Month: May 2022

It all started in Venice – Episode 2

An old acquaintance

…

I had three questions that needed answers.

First, how did Larry find out I was the one behind his brother’s death?

It begged the question of whether there was a leak in Rodby’s organization because he was the only one other than the logistics team that knew anything about that mission.

It could be that he assumed that being part of the team sent to neutralize a problem, that I was the perpetrator or I knew who was.  Either way, I didn’t like my chances of surviving an interrogation.

Or someone had been taking photos of the crime scene, even though I’d taken precautions not to be recognized, slipped up, but that would assume he had photos of everyone on the team.  I made a note to ask about the health of the other team members.

I would have to compile a list of questions to ask Larry when we finally met, what one might call a fly on the wall moment.

The second, how did Larry know of my association with Juliet.  She was a respected doctor in a respectable hospital when I last saw her.

To be known to Larry, she had to have fallen from that pedestal.  Given what the Waterville organization was known for, all of the branches of crime seemed far removed from who and what she was.

Some investigation was needed, and I sent a message to Alfie on the burner phone he left me.  It had a few other tricks up its sleeve like recording conversations and taking photos that were automatically sent back to base, and an app that detected recording equipment like those used by the security services.

If Juliet was wired, I’d know.

And speaking of Juliet, the third question was how she going to orchestrate a casual meeting between us, and could I muster the necessary surprise when we finally crossed paths.

When a message arrived later in the day in response to my query, it had a current photo and an abbreviated resume of her life since the last time I saw her.

The first sentence that caught my eye was that she was no longer a doctor.  Well, not a practicing doctor.  It seemed the stress of working endless hours in the hospital led to an accident when she had been overtired, which led to an addiction to painkillers when led to self-medicating to making a mistake.

That led to seeking other means of fulfilling the addiction, and that was a slippery slope.  Without reading the fine print, it was a simple connection from ex-doctor to addict to a soul depended on a person the likes of Larry.  To him, a doctor of her caliber would be useful in patching up criminals who couldn’t go to hospitals to be patched up after committing a crime and getting injured if not shot in the process

Now, Larry had another use for her.

The current photo of her showed a woman who had aged more than normal, perhaps as a result of drug abuse, thinner than I remembered her, and with straw blonde hair replacing the rich burgundy she used to have.

Her recent resume was more of a horror story than the life she may once have expected for herself, but desperation often led people down paths the least desired, and saying they had choices was not always true.  It would be interesting to learn if she would be willing to tell me about any of it.

There was also a footnote that told me where and when would be arriving, the airport, the following day, and I decided to go and check her out, to make sure I’d recognize her when the time came.  As she was now, I didn’t think, without the photograph Alfie had sent me, I would have recognized her on the street.

…

© Charles Heath 2022

“The Devil You Don’t” – A beta readers view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been a high turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point every thing goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realises his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

In a word: Dear

Yes, it’s that simple word that we use to call someone affectionately.

Or sometimes, with a little accent on the word; yes, dear and no, dear.

In other words, it’s a person regarded with deep affection.

It can also mean expensive, by saying, that’s a bit dear, isn’t it, when we’re really saying it’s way overpriced.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve said something is ‘too dear’ to the children.

Grannies tend to use the expression, ‘be a dear and…’, to get you do do something for them.

Friends, sometimes tongue in cheek, will say, ‘oh dear, I’ve upset you’, when that was exactly what they meant to do.  Friends you say?  Yes, friends indeed.

And then we always start a letter (always?  Who writes letters any more?) with

Dear John (oops, not one of THOSE letters)

Dear Sir/Madam

Of course, instead of swearing, you could simply say ‘Oh dear, you’ve let us down again!’.

And when you lose your job, which is happening a lot at the moment, it is said it would cost you dear, though sometimes it would be more appropriate to use the adverb, dearly.

It is not to be confused with the word deer which is an animal, the males of which have antlers.

There are a number of different types of deer, such as reindeer and elk.  In Canada, they are called caribou.

In Robin Hood’s day, killing deer brought you very harsh punishment.

And one of my favourite meats is venison, meat from a deer, which are farmed in New Zealand along with sheep.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 20

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

 

Wallace was furious, and despite his attempts to stay clear of his commanding officer, Thompson discovered he couldn’t hide forever.

“Where is Atherton?”  Wallace asked the moment Johannsson walked into the room.

It was a question he couldn’t answer and had been equally as furious as Wallace when he learned of what had happened.  It was not supposed to go the way it did.  Atherton was to lead them to the remnants of the Resistance, and then Burke and Richardson had orders to kill them all.

The first part of the plan had worked as Burke had said it would.  It was his idea to ‘break’ Atherton out and then he would lead them to the resistance.  London would know where they were, and Atherton would also know, nay not exactly where they were, but how to contact them.  There were only about six left, according to Leonardo.

But he had been wrong before.  He’d labelled the remnants of the resistance as useless but to his chagrin discovered they were anything but.  He had three dead men to prove it.  And given the restraints on his current mission, he couldn’t go into the village and execute a like number of villagers for those men.

That would give away the fact they were not British, but Germans in disguise.  Best, he had been told, to let the matter be until their current mission was completed.  Then, Wallace told him, he could do what he liked with the villagers.

But like all plans, this one had gone awry.  Burke had lost Atherton approaching the village, and a thorough search of every building hadn’t found him.  Atherton, according to Burke, had completely disappeared.

Now Wallace was on the warpath because he didn’t like loose ends and not one as dangerous as Atherton.

“My men lost him by the time they reached the village.  They did a thorough search but he wasn’t there.”

“And you believe that?”

“I trust my men.  Atherton is a fully trained soldier with a few extra tricks up his sleeve, otherwise, London would not have sent him out.  There is a positive in this if he’s out of the way he can’t stir up any trouble.”

“But those so

Called remnants of the resistance can, and I assure you, will.  And more so now they know that we’re not exactly the British liberators they were hoping for.”

“You can’t believe that he found them.  We’ve seen none of them since Leonardo defected.  He told us he killed them all.”

“Well, he’s a liar.  Here’s an idea, get him and tell him to take his men down the hill and find them.  Promise him anything, as long he brings back Atherton and the rest of them dead or alive, preferably dead.  Unless you think you can do a better job.”

“Sir…”

A soldier came running in, then stood to attention until Wallace addressed him.  “What is it?”

“Carmichael hasn’t returned.”

“What do you mean, hasn’t returned.  I thought everyone was confined to the castle?’  He turned around to look at Johannsson.  “What the devil is going on?”

“Some men don’t exactly respond well to curfews.  Carmichael was one of them.”

“Carmichael?  Isn’t he the one who knows the Reich Marshall by sight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now he’s missing.  You still don’t think there is resistance out there, and making us look like monkeys?  This has Atherton written all over it.  How much did he find out?  I thought you had that situation covered.”

“I couldn’t exactly put him under house arrest, could I, not unless you wanted to hand out a sign that said German outpost.”

“Don’t get snippy with me Johannsson. Just get a team of five or six and find the bastard.  And while you’re at it, find this Carmichael.  Take those two fools that lost him, and if you accidentally shoot them, we’ll call them casualties of war.”

“Yes, sir.”  And how long before I share their fate, he thought.  Blame was transferable, so he’d kick it down the line.  “Jackerby,” he yelled out.  I’ve got a job for you.”

© Charles Heath 2019

Searching for locations: The Jade Factory, Beijing, China

The first stop is at a Jade Museum to learn the history of jade. In Chinese, jade is pronounced as “Yu” and it has a history in China of at least four thousand years.  On the way there, we are given a story about one of the guide’s relatives who had a jade bracelet, and how it has saved her from countless catastrophes.It is, quite literally ‘the’ good luck charm.  Chinese gamblers are known to have small pieces of jade in their hands when visiting the casinos, for good luck.  I’m not sure anything could provide a gambler with any sort of luck given how the odds are always slanted towards the house.

At any rate, this is neither the time of the place to debunk a ‘well-known fact’.

 On arrival, our guide hands us over to a local guide, a real staff member, and she begins with a discussion on jade while we watch a single worker working on an intricate piece, what looks to be a globe within a globe, sorry, there are two workers, and the second is working on a dragon.

At the end of the passage that passes by the workers, and before you enter the main showroom, you are dazzled by the ship and is nothing short of magnificent.

Then it’s into a small room just off the main showroom where we are taken through the colors, and the carving process in the various stages, without really being told how the magic happens.

Then it’s out into the main showroom where the sales are made, and before dispersing to look at the jade collection, she briefly tells us how to tell real and fake jade, and she does the usual trick of getting one of the tour group to model a piece.

Looks good, let’s move on.  To bigger and better examples.

What interested me, other than the small zodiac signs and other smallish pieces on the ‘promotion’ table, was the jade bangle our tour guide told us about on the bus.  If anyone needs one, it is my other half, with all the medical issues and her sometimes clumsiness, two particular maladies this object is supposed to prevent.
Jade to the Chinese is Diamonds to westerners, and the jade bangle is often handed down to the females of the family from generation to generation, often as an engagement present, to be worn on the left hand, the one closest to the heart.

There are literally thousands of them, but, they have to be specially fitted to your wrist because if it’s too large, you might lose it if it slips off and I didn’t think it could be too small.  
Nor is it cheap, and needing a larger size, it is reasonably expensive.  But it is jadeite, the more expensive of the types of jade, and it can only appreciate in value, not that we are interested in the monetary value, it’s more the good luck aspect.

We could use some of that.

But, just to touch on something that can be the bugbear of traveling overseas, is the subject of happy houses, a better name for toilets, and has become a recurrent theme on this tour.  It’s better than blurting out the word toilet and it seems there can be some not so happy houses given that the toilets in China are usually squat rather than sit, even for women.
And apparently, everyone has an unhappy house story, particularly the women, and generally in having to squat over a pit.  Why is this a discussion point, it seems the jade factory had what we have come to call happy, happy houses which have more proper toilets, and a stop here before going on the great wall was recommended, as the ‘happy house’ at the wall is deemed to be not such a happy house.

Not even this dragon was within my price range.  Thank heaven they had smaller more affordable models.  The object of having a dragon, large or small, is that it should be placed inside the main door to the house so that money can come in.

It also seems that stuffing the dragon’s mouth with money is also good luck.  We passed on doing that.

After spending a small fortune, there was a bonus, free Chinese tea.  Apparently, we will be coming back, after the Great Wall visit, to have lunch upstairs.

           

NaNoWriMo – April 2022 – Day 17

First Dig Two Graves, the second Zoe thriller.

…

Yesterday there was a moment where I went back over the plot, and whilst that exercise was a success in a way, it also got me thinking, and like always, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about how the timeline was working, but the narrative wasn’t.

Yes, I made the fatal mistake of considering editing in the middle of a writing marathon.

What brought this self-destructive mood on? A movie. No relevance at all to my story, but it was a study in interactions between disparate people, which is what I have going on between John and Zoe.

It works in the first story because they are thrown together and everything is new and crazy.

In the second, the premise is that the novelty of the thing they had is wearing off.

Zoe needs to keep occupied and doing something other than all she’s ever known is not exactly on her to-do list.

Of course, that’s all put on hold because she is now a target because of the death of Alistair, and it’s a problem she has to take care of. Alone.

I realize now there needs to be some discussion around this, and the way the story starts does not set the scene.

Similarly, there should be more definition of the relationship as it stands, or not as the case may be, and reasons why John decides to go after her, if only to get the truth because he believes she is using the people seeking revenge as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length.

And, from her perspective, it’s not so much she doesn’t want to be with him, it’s because she doesn’t want him ending up dead, given the sort of people she was up against. Not being able to articulate her feelings, as it’s not something she really knew how to, there’s bound to be some confusion.

Inevitably he is going to find her, and when they d, the reasons why they are together are clear, but there’s still many reasons why he shouldn’t be there. Her life is not the sort of life he would want, by choice, and it’s not going to improve, so where is this thing going to take them?

I haven’t thought it though, so I’m going to take some time out to sort it out. I’m 47,000 odd words into the narrative, so I have a day, two at the most to review, and perhaps rewrite to get the missing perspective I’m looking for

…

Today’s writing, a part of the assessment of their relationship underway, 560 words, for a total of 47,626.

The A to Z Challenge – O is for “Oh, Oliver!”

Amelia Benton, nee Fosdyke had worked very hard to get where she was.  Becoming a star didn’t happen overnight, as much as the fan magazines would have it, because one star performance had to be followed by another, and another.

It meant you had to be lucky enough to get that call, the one that ensures you get a role that was a plum, or it was written for you.

It also meant playing the game, trying to not rock the boat or push too hard, realizing that extra straw some demanded would break the proverbial camel’s back.

And with the successes came favors, cards she could play at the appropriate time. 

She used one of one of these to help her brother, Oliver, a budding scriptwriter, who, she was assured, had talent, and a reasonable script.

It was, for her, a leap of faith.

But there was only one problem. Oliver could be a pedantic pain in the neck, and after being given a miraculous first chance. He was burning bridges and causing grief.

It was why she called him, and, in the end, demanded his presence.  Or else.  And she still held enough sway over him to ensure his obedience.

She was reading her latest script when her personal assistant ushered him into the room, making him wait until she finished the scene.

Then putting the script to one side she glared at him.  Being older, she had often been left to mind him and had established a form of authority which earned until he was older, and some idiosyncrasies set in, making him harder to contend with.

Burning bridges and being haughty were two recent traits that ordinarily she would ignore, but it was impacting her reputation.

Time to fire the first salvo, “Just what the hell are you playing at?”

He stood before her, a truculent expression on his face.  He was still bristling from the rebuke served by his assistant, a wise-ass boy named David.

“I just got a call from the front office telling me Joachim is up there with chiefs discussing your role in the delays to production.  It might not be all your fault Oliver, but you could try to be less confrontational.”

“They keep asking for idiotic changes, I mean, seriously, how do you work with these people?”

“A few lines here and there, I’m told.  Seriously, Oliver?  I get you this opportunity and how do you repay me.  This is my neck on the line, not only yours and if Joachim can’t save you, I definitely won’t.  Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

He nodded.  “I am not ungrateful Amelia, believe me.  I just didn’t expect…”

“Nothing in this business makes sense Oliver, and yet, after a while, you find that it does.   You’re new and inexperienced in the industry.  Get some experience and a few years in, and maybe then you can complain.  Until then, I don’t expect any more issues.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, Oliver.  Save them for the people who matter.  Now, you better get back back to your meeting.”

Job done, she went back to the script.

Oliver stomped back to his office, more annoyed than ever.

The meeting was not exactly a humiliation, the script changes were not exactly a surprise to him because, as David had said, they’d already been discussed.

But he had dismissed them.  What was wrong with the lines as originally written.  He knew that the two leads when rehearsing the lines had twisted the words hence the sniggering at the end of the scene.

The director should have exercised more control over his actors, more control in fact over the whole cast.  He understood why his sister would be concerned, given her connections.

But he wasn’t going to be told what to do.  And, as for that wise-ass David, changing his script without permission, or consultation, even of it appeased the director, well, he was going to get what he deserved.

The director took him aside at the end, though, that was unexpected.  Oliver had been sufficiently fired up that had he seen David right after the meeting, he might have said some very regrettable things.

Now, having time to simmer down, he was starting to have second thoughts.  His sister hadn’t said as much, but like other occasions where pride had got in the way, she hadn’t been there to save him from himself.

Just then, David poked his head in the door.  “You wanted to see me?”

Oliver could clearly see the boy wanted to be anywhere nut in his office.  “Come in and shut the door.”

David came in, reluctantly, shut the door, and moved the seat back away from him before he sat.

“You do realize,” Oliver said, “that you were not hired as a writer.  In fact, I’m not quite sure what you were hired for.”

“Yes.”  Wary.

“Then why would you make those changes.”

“It’s what you would have done.  You talked about it with the director and the actors involved.  I was there, and I saw the script annotations.  The director wasn’t happy, and I want to keep this job and learn.”

“Irritating superiors is not the way to go about that.”

“Not my intention.  You just temporarily lost sight of the end result.  It in no way changes anything.  You were about to get removed, by the way, and that would have been wrong.  Call it what you like Mr. Fosdyke, but you’ve been handed a reprieve.  You can yell at me if you like, but it won’t change anything.  I’ll still be here.  Better though, if we got along, and after all, I’m sure you could teach me a lot about writing a really good script.”

He could, though he could never see himself as a teacher.  And this fellow was a bit presumptuous.  But he hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done himself, so no harm done.  A small price for a few lessons.

“OK.  But don’t let it go to your head.”

David looked visibly relieved.  “Can I go now?”

“No.  We have a few additions to do.”

“Done.  They’re annotations in your master.  As I said, nothing you hadn’t already thought of.”

“I threw that script away.”

“I know.  It was a mistake, so I kept it.  It has a couple of other good ideas in it.  I suggest you consider them.  Now.  I gave to go.  See you early tomorrow.”

Oliver watched him leave, a little faster than he should, then laughed.  Impertinent.  He’ll probably go a long way in this business.

© Charles Heath 2022

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 28

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

 

I didn’t get to go wandering into the next ward to see Boggs, if he was there, because the head of ER had decided I was well enough to be discharged.  It seems they had kept me there just in case there might be problems with concussion after being whacked on the head.

I still had a dull ache in my head, but they gave me a few days supply of pain killers and sent me on my way.  After I signed some papers to that said anything happened to me outside the hospital was my fault, and that I’d been duly warned about the possible consequences of concussion.

That list of consequences always ended in death, but that could happen by being run over by an ambulance arriving outside the ER just as I was leaving.

I don’t know why, but I’d expected someone to be there, though I was not sure who.

It was a short walk to the main entrance to the hospital, and then a bit of a puzzle to be solved in trying to find the appropriate person who could tell me where Boggs was.

Twenty minutes later I came to an abrupt woman in a hospital uniform with a clipboard in her hand, and a solemn look on her face.  If the brick wall could be personified, this was it.

Nurse Jamieson.  No first name.  No sense of humour.

She looked up at me with utter disgust that someone would dare interrupt what she was doing, something I had not worked out yet unless staring at a screen saver on her computer could be said doing something.

“Can you tell me where Wiliam Boggs is, please,”  I said it nicely, and politely.

“Are you a relative?”

“No, I’m his best friend.”

“That’s not what I asked.  You can hear properly can you?”

“Yes.”

Then, what did I ask you, just before?”

“Was I a relative?”

“And the answer?” followed by what I thought she said, “not that we don’t already know the answer to that one.”

“No.”

“The go away.  Close relatives only.”

“Then if I can’t see him, can you tell me how he is?”

Too late.  Nurse Jamieson had gone back to the mesmerising screen saver.  Perhaps it was being used by some intergalactic alien to brainwash her.

I shook my head and headed back towards the main entrance.

“Excuse me?”

I heard a voice from behind, approaching quickly but quietly.  Another nurse, a different coloured uniform.  Bad nurse, good nurse, was this the latter?

I turned as she reached me.  “Yes?”

“I heard you were looking for Boggs.”

Last name, only used by friends, not that he had many, and none who were female unless he’d been holding out on me.  No, he didn’t know any girls.

“Yes.  He’s my best friend.  Do you know him?”

“A friend of his cousin, Annabelle.  I can take you to him, but you won’t be able to stay very long.”

Annabelle?  I don’t remember him telling me anything about a cousin called Annabelle, but he did say there were family members he still hadn’t met, but that was because of longstanding feuds.

“Is he alright?”

“Nothing a little rest won’t cure.  He looks worse than he is.”

I followed her back along a passage off the main foyer to an elevator, and then up to the sixth floor.  

A sign on one of the ways pointed to what was called ‘Recovery’.  We walked halfway down that passage then stopped at a room.

“He’s in there.”

The door was open, but there was a screen pulled across the entrance blotting out those who walked past from looking it.  I pushed the screen back a short distance and saw the end of the bed.

When I stepped in and reclosed the screen, I realized the bed was empty, though someone had been in it.  I stepped further into the room, and around the corner, sitting in a chair, was Nadia.

© Charles Heath 2019

An idea just came to me, and I had to get it down

It might not make much sense, but it can be worked on. You know how it is, the words come from nowhere, the story writes itself in your head at the awkwardest of moments, then if a free moment as soon as possible…

Write:

…

When morning came, I found myself afraid.  Winifred had mentioned scarring, there were bandages on my face.  I knew, but wasn’t quite sure how I knew, I wasn’t the handsomest of men before the accident, so this might be an improvement.

I was not sure why I didn’t think it would be the case.

They came at mid morning, the nurse, Winifred, and the doctor, the exquisite Chinese.  Perhaps she was the distraction, taking my mind of the reality of what I was about to see.

Another doctor came into the room, before the bandages were removed, and he was introduced as the plastic surgeon that had ‘repaired’ the ravages of the accident.  It had been no easy job, but, with a degree of egotism, he did say he was one of the best in the world.

I found it hard to believe, if he was, that he would be at a small country hospital.

“Now just remember, what you might see now is not how you will look in a few months time.”

Warning enough.

The Chinese doctor started removing the bandages.  She did it slowly, and made sure it did not hurt.  My skin was very tender, and I suspect still bruised, either from the accident or the surgery, I didn’t know.

Then it was done.

The plastic surgeon gave his work a thorough examination and seemed pleased with his work.  “Coming along nicely,” he said to the other doctor.  He issued some instructions on how to manage the skin, nodded to me, and I thanked him before he left.

I noticed Winifred had a mirror in her hand, and was somewhat reticent in using it.  “As I said,” she said noticing me looking at the mirror, “what you see now will not be the final result.  The doctor said it was going to heal with very little scarring.  You have been very fortunate he was available.  Are you ready?”

I nodded.

She showed me.

I tried not to be reviled at the red and purple mess that used to be my face.  At a guess I would have to say he had to put it all back together again, but, not knowing what I looked like before, I had no benchmark.  All I had was a snippet of memory that told me I was not the tall, dark, and handsome type.

And I still could not talk.  There was a reason, he had worked on that area too.  Just breathing hurt.  I think I would save up anything I had to say for another day.  I could not even smile.  Or frown.  Or grimace.

“We’ll leave you for a while.  Everyone needs a little time to get used to the change.  I suspect you are not sure if there has been an improvement on last year’s model.  Well, time will tell.”

A new face?

I could not remember the old one.

My memory still hadn’t returned.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

‘Echoes from the Past’ – There is more than just a skeleton in the closet!

It seems like everyone has a potential skeleton in their closet. How well we know of our relatives and family members close and far is something we don’t necessarily delve into, unless it’s for the purpose of genealogy.

Even then it can be difficult because there is always that one person no one will talk about, whether they know of them or of their reputation from afar. That potential skeleton.

Of course its a whole different ball game if you have tried to forget them, and finally believing that they and the past have finally been erased.

Or has it?

The story starts out in New York at Christmas. I’ve been there that time of the year and it brought back memories, mostly of the snow and cold, and Central Park under a white blanket.

And the playful sqirrels.

In the setting of impending holidays and family reunions, we focus in on a man with a past, a man who is not who he says he is, a man who wants nothing less than an ‘ordinary’ life ‘like everyone else’. A man who wants to believe his past is but a distant memory.

He feels it is time, 20 years having passed, and surely the trail for his adversary, the man who killed his parents and was gunning for him, had gone cold.

That belief, and everything that went with it, disappears in a flash when he realizes his past has finally caught up with him, and it comes down to making a stand or getting the hell out of town. It’s not a hard decision. Will has the escape route planned, and has one foot out the door.

Except …

This time, after breaking his golden rule, don’t get involved, there’s more at stake.

This is a very interesting collection of characters, all of whom have their own dark secrets, and as each layer is peeled away we gradually become more invested.

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