What happens when your past finally catches up with you?
Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.
Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment Will’s life slowly starts to unravel and it’s obvious to him it’s time to move on.
This time, however, there is more at stake.
Will has broken his number one rule, don’t get involved.
With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.
But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved there is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.
Like leg, arm is a word that is mostly associated with a body part.
Like being legless, another description for being drunk, being rendered ‘armless’ means you are no threat, in a rather awful but funny way by saying it.
I guess we all have a dash of ‘sick’ humour in all of us.
However, arm can also be used to describe a part of a structure too.
It could also describe the arm of an ‘armchair’.
But…
Arm also means to give people weapons like guns, usually from an armoury.
I’m guessing that a whole lot of people with arms is an army!
You can also say that taking those weapons away would be to disarm them.
It might take the long arm of the law to do it, too.
And to disarm someone doesn’t necessarily mean to take away their arms, but to ‘charm’ them with your wit and humour.
An arm can also be a river or streams tributary, so I could say instead of staying on the main river, I’ll take the ‘named’ arm, but just remember, sometimes this can be dangerous, getting off the main route.
On a boat, there is a yardarm, and this was once used to hang seamen who committed serious crimes such as mutiny.
A call to arms was to declare war,
And lastly, an arm of the defence services could be any one of Army, Navy, Marines or Airforce.
Just steer clear of the Navy for the aforementioned reasons.
The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.
Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.
An hour later we were stopped by the side of the road, at a point where another road, or, rather, a track headed to the left into the forest.
A short distance before that I noticed a sign, battered and faded, advertising an airport, a sign I thought had been put there as a joke.
Of course, when I remembered the conversation I had with Monroe back on the plane and the fact we had a specialist pilot in our group, it all began to make sense.
Our exit strategy.
I only wished I had internet coverage so I could check the presence of an airport in what looked to be the middle of nowhere.
Only Davies seemed unperturbed.
I had to ask. “Did you know there was an airport here?”
“Of one, used by fly-ins for the Garamba National Park. Not much of an airstrip though, and we don’t exactly have up to the minute details on its surface, but as recently as a week ago a small plane had landed there.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“All you had to do was ask the right question.”
It seems I didn’t know what the right questions were, what might be called an occupational hazard on a job like this.
Everyone had got out of their cars to stretch their legs and prepare for the next phase of the operation, which was to meet with the kidnappers. I expected Jacobi would be on the sat phone talking to their leader, advising we had arrived.
I went back to Mobley, standing with the Ugandan soldier that had been assigned as his driver, smoking a cigarette. I was surprised he hadn’t joined the others who had gathered ahead of the lead vehicle.
“Nice shooting back there,” I said. It was for a man under pressure to make the shots, and give the rest of us a chance to take care of the others. That no one else got shot was a miracle.
“Just another day at the office.”
“Well, it hasn’t ended yet. I want you to go to the airstrip and get it under surveillance. There is supposed to be an aircraft there, whether for our use or just there so we can steal it I’m not quite sure. But if there’s a plane there, I want you to make sure it doesn’t leave, but as quietly as possible. We should be along later with the packages. I’m going up to tell the Colonel he’ll be joining you. He might not want to, but he’s done enough for us. I don’t want him to make enemies unnecessarily.”
“As you wish. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Good. Make sure your radio is working and on. I need to know if anything goes sideways.”
“It won’t.”
I wish I had his confidence.
A minute later I reached the front of the convoy and saw why there seemed little animation among the group. Monroe had Jacobi on his knees and a gun on the back of his neck.
“This is an interesting development Lieutenant. Is there a problem I should know about?”
“I reckon the weasel sold us out back there. Maybe even called them in to shake us down for one reason or another. Didn’t try too hard to negotiate with the commander.”
No, he hadn’t. And the thought had crossed my mind too. A bit of cash on the side, split with the commander. There didn’t seem to be any intent of the commander’s part to shoot us, so it was a pity we had to kill them all. If they were part of the kidnapper’s operations, things might get a little dangerous.
“Before you kill him,” I said, “Did he tell you how the call to the kidnappers went?”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Perhaps you should.”
Mobley picked that moment to drive up alongside Jacobi and the Lieutenant.
“Problem?” he asked through the window.
“No. We’re practicing our run at the kidnappers.”
He shrugged. I looked over at the Colonel. “Time for you to be moving on. You don’t need to be in on the next part, for plausible deniability. I suspect if the leader of this group sees you, and makes any connection back to the Ugandans, it could cause trouble.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Better if you didn’t have to. My man needs help at the airstrip and a man of your authority might just smooth over problems if he needs it.”
“You’re having a plane sent in?”
“I’d like to think so, might even get you home in time for a late supper.” I glared at Jacobi. “How does he get to the airstrip?”
“Normally, through the town, but there’s a track about 200 yards up the road. Go left, follow the road, then turn right at the first fork.”
He stood staring at the ground for a minute, hopefully considering doing as I asked. I was not sure what I was going to do if he didn’t. It was preferable he didn’t come with us.
“OK. You have a point. No need stirring up my Congo friends any more than I already have.”
He went over to Mobley’s car and got in, replacing the Ugandan soldier as a driver.
“See you when we see you,” Mobley said, and the Colonel drove off after a wave.
Back to my other problem.
“You’ve had time to think about your answer, Jacobi, so tell us.”
“An eight-mile drive along the next track, then instead of taking the fork to the airstrip, go left, and drive to you reach the checkpoint.”
“The meeting is on.”
“They’re waiting for us.”
“In more ways than one, I’d say,” Monroe muttered. “He’s outlived his usefulness in my book.”
Ordinarily, I would agree with her, but we still needed him. There might have been an initial negotiation, but it was far from what the end deal would be, and he had to be there to complete it. And if he was leading us into a trap, well, we’d just have to wait and see.
“We still need him, so ease up on the aggression. If he has double-crossed us, you can shoot him. Until then, play nice. But, just as a precaution, you and Stark can bring up the rear, stop about a mile short, and do some recon between there and the checkpoint. If anyone is thinking of sneaking up behind us, I want to know about it.”
Monroe shook her head, then eased the gun away from him. A nod to me.
“He can go with you in the lead car. Davies can come with me and keep driving the car. They’ll be expecting four vehicles.”
“Fair enough.” I turned to Baines, the first time I’d addressed him since getting on the plane at the black site. “You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a portable rocket launcher among that film equipment, would you?”
“And half a dozen shells. Don’t know how they managed it, but it’s there.”
“Easy to get at?”
“If need be.”
“Good.” I looked around at the rest of the team. “Everyone had time to calm their nerves.”
I’d watched Jacobi drag himself to his feet and try to brush the dust of his clothes. It didn’t help restore what was once quite clean and crisp linen. No one helped him, in fact, if I gave the order to shoot, all of them would. Monroe’s accusation struck a chord with the others.
“We’d better get going,” she said, heading for the last vehicle after being joined by Davies. Out of earshot, she said something to her, and I heard them laughing.
I was not sure what it was about, but as long as it eased the tension in her. She had discovered which car was carrying the diamonds, co-incidentally the car I’d been driving, so we needed a situation so that we could remove the diamonds from the equation when we arrived at the checkpoint. There was no way the kidnappers were going to let us retrieve the package once we got there, and I had no doubt we would be separated from the cars, and the equipment, so that, if possible, the kidnappers could gain the upper hand.
Or that was how I suspected it would go down. It was only a matter of time before I was proved right or wrong.
Everyone else got back into the cars, and with Jacobi sitting in the front with me, I started moving forward.
I wasn’t prepared, not mentally anyway. I never was when going into battle.
Or, so my mother said, once, with such feeling that I suspect she had some experience of having done so. It might explain the enmity between her and her older sister, the aunt we never saw.
Except all that changed when I received an odd email from a woman who claimed to be that very aunt.
We had all been warned about scams that came from dubious sources online, and this initially struck me as one. I would need more information before I answered.
That meant poking the bear, that is, asking my mother about her sister.
And coming right out with the words she hoped she’d never heard.
“Aunt Guenivere sent me an email, asking if we could meet. It seems she wants to meet the nephew she hasn’t seen since I was born. What happened to you two?”
It brought a look of total hatred in return.
“You would be wise not to respond. That woman is just plain evil.”
“You do realize that a statement like that makes it even more imperative that I should meet her. If you’re not going to tell me what happened, I’m sure she will.”
“Then if you must, you must.”
It wasn’t resignation but suppressed rage. Whatever had happened, it was something she believed no one would believe her, or understand, least of all me.
With that, she stood, and walked out of the room, leaving me with the ominous feeling that it would be the last time I saw her. After verifying that my so-called aunt was Aunt Guenivere, I arranged a meeting in a public place, a tea room in the next town to where I lived. And it wasn’t going to be hard to recognize her, she would just an older version of my mother.
I knew this because I had found a photograph of my mother and her two sisters, all of who looked very much alike. I’d know about the younger sister, she had died in an accidental car crash many years before, and what my mother regarded as a wasted life.
I saw her about the same time she saw me.
And she just made it to the table when her cell phone rang. She smiled, put a hand up and asked for a moment, and then went back outside. I watched her walk up and down, slowly at first, but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
After a few minutes, I went outside to see if I could be of any assistance.
Apparently not. One look was enough, and I knew what it meant. At least her sister and my mother shared the same facial expressions when angry.
Then the conversation ended. I thought, for a moment, she was going to throw the phone on the ground, and only just managed to stop herself.
Instead, she came over and said. “I’m sorry but something has come up and I have to go. I’ll call you.”
With that, she waved down a taxi, one stopped, and she jumped in.
Another pulled in behind her taxi and on the spur of the moment, and said with a flourish, “Follow that cab.”
The driver turned to look at me, and then said, “You’re kidding.”
I held up a hundred dollar note and said, seriously, “This is yours if you don’t lose them.”
Incentive enough.
It was a lot easier to follow that taxi than I thought. We caught up and the first set of lights and then proceeded to miss every second intersection as if the universe knew I needed to keep her in sight.
All the way to the upper west side and a very expensive apartment block. I paid the cabbie and jumped out, just in time to see a very familiar figure join my aunt.
My father.
And they didn’t look like people who didn’t know each other, or who were at war.
They remained outside the apartment block, and I could see my father had arrived by cab, and it was waiting for him.
I got as close as I could, hidden effectively behind the bushes that lined the building entrance. They were speaking loudly, which surprised me
“What the hell were you thinking,” he said, not angrily, but I could tell he was agitated.
“I was thinking it was time someone told him the truth.”
What truth?
“You know what Evelyn thinks of that, and I do too. You made an agreement.”
“I’ve changed my mind. After all, he is my son, not hers.”
So it seems that Aitchison, the latest addition to the story, has reservations about what’s is or isn’t going on. Aitchison is in charge of the security, not only the computer systems, but for everyone, and, of course, the first person the police would go and see.
It’s also time to bring in the CEO, a rather elusive character, but one who will have a great deal to do with our main character for a lot of different reasons. But, for now, all the reader needs to know is that he exists, and is very elusive for one particular reason.
Halligan is just another incidental character, significant only because he is also dead, and where there are multiple deaths, there had to be a conspiracy. Aitchison, of course, is not what he seems, not that we know that yet, but for now, is a man with a problem.
I looked Aitchison directly in the eye, so he would not think I was lying. “Since the last debacle, I rarely see Halligan, and, when I do, I can assure you the last thing he wants to do is ask for favors. My last visit was to set up a laptop on his desk, not connected to the network. Does the CEO know anything about this?”
The CEO was almost the equivalent of the invisible man. No one could remember seeing him in the office, or when he visited the last time and was rumored to be at his Nevada ranch most of the time where he had an office. I remember setting up video conferencing for him a year or so ago, but I don’t think it had even been used. But Aitchison was one of a few who had met him personally.
“I put a call in. He’s at a retreat with the American management team, going through some team-building exercises. I’m waiting for his call, but I think I can safely say he will deny everything, and plead innocence.”
“Has the staff members been questioned?”
“Yes. No one had anything constructive to add. But one other interesting bit of information that did come out of that briefing with the Chief Inspector was that Halligan also attempted to log onto this other network. That’s why I asked you about Halligan.”
Something was not right. Halligan was dumb when it came to computers, and only wanted a computer, not connected to the network. Of course, he needed a networked desktop for email, and sourcing documents, and perhaps the peek at a porn site through the internet, but that was the extent of his involvement. His knowledge of networking was solely based on the background papers I wrote for him when he needed information for meetings and conferences. He even had trouble logging into the network at times, because he kept forgetting his password.
I kept that to myself. Aitchison was probably not interested in anything that would refute his belief of what the situation entailed. He was partially wrong, but that was driven by fear.
“What had Halligan have to say about all of this?”
It was an innocent question, but it drew the sharpest reaction and given a sudden ashen look on his face, the catalyst of his fear. The mere mention of questioning Halligan had caused him to turn white.
“He’s dead too, and conveniently cannot answer any questions. The doctor said it was a heart attack.”
“Dead? Where, when?”
“Early this morning, at home. Apparently, his wife is away, overseas visiting relatives, and neither we nor the police have been able to contact her. I only found out when I tried to call him this morning after the news about Richardson broke, and the police answered the phone.”
He poured a splash of whiskey into the glass and drank it down. If it was to settle his nerves it wasn’t working.
“And you don’t think it was a heart attack?”
“Too convenient, far too convenient, especially so soon after the Richardson thing, and in the light of this other network logon episode. The very two people who allegedly knew about this network both dying of innocent causes? Something is going on here, and we have to get to the bottom of it, before the police, Interpol or any forensic experts, if that’s what they are.”
He poured himself another liberal drink from the bottle and offered me one. I declined. Too early, and my nerves were not yet getting the better of me.
A shiver ran down my spine. I was beginning to buy into his paranoia. It was beginning to look like anyone associated with this secret network found themselves on some sort of hit list. No wonder Aitchison was jumpy. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion I did. He’d been making inquiries, and it might be enough to have his name added to the list.
Telling me about it might just be enough to add my name to that same list. I looked at the whiskey bottle and the glass. It might be time for a nerve steadying drink.
Aitchison was still talking, and I just caught what he was saying, “… it’s your network. People will be asking questions.”
If he was trying to scare me, it was working.
He continued, “The police were rather skeptical when I said we didn’t know the network was in place. I’m to be interviewed next. You shouldn’t be far behind. Forewarned is forearmed.”
He turned to look out at the city. The view was magnificent, despite the wintry weather. After a minute, he said, “At least there is one irrefutable fact. Richardson was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the only explanation. I don’t believe he was trying to log into anything, but he was the victim of a random key combination or a glitch in the power supply to the system. You’ve seen it happen yourself when the power goes down momentarily and just enough time elapses to trick the computer into thinking it has to log in again. There was a brief power outage last night, during the storm. It might be worth investigating that event, and the effect on our systems.”
That was not a bad assessment, and one I hadn’t thought of.
“Then, there is something else, the Chief Inspector mentioned in passing, and that was one of the employees claims his building pass card had been stolen. Again, convenient, but the police are questioning him, but according to building security, that pass was used last night.”
“The person who killed Richardson?”
“If you put two and two together and get four. The police aren’t saying much, but that’s the inference I’d draw?”
“And the person with the missing card?”
“A janitor, or maintenance worker, not one of our people. He probably has a police record as long as his arm. You should go. And just a thought. If it was a desktop system connected to the in-house network, then one of our servers had to be used as a gateway. Tell me you installed those special log files when I asked you to last week?”
I had been in two minds about implementing that particular request because in part it when against the privacy regulations we had to adhere to. After reading the relevant legislation and taking to a consulting security company who had advised we were well within our rights to do so, in the end, I did. And it had given several positive results immediately after its implementation, proving beneficial in tracking down people using the network incorrectly. I’m glad he remembered it. In the panic, it slipped my mind. “Of course! How do you think I tracked down the troublemaker in Distribution?”
“Good. Start the investigation as soon as you bet back to the floor, but be careful to make sure no one knows about it, or what you are doing. People connected with this seem to be suffering from terminal health problems.”
I stood. I was not sure if I felt suitably inspired.
I’m sure a lot of people have considered the prospect of whale watching. I’m not sure how the subject came up on one of our visits to New Zealand, but I suspect it was one one of those tourist activity leaflets you find in the foyer of motels, hotels, and guesthouses.
Needless to say, it was only a short detour to go to Kaikoura and check out the prospect.
Yes, the ocean at the time seemed manageable. My wife has a bad time with sea sickness, but she was prepared to make the trip, after some necessary preparations. Seasickness tablets and special bands to wear on her wrist were recommended and used.
The boat was large and had two decks, and mostly enclosed. There were a lot of people on board, and we sat inside for the beginning of the voyage. The sea wasn’t rough, but there was about a meter and a half swell, easily managed by the boat while it was moving.
It took about a half hour or so to reach the spot where the boat stopped and a member of the crew used a listening device to see if there were any whales.
That led to the first wave of sickness.
We stopped for about ten minutes, and the boat moved up and down on the waves. It was enough to start the queasy stomachs of a number of passengers. Myself, it was a matter of going out on deck and taking in the sea air. Fortunately, I don’t get seasick.
Another longish journey to the next prospective site settled a number of the queasy stomachs, but when we stopped again, the swell had increased, along with the boat’s motion. Seasick bags were made available for the few that had succumbed.
By the time we reached the site where there was a whale, over half the passengers had been sick, and I was hoping they had enough seasick bags, and then enough bin space for them.
The whale, of course, put on a show for us, and those that could went out on deck to get their photos.
By the end of the voyage, nearly everyone on board was sick, and I was helping to hand out seasick bags.
Despite the anti sickness preparations, my wife had also succumbed. When we returned and she was asked if the device had worked, she said no.
But perhaps it had because within half an hour we were at a cafe eating lunch, fish and chips of course.
This activity has been crossed off the bucket list, and there’s no more whale watching in our traveling future. Nor, it seems, will we be going of ocean liners.
Perhaps a cruise down the Rhine might be on the cards. I don’t think that river, wide as it is in places, will ever have any sort of swell.
I’m back home and this story has been sitting on the back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.
The trouble is, 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.
Chasing leads, maybe
Just because you have a security card with your name on it doesn’t mean you are cleared. Yesterday, maybe, but today? Anything can happen in 24 hours, much like the political landscape.
When I walked in the front entrance and up to the scanning gate, I was just another employee coming into work. I ran my card through the scanning device, and the light turned red.
It failed.
In the time it took for me to scan it a second time, a security guard had arrived from the front desk, and a soldier, armed and ready was standing behind me.
I didn’t doubt for one minute he would shoot me if I tried to run.
“What seems to be the problem?” The security guard was polite but firm.
“My card that scanned the last time and worked, doesn’t seem to work now.”
I could read his expression, ‘you just got fired, and are trying to get back in.”
“Let me try.”
I gave him the card, he looked at it, no doubt to see if there was any damage, then tried it.”
“Have you any other means of identification?”
Now, here’s the thing. This was the office full of spies and support staff all of whom could be using assumed names, different guises, or just plain secretive with their private information. Luckily I had a driver’s license with the name on the card, but not much else.
I thought about telling him about the place he was guarding, but I doubted he would listen.
He looked at both, then handed back the license.
“Come with me over to the counter and we’ll see if we can sort this out.”
It was not a request, nor was I unaccompanied. I now had a soldier permanently attached to me.
When we all arrived at the desk, he joined another guard behind.
“Who is your immediate superior?”
It was a toss-up between Dobbin and Monica. Since Dobbin spent a lot of time in his car or appeared to, I said it was Monica.
I watched him search slowly through the phone list until he found her number, then called her.
He had his back to me when they spoke, but it wasn’t for long; after a minute, perhaps two, he replaced the receiver and turned back.
“Ms. Shrive will be down in about five minutes.” He pointed to a row of chairs against the wall, remnants from the last world war. “If you would like to wait over there, sir.”
He didn’t hand back my card.
The wait was more like a half-hour, but I had become engrossed in an old copy of Country Life, and an article that made me consider retiring to the country in an old thatch cottage beside a babbling brook somewhere in the Cotswolds.
Until I read the price.
The arrival of Monica came at a fortuitous moment. Coming to the desk.
“Nnn, I was hoping you would drop by sooner rather than later.”
“My card doesn’t work.”
“Oh, that’s because we revoked it.” She held out another in her hand. “We’ve replaced it with one with better access, or as we say jokingly, you’ve moved up in the pay grade scale.”
I took the card and went to put it in my pocket.
“You need to register your presence, so I’m afraid you’ll have to go out and come back in again.”
I did as she asked, this time greeted by the friendly green light. The soldier seemed disappointed that I was not free of his attention. The security guard on the desk had alt=ready forgotten I existed.
“Come.”
I followed Monica to the antiquated elevator, we stepped in, closed the door and she pressed a button for the third and fourth floors. It seemed creakier than usual this time.
“I’m assuming you have come in to use the computer resources?”
“Yes.”
“Good thing then we upgraded your access level.”
“And is there someone who manages access to CCTV footage?”
“Yes. Same floor, four. Her name is Amelia Enders. Tell her what you need, and she’ll find it. I assume it will have something to do with the surveillance exercise of yours.”
How could she guess, or had she been already investigating?”
“Come and see me when you’re finished. I live on the third floor. Literally.”
The elevator stopped on the third floor with a creak and a thump.
A smile and she headed off down the passage.
If I wasn’t mistaken, she had that cat who ate the canary look, and it worried me.
Stranger’s We’ve Become, a sequel to What Sets Us Apart.
The blurb:
Is she or isn’t she, that is the question!
Susan has returned to David, but he is having difficulty dealing with the changes. Her time in captivity has changed her markedly, so much so that David decides to give her some time and space to re-adjust back into normal life.
But doubts about whether he chose the real Susan remain.
In the meantime, David has to deal with Susan’s new security chief, the discovery of her rebuilding a palace in Russia, evidence of an affair, and several attempts on his life. And, once again, David is drawn into another of Predergast’s games, one that could ultimately prove fatal.
From being reunited with the enigmatic Alisha, a strange visit to Susan’s country estate, to Russia and back, to a rescue mission in Nigeria, David soon discovers those whom he thought he could trust each has their own agenda, one that apparently doesn’t include him.
At that moment, when my expectations were completely trashed, and there was a great deal riding on it, words could not express my disappointment.
Michael had the better end of the deal. Being second-born meant that avoided all of the family’s hopes and expectations that fell on me, that I would carry on the business, as our father had, his father before him, going back six generations.
Without any of the expectations loaded on his shoulders, he got to live a free and easy lifestyle, one with little responsibility, some of which o would have liked to have myself.
Then there was the problem where my father, not quite the businessman as those before him, had made a number of dubious decisions, leading us down the path that almost closed the business down, and had only just found the financing to keep it afloat when he died suddenly.
It left me in charge of what could have been a sinking ship, but, as I unraveled the complexities of the deal he had made, it soon became clear he had made a deal with the devil himself.
And fort eight hours before that missed drop-off, I had finally discovered all of the connections through countless shell companies to arrive at the person from whom he had secured the funding.
Walter Amadeus Winthrop.
A man whom my father had hated because he had stolen away the only woman he had ever loved, a man who was in the business of stealing other people’s companies, ideas, products, and people because he could.
And he wanted our company, simply so he could destroy my father a second time.
There was no doubting the reason why my father had died. He had found out who had supplied the funding.
I had the evidence that linked Winthrop to dirty dealings and promised to get it to the DA’s office by a particular time, but a previous and more pressing appointment meant I couldn’t be in two places at once, so I sent Michael on my place.
It had been time-sensitive and having missed the deadline to tender the documents in court, the case lapsed, and Winthrop, who had been arraigned many times before and got away for lack of evidence, or witnesses, survived yet again.
…
It wasn’t out of the question that Michael had been kidnapped by Winthrop’s people, but I didn’t think it was possible they knew about him, simply because as part of his distancing from the family he had taken our mother’s birth surname.
I rang his cell phone, and it went to his voice mail. That was not really a concern because he rarely answered the phone the first time, especially if I was calling him.
Next, I called his latest girlfriend, not the usual sort of girl he dated, and quite a surprise given her sobriety and work ethic. She was, I thought more than once, the sort of girl I’d like to meet.
“He’s not here. I assume he made it to the meeting?”
“He didn’t.”
“But that can be possible. I went with him until outside the front door of the building. I saw him go in, talk to the reception, and then get taken up in the elevator.”
“Then we have a mystery on our hands. He hasn’t called me to say it’s done, and as usual not answering his phone.”
“That’s just for you. If I call… I’ll call you back.”
I waited for five minutes, then my phone rang. Katherine again.
“He’s not answering for me either, and that is very unusual. Did you talk to others at the meeting?”
“Yes, they just said he didn’t turn up, but I have another thought. Leave it with me.”
A call to the DA’s office sent an assistant down to the front desk, where it was established, that Michael had signed in, and the officer that remembers him could recall the name of or describe the person who came and collected him.
But he had gone there as I’d requested and was beginning to look like Winthrop obviously had someone in the DAs office keeping him informed on what was happening.
Which meant, Winthrop’s people had taken him.
It was a development I hadn’t entirely unexpected.
…
This was my first time on what was known as a superyacht. Really, it was slightly smaller than an ocean liner, and the grand tour showed fifteen staterooms, a dining room, a games room, a ballroom, well a small one, and various other rooms that were as remarkable as they were mysterious.
For a laugh, I said it was missing a library.
I was promptly corrected.
My host, the owner’s daughter, Sylvia, no last name given or asked for, had promised a visit and passing by after picking up the vessel after some repairs, she collected me by helicopter, and took me straight to the ship.
I was taking in some sea sir, trying to make sense of what just happened, and get some sea air.
“You look unhappy, Jake.”
“My brother has gone missing. He was delivering some documents for me and never arrived. While it’s like him not to finish anything he starts, this time I know that, at the very least, he made it to the building.”
“That seems very strange.”
“Not when you factor in who the documents were about.”
I’d told her some of the history over a few drinks, perhaps more than I should.
“I’m sure you’ll discover what happened soon enough. Chef tells me lunch is ready.” She held out her hand, “come, dine with me.”
We went into the dining room and sat. Two waiters in full livery attended us, serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
That’s when my phone rang.
And Sylvia said, quietly, “put it on loudspeaker, on the table.”
The tone was insistent and worried me. The call was from Michael’s phone. He was simply calling me back. Just the same, I did as she asked.
I said, “Michael?”
“Is that Jake?”
“Put my father on the phone, Ari.” Sylvia looked as though she knew who it was.
I looked over at the woman I knew as Sylvia. She was supposed to be a representative of another company in the same business we were, and I’d met her at a business conference in Miami, a few months back. That she would turn out to be something else wasn’t the surprise I thought it would be.
It wasn’t long before I began to think I’d been seeing the daughter of the man who I believe killed my father.
“He’s not here.”
“Tell him I’ll sink this tub he sent me to get if he doesn’t get his ass on the phone now.” Not angry but laced with intent.
Silence.
I was going to say something, but I think words failed me. What could I say, if she was a Winthrop, his success in destroying us was complete?
I just sat in silence.
Then, “What are you doing Sylvie?”
I assumed that voice belonged to her father, the infamous Winthrop himself.
“You shouldn’t have let me go to explosives school. Oh, that’s right, you did know. So much you don’t know about me. I’ve wired this yacht Dad, and I will sink it. I’m sure mom will be impressed.”
I heard a sigh. Was he trying to deal with an errant daughter? Was she crazy? She certainly had a lot of talents, piloting helicopters, and making bombs; was there a stint in the military somewhere in her resume.
“What do you want, Sylvie.”
“Stop pissing off my boyfriend.”
“Jake? Have you been dating Jake,”
“In a manner of speaking. Since he hates the family so much and given what you just did, I’m not surprised, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell him. But kidnapping his brother? Not a way to impress him Dad or give me a usable Segway.”
“You do know Jake is helping the authorities put me in jail. That’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t care what your issues are with the authorities, but if you’re worried that the evidence Michael had will have you prosecuted, then you have lied to me, and I told you what would happen if I found out you lied to me.”
“You’re just a child.”
“Whose got a penchant for blowing up things. I’ll start with this boat, then I’ll move on to bigger and better things, like your car collection. I’m thoroughly pissed off myself now.”
Silence.
“What do you really want?”
“Give them their company back. You don’t need it. Get Ari to take Michael home and apologize for making a mistake.”
“And the documents?”
“Burn them for all I care. You’re going to make a very generous investment in their company, and then never bother them again.”
“And the ship?”
“Just hope I’m in a good mood in a few hours’ time after lunch, and Jake doesn’t jump overboard to get away from me.”
“OK. Your mother is waiting for you in Venice. Don’t upset her.”
“Why would I? I’m her favorite.”
The line went dead.
“So, Jake, didn’t I tell you I’d fix everything.”
She had, and I’d foolishly thought no one could handle Winthrop. “Would you sink this ship?”
“Hell yes, just to piss him off. Now, where is lunch? Negotiating makes me hungry. And,” she smiled wickedly, “there’s a stateroom with our name on it. You are coming to Venice?”
I guess it really was a matter of who you know, not what you know.
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 