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 solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
He suddenly realizes 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.
The Longjing Pearl Factory is located at: No.2 Zuoan Gate Inner Street, ChongWen District, Beijing 100061 China.
This Pearl Center specializes in both freshwater and seawater pearls, with a reputation backed by the government of China, with a big selection and of the highest quality. There were all kinds of jewelry made of pearls in different colors, shapes, and sizes.
They also had, as an interesting sideline, famous Chinese traditional cosmetics such as pearl cream and pearl powder, reputed to make your skin smoother, tendered and most importantly, younger.
We were advised of all of this well before we arrived at the factory, and of course, one suspected the glowing review, with emphasis on the fact it was a government operation and therefore trustworthy, suggested we should buy, meant the tour guide would receive a commission on each sale.
This is nothing new, it’s the same the world over, so it’s up to the visitor to buy or not to buy.
As soon as you get in the door you are taken to the group’s guide for the tour (and afterward, available for help on making purchases). who gives you a rundown on the different types and colors of pearls. This briefly is,
Pearls come in two main categories: freshwater cultured pearls and saltwater cultured pearls. Various types of pearls are the result of the environment in which they live, and different cultivation techniques used by the pearl farmers.
Freshwater cultured pearls are grown in lakes and rivers, whereas saltwater cultured pearls are grown in bodies of saltwater such as bays. The most commonly used pearls are Freshwater pearls.
Freshwater Pearls come in various pastel shades of white, pink, peach, lavender, plum, purple, and tangerine. South Sea cultured pearls come in shades of lustrous white, often with silver or rose overtones.
Black pearls are known as Tahitian pearls and come most often in shades of black and gray. While a Tahitian pearl has a black body color, it will vary in its overtones, which most often will be green or pink.
Then there’s a demonstration, where one of the tour group is selected to pick an oyster out of the tank, and then there’s the guessing game as to how many pearls are in the shell, with the winner getting a pearl.
Guesses ranged from 1 to 23 and the answer was 26. Nearest wins, and one for the person who picked the oyster out of the tank. After this demonstration, we move on to the ways we can tell the difference between real and fake pearls.
It seems strange that they would, but we were guaranteed by both the tour guide and the lady delivering the lecture that the pearls we were about to buy were real, so how could we suspect there was anything dodgy about them? Besides, now we could tell real from fake!
We then move onto the showroom floor where there are casements of pearl products, in the form of necklaces, earrings, and any number of variations and uses. And, just to let you know, the prices are very, very expensive, even if they say they have a special.
Perhaps the best products, and those that found favor with many of the women on the tour, was the pearl cremes and powders. These were not expensive, and, as we discovered later, actually worked as described.
It could have been anywhere in the world, she thought, but it wasn’t. It was in a city where if anything were to go wrong…
She sighed and came away from the window and looked around the room. It was quite large and expensively furnished. It was one of several she had been visiting in the last three months.
Quite elegant too, as the hotel had its origins dating back to before the revolution in 1917. At least, currently, there would not be a team of KGB agents somewhere in the basement monitoring everything that happened in the room.
There was no such thing as the KGB anymore, though there was an FSB, but such organisations were of no interest to her.
She was here to meet with Vladimir.
She smiled to herself when she thought of him, such an interesting man whose command of English was as good as her command of Russian, though she had not told him of that ability.
All he knew of her was that she was American, worked in the Embassy as a clerk, nothing important, whose life both at work and at home was boring. Not that she had blurted that out the first they met, or even the second.
That first time, at a function in the Embassy, was a chance meeting, a catching of his eye as he looked around the room, looking, as he had told her later, for someone who might not be as boring as the function itself.
It was a celebration, honouring one of the Embassy officials on his service in Moscow, and the fact he was returning home after 10 years. She had been there once, and still hadn’t met all the staff.
They had talked, Vladimir knew a great deal about England, having been stationed there for a year or two, and had politely asked questions about where she lived, her family, and of course what her role was, all questions she fended off with an air of disinterested interest.
It fascinated him, as she knew it would, a sort of mental sparring as one would do with swords if this was a fencing match.
They had said they might or might not meet again when the party was over, but she suspected there would be another opportunity. She knew the signs of a man who was interested in her, and Vladimir was interested.
The second time came in the form of an invitation to an art gallery, and a viewing of the works of a prominent Russian artist, an invitation she politely declined. After all, invitations issued to Embassy staff held all sorts of connotations, or so she was told by the Security officer when she told him.
Then, it went quiet for a month. There was a party at the American embassy and along with several other staff members, she was invited. She had not expected to meet Vladimir, but it was a pleasant surprise when she saw him, on the other side of the room, talking to several military men.
A pleasant afternoon ensued.
And it was no surprise that they kept running into each other at the various events on the diplomatic schedule.
By the fifth meeting, they were like old friends. She had broached the subject of being involved in a plutonic relationship with him with the head of security at the embassy. Normally for a member of her rank, it would not be allowed, but in this instance it was.
She did not work in any sensitive areas, and, as the security officer had said, she might just happen upon something that might be useful. In that regard, she was to keep her eyes and ears open and file a report each time she met him.
After that discussion, she got the impression her superiors considered Vladimir more than just a casual visitor on the diplomatic circuit. She also formed the impression that he might consider her an ‘asset’, a word that had been used at the meeting with security and the ambassador.
It was where the word ‘spy’ popped into her head and sent a tingle down her spine. She was not a spy, but the thought of it, well, it would be fascinating to see what happened.
A Russian friend. That’s what she would call him.
And over time, that relationship blossomed, until, after a visit to the ballet, late and snowing, he invited her to his apartment not far from the ballet venue. It was like treading on thin ice, but after champagne and an introduction to caviar, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.
Even so, she had made him promise that he remain on his best behaviour. It could have been very easy to fall under the spell of a perfect evening, but he promised, showed her to a separate bedroom, and after a brief kiss, their first, she did not see him until the next morning.
So, it began.
It was an interesting report she filed after that encounter, one where she had expected to be reprimanded.
She wasn’t.
It wasn’t until six weeks had passed when he asked her if she would like to take a trip to the country. It would involve staying in a hotel, that they would have separate rooms. When she reported the invitation, no objection was raised, only a caution; keep her wits about her.
Perhaps, she had thought, they were looking forward to a more extensive report. After all, her reports on the places, and the people, and the conversations she overheard, were no doubt entertaining reading for some.
But this visit was where the nature of the relationship changed, and it was one that she did not immediately report. She had realised at some point before the weekend away, that she had feelings for him, and it was not that he was pushing her in that direction or manipulating her in any way.
It was just one of those moments where, after a grand dinner, a lot of champagne, and delightful company, things happen. Standing at the door to her room, a lingering kiss, not intentional on her part, and it just happened.
And for not one moment did she believe she had been compromised, but for some reason she had not reported that subtle change in the relationship to the powers that be, and so far, no one had any inkling.
She took off her coat and placed it carefully of the back of one of the ornate chairs in the room. She stopped for a moment to look at a framed photograph on the wall, one representing Red Square.
Then, after a minute or two, she went to the mini bar and took out the bottle of champagne that had been left there for them, a treat arranged by Vladimir for each encounter.
There were two champagne flutes set aside on the bar, next to a bowl of fruit. She picked up the apple and thought how Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden, and the temptation.
Later perhaps, after…
She smiled at the thought and put the apple back.
A glance at her watch told her it was time for his arrival. It was if anything, the one trait she didn’t like, and that was his punctuality. A glance at the clock on the room wall was a minute slow.
The doorbell to the room rang, right on the appointed time.
She put the bottle down and walked over to the door.
He had dropped off the kids. filled up the tank and finished his coffee before deciding where he was headed.
…
Ever wondered what it would be like to just do something out of the ordinary?
At what point did you realise just how much of a rut your life had fallen into?
These questions were foremost in Geoff’s mind as he sat at the bar of the diner on the edge of town, a place where he came every morning after dropping the children off at school.
Every morning except school and gazetted holidays. Without fail. Rain, hail or shine. In sickness and in health.
He sighed. When did it all go kaput? Life, marriage, work, everything.
Sybil refilled the cup with fresh coffee. “Another day, another million dollars?” Geoff had sat in that same chair every school day for the last three years, ordered the same coffee and cake, and said the same opening line and second response.
It was like talking to a robot.
“Yep. As if.”
And sipped the coffee, then said, “Excellent brew, Sybil.”
To which she replied, with the same amond of disdain, “It’s made by a machine, Geoff, it’s always going to be the same.” And moved on to the next customer, Dave, the truck driver. He needed three cups of coffee before the delivery run.
Geoff sipped the coffee, looked over the rim of the cup, and watched Hank, the short order chef throwing a burger, bacon, two eggs and tomato on the grill and watching it sizzle. Someone had ordered an overload of cholesterol.
He looked around the diner and saw the man sitting in a booth in the corner. Driving all night, he’d stopped off to refresh before continuing on his way to somewhere else, anywhere but here. Sybil was refilling his cup with the freshly brewed coffee.
Always keeping busy.
Another car pulled into the car park. A man and a woman. Smiling, happy. Of course, they were not staying here. They were moving on, going to somewhere else. Not in a rut.
Geoff knew life was a matter of choices. He made a bad choice. He thought it was the right choice, but in the end, it destroyed everything. He thought he was doing the right thing and allowed himself to be convinced it was.
In the end, the prosecutor’s case failed on a technicality, and the man he testified against was acquitted and vowed he would kill him. it was how he finished up in Grey’s Well, Montana, in the middle of nowhere, in a dead-end boring job, with a continually complaining wife and two very unhappy children.
All he had to do was get in the car and drive. North, south, east, or west, it didn’t matter. Anywhere but here. Away from the nagging and whinging. Away from the boredom of a job he hated. Even death would be better than this.
All it would take was to get off the stool, turn around, walk out the door, get in the car, and drive.
It was the same thought, every morning, after finishing that second refill.
He slid off the stool.
He turned around.
He started walking towards the door.
One step, two steps.
He stopped. To the left, there was the smiling man. To the right, there was the smiling woman. He had not seen them enter the diner and move towards where he was sitting. how could he, he had his back to the door.
He went to say hello but instead felt the knife penetrate the skin on his right side and suddenly feel very tired, and the two visitors helped him back onto his stool.
By the time he was sitting, they were leaving, and Sybil was coming back.
“Are you alright, Geoff?” She was shaking his shoulder.
He couldn’t hear her, or the sound of the car that had recently arrived speed off.
Geoff slid off the stool and was dead before he hit the floor. That was different.
Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.
Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’. It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.
It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over. It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.
Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning. It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary. On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to. She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.
For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.
She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.
Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room. Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me. Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.
Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight. She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.
More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”
Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together. It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement. Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.
The battle lines were drawn.
Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it. Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.
The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it. And took the moment to look deeply into my soul. It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.
Then it was gone.
I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me. A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.
When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.” It was not a question, but a statement.
I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace. Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand. I guessed she was talking about the new job. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
She smiled widely. “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”
I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.
I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al. I tried it once and was admonished. But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not. It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.
Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil. As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in. I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.
And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them. I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand. And yet, apparently, Alison did. I must have missed the memo.
“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”
No secrets. Her look conveyed something else entirely.
The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us. It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me. We were going to need it.
Then, a toast.
To a new job and a new life.
“When did you decide?” Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.
Alison had a strange expression on her face. It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind. Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.
Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene. I knew what I wanted to say. I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison. This was not the time or the place. Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.
Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing. If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control. “It’s the little things. They all add up until one day …” I shrugged. “I guess that one day was today.”
I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real? Or; I told you he’d come around.
I had no idea the two were so close.
“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me. I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points. It was all I could come up with at short notice.
“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted. “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”
“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead. Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.
It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose. Care to join me, Al?”
A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend. “Yes.”
I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation. I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.
I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.
There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show. I was quite literally gob-smacked.
I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him. “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up. You know Alison is doing her law degree.”
He looked startled when he realized I had spoken. He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed. Or perhaps it was deliberate. She’d definitely had some enhancements done.
He dragged his eyes back to me. “Yes. Elaine said something or other about it. But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week. Perhaps I got it wrong. I usually do.”
“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.” I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again. “This week or next, what does it matter?”
Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart. It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies. If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?
We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”
“Trouble, I suspect. Definitely more money, but less time at home.”
“Oh,” raised eyebrows. Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details. “You sure you want to do that?”
At last the voice of reason. “Me? No.”
“Yet you accepted the job.”
I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him. Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him. “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another. To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”
“Barclay?”
“My boss.”
“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us. I thought I recognized the name.”
“How did Elaine get the job?”
“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”
“When?”
“A couple of months ago. Why?”
I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker. I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment. “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time. Too busy with work I expect. I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”
I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together. I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down. I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.
And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown. Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”
Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth. It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction. It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.
When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I. I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter. If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did. She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket. She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.
But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points. Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine. She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.
Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly. I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.
She had her ‘secrets’. I had mine.
At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me. It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me. I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse. When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.
It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three. But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.
I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree. It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.
We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side. But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer. She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong. It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.
She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it. Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.
And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.
It left me confused and lost.
I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.
And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.
So, as we all know, a key is used to lock or unlock a door, gate, or something else. It’s either made of shiny metal, brass, or rusty iron, it can be small, or very, very big, as is the key to a dungeon.
We can have one key or we can have many or even a master key that unlocks everything, very handy if you have a house full of locked rooms.
People always seem to want to steal them, especially in crime shows.
There is also an item called a key card. Not the metal thing, but a plastic thing, that opens doors. Odd that it’s called keyless entry!
Then there’s what is known as the key to something, i.e. you might have the key to his or her heart, metaphorically speaking.
And in that metaphorical sense, it opens up pandora’s box with a plethora of different meanings.
He had the key to the puzzle.
I wish sometimes I had the key to be able to write better, that that one particular key eludes me.
There are keys on a keyboard, the ones you use on computers and calculators. They were originally on typewriters. You can also find keys on a piano, or an accordion, and some other musical instruments.
A key can also be a master index field, or unique identifier, in a database, particularly those kept on computers.
And,
there’s a host of other uses for the word key, such as
roughening a surface
describing the shooting area on a basketball court
How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
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.
…
“So,” Lallo said, “you’re telling me you landed separately, Treen and his group advanced towards their position without waiting for your team, that shortly after landing you heard gunfire exchanged, that the members of your team broke ranks and went to help their comrades and that all of them, as far as you were aware at the time, had been killed or captured.”
“Yes.”
“And the two operatives you’d come to rescue?”
“At the time, I had no idea what their status was, but I did make a preliminary assumption that if our mission was blown, then they would hardly be left alive unless the enemy thought they had some strategic value.”
“Or intelligence?”
“It hadn’t occurred to me at the time because my job was to simply to aid the extraction team. To be honest, I had no idea who they were or what their value was.”
That was not exactly the truth because I could hardly say I hadn’t overheard a conversation between Treen, the briefing officers, and an unseen, unnamed officer discussing the two operatives, and the fact it was imperative we get them out at any cost. It wasn’t said why, but I could guess.
It didn’t take long to realize that if our arrival had been known, so would the location and worth of the two we were to rescue. I didn’t think they were killed out of hand, not until they’d told the enemy’s interrogators everything they knew.
And I got the impression they knew enough to cause our whole operation in that country ended up with a great deal of irreparable damage.
No wonder they wanted to sweep it under the carpet.
I watched Lallo scribble a long not over several pages. Was his conclusion the same as mine, but based on truth rather than hearsay?
Then, “Were you met by the person who has been referred to as the so-called source?”
“No.”
“Do you know if Treen’s group were met?”
“No. I was given to understand that source had gone quiet, I suppose another word for either captured or defected to the other side.”
“Apparently there was a report that the agent in situ was going to be at the landing site.”
“Well, there’s your explanation as to why the mission was blown from the start. Whoever it was, was either captured, or a double agent, and told the enemy of our plans.”
“A reasonable assumption in the circumstances, but not necessarily correct.”
“And you know this because…”
I was curious. The agent’s defection would explain everything.
“That agent resurfaced three days ago, again asking for repatriation, and is in the air to a secure site as we speak.”
He stood and took a moment to stow the pencil in the binding of the notebook before giving me his attention.
“We will also be in their air tomorrow, headed for the same secure location. I’m, sure you will be available for that interrogation, because I, too, have serious doubts about this agent’s shall we say, loyalties.”
That still didn’t mean I wasn’t going to finish up at a black site, or worse.
B is for — Behind the green door. A game show with a difference
…
It was the anniversary of my mother’s death and a day when my father usually just remained in bed and refused to get up.
He had never quite coped with it, and now, quite a few years later, he was still struggling. The pity of it was my birthday was the same as the day she died, and I guess it was why for years he had not celebrated it
However, this year was different. I was looking forward to turning 30, a milestone and something of an achievement in our community, considering what we had all endured.
But it was what it was. We were alive, reasonably well, and looking forward to the time when we could once again go outside, though no one really knew what that meant.
We had photographs of how the planet looked before the cataclysmic seismic events of 2031. Overnight, volcanoes erupted, and huge fissures appeared. And poisonous gas filled the air. It happened so suddenly and so quick that most of the planet’s population died.
So much smoke and dark particles got into the atmosphere it drowned out the sun, and after that, it didn’t take long for everything that wasn’t killed by the sulphuric acid to die from lack of light.
Fortunately, my family was one of the lucky groups that were given a ticket to the huge underground facility built for just such an event, one of thousands all over the world, a completely self-contained microcosm of human life.
Waiting for the air to be clear and for life to reappear. We had been waiting 400 years.
That was as much as we knew or cared to. We all had other things to worry about, like getting through the day with the cheerful disposition my mother brought to everyone who knew her, and in her stead, by me. Everyone had said how much I was like her, and that perhaps didn’t help my father’s disposition.
It was also the day I was being brought into my father’s circle of friends. I mean, I knew them already and frequently met them when we all got together as a group of families. But this, he had said, was something different, and I would have to swear on a bible, of all things, that I would keep it a secret, a secret that I would take to the grave.
It had me intrigued. There were no secrets among the people. Everyone basically knew everyone else’s business, not hard in a place that only houses 25,000 people, roughly the size of a small town.
This group, he said, had people from all of the work groups, like medical, sanitation, engineering, communications, and community services. There were about 50 in all, and now that I was a detective, I was going to be confirmed as the newest member of the team, adding a new field and expertise.
It was a team I didn’t know until he first told me, but being formally introduced to all of them was going to be exciting. These people, I discovered were basically the ones who made our community work.
It also meant my father wouldn’t be wallowing in self-pity today. He would have better things to do.
I was surprised to discover the meeting place was a gymnasium. It was reasonably large and looked rather old and worn out. A new one had been built not far away, but people still preferred to use this one. The reason I discovered later was that there was no surveillance.
Yes, that was just one of the things about our existence that was a nuisance. It was everywhere and you had to be on your best behaviour at all times.
The other 48 members had already arrived, and my father and I were the last two. I had to sit up at the main table until the others voted to formalise my addition to the team.
My father rang a bell, and silence took over from the low roar of my simultaneous conversations.
“Welcome, fellow members of the brains trust. For the edification for what I hope will be our newest member,” A glance in my direction followed by 39 other sets of eyes, “we are a group of experts in our fields and when there a problem the brains trust will come together and brain storm a solution.”
“Our main business today is to formalise the inclusion of my son, Michael, as a member. He will bring the expertise of a Detective and the use of his skills as one to help us find resolutions to future problems. If anyone has an objection, make it known now.”
We waited for a minute of so, then he continued, “As there are no objections, it is now time for the oath.”
He motioned me to stand as he took a musty looking volume off the table where he was standing. I’d seen it before but never took much interest in it. Now I knew it was a bible, one hardly of any use because religion, though not banned, was frowned upon
Equally, neither of my parents was interested or showed any interest.
He held the book in his hand and asked me to put my right hand on it. I did.
“Do you swear to work with and help in every way possible as a member of the brain’s trust.”
“I will.”
“Do you swear never to tell anyone else, no matter what relationship you have with them?”
What sort of a secret society was this?
“I do.”
“Do you swear that no matter what duress you are under, you will never tell anyone what you have observed, heard, or performed for the group?”
OK, now it was getting a little scary. Being a detective, I knew the rules by heart, and if this group was doing anything illegal, I was going to have to break the oath I made to become a detective.
What was more important?
“I will.”
“Then welcome to the brain’s trust.”
He shook my hand, and then everyone of the others did likewise. It was like swearing an oath to each one of them.
That was the business out of the way. Now, it was time to celebrate, and the wives and daughters had made food and set it out for all to partake.
There was one woman there who was different from the rest. When I asked one of the other girls who she was, she said her name was Elsie and a friend of another of the girls.
She also said she was new to the community, having come with her mother from one of the other communities nearby.
I was curious. My father had been at me to find a nice girl and settle down but having been to school with and known most of the girls of my age since we were young children, I had not been able to form a rapport with any particular one.
There was only one reason why a woman came from another community, and that was to marry one of our men. There were rules around marriage, and everyone had to be careful whom they married.
Not that I was thinking about that right then, but it did occur to me that she would be automatically eligible.
I picked a moment when she was alone and went over. She saw me coming and I thought she might disappear, but she didn’t.
“Hello,” I said in a slightly breaking voice, nerves almost getting the better of me, “my name is Michael.”
She held out her hand, and I took it in mine.
“Hello, Michael. My name is Elsie.”
“I have not seen you around.”
“I have only just arrived here with my mother. She is ill at the moment, and I’m staying with my prospective stepfather’s relative.”
“How do you like this community?”
“It is exactly the same as the one I came from, just different people and different rules, but more or less the same. Have you lived here all your life?”
“Yes.”
She took her hand back, but not in a way that made me think she didn’t like me.
“What do you do?”
“Science, mostly geology. I study rocks. Lately, it’s been monitoring seismic activity. All numbers and lines, boring stuff. What do you do?” Then she smiled, and it was transformational.
“Of course, silly me, you’re a detective. What do you detect?”
“Not a lot because I’m only new, but one day, murders or missing persons. We didn’t have many murders or deaths, but we do have minor crimes. Boring stuff, actually.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other again. I must go now.”
I saw a man at the door looking sternly at her, perhaps for talking to me. She walked quickly but not hastily towards him, and then they left.
My father appeared at my side. “Interesting, young woman. Do you know who she is?
“Someone from another community. I believed her mother had come to marry one of us.”
He frowned and shook his head.
“That man at the door was a relative of the prospective groom,” I said.
“Then I suggest you keep your distance from them. They’re trouble.”
That sounded ominous. There were not many people my father didn’t like, so there was going to be a problem if, in the unlikely event, we met again.
For the next month or two, I worked on improving my skills as a detective and kept an eye out for Elsie. When I didn’t see her again. I put my missing person skills to good use and tried to track her down.
I learned very quickly that what I thought was good work was nothing of the sort. I told myself that I was not going to be much of a detective if I couldn’t find someone who was not even missing.
It never occurred to me that she might be hiding or keeping away from the general public for private reasons. Whatever it was, I gave up trying because I assumed if she wanted to see me again, she would come and find me.
Then suddenly, she reappeared, at my favourite cafe and was ordering a takeout coffee. I joined the queue behind, then touched her on the shoulder. She both jumped and squealed but was genuinely surprised to see me again.
“Did you go back to your community? I have been keeping an eye out for you,” I said
She hesitated, what I might have called confused, then said, “Yes, I had to go back. Mother married and stayed here. Now I’m back for good. I didn’t get your last name, so I couldn’t find you.”
Although pleasant, I sensed something reticent in her manner. Twice, she had been looking around but trying not to. As if someone was watching her.
“Are you alright?”
She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “A relative is somewhere near here. I’m just waiting for him. So that I can find you again, can you give me your last name?”
I gave it to her along with my address, which she carefully folded and put in her bag.
Then she caught sight of the person she was looking for. “Got to go. Sorry. We will talk again, I promise.” And then she was gone.
Cloak and dagger were words I read in a book that I’d found in a suspect’s residence, a book from a long time ago, one that was banned and shouldn’t exist.
Instead of submitting it as evidence, evidence I knew would disappear, and to be told I should not speak of it again, I kept it. It also told me there must be a cache of such volumes somewhere in the facility and added it to my secret mission list.
I didn’t tell my father, knowing it would set him off on another rant, that we were kept in the dark, that we were being manipulated by an unseen group of pf murderous people who didn’t care about us. The death of my mother by them had turned him into a bitter old man.
But the courtship, if you could call it that, with a woman named Elsie Myers, was every bit of a cloak and dagger operation. We would both sneak away to various locations we knew of that rarely saw other people. At first, we talked about my community and about her community, how much she didn’t like ours and wished she could go home.
It wasn’t long before I realised that her community was the same one my mother came from. Did she know this? I knew she couldn’t be related to my mother because she’d know the rules about inter-community relationships. And if there was, the recording of any relationships would be investigated.
But, whether or not I was supposed to know this, I decided not to speak of it. She didn’t seem to want to be forthcoming.
Whatever it was we were doing, it proceeded to the point where I took her home to meet my father. He was now in the twilight of his years and thinking about Rule 71, the one that decreed that everyone turning 65, took a last trip to the community headquarters, spent a week being debriefed ready for the next person to take over their job, and they move into the next phase of their life.
In other words, put bluntly, you reach 65, and you die. It was an arbitrary age, the beginning of the end, and that age where everything went wrong. The thing is, in 400 years, medicine had not improved to the point where we could sustainably live past 65 and be useful
We were told it had something to do with having to live under a mountain, the lack of fresh air and sunshine, and the processing of our food.
Besides, I got it. Who would want to live longer than that?
My father had got a reminder of his human frailty that morning in a card from the administration advising him that he was due for a check-up.
It was a bad choice to pick the same day to introduce Elsie. It wasn’t until we were outside the door that I remembered what he had said about her all those months ago.
I unlocked the door and ushered her in. Once, we didn’t have to lock the doors, but there had been a growing discontent between the haves and have-nots. He was in his favourite chair, reading the newspaper.
“Dad, this is Elsie.”
Rather than him becoming the polite host, he simply glared at me and said, “I told you what thought ages ago. Take heed or don’t, I don’t care.”
Thus began a long-running and strained relationship between the two of us, and perhaps I should have heeded his advice from the beginning. It never improved from that day.
When I should have considered what was behind his attitude I didn’t and on top of the indifference he had for everything since mother had died, I decided to strike my own path, neither participating with the brains trust, and continuing to be disappointed with my workplace, not realizing that it might have had something to do with Elsie.
It wasn’t until sometime after I married her and I was complaining about yet another missed opportunity that one of the other detectives intimated that I should wonder how it was a woman like Elsie had deigned to marry someone so inferior to her station.
She had never mentioned anything about her station, but it was about the time when I started to get better cases, and we moved into better accommodation, and then, she had apparently got a promotion, more and important work.
Perhaps that might never have mattered. I had not seen her out and about with another man, not behaving in the manner I would have expected. I knew she was a flirt as at some of the parties we were invited to, I saw her being friendly with her fellow workers, but I put that down to her manner.
And while I might have dwelled on it longer than I should, it soon became equally apparent that the new cases I was being allocated were leading me down a dark path whether intentionally designed to distract me from questioning her behaviour, or whether I was meant to discover there was a whole other side to our community that no one else could see.
Had Elsie facilitated that, or was I just imagining it?
Whatever the reason, my life took a very different path, for a period a very intense relationship with Elsie as if we only had a very short time left together, I had uncovered a series of missing persons and subsequent deaths that were linked, something I could not report because there was a possible link between them and my father and other members of the brains trust.
Then my father’s time was up, and I took him to the judiciary, trying to make up for those years since I chose Elsie over him, only for him to cryptically tell me that things happened for a reason, and I would soon learn what that reason was. He was not bitter, not anymore, and was glad to move on.
Then, in one stultifying moment, Elsie was gone. I had, on occasion, followed her out and about, seeing who she met, who she was more friendly with, and finding out who they were. It was interesting that they were all top-level scientists and the sort of men she should have married.
And then, it was one of them that killed her in a jealous rage. It was not the story they told me, a bunch of shadowy men in black calling, explaining, and then leaving with the ominous threat that I should accept the findings of the investigation and get on with my life. A CCTV video gave me the real answer much later, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
In the end, I got to my retirement date, rather satisfied in the end that I had done my job to the best of my ability, I had met and lived with the woman I believed I was meant to be with and that I was probably the only one of the 25,000 inhabitants in our community who knew what had happened over the last 400 years that got us to the point where we were now.
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…
While waiting for Carlo and Chiara to return with the villagers, and taking some time to consider the plan that had almost formed in my mind, I went back to my room, which, I was guessing was once used for wine storage, because now that I had taken a moment to stop and consider my surroundings, I could smell the aroma of spilled wine.
With a little more light, I could see the arches within which the bottles would be stacked. I’d also noticed while I’d been outside, that there were vines everywhere, albeit in bad shape as the people who tended them had either left, or been taken away, or shot.
Red grapes if I was not mistaken, though I had no idea what the variety might be.
If the war dragged on much longer, it would do a lot of damage to the wine-growing districts, and I doubted, when the Germans were here, they had any interest in tending the vines, but just drink the wine, and then probably not with the appreciation it deserved.
That had certainly been the case up at the castle before fate turned against me. Perhaps that was where all of the wine from this cellar had been taken for safekeeping, once the locals thought the Germans had gone forever. Maybe that was the reason why Leonardo spent so much of his time at the castle, the free wine.
Jack had returned from what I assumed was an inspection of our new quarters and was sitting on the ground next to me. I wondered what he made of everything he had seen. It was certainly not a dog’s life being caught in the middle of a war.
“It’s a fine mess we’re in,” I said to him, and he looked back with uncomprehending eyes. I would have to brush up on my German. Or maybe Italian. It only just occurred to me that he was probably someone’s dog from around here. We’d only run into each other a few miles away.
“Yes, and I’m sure if you spoke English you could tell me a thing or two. But, alas, you can’t, so a piece of advice. Try to keep out of trouble, and by that, next time I go out, you might want to stay here.”
I shrugged. Things must be bad; I’m talking to a dog.
Martina stopped outside the entrance. “I heard voices. Who are you talking to?”
“The dog. He’s the only one who’s making any sense at the moment.”
“Are you sure he’s not a German spy. Or, in fact, it’s a he?”
“You probably know as much as I do. Anything happening?”
“Carlo’s back with a dozen or so of those who want to stay alive. Chiara has a few more. The rest have other places to hide if they need to. We’ve told them to expect a raid. Leonardo and a few of his men have been out looking for you and told everyone that you are a German spy and that he’ll pay them a lot of money for information about where you are or who’s hiding you. He doesn’t understand everyone hates him, they always have.”
“Good to know if I run into him, he won’t be happy to see me.”
“This plan of yours?”
“Wallace will be getting edgy about the men he sent out, those men we ambushed at Chiara’s place. It depends on who he sends, and where they go, but I was thinking we could prepare another ambush at Chiara’s. All we have to do is wait because I’m sure they’ll get there eventually.”
“And if I know Leonardo, he’ll send them straight to my farm. He knows that both Carlo and I, and the other two you’ve met were the other four who refused to join him in going up to the castle to make peace. It seems he’s made a bad choice.”
“Wallace didn’t. He needs someone like Leonardo to find us. You’re probably right. I was thinking Carlo and I could go. No sense sending all of us, and if anything happens, there will be someone left to carry on.”
“You don’t sound too confident. You are a soldier, aren’t you?”
“In a manner of speaking. But I was not trained to be a commando, and not necessarily on the front line, or in this case behind enemy lines.”
“You’re not one of those rich kids whose father bought a commission, so you didn’t have to fight?”
Interesting the ideas foreigners had about elements of the army. I was not sure if that was done anymore, at least not in this war.
“I have poor parents, that is if they have survived the bombs falling on London. Refused to give in to Hitler’s aggression.”
I tried to convince them to go to the countryside, just to be safe, but one of the places they thought of going, had also been bombed, so as far as they were concerned, nowhere in England was safe.
“But yes, they did teach me how to shoot, and I know my way around several different types of gun.” My mind flicked to the sniper rifle and the damage that could do.
I’d be definitely taking that with me.
I saw her turn her head, and then heard the sound of new arrivals. Chiara had returned.
“Time’s up for planning.”
I told the dog to stay, but as usual, he ignored me. We went back into the main cavern where a dozen more people were settling in various places along one wall. They looked as though they’d packed for a reasonably long stay.
But what worried me was the way they looked at me. Those rumors Leonardo spread, I was hoping no one believed him. Above the sound of voices, I could hear Marina speaking to them in Italian, hopefully, to tell them I was not a threat.
I found Carlo.
“I have a small job to do. After our last exercise at Chiara’s my old commander will no doubt send someone down to the village to seek answers, and I’m hoping you’ll come with me so we can convince them of the error of their ways.”
He smiled. There was no mirth in it, and I knew I didn’t have to say anything more.
I saw movement coming from a group of people, and among them the boy I’d met earlier, Enrico. He had jumped up off the floor when he saw me and came over.
“What are we going to do now. I mean, we’re not going to sit here and do nothing.”
Boyish enthusiasm. He had not been shot at yet, and to him, it was all a bit of a game. I remembered back to the start of the war, and the number of boys who lied about their age, hardly waiting for the war to be declared. They had no idea what a real war was, and if they had known, they would not have been so recklessly enthusiastic.
“You’re going to stay here and protect your family and all the others here.”
“No. I want to be useful, fight the bastards.”
Carlo gave him one of his dark stares. “You will stay here and help others if anything goes wrong. Out there,” he pointed towards the entrance, “out there, if you’re not careful, you will die.”
Martina had seen him talking to us and came over.
“Enrico, we’ve talked about this. Go back to your family.”
A last pleading look in case we changed our minds, then he reluctantly returned to his group.
Carlo handed me the sniper rifle and a pistol, a luger, probably captured from a German earlier, when they were in occupation.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 