Writing a book in 365 days – 172/173

Days 172 and 173

Writing exercise – Something they thought they had known all their lives turns out to be false.

…

Someone once told me that weddings and funerals brought out the worst in people. Even those you thought were family.

Of course, it was not so much the fact that people could be very nasty, they could and with very little provocation, but there was always a catalyst, and it had nothing to do with human nature.

It had everything to do with money.

I knew this because I had spent the last 30 years of my life with my older brothers and, like the last sibling in the family spoiled and treated more favourably than those who came before, but not in a bad way.

After all, we were family.

Our mother and father treated us all with the same disdain the moment we were all old enough to fend for ourselves. They had the means and wherewithal to give us an easy life, but they instead chose to cut us off the dat we turned 21 and made it a rule we had to fend for ourselves

For David, the eldest, now 45, and William, his twin brother, for Wendy, second eldest, 43, George, third eldest, 41 and Petulia, my youngest sister, 39 and then me, the surprise, Andrew, who just turned 30.

The others went to very expensive schools and had the benefit of the old school tie, some of which they often bemoaned, having spent time at boarding school.

The girls did the same, and then were finished off in Switzerland, the sort of girls who should have married Dukes or sons of Dukes and be living in castles. They certainly had the expenses, the expensive tastes, and the posh voices to go with it.

Just not the Dukes.

And my brothers, they had all perfected the art of starting, but never finishing, a project and had to be saved, if only to save the family name.

My father didn’t like failure. I took that to heart and used my polytechnic education and turned it into a gold mine, one I simply avoided telling the others about because I knew this day would come.

The day the cash cow stopped handing out cash.

The day our parents died in a plane crash, in a plane my father was piloting until he had a heart attack and lost control of it, and from which plane my mother had called me to ask me what she could do.

I didn’t get to tell her it was too late.

Three days after the funeral, one that made page two in the national dailies for a reason I won’t go into, that would take a book, we assembled in the morning room of Ballyshore Manor, the family seat.

It was the reading of the will. It was exactly the same for Mother as it was for Father.

Expectations were high. My siblings were not the sort of people who understood economics or the vagaries of accounting.

They had no idea how much it cost to run a household, maintain servants or a hundred-acre estate, or the value of family heirlooms and history.

They had all met, without me, to discuss what it was worth and how they would divvy up the proceeds. I deduced this when they all arrived at the Manor, and under the guise of reacquainting themselves with their home, each had a section, a clipboard with lots of blank paper and started writing down everything that was for sale.

They thought their surreptitious activities were undetectable. They forgot about the servants who noted everything they did, and those activities were in Davidson’s report to me.

Davidson was the Butler, the head of the household, along with Joanne, in charge of everything else, and if she was to be believed, everything Davidson was responsible for.

They and the other servants had their future to worry about. But what they did was no surprise. They showed no remorse or feelings at the funeral, other than a few crocodile tears.

They filed in one by one, each giving the other a sly look, like they had a shared secret, one that had been kept from me.

Mr Wilkinson of Wilkinson, Wilkinson, Wilkinson, and Wilks, the elder and my father’s best friend from school days, was the solicitor who would be reading the will.

I had asked him if he knew what was in it, and he said no. Father had made a late change, and Wilkinson, the younger, had attended to the details, then sealed it.

Father had wanted it that way.

And he had said just before the twins arrived, he was looking forward to the roller coaster ride.

With everyone in attendance, I chose a seat in the third row, and the reading began.

“Firstly, I would like to thank you all for coming. Your father specifically asked that I should do the reading from this room rather than in Chambers.

“It is a pleasure to finally get back here and I know that both your parents wanted to keep the Manor in the family, but, as you can imagine,” he held up the sealed envelope with the new will in it, “I’m guessing it will depend on what’s in here.”

He then made a great show of opening the envelope and showing it the Wilkinson the younger to verify it was the last will and testament.

I could see the reflection of the five other siblings in the floor-to-ceiling doors that, in summer, opened out on the patio, but closed for winter, salivating at the riches they were about to get their hands on.

I tried hard to hide my disappointment.

He read the legal stuff before getting to the meat of the matter.

“Your mother and I were proud as punch when our twins, David and William, were born, and there have been ongoing discussions, sometimes heated, over who was first. It can now be settled. David was first, therefore the eldest, and all things considered, the heir apparent.

“In name only, though. Whether first or sixth, it had no bearing on how the inheritances are allocated.”

A momentary pause while David’s supercilious and smug look turned to a rather pug-ugly expression.

“The idea was that each of you should get one-sixth of the inheritance. Then Dorothy,” that was Mother’s name, “said we should take into account the benefits we paid out each time each of you stumbled, because quite frankly she was annoyed that after being given the best education and the best start in life all of you managed to fail, not once, but in one case six times. And all during those failures, not once did you think to exercise economy and stop living high on the hog.”

Wilkinson stopped and looked at each one of them.

When he got to David, David said, ” You can skip the pathetic attempt to tell us we were not as good as them. It was their fault anyway. They knew baling us out. They should have been tougher.”

It probably was their fault, but like all proud parents, they had hoped sooner or later one or all of them might change.

That was never going to happen.

“Well, perhaps belatedly they might be. Let us continue.” He shuffled through three sheets, a long dissertation no doubt of their shortcomings, and then at the next took up the reading.

“So, in light of all yor failures, the final sums to be deducted in round numbers, from your inheritances will be, David, twenty three million pounds, William, twenty eight million pounds, Wendy, twelve million pounds, George, twenty two million pounds, Joanne, one million pounds, and Andrew, zero pounds.”

“How does he get no deduction?” William demanded.

“He had a successful company and contributed about a hundred million pounds to the estate.”

“What? How?” David swivelled on his chair to glare at me.

“Father never lent me anything. I told him I had an idea, and he said to run with it. When the estate was having financial problems, I contributed some working capital.”

“Which in turn means that your parents have to return those funds as per the terms of the loan agreement between your parents and Andrews company, Lightseek Investments.”

“Wouldn’t that be up to the heirs of the estate?”

“It could be argued that it is possible. But it would have to be deducted from the proceeds of the sale if such a sale were contemplated by the heirs.”

“Then I guess it’s time to find out who the heirs are, not that we don’t already know.”

I was guessing he had the estate valued, and if he was smarter than I thought he was, he would have asked around whether any of the neighbours and one in particular, were interested. My own enquiries valued the estate as a going concern, at about three hundred and twenty-five million pounds.

“Right. There’s just a little more preamble. After thirty years of disappointing results, I asked a private investigator to look into each of my children and their heritage. The thing is, my brother’s children are all successful businesspeople and success was written into our DNA. Samples were taken from each of my brothers’ children and mine and compared.

“Here’s the surprise. The only child in the room, who is my son, is Andrew. The rest of you are not. Apparently, Dorothy had a long-standing affair with another man, and each of you is his progeny, not mine. Therefore, as far as I’m concerned, none of you is entitled to inherit anything from the estate, except Andrew. You may be entitled to inherit something from your mother and the man who is your legitimate father. If you can find him. Therefore, the whole of my estate and everything else that I possessed are left to my son, Andrew.”

David leapt out of his chair, and his usual high-pitched bluster, yelled, ” This is rubbish. He can’t do this. We are his children irrespective of who our real or imaginary father is or was. We will fight this and win.”

“That might be so, but there’s just one more problem. You can sue for possession of the Manor, the estate and everything else, but currently it is under an order where, unless the debts of the estate are not paid within one month of the date of your parents’ death, the property will be siexed by the financiers given the debt.”

“That can’t be much,”

“Thirty-six million pounds, after the loan to Andrew’s company, is repaid. The finance company will have a fire sale, and you will all inherit debt, which none of you can pay.”

“Andrew will pay it,” Joanna said, as a favour to his siblings. After all, it sounds like he’s made of money, plenty to go around.”

I smiled. She was sweetly naive but of the same stock as her older brothers and sister.

“No. You wasted every opportunity afforded you, and I’m not going to perpetuate fathers’ generosity. You leave her with debts to pay or nothing. Your high life is over.

“This can’t be happening,” Wendy muttered. “How can Mother have done this to us?”

I stood and looked at Wilkinson, the elder. “When does all of this need to be settled?”

“The weeks. I’ve scheduled a meeting with the creditors.”

“Good. I’ll see you again in several days. Tell the staff they have nothing to worry about. I’ll be staying here for six months of the year.”

“What about us?” George said.

“You are not family, and have no right to live here or to expect anything. I suggest you find your real father and sponge off him. Or, worst possible scenario, get a job. I’m sure my employment people will find you something. Wilkinson has the cards if you want one.”

“Did you know?” Wendy asked.

“No. He never said a word to me or anyone. He did tell me how proud he was of you lot when he didn’t know you were not his, and had always hoped success would happen. But maybe he did have an idea because now I remember our last conversation before he died. He rather cryptically said that he hoped one day that you would overcome the genes you inherited. I didn’t have much of it at the time.

“You can’t just leave us here with nothing.”

“No. I guess not. Tell you what. You prove to Wilkinson here that you have a job and are earning an income for three months, and I’ll have him issue you with a check for half a million pounds. And if you can keep that job, a half million each year thereafter. Take it or leave it.”

They took it.

But what happened on the road to achieving success was another story.

…

Searching for locations: The Jade Factory, Beijing, China

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We could use some of that.

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

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

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

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

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 69

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

With Nadia seeking gold at the beach at The Grove

…

I was waiting to be picked up at the bus depot by Nadia, trying to keep out of the public eye, knowing very few people I knew would be there at that hour.

It was early for me, not long after getting home from the night shift, with just enough time to change and get something to eat at the diner a block from the depot.

Nadia didn’t understand my obsession with anonymity, but being seen with her was just going to raise questions, and, if either my mother or Boggs found out, that would be two very interesting conversations.

I just didn’t need the aggravation.

I was not sure what to wear so I dug out the clothes I wore to a farm that a friend of my mothers owned and my mother had graciously offered my services. It hadn’t been such a bad day, but it was hard work.

The clothes had the added advantage of making me almost invisible among the many seasonal workers currently in town.

I nearly missed her because I had been looking for her usual car, but when a large pickup truck pulled up at the curb where I was standing, it took a moment to recognize her behind the wheel. A very unglamorous plain Jane, without make-up and her hair a mess, or so it looked to me. I knew well enough not to make a comment.

The truck was battered and seen better days, but the engine sounded like that of a racing car. A Cossatino’s getaway car. Oddly, I could imagine her behind the wheel waiting for a team of bank robbers, fuelled no doubt by the many old movies I’d seen in my younger days.

I climbed up into the cabin and she had driven off before the car door was closed

“Are we in a hurry?”

“No parking zone. Don’t need the sheriff’s deputies giving us a hard time.”

No, indeed.

“Where’s your car?”

“Too recognizable. Where we’re going it’s better not to be recognized.”

That didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I knew it was going to be somewhere along the coastline, her idea to see if any more of the gold coins had fallen out of the treasure chests as they were being brought ashore.

The question was, was there any part of the coastline that hadn’t been surveyed? That was when it occurred to me she might be headed for that stretch of coastline that belonged to The Grove, split by the coast road, either side of the road fenced off and signs telling people they would be shot on sight if caught trespassing.

There had been rumors of shootings but nothing ever made it to the sheriff’s office. I hoped she told someone where she was going if that’s where she was taking me.

“You’re quiet this morning?”

“Just got off shift, and a little tired.”

“You should have said something. I didn’t think…”

“It’s fine. You’re currently the one ray of light on a very dark horizon.”

She looked sideways at me. “That is a compliment.”

“I hope you take it that way. With Boggs on some sort of crusade, my mother giving me dating tips, and Benderby hanging around, being with you Breaks the gloom and doom.”

I turned slightly to get a better look at her. If it was anyone else, I could fall in love with her, but knowing a Cossatino was a dance with the devil, and dangerous for your health.

“Well, I’m glad I bring some light into someone’s life. It seems I can’t do anything right at home.”

“Why did you come home. It seems to me you were happier away from this place.”

“Reasons I now think were stupid.” There was a finality in her tone that warned not to go any further with it.

Instead, we were passing the old mall and I saw the transformation. Fort Knox would be easier to get into.

“Do you know what’s going on at the old mall?”

“The Benderby’s are demolishing it, mainly because they have to, and do a lot of remediation, whatever that is, before they build the new marina and condos. They’re going to tap into the retirement market.”

That premise, according to a financial market magazine left on my desk, and which made interesting reading, was the next gold mine for those who had the foresight, and the financial means.

Benderby had both, and in another article, which to me at the time seemed to be profiling Benderby, opining the fact some of the new rich had not all made their fortunes legitimately, harking back to the war days and profiteering. Had Benderby’s father and his before him, plowed this path to success, and the son and grandson found other Illegitimate means like drugs and worse to perpetuate it?

Was it possible, in this day and age to make a fortune without crossing the line somewhere? No one could link Benderby to anything crooked, but rumors, there were plenty, including the mall, and the fact it was a huge insurance write-off.

Lenny seemed to think so, but cleverly, never quite put what he thought into words.

“Lucky them,” I muttered.

Several miles past the mall, she turned off the main road onto a track that had not been used for some time, heading towards the ocean

I could see now why we were in the truck. A car would not be able to make it without getting bogged. It was wet and muddy, with pools of water forming in ruts.

When we hit a couple and got soundly shaken up, she slowed down. Then, suddenly, the ocean came into view, and the track headed for the cliff, veering at the last minute, and going down the side of the hill until at the bottom we stopped outside a weather-beaten shack about the size of a large room.

She switched off the engine and let the silence surround us until I could just hear the sound of waves breaking on the rocky shoreline.

“Welcome to my castle.”

There was a whimsical expression on her face.

I opened the door and climbed out, in an instant the temperature dropped 10 degrees, and the effect of the wind almost knocking me over.

She slammed the door shut and went to the door of the shack, unlocking, then opening the door, then switching on a light, giving the inside a gloomy yellowish aura. She motioned me to go in, then followed behind closing the door, and immediately it was much quieter.

“Not much of a castle.”

“It is when you want to get away from the rest of the family. It used to be a bathing shack, but the waters around here got too treacherous for swimming, and it fell into disrepair. I had it fixed up and this is where I come when I want to disappear.”

It didn’t look like it had been used in a while, a thin film of dust settled in everything, and smudged footprints on the floor, showing recent signs of habitation. Two metal detectors were sitting on the table.

“It’s like a different world to be in when you have the family I have.”

“They don’t know about this place?”

“They probably do, but it’s been a wreck for years, and no one ever comes here, not anymore. I found it one day, wandering along the coastline, exploring the boundaries of The Grove. This is the southernmost tip. There’s one on the northernmost tip too, where the building is much larger and used for storage.”

Say no more, I thought. The Cossatino’s were allegedly smugglers on top of everything else, and that’s probably where the smuggled good were stored. This part of the coastline was treacherous at best, with underwater reefs and craggy rocks along the cliff line. There were some sandy stretches, but it was hard work to reach them, and at a guess, Nadia knew how to get there without slipping and falling.

Boats could only get within 50 years of the shoreline before the possibility of being dashed on the rocks, and for that reason, Boggs told me, that whole beachfront could not have been used by the pirate to bring his treasure ashore.

The little I’d seen from where the truck was parked verified that, at least for this section.

“But we’re here to check for gold coins, see if there is a possibility the treasure cane ashore somewhere along the Grove’s shoreline. I know the consensus of opinion said it’s not possible, but from my explorations, I reckon there are at least a dozen spots where a longboat could land, especially if you came on the tide.”

That, I was guessing, was high tide, and it may have been a coincidence when the pirate arrived on this shore.

“The reefs would be submerged and even more dangerous.”

“There are ways. I’ve been out there in a canoe once or twice with Vince, looking for passageways. And, before you jump to any conclusions, I’m not a smuggler, and we may have been once, but an accident ten years ago put paid to that. We lost four of the family, and six others in a hair-brained night landing in rough weather.”

I remembered a piece in the paper, the coastguard had been trailing a large yacht with suspected drugs aboard, waited until the Cossatino’s had transferred to the longboat that had gone out to meet the yacht, then chased it to the reef where a navigation mistake saw the longboat hit the reef, sink with all the evidence, and all but Vince had drowned in the heavy surf.

“Vince was lucky.”

“Vince was an idiot then and a bigger idiot now. It made him believe he was invincible. He’s not. But let’s not talk about him, or the rest of them, we’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.”

She went to the table and picked up one of the metal detectors and held it out. “Yours.”

I came over and took it, and it was heavier than I expected.

She picked up the other. “Ready?”

For anything, I thought, then nodded.

…

Another excerpt from ‘Betrayal’; a work in progress

…

My next destination in the quest was the hotel we believed Anne Merriweather had stayed at.

I was, in a sense, flying blind because we had no concrete evidence she had been there, and the message she had left behind didn’t quite name the hotel or where Vladimir was going to take her.

Mindful of the fact that someone might have been following me, I checked to see if the person I’d assumed had followed me to Elizabeth’s apartment was still in place, but I couldn’t see him. Next, I made a mental note of seven different candidates and committed them to memory.

Then I set off to the hotel, hailing a taxi. There was the possibility the cab driver was one of them, but perhaps I was slightly more paranoid than I should be. I’d been watching the queue, and there were two others before me.

The journey took about an hour, during which time I kept an eye out the back to see if anyone had been following us. If anyone was, I couldn’t see them.

I had the cab drop me off a block from the hotel and then spent the next hour doing a complete circuit of the block the hotel was on, checking the front and rear entrances, the cameras in place, and the siting of the driveway into the underground carpark. There was a camera over the entrance, and one we hadn’t checked for footage. I sent a text message to Fritz to look into it.

The hotel lobby was large and busy, which was exactly what you’d want if you wanted to come and go without standing out. It would be different later at night, but I could see her arriving about mid-afternoon, and anonymous among the type of clientele the hotel attracted.

I spent an hour sitting in various positions in the lobby simply observing. I had already ascertained where the elevator lobby for the rooms was, and the elevator down to the car park. Fortunately, it was not ‘guarded’ but there was a steady stream of concierge staff coming and going to the lower levels, and, just from time to time, guests.

Then, when there was a commotion at the front door, what seemed to be a collision of guests and free-wheeling bags, I saw one of the seven potential taggers sitting by the front door. Waiting for me to leave? Or were they wondering why I was spending so much time there?

Taking advantage of that confusion, I picked my moment to head for the elevators that went down to the car park, pressed the down button, and waited.

The was no car on the ground level, so I had to wait, watching, like several others, the guests untangling themselves at the entrance, and an eye on my potential surveillance, still absorbed in the confusion.

The doors to the left car opened, and a concierge stepped out, gave me a quick look, then headed back to his desk. I stepped into the car, pressed the first level down, the level I expected cars to arrive on, and waited what seemed like a long time for the doors to close.

As they did, I was expecting to see a hand poke through the gap, a latecomer. Nothing happened, and I put it down to a television moment.

There were three basement levels, and for a moment, I let my imagination run wild and considered the possibility that there were more levels. Of course, there was no indication on the control panel that there were any other floors, and I’d yet to see anything like it in reality.

With a shake of my head to return to reality, the car arrived, the doors opened, and I stepped out.

A car pulled up, and the driver stepped out, went around to the rear of his car, and pulled out a case. I half expected him to throw me the keys, but the instant glance he gave me told him was not the concierge, and instead brushed past me like I wasn’t there.

He bashed the up button several times impatiently and cursed when the doors didn’t open immediately. Not a happy man.

Another car drove past on its way down to a lower level.

I looked up and saw the CCTV camera, pointing towards the entrance, visible in the distance. A gate that lifted up was just about back in position and then made a clunk when it finally closed. The footage from the camera would not prove much, even if it had been working, because it didn’t cover the life lobby, only in the direction of the car entrance.

The doors to the other elevator car opened, and a man in a suit stepped out.

“Can I help you, sir? You seem lost.”

Security, or something else. “It seems that way. I went to the elevator lobby, got in, and it went down rather than up. I must have been in the wrong place.”

“Lost it is, then, sir.” I could hear the contempt for Americans in his tone. “If you will accompany me, please.”

He put out a hand ready to guide me back into the elevator. I was only too happy to oblige him. There had been a sign near the button panel that said the basement levels were only to be accessed by the guests.

Once inside, he turned a key and pressed the lobby button. The doors closed, and we went up. He stood, facing the door, not speaking. A few seconds later, he was ushering me out to the lobby.

“Now, sir, if you are a guest…”

“Actually, I’m looking for one. She called me and said she would be staying in this hotel and to come down and visit her. I was trying to get to the sixth floor.”

“Good. Let’s go over the the desk and see what we can do for you.”

I followed him over to the reception desk, where he signalled one of the clerks, a young woman who looked and acted very efficiently, and told her of my request, but then remained to oversee the proceeding.

“Name of guest, sir?”

“Merriweather, Anne. I’m her brother, Alexander.” I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my passport to prove that I was who I said I was. She glanced cursorily at it.

She typed the name into the computer, and then we waited a few seconds while it considered what to output. Then, she said, “That lady is not in the hotel, sir.”

Time to put on my best-confused look. “But she said she would be staying here for the week. I made a special trip to come here to see her.”

Another puzzled look from the clerk, then, “When did she call you?”

An interesting question to ask, and it set off a warning bell in my head. I couldn’t say today, it would have to be the day she was supposedly taken.

“Last Saturday, about four in the afternoon.”

Another look at the screen, then, “It appears she checked out Sunday morning. I’m afraid you have made a trip in vain.”

Indeed, I had. “Was she staying with anyone?”

I just managed to see the warning pass from the suited man to the clerk. I thought he had shown an interest when I mentioned the name, and now I had confirmation. He knew something about her disappearance. The trouble was, he wasn’t going to volunteer any information because he was more than just hotel security.

“No.”

“Odd,” I muttered. “I thought she told me she was staying with a man named Vladimir something or other. I’m not too good at pronouncing those Russian names. Are you sure?”

She didn’t look back at the screen. “Yes.”

“OK, now one thing I do know about staying in hotels is that you are required to ask guests with foreign passports their next destination, just in case they need to be found. Did she say where she was going next?” It was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask.

“Moscow. As I understand it, she lives in Moscow. That was the only address she gave us.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I know where that is. I probably should have gone there first.”

She didn’t answer; she didn’t have to, her expression did that perfectly.

The suited man spoke again, looking at the clerk. “Thank you.” He swivelled back to me. “I’m sorry we can’t help you.”

“No. You have more than you can know.”

“What was your name again, sir, just in case you still cannot find her?”

“Alexander Merriweather. Her brother. And if she is still missing, I will be posting a very large reward. At the moment, you can best contact me via the American Embassy.”

Money is always a great motivator, and that thoughtful expression on his face suggested he gave a moment’s thought to it.

I left him with that offer and left. If anything, the people who were holding her would know she had a brother, that her brother was looking for her, and equally that brother had money.

…

Searching for locations: The Great Wall of China, near Beijing, China

This is in a very scenic area and on the first impression; it is absolutely stunning in concept and in viewing.

As for the idea of walking on it, well, that first view of the mountain climb when getting off the bus, my first question was where the elevator is? Sorry, there is none. It’s walk on up or stay down the bottom.

Walk it is. As far as you feel you are able. There are quite a few who don’t make it to the top. I didn’t. I only made it to the point where the steps narrowed.

But as for the logistics, there’s the gradual incline to the starting point, and what will be the end meeting place. From there, it’s a few steps up to the guard station no 7, and a few more to get up to the start of the main climb. The top of the wall is guard station no 12.

Ok, those first few steps are a good indication of what it’s was going to be like and it’s more the awkwardness of the uneven heights of the steps that’s the killer, some as high as about 15 inches. This photo paints an illusion, that it’s easy. It’s not.

If you make it to the first stage, then it augers well you will get about 100 steps before you both start feeling it in your legs, particularly the knees, and then suffering from the height if you have a problem with heights as the air is thinner. And if you have a thing with heights, never look down.

This was from where we stopped, about a third of the way up. The one below, from almost at the bottom. One we’re looking almost down on the buildings, the other, on the same level.

It requires rest before you come down, and that’s when you start to feel it in the knees, our tour guide called it jelly legs, but it’s more in the knees down. Descending should be slow, and it can be more difficult negotiating the odd height steps, and particularly those high ones. You definitely need to hang onto the rail, even try going backward.

And, no, that rail hasn’t been there as long as the wall.

While you are waiting for the guide to return to the meeting place at the appointed time, there should be time to have some jasmine tea. Highly refreshing after the climb.

“Sunday in New York”, a romantic adventure that’s not a walk in the park!

“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?

As they say in the classics, read on!

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