This story is now on the list to be finished so over the new few weeks, expect a new episode every few days.

The reason why new episodes have been sporadic, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Things are about to get complicated…

With Jan safely in custody, probably for about 15 minutes when Dobbin discovered she was in police hands, Jennifer and I were free to chase up O’Connell and maybe we would also find Anna.

It was a long shot at best.

But we had to find out more about Anna Jacovich.  For that, we would have to go back to the office and talk to Joanne.  I told Jennifer what I intended to do and dropped her at the safe house for some much-needed rest before we went after O’Connell.

Then, back in the car, I called the number I had for Joanne.

“Sam.”

“Memorised my number?”

“I like to know who’s calling before I answer.”

“Then this isn’t a restricted line?”

“Restricted enough.”

“I found your little toy?”

Did I hear a sigh? 

“You know the world we live in Sam, trust no one not even your mother.  Hard for me to trust or not trust her, she passed away when I was seven.  Monica said you were good.  What can I do for you?”

“A full workup on Anna Jacovich.  I’m coming into the office now, and will be there in about half an hour.”

“No pressure then?”

“Not at all.”

“Try not to irritate security this time.”

I’m sure I saw a grim expression on the face of the soldier that had been there the last time I tried to run the gauntlet, and then disappointment when my card worked.  I signed in and put the name of the department I was visiting down as Research.

When he asked for a name, I gave him Joanne’s.  No doubt he would call her long before I got to her.

She met me at the second level of defence and then took me to a room where two folders sat at opposite ends of a table, two desk lamps shining light down on them.  The rest of the room was in darkness.

When she shut the door, I said, “Please tell me there in;t a firing squad in black camouflage just waiting to shoot me.”

She smiled.  “If it was more sensitive information, I’d let you read it, then have you shot.  Not today.

That was a relief.  Oddly, I believed that she would if the circumstances warranted it.  Joanne was scary, nor scary than Jan.  It’s the quiet ones you had to worry about.”

We sat.

“Read. Then I’ll answer questions.”

For the ten minutes, it took me to discover that Anna was a biochemist herself, and had worked in a not-so-secret government laboratory that had been unmasked with disastrous results, adding another dimension to the problem.  I was beginning to think she might be the one who created the monster and had set her husband up to take the blame.

If that was the case, she was never going to pass it on to O’Connell or sell it to him, other than to take the money and run.  If that was the case, Severin knew it was her all along, and how dangerous she was.

But and there was a big but in all of this.  She needed an accomplice to get to England, which was O’Connell.  Now he was no longer needed…

Yes, she would also need both Severin and Maury off her tail, and that had been taken care of.

Jan?  Unless I completely misread her, it was not possible she could be the accomplice; she was doing what Dobbin requested.  Or had she?  Dobbin did say she was able to make executive decisions on the fly.

“The threat isn’t O’Connell.  He’s just a pawn.”

“Not just a pretty face then?”

“I never regard my face as pretty.”

She shook her head.  “It’s Anna.  She played Severin and Maury, she played Dobbin, and she played Dobbin’s little toy soldier, O’Connell.  Or Quigley I believe his real name is.  I hesitate to say O’Connell played you.”

“Call a dog a dog, Joanne.  If I had more experience and more information I might have seen that.  You can’t keep people in the dark, and then expect miracles.”

“I’m the messenger, Sam.”

“I’ve been known to shoot messengers, just because I can.”

“Save your bullets for the bad guys.”

“How do I know you and Monica are not the bad guys?”

Another shake of the head.  “OK.  You’ve passed the scepticism test, Sam.  Now put it away.  We have to work together on this.  It’s a condition for continuing to work on the case.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I don’t need to answer that.  But, I get it.  You’re a self-starter and will keep at it, with or without us.  I can see why people like you.  To me, your just another dangerous amateur.”

There were words I could say, but judging by the reek of self-aggrandisement, it would not penetrate the thick hide.

I smiled.  “Not noted for your charm then.”

“No.  Where is Jan?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play games, Sam.  They don’t become you.  You went to see Severin, but he ended up dead, and she shot him.  Why?”

“You read this file?”  I picked it up and dropped it on the table.

She was the sort that read the first page, the preamble, and the last page, the result or desired result.

“I did.”

“Then you know why, as for Jan, if you know I was there when Severin was shot, you’d know where Jan is.”

“She disappeared into the trees.  And no doubt in the wind.  You should know she’s a trained MI5 assassin on loan to Dobbin.”

Who was now in jail somewhere pending the Detective Inspectors leisure, unless she filed a report.  If she did, she would be out now, and looking for O’Connell and Anna.

“Then how should I know?”

She shrugged.  “I thought I’d ask.  I’m not sure I like having to peel away the layers of this story one by one.”

“Be more forthcoming.”  I stood.  I had what I needed.  “If that’s all, I’ll go on with the job.”

“O’Connell?”

“He’s probably dead by now, but I have to find him, one way or another.”

“Keep me in the loop.  Monica wants to know.”

“Of course.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

I wandered back to my villa.

It was in darkness.  I was sure I had left several lights on, especially over the door so I could see to unlock it.

I looked up and saw the globe was broken.

Instant alert.

I went to the first hiding spot for the gun, and it wasn’t there.  I went to the backup and it wasn’t there either.  Someone had found my carefully hidden stash of weapons and removed them.

Who?

There were four hiding spots and all were empty.  Someone had removed the weapons.  That could only mean one possibility.

I had a visitor, not necessarily here for a social call.

But, of course, being the well-trained agent I’d once been and not one to be caught unawares, I crossed over to my neighbor and relieved him of a weapon that, if found, would require a lot of explaining.

Suitably armed, it was time to return the surprise.

There were three entrances to the villa, the front door, the back door, and a rather strange escape hatch.  One of the more interesting attractions of the villa I’d rented was its heritage.  It was built in the late 1700s, by a man who was, by all accounts, a thief.  It had a hidden underground room which had been in the past a vault but was now a wine cellar, and it had an escape hatch by which the man could come and go undetected, particularly if there was a mob outside the door baying for his blood.

It now gave me the means to enter the villa without my visitors being alerted, unless, of course, they were near the vicinity of the doorway inside the villa, but that possibility was unlikely.  It was not where anyone could anticipate or expect a doorway to be.

The secret entrance was at the rear of the villa behind a large copse, two camouflaged wooden doors built into the ground.  I move aside some of the branches that covered them and lifted one side.  After I’d discovered the doors and rusty hinges, I’d oiled and cleaned them, and cleared the passageway of cobwebs and fallen rocks.  It had a mildew smell, but nothing would get rid of that.  I’d left torches at either end so I could see.

I closed the door after me, and went quietly down the steps, enveloped in darkness till I switched on the torch.  I traversed the short passage which turned ninety degrees about halfway to the door at the other end.  I carried the key to this door on the keyring, found it and opened the door.  It too had been oiled and swung open soundlessly.

I stepped in the darkness and closed the door.

I was on the lower level under the kitchen, now the wine cellar, the ‘door’ doubling as a set of shelves which had very little on them, less to fall and alert anyone in the villa.

Silence, an eerie silence.

I took the steps up to the kitchen, stopping when my head was level with the floor, checking to see if anyone was waiting.  There wasn’t.  It seemed to me to be an unlikely spot for an ambush.

I’d already considered the possibility of someone coming after me, especially because it had been Bespalov I’d killed, and I was sure he had friends, all equally as mad as he was.  Equally, I’d also considered it nigh on impossible for anyone to find out it was me who killed him because the only people who knew that were Prendergast, Alisha, a few others in the Department, and Susan.

That raised the question of who told them where I was.

If I was the man I used to be, my first suspect would be Susan.  The departure this morning, and now this was too coincidental.  But I was not that man.

Or was I?

I reached the start of the passageway that led from the kitchen to the front door and peered into the semi-darkness.  My eyes had got used to the dark, and it was no longer an inky void.  Fragments of light leaked in around the door from outside and through the edge of the window curtains where they didn’t fit properly.  A bone of contention upstairs in the morning, when first light shone and invariably woke me up hours before I wanted to.

Still nothing.

I took a moment to consider how I would approach the visitor’s job.  I would get a plan of the villa in my head, all entrances, where a target could be led to or attacked where there would be no escape.

Coming in the front door.  If I was not expecting anything, I’d just open the door and walk-in.  One shot would be all that was required.

Contract complete.

I sidled quietly up the passage staying close to the wall, edging closer to the front door.  There was an alcove where the shooter could be waiting.  It was an ideal spot to wait.

Crunch.

I stepped on some nutshells.

Not my nutshells.

I felt it before I heard it.  The bullet with my name on it.

And how the shooter missed, from point-blank range, and hit me in the arm, I had no idea.  I fired off two shots before a second shot from the shooter went wide and hit the door with a loud thwack.

I saw a red dot wavering as it honed in on me and I fell to the floor, stretching out, looking up where the origin of the light was coming and pulled the trigger three times, evenly spaced, and a second later I heard the sound of a body falling down the stairs and stopping at the bottom, not very far from me.

Two assassins.

I’d not expected that.

The assassin by the door was dead, a lucky shot on my part.  The second was still breathing.

I checked the body for any weapons and found a second gun and two knives.  Armed to the teeth!

I pulled off the balaclava; a man, early thirties, definitely Italian.  I was expecting a Russian.

I slapped his face, waking him up.  Blood was leaking from several slashes on his face when his head had hit the stairs on the way down.  The awkward angle of his arms and legs told me there were broken bones, probably a lot worse internally.  He was not long for this earth.

“Who employed you?”

He looked at me with dead eyes, a pursed mouth, perhaps a smile.  “Not today my friend.  You have made a very bad enemy.”  He coughed and blood poured out of his mouth.  “There will be more …”

Friends of Bespalov, no doubt.

I would have to leave.  Two unexplainable bodies, I’d have a hard time explaining my way out of this mess.  I dragged the two bodies into the lounge, clearing the passageway just in case someone had heard anything.

Just in case anyone was outside at the time, I sat in the dark, at the foot of the stairs, and tried to breathe normally.  I was trying not to connect dots that led back to Susan, but the coincidence was worrying me.

A half-hour passed and I hadn’t moved.  Deep in thought, I’d forgotten about being shot, unaware that blood was running down my arm and dripping onto the floor.

Until I heard a knock on my front door.

Two thoughts, it was either the police, alerted by the neighbors, or it was the second wave, though why would they be knocking on the door?

I stood, and immediately felt a stabbing pain in my arm.  I took out a handkerchief and turned it into a makeshift tourniquet, then wrapped a kitchen towel around the wound.

If it was the police, this was going to be a difficult situation.  Holding the gun behind my back, I opened the door a fraction and looked out.

No police, just Maria.  I hoped she was not part of the next ‘wave’.

“You left your phone behind on the table.  I thought you might be looking for it.”  She held it out in front of her.

When I didn’t open the door any further, she looked at me quizzically, and then asked, “Is anything wrong?”

I was going to thank her for returning the phone, but I heard her breathe in sharply, and add, breathlessly, “You’re bleeding.”

I looked at my arm and realized it was visible through the door, and not only that, the towel was soaked in blood.

“You need to go away now.”

Should I tell her the truth?  It was probably too late, and if she was any sort of law-abiding citizen she would go straight to the police.

She showed no signs of leaving, just an unnerving curiosity.  “What happened?”

I ran through several explanations, but none seemed plausible.  I went with the truth.  “My past caught up with me.”

“You need someone to fix that before you pass out from blood loss.  It doesn’t look good.”

“I can fix it.  You need to leave.  It is not safe to be here with me.”

The pain in my arm was not getting any better, and the blood was starting to run down my arm again as the tourniquet loosened.  She was right, I needed it fixed sooner rather than later.

I opened the door and let her in.  It was a mistake, a huge mistake, and I would have to deal with the consequences.  Once inside, she turned on the light and saw the pool of blood just inside the door and the trail leading to the lounge.  She followed the trail and turned into the lounge, turned on the light, and no doubt saw the two dead men.

I expected her to scream.  She didn’t.

She gave me a good hard look, perhaps trying to see if I was dangerous.  Killing people wasn’t something you looked the other way about.  She would have to go to the police.

“What happened here?”

“I came home from the cafe and two men were waiting for me.  I used to work for the Government, but no longer.  I suspect these men were here to repay a debt.  I was lucky.”

“Not so much, looking at your arm.”

She came closer and inspected it.

“Sit down.”

She found another towel and wrapped it around the wound, retightening the tourniquet to stem the bleeding.

“Do you have medical supplies?”

I nodded.  “Upstairs.”  I had a medical kit, and on the road, I usually made my own running repairs.  Another old habit I hadn’t quite shaken off yet.

She went upstairs, rummaged, and then came back.  I wondered briefly what she would think of the unmade bed though I was not sure why it might interest her.

She helped me remove my shirt, and then cleaned the wound.  Fortunately, she didn’t have to remove a bullet.  It was a clean wound but it would require stitches.

When she’d finished she said, “Your friend said one day this might happen.”

No prizes for guessing who that friend was, and it didn’t please me that she had involved Maria.

“Alisha?”

“She didn’t tell me her name, but I think she cares a lot about you.  She said trouble has a way of finding you, gave me a phone and said to call her if something like this happened.”

“That was wrong of her to do that.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  Will you call her?”

“Yes.  I can’t stay here now.  You should go now.  Hopefully, by the time I leave in the morning, no one will ever know what happened here, especially you.”

She smiled.  “As you say, I was never here.”

…

© Charles Heath 2018-2022

This is a residential tower down at the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, with every apartment on the beachside overlooking the ocean.

There could almost be a Die Gard scenarion going on here, but I like the idea of a drama unfolding in the penthouse, like

The husband comes home and finds the wife with her personal trainer, who is getting too personal, and he is about to thrown him over the balcony. That’s a long way down.

Uber eats arrive at the door, but it’s really two wannabe ransomers who take the daughter, tie her up, then start making absurd demands, and the daughter almost throws the two of them over the balcony.

But, not one to miss an opportunity, or get her stepmother, who is younger than her, into all sorts of trouble.

The brother of the owner, a single father is killed in a freak accident, and his son has to be taken in, brought back to the penthouse, and thinks he’s struck it rich. The conniving brat is about to be taught a lesson he’ll never forget when he discovers all is not what it seems.

Or my absolute favorite, I win the lottery, move into the apartment, and so do the other 27 layabout members of my family.

Don’t laugh, it happens…

Well, that was a non-event

…

The view in the front of me, and everyone else, didn’t change. I didn’t expect it to. It was dark and sometimes eerie out in space, and like us, eventually, hurtling towards the unknown.

But, that was yesterday.

That all changed a little over an hour ago when we made the first contact with another race. Admittedly it was not the ideal way to start a new relationship, but it was a start.

I had no doubt the diplomatic team was hard at work coming up with ideas on how we were going to approach these new people.

But in the meantime, we were, quite literary, hurtling through space faster than any human’s had before.

The chief 3ngineer was right when he said the problems were fixed, and the main drive was online and ready to go.

At first, it seemed like nothing had happened when Mr. Saville pressed the button. Then, gradually, the speed indicator moved, from 3.5 to 5, then to 7, and finally, 9. Nearly three times faster than anyone before.

Which brought a new set of issues. We would be arriving at the two ships, apparently waiting for us, a lot quicker than the original estimate of 7 hours.

It was now down to about 45 minutes, and we were going to need a plan of action.

There was a platoon of special soldiers on board, an odd addition to what was supposed to be peaceful exploration, but their inclusion was non-negotiable. I knew the previous captain was not very happy with them being on board, and the one conversation between the captain and their leader was quite acrimonious.

I hoped to improve relations and stepped off the bridge to go visit the commander.

They had a separate section of the ship, where they had quarters, training, and planning facilities. The commander, Lieutenant Colonel Baxter, had an office, and his 2ic met me at the elevator and escorted me to it.

“Not the best was to become captain of a ship,” he said.

“If I had a preference, no. I assume the Admiral had spoken to you.”

The Admiral seemed to have spoken to everyone, perhaps to ensure that I would get the support I needed. Captains were generally a lot older than I was and commanded respect through years of service and experience.

Though I didn’t lack years of service, I did lack experience in running a ship like the one I was now on. But, I told myself, I would not have been made number one if I didn’t merit it.

“We’re going after the people who took the captain and one of our scientists, yes. I see we’re about a half-hour before we encounter two alleged sentry ships.”

“Possibly. But you will need to supply a four-man team in case we have to go off ship, for security purposes only.”

“And if diplomacy doesn’t work.”

His shoot first and ask questions later policy was not going to go down well, it certainly didn’t with the previous captain, and it wouldn’t with me either.

“I’m sure we all know what that will mean when the time comes. The official book on this vessel doesn’t mention anything about armaments, but if I know anything about the military, I’m sure there are defensive weapons installed. I know you told the captain that there were none to your knowledge but we both know this ship would have never left the dock without some form of defenses.”

I could read between the lines. I had a lot of spare time on those interminable cargo runs and read a great deal about the space program, and the hopes and aspirations of a lot of countries in exploring, but not with the means to do it on their own.

Where sport was once the means to unite the world, now it was space, and I had wanted to be a part of it.

In all that reading, it was the obscure references that told the real story. Nothing could get off the grounds without military cooperation, and to get that, some concessions had to be made.

Like Baxter and his men. And for the installation of a host of new weapons, specifically for space. A little further reading showed the advances made in adapting laser technology, and I suspect this ship had a few, as well as other weapons. I hadn’t seen any ray guns, but there were prototypes, and they’d been around for several years.

“I couldn’t say, even if I wanted to. You know how it is.”

“Well, let’s hope your desire for secrecy doesn’t imperil the mission because if it does, you’ll be the first visitor in the brig.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. That’s just a fact. Now, once more, is there anything you need to tell me, that will be useful in any negotiation with the two ships we were about to encounter.”

He looked at me with what I would have guessed was contempt, but that was how he viewed everyone. There was no doubting his capability, his service record, or his loyalty. But space was different to anything else he’d encountered.

“If they give you any trouble, you let me know. That spare console on the bridge, it controls the ship’s defenses.”

I was smart enough not to ask what those defenses were. We’d all find out soon enough if it came to that.

“Then you’d better send someone up. We might need him.”

“Her actually. Gunnery Sargent Walker.”

Going back up in the elevator I looked at my hands and they were shaking. The first day out, and I was all but ready to go to war.

Not expected, not wanted, but sadly a fact.

When I stepped onto the bridge, the viewing screen showed the two ships, very close, and very detailed.

The second officer was saying, “We arrived early, and if I may ask, why didn’t we just go around them?”

“I’m curious about what they might have to say.”

“And if they shoot at us?”

“I’m sure Baxter will have something to say about that. Is the spare console manned?”

“Yes. By a Gunnery Sargent, part of the military team on board.”

“Good. Now let’s see if we can strike up a conversation.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021