stared at the chipped edge of his mug. No one said a word.
The absence of dialogue forces the reader to infer the tension.
b. Use “Silent Beats” Between Dialogue
Why: They act like punctuation, letting readers absorb what was just said.
How: Insert a line break or a brief description of a character’s reaction.
“I’m leaving,” she whispered.
The rain thumped against the window, louder than any goodbye.
The beat gives weight to the line, turning a simple statement into a moment of finality.
c. Let Characters “Fill In Their Own Gaps”
If you give a character an ambiguous line, resist the temptation to explain it for them. Trust the reader’s imagination.
“You remember what happened that night?”
He nodded, eyes flicking to the empty doorway.
Notice we never tell the reader what he remembers. The silence invites speculation, creating deeper engagement.
d. Narrative “Silence” — The Unspoken Backstory
Sometimes the silence isn’t a pause in dialogue but a gap in the narrative. Let background details emerge gradually, through hints rather than exposition.
Technique: Drop a prop, a habit, or a scar and let the audience wonder.
Result: The story feels lived‑in, like a real person who has a past you’re only glimpsing.
4. Pitfalls to Avoid
Pitfall
Why It Undermines Silence
Quick Fix
Filling gaps with narration
Over‑explaining robs the reader of agency.
Use concise, vivid images instead of exposition.
Awkward, overly long pauses
Can feel uncomfortable, breaking immersion.
Keep silent beats purposeful—2–5 seconds in interviews, a line break or two in prose.
Assuming silence = boredom
Some people mistake quiet for lack of content.
Prepare with strong questions or scene stakes; silence will then feel intentional.
Using silence to avoid the tough question
Leads to shallow interviews/writing.
Embrace uncomfortable topics; let the pause draw them out.
5. A Mini‑Exercise to Practice “Silence”
Interview: Conduct a 5‑minute conversation with a friend about a memorable childhood event. After each question, count to five silently before responding. Record the exchange. Notice how the answers become richer.
Write: Draft a scene (150–200 words) in which two characters meet after years apart. Include at least three silent beats—one before dialogue, one in the middle, one after. Compare the emotional impact to a version where the conversation is nonstop.
6. Takeaway: Silence Is Your Secret Superpower
In interviews, silence is a listening tool that invites deeper, unfiltered storytelling.
In writing, silence is a structural device that lets characters own their voice and readers fill in the emotional blanks.
When you deliberately step back—whether from a microphone or a keyboard—you create space for authenticity to breathe. And in that breath lies the resonance that makes an interview memorable and a story unforgettable.
Next time you feel the urge to fill the void, pause. Let the silence do the heavy lifting.
Ready to try it? Share your silent‑beat experiment in the comments below. I’d love to hear how a simple pause transformed your interview or manuscript!
One Day, One Stopover, One Iconic Spot: Why Plaza de Mayo Is the Only Place You Need to Visit in Buenos Aires
You’ve got just 24 hours to soak up the spirit of Argentina’s capital. Instead of trying to cram a dozen neighbourhoods into a frantic sprint, focus on the beating heart of the city—Plaza de Mayo. With its rich history, striking architecture, and a handful of bite‑size experiences all within a few minutes’ walk, this single square will turn your layover into a truly memorable Buenos Aires story.
1. Why Plaza de Mayo Deserves the Spotlight
What makes it special?
How it translates into a “must‑see” for a day‑stop
Historical epicenter – The square has witnessed the May Revolution (1810), countless presidential inaugurations, and the rise of modern Argentina.
A quick walk here feels like stepping onto a living history book; you’ll understand the city’s soul in 30 minutes.
Architectural showcase – From the pink‑hued Casa Rosada to the neoclassical Cabildo and the grand Metropolitan Cathedral, styles span colonial, French‑Beaux‑Arts, and modernist.
Photo‑ops galore—your Instagram feed will thank you.
Café culture – Right on the edge sits the legendary Café Tortoni, the oldest coffeehouse in the country.
A perfect spot to refuel with a café con leche and a medialuna (Argentinian croissant).
Central hub – All major transport lines (Subte Line A, numerous bus routes, and the nearby Retiro train station) converge here, making it easy to reach even on a tight schedule.
No time‑wasting detours—arrive, explore, and hop back on the plane.
Live atmosphere – Street musicians, political rallies, and open‑air vendors create a vibrant, ever‑changing tableau.
You’ll leave with more than pictures—you’ll carry a slice of Buenos Aires life.
In short, Plaza de Mayo condenses the city’s history, culture, cuisine, and energy into a single, walkable rectangle.
2. The 3‑Hour “Plaza de Mayo Sprint” Itinerary
Even if you only have a few hours, you can cover the essentials without feeling rushed.
Time
Activity
Insider tip
0:00 – 0:15
Arrive & Orient – Step off the Subte (Line A) at Plaza de Mayo station. Take a moment on the main terrace to spot the iconic pink façade of the Casa Rosada.
Look up to see the Balcony of the Casa Rosada—the spot where Eva Perón famously addressed crowds.
0:15 – 0:45
Casa Rosada & Plaza Tour – Walk around the square, snap photos of the Monumento a los Caídos and the Obelisk of the Revolution. If you’re lucky, a guard change ceremony might be in progress.
The guard ceremony occurs at 10 am on weekdays—check the schedule if you can.
0:45 – 1:20
Cabildo & Metropolitan Cathedral – Pop inside the historic Cabildo (entry is free) to see the original colonial council chambers, then head next door to the Cathedral where Pope Francis was ordained.
Bring a small donation for the Cathedral’s “café” (they serve a surprisingly good espresso).
1:20 – 2:00
Coffee Break at Café Tortoni – Order the classic “café con leche” and a medialuna; soak up the Belle Époque interiors, complete with marble statues and vintage newspapers.
Ask the staff for the “Tortoni special”—a mini‑tour of the literary figures who once frequented the place.
2:00 – 2:30
Stroll Down Avenida de May – Walk the tree‑lined avenue toward Plaza San Martín, admiring the early‑20th‑century French‑style buildings.
Spot the Mansard Roof of the Lloyd Palace—a great quick photo.
2:30 – 3:00
Optional Quick Bite – Grab a choripán from a street vendor or a quick empanada at El Sanjuanino (just a few blocks away).
If you’re a meat lover, a bite of bife de chorizo at the nearby Café Los Angelitos won’t disappoint.
Total: ~3 hours – leaving you ample time to return to the airport, freshen up, and board your next flight without stress.
3. Practical Details: Getting There & Getting Out
What you need to know
Details
Closest airport connections
From Ezeiza (EZE), a 45‑minute taxi or rideshare to Plaza de Mayo is the simplest. From Aeroparque (AEP), a 20‑minute taxi or the Aerobús to Retiro and a 5‑minute walk.
Subway
Line A (the oldest line) stops directly at Plaza de Mayo. Trains run every 5‑7 minutes; tickets cost ARS 30 (≈ US 0.16).
Walking
The entire itinerary is a compact 1‑km loop—wear comfortable shoes.
Safety
Plaza de Mayo is a police‑patrolled zone, but stay aware of pickpockets, especially near market stalls. Keep your wallet in a front pocket.
Language
Spanish is the default, but most staff at Café Tortoni speak basic English. Having a few phrases (“un café con leche, por favor”) goes a long way.
Currency
Argentine pesos are cash‑friendly; most places accept cards, but have a small amount of cash for street vendors.
Time zone
Buenos Aires is UTC‑3 year‑round (no daylight‑saving).
4. Beyond the Square: If You’ve Got Extra Time
If your layover stretches to a full day, use Plaza de Mayo as a launchpad:
Nearby Neighborhood
Why it’s worth a quick detour
San Telmo (10 min walk)
Antique market on Sundays, tango cafés, and the iconic El Zanjón museum.
Puerto Madero (15 min by taxi)
Modern skyline, waterfront restaurants, and the Fragata Sarmiento museum ship.
Recoleta (20 min by taxi)
Famous Recoleta Cemetery (Eva Perón’s tomb) and upscale boutiques.
Even a brief 20‑minute stroll through any of these districts will deepen your Buenos Aires impression, but none will match the concentrated punch of Plaza de Mayo.
5. Capture the Moment: Photo Checklist
Shot
Description
Casa Rosada façade
Pink walls, iconic balcony—best in golden hour (early morning or late afternoon).
Cabildo doorway
Colonial arches; frame with the flagpole for a historic vibe.
Café Tortoni interior
Marble busts, stained‑glass ceiling—look for the vintage espresso machine.
Street performer
Capture the spontaneous tango or folk music that often fills the square.
Avenida de May
Leading‑line shot of the tree‑lined boulevard disappearing into the distance.
Pro tip: Use portrait mode for the architectural details and wide‑angle for the bustling square; you’ll get a professional‑looking gallery without a DSLR.
6. The Takeaway
When you have only one day to experience Buenos Aires, don’t chase every trendy barrio. Plaza de Mayo offers a microcosm of the city’s soul—history, politics, art, coffee culture, and that unmistakable Argentine buzz—all in a walkable, easy‑to‑reach spot.
By centring your layover around this iconic square, you’ll leave the capital with a story, a few unforgettable photos, and a taste of Argentine life—the perfect souvenir for a traveller on the move.
“If you want to understand a city, stand where its heart beats.” — Your Buenos Aires adventure, distilled in a single plaza.
Ready to make your stopover unforgettable? Pack a light jacket, a camera, and an appetite for history, then let Plaza de Mayo do the rest.
Happy travels, and enjoy your fleeting yet fabulous taste of Buenos Aires!
Is there a reason why you would not want to tell it, or that if you did, some people might find it uncomfortable?
The problem is, no matter what you write, someone out there isn’t going to like it.
And there is a raft of subjects to write about that cause concern, but these are sometimes stories that have to be told.
I have one such story, and to me, the telling of it would not fit the mainstream opinion because people are very divided over it. There are reasons for this, and they are being, in my opinion, sensationalised to polarise a particular stance.
The subject: Transgenders.
Like I said, it’s a story I would like to write about, but I know what the response is going to be.
And that isn’t to say that I do not have my own biases, the baggage that we are given when we are younger, where schools and teachers teach us what is supposedly the norm, they will need to work within for the rest of their lives.
In my day, it was that the man went to work to earn a living that provided a house, food, and everything else, while the woman stayed home, had children and looked after the man.
Yes, I can hear 50 per cent of the population laughing at that one, but how different is that societal norm to that where we are now taught that transgender people are subhumans that should be scorned and abandoned because they don’t fit the definition of man or woman?
Thankfully, I grew out of that, and women can vote, work, drive cars, and do anything they desire, though it seems there is a new movement that wants to take away all those rights and go back to the Stone Age.
Again, another very touchy subject, and that will eventually prevent the possibility of writers putting forward the various viewpoints for larger discussion.
Try going back another hundred years, when women were the sub-human species, little more than a man’s possession.
This is probably the only time I will raise the subject, as an instance of what writers may or may not write about, a highlight that public opinion, fueled by people in power, does eventually affect what can be written.
It’s something that we should all be mindful of, as well as keeping an open mind.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 