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.
Back on earth, before this mission, before I had been selected for the crew, we had to spend time learning diplomacy.
I didn’t mind it because I was used to working with multiple nationalities as crew members aboard the cargo ships I worked, some often at odds with each other, and I had to broker peace.
But this brand of diplomacy was more about meeting aliens from other worlds and what to do, even though those running the sessions really had no clue. The problem was, we would have no idea of what their customs and rules were, much like on earth where the same applied, but you could look them up before going to an ‘alien’s destination.
I could say that now I had experienced one encounter. And nothing we did in any of those sessions gave me any help or guidance on what I should do. Yes, we may have learned a little about their culture, but that was never going to be enough, not in the time I had in front of them.
What needed to happen was for us to set up something similar to the old-time embassy where we could exchange information and prevent the problems of new travellers before they got here. And there would be more travellers now we had the spaceships and not everyone was going to be a positive influence’ ad the Russian example quite clearly illustrated.
But, getting someone or some people to stay with unknown people on a relatively unknown planet, was going to be a difficult ask.
It was one of a dozen topics on the head of department meeting I had called immediately after being transported back to the ship’ joined by the Princess’ whom we had agreed to return to her people.
I suspect that the aliens who had all but incarcerated her did not want to wear the wrath of her people. Perhaps we would be treated better and hopefully, we would be able to engage in meaningful diplomatic discussions. It was a subject I had raised with the Princess when escorting her to her transit quarters. Accommodation befitting a Princess.
She was hateful to come aboard but she seemed apprehensive to go home. That was something else that would fuel another conversation. Because there was definitely more to that story. I didn’t quite trust our so-called new friends.
The next task was to ensure the princess had a private security detail, and dampeners installed to prevent her being transported off the ship.
After that my first call was to the diplomatic unit where I gave them five minutes of my thoughts on the subject before heading back to my quarters to freshen up, and get down the bare bones of the report I was eventually hoping to send on our first encounter, one that I doubted was over yet.
I will still be getting over the fact they knew of our existence, lived among us, and we had no idea. And they didn’t believe we were worthy yet to be told. Sadly, given my knowledge of humankind, I was not really surprised, but others like the Admiral would be shocked and offended and it was their reaction I was worried about.
It was also not so much of a surprise there were others out there, places and people, we knew nothing about because our telescopic technology still wasn’t up to see beyond the limits of our known galaxies and we were the first well technically the second to go beyond it.
And now we proved we could get to that theoretical barrier, set at Pluto, perhaps a telescope launched from there might help us see what was beyond in the first instance because they did hint at a number of civilisations with their own galaxy.
My idea would be to suggest caution and not hit them with a flood of ships but to spend time building a space station at the edge, and then launch exploratory forays from there, when it was complete. It would take time ten or more years, but the aliens weren’t going anywhere.
But I knew it didn’t matter what I thought. That was up to the Admiral and the rest of the Space Alliance, and they would want to be out there getting as many aliens on side, much the same as the others would.
The Russian ship had stayed long enough to offload the prisoners and get ready for the return trip. That was going to be some homecoming because the Space Alliance was going to want answers long before it hit Earth’s outer limits.
Stolen technology, an unannounced foray into space that could have ultimately destroyed any chance of relations with our nearest space neighbours, I wouldn’t want to be the captain of that vessel, at home, or in front of an international jury.
It highlighted just how easy it was to make mistakes, or how badly everything could go wrong very quickly over a nuance. His background hadn’t helped him either but that shoe could also have fitted elsewhere too. I had been lucky, he had not.
I walked into the conference room packed with both relevant and interested parties, all eyes on me. It was, to say the least, uncomfortable. Whatever noise there was had subsided into silence.
“Sunday in New York” is ultimately a story about trust, and what happens when a marriage is stretched to its limits.
When Harry Steele attends a lunch with his manager, Barclay, to discuss a promotion that any junior executive would accept in a heartbeat, it is the fact his wife, Alison, who previously professed her reservations about Barclay, also agreed to attend, that casts a small element of doubt in his mind.
From that moment, his life, in the company, in deciding what to do, his marriage, his very life, spirals out of control.
There is no one big factor that can prove Harry’s worst fears, that his marriage is over, just a number of small, interconnecting events, when piled on top of each other, points to a cataclysmic end to everything he had believed in.
Trust is lost firstly in his best friend and mentor, Andy, who only hints of impending disaster, Sasha, a woman whom he saved, and who appears to have motives of her own, and then in his wife, Alison, as he discovered piece by piece damning evidence she is about to leave him for another man.
Can we trust what we see with our eyes or trust what we hear?
Haven’t we all jumped to conclusions at least once in our lives?
Can Alison, a woman whose self-belief and confidence is about to be put to the ultimate test, find a way of proving their relationship is as strong as it has ever been?
This word, where I live, had taken on a new meaning. We have telephone scammers who ask your name when you answer the phone, and when you say yes, they hang up.
It doesn’t take much imagination how they can use that recording.
So, I now answer the phone with maybe, which confuses the real callers who want to know if it is you.
Of course, maybe is one of those words that have so many meaning, but the best one is to use it while you have time to think of a proper answer.
For example, did you get the potatoes? You haven’t been out, it slipped your mind, or you just plain forgot, but run with a ‘maybe’ so you can judge the reaction.
Angry face, you know no matter what, you’re in trouble.
Genial face, you know that it didn’t really matter and all is forgiven.
Then there’s the person who doesn’t know you and comes up to you in a crowded room. Are you [put name here]?
Maybe. We want to know if we’re in trouble, or if it for something good.
Using ‘maybe’ in writing probably isn’t the best word to us, but I like defying the experts. You can always find a maybe or two in any of my books.
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.
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 with 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…
By the time they reached the outskirts of Munich, what the Standartenfuhrer considered their biggest hurdle, it was quite dark and almost impossible to see where they were going.
The whole city seemed to have disappeared so effectively was the blackout.
But there was one benefit, there was little or no traffic on the roads, which lessened the chance of running into another car or truck.
And it was time to refill the tank with two more petrol cans, leaving two remaining. Filling up now, the Standartenfuhrer said, would get them to Innsbruck.
He sounded confident, but Mayer got the distinct impression it was mostly that he was putting on a brave face. There had been one instance, the checkpoint before Munich where he nearly lost his nerve. For the first time, there had been SS guards at the checkpoint, and which had been entirely unexpected.
An SS officer of the same rank had been summoned and he had requested their written orders. They had paperwork, but Mayer wasn’t sure if it related to their current situation, further confirming his belief this had been a very carefully planned operation to get him out of Germany, and that there was a more pressing reason why. It definitely had something to do with the V2’s, but had their intelligence services found out about something else, something he didn’t know about?
Given the level of risk to the two men with him, and that at every turn there was a possibility of capture or death, given the level of planning and the run so far, one he would have never thought of trying on his own, he didn’t have a very high level of confidence that they would get away with it.
Those in the SS were not fools, trusted no one, believed nothing they were told, and disregarded anything written on paper. Check, double-check, then check again. Take nothing as read. The document he’d been given on what made a first-class SS officer in the eyes of the Reich, was fundamentally not him, nor most of the German population.
The officer at this checkpoint reminded him of the one who had shot the shooting in the hotel, and for at least ten tense minutes, during which time the other two had conferred quietly in English, one suggestion they cut and run.
That would have invited a hail of machine-gun fire that none of them would survive.
Both looked visibly relieved when he returned, having obviously called the name of the officer who had signed the order. The only explanation he had for this was that the level of discontent among officers Military of SS must be greater than he thought.
They managed to cross over into Austria without any problems, the route they had taken, a series of back roads and tracks which had been given to them. Once again, Mayer was surprised that so many people could be working against their own country, but, of what he’d seen, conditions were harsh no matter which part of Germany they were in.
The war was not going the way the German people were being told, and it was hard to see any resolution of the conflict any time soon.
Perhaps everyone in the high command was hoping the new V2 rockets were going to change the country’s fortunes in the war. If they were, they were going to be bitterly disappointed. What they needed was the jet-propelled fighters and bombers, something that remarkably had not been implemented years earlier, and would have given them air superiority.
He’d worked on those early jet engines and they were remarkable, and faster than anything the British or the Americans had. It was hard to comprehend why high command had not pushed forward the new jet-propelled planes that Belin had finally decided to implement.
And just when the trio had agreed that everything would work out about 100 kilometers from Innsbruck, on the road to the Italian border crossing, they took the wrong route. It was a mistake brought on by tiredness, and a momentary lapse in concentration.
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 with 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…
They reached a point a few kilometers from what was known as Brenner Pass at four in the morning, having navigated their way through patchy snow, icy roads, and bitter cold.
Progress at times was slow and the roads were difficult, the driver, at times, nearly losing control of the car.
The checkpoint appeared almost when they were on top of it, one that hadn’t been marked on the map, so they had not been prepared for it. Too late to turn back, they had to stop.
Once again the soldier that came out of the hut beside the boom was an army Unteroffizier who was more concerned about the cold than those in the car.
The Standartenfuhrer once again explained the nature of their business, and again the sentry went back to his hut and made a call.
While he was there the driver was checking the number of other soldiers were in attendance and had pulled his weapon out from under the seat and had it ready to use.
The Standartenfuhrer had done the same, also having checked the extent of the staffing of the post.
Then the driver said, “This looks like one of several. I think we may have walked into a hornet’s nest. The Brenner Pass is very important to the Germans for supplies from Germany to its soldiers in Italy.”
“You think our luck has finally run out?”
They had both seen the guard change expression, from the languid guard worrying more about the cold than a lone car at night, to a soldier who looked like he was about to attend a Nazi rally.
“I think they’ve finally discovered that our friend Mayer is missing.”
“Which means we’re about to get a small platoon of soldiers down on us. OK. You keep them off as long as you can so Mayer and I can get into the woods.”
The Standartenfuhrer turned to Mayer. “This is it, then end of the line for driving. We’re about to get a lot of unwanted visitors.”
He thrust the folder of plans into Mayer’s hands along with a coat.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” Mayer was almost panic-stricken. The situation was deteriorating with each passing second. He, like the others, could see six men jogging towards them.
Their only advantage was the lack of illumination.
The driver said, “See you on the other side.”
The Standartenfuhrer leaned over, opened the door, and said, forcefully, “Get out, now.”
Mayer tumbled out almost slipping on the icy surface, and the sudden cold hitting him hard.
The Standartenfuher was right behind him, closing the door, and then literally dragging him off the side of the road and towards the tree line about 50 meters away, just barely visible again the dark sky. Thankfully there was no moon peeking through the clouds. But light snow just began to fall, and it would hide them behind an artificial white wall.
They made it to the edge of the forest just as the soldiers reached the car.
Mayer turned to look and could see the sentry now with a torch, probably checking the car which was now barely visible to them. He had seen three people before, now there was only one.
No time to see the inevitable, the Standartenfuhrer dragged him away with, “We have to go before they bring out the dogs.”
Further into the trees, and moving as quickly as they could through the trees and undergrowth, and at times slipping and sliding on both snow and ice, it was five minutes before they heard six shots in rapid succession, followed by the sound of a machine gun.
“Let’s hope he killed at least six of them before he died.”
The problem was, Mayer thought, there was probably another hundred others waiting to take their place.
Mayer had come totally unprepared for the snow, and the cold. At least he had a coat.
Another problem was that he was hungry and that only added to his discomfort. And now they had no means of transport, it was going to take a lot longer to get to Florence, or anywhere for that matter.
An hour passed as they worked their way steadily through the trees, and cover. The dreaded dogs had not been unleashed on them, but they had to assume that someone at the border checkpoint would raise the alarm that there were fugitives in the area, and probably wait until morning before looking for them,
They could calculate how far they had walked and sent in search teams from there.
Or not.
Four hours after they’d left the car, they stumbled upon a cabin. It was not much, having been abandoned quite some time ago and left for the forest to reclaim, but it was shelter and a place to rest. It was not long before first light, and then they could assess their situation.
It was also time for the Standartenfuhrer to give Mayer all the information he needed once he got to Gaiole because at some point they were going to have to split up and Mayer would have to go alone.
There is always something to be found that can be very interesting, and sometimes, when following more obscure links in web pages, you can either finish up having your computer trashed, or you find a gem.
As you can imagine, when I saw the CIA, I thought, OK, this fits my penchant for conspiracies and subterfuge, and when I stumbled across this thing called the Phoenix Program. Whether it existed or not, one can never sure when reading about CIA activities, its premise gives me an avenue to attach a few shady characters and let them run with it.
Then, of course, there was a film which I noticed was on cable TV, so I watched it. Air America, and whether that was true or not, it gave me another idea, and so the characterization of Colonel Davenport will fit into both these scenarios.
I suspect there may have been one or two more enterprising officers who saw an opportunity to not only appear to fulfill the parameters of their mission, but also make a little money on the side, setting up an operation within an operation, whether it’s to move into a black market arms supply, or moving and selling drugs from what was called the golden triangle that may or may not have included Cambodia.
That also lends itself to Davenport, when Bill finally catches on to what he is up to, arranging for his capture and removal to a prisoner of war campo over the border in Cambodia. It could also probably have been in Laos, at the CIA may or may not have been running an operation there as well.
There is so much now to consider.
I now have to find out about airbases and personnel, come up with a suitable band of misfits, find out what sort of aircraft and land transport could be involved in moving the contraband, and a little more about Saigon back in the mid-sixties.
To start with, we first joined this tour at stop number 6.
We had to find it first and that meant some pedestrian navigation, which took us first to the City Hall, a rather imposing structure, which we found later had a profound effect on Philadelphia sports teams.
According to the map, stop number 6 is Reading Terminal Market, Convention Centre, on 12th street on Filbert. This was where we bought the tickets and boarded the bus that had a rather interesting guide aboard.
His favorite says was “And we’re good to go.”
Soon we would discover that his commentary was more orientated towards a younger audience, not that it bothered us.
Given the time restraints, we had, this was always going to be about looking and learning.
Stop number 7
City hall, Love Park.
This we had seen on our walk from where we left the car at the Free Library, near the Swann Memorial Fountain in Logan Park, the landmark that Rebecca had remembered from her last visit to Philadelphia. Of course, then, it was not quite so frozen.
Love park, of course, was only notable to us in that it had a sculpture in place with the word Love rather stylized. Apart from that, you’d hardly know it as a park
The city hall, well, that was something else, and when we looked at it, before going on the tour, it was a rather magnificent stone edifice.
After, well the guide filled us in, tallest building, highest and largest monument on William Penn, you get the gist. 37 feet tall, when eclipsed, the Philly sports teams all suffered slumps of one kind or another, until the problem was rectified. Interesting story.
Stop number 8
18th Street and the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, or Logan Circle
This is the location of the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul. A place where the Pope decided to give an audience and sent the city into a spin.
The same church has very high windows for the reason in the early days there was a problem with people wanting to throw Molotov cocktails through the windows. A bit hard when they’re so high up.
Benjamin Franklin Parkway, of course, is interesting in itself as an avenue, not only for all of the flags of many nations of those who chose to live in Philadelphia. We found ours, the one for Australia
This was also the stop where we needed to get off once the tour was finished, and time to head to the car, and go home, but that’s another story.
Stop number 10
Is that the stature of the Thinker, made famous, at least for me, from the old Dobie Gillis episodes, of God knows how many years ago?
Or, maybe it’s just the Rodin Museum on Benjamin Franklin Parkway.
There’s a whole story to go with that Statue and the fact it is one of many all over the world.
This one was made in France, cast in 1919 in Bronze, and is approximately 200cm x 130 cm by 140cm.
Stop number 11
Eastern State Penitentiary. NW corner of 22nd Street and Fairmont Avenue.
This had a rather interesting story attached to it and had something to do with ghosts, but I wasn’t listening properly to the guide’s monologue.
But, later research shows, the fact it was once the most famous and expensive prison in the world. Many also think it is haunted and is a favorite for visiting paranormal visitors.
Built around 1829, it was the first prison to have separate cells for prisoners. It held, at various times, the likes of Al Capone and Willie Sutt
Stop number 18
The Philadelphia Museum of art, where we stop for a few minutes and look at the steps which were immortalized in the movie Rocky, yes he ran god knows how far to end up on the top of these steps.
Sorry, but I’m not that fit that I would attempt walking up them. The view is just fine from inside the bus. Of course, they might consider cleaning the windows a little so the view was clearer, but because it’s basically Perspex and scratched so that might not be possible.
Stop number 17
Back at Logan Circle, or Square if you prefer, but on the other side, closer to the Franklin Institute. Benjamin Franklin’s name is used a lot in this city.
After that, it’s a blur, the Academy of Music, the University of the Arts, Pennsylvania Hospital, South Street, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the USS Olympia, Penn’s Landing, and past the National Liberty Museum. I’m sure somewhere in that blur was the intention of seeing the Liberty Bell, but I think I heard that it was not on show, and only a replica could be seen.
So much for the getting as an opportunity to see the real liberty bell, crack and all..
We get off and stop number 27, or Number 1, I was not quite sure.
What were we after? The definitive Philly Cheese Steak.
At what point do you stop ignoring the signs and start considering the possibility that:
Susan is no longer the woman he married, or
Susan has undergone such a transformation after the traumatising time her father put her through that she has completely changed, or
The demands of running the Featherington commercial empire are such that there is no time left for David and Susan to spend time together in a meaningful way, or
Susan is not his Susan, but another of the clones.
David certainly doesn’t want to believe the last option was the case. There is enough from their current interactions to convince him that his Susan is in there somewhere, but those photographs he received in Moscow before the assassination attempt convinced him that it was possible the damage done by her father had changed her.
He never expected she would have an affair.
The thing is, did he know here all that well given the little time they had spent together?
Still reeling from the assassination attempt in Yaroslavl, and the fact it nearly cost Alisha her life, David decides it’s time to do a little investigating into the woman that is his wife.
For now.
And being on the inside, that surveillance job was going to be easy.
Except…
He just has to get past the new security detail Susan has hired.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 