A to Z Blog Challenge – April 2025 – H

H is for — Help is on the way. Only it isn’t; it’s a betrayal of trust

It comes down to who you trust.

Me, I didn’t trust anyone, and it served me well.  Over the years, the very people you thought you could trust were mostly the people you couldn’t.

A brother who screwed me over with our inheritance.

A wife who cleaned out the bank accounts and left with my best friend.

Naturally, my best friend.

A business partner who spent all the working capital on business trips and women, sending the company broke and the blame for it on me.

It left me with nothing and more or less a hermit, living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, reliant on np one else but myself.

But, like every idyllic haven and so-called peace of mind, it was never going to last.

I bought my little slice of heaven, about a hundred or so acres of forest, and built a log cabin in the middle of it.  The conservationists would be proud of me.  There was nothing detrimental to the environment in it.

It kept me busy, hunting, fishing, and surviving.

It’s why when someone turned up at my doorstep, they were either lost or found one of the tracks I’d made and followed, again because they were lost.

Or, it was someone looking for me, and there were a few.  People people who didn’t realise it was not me who screwed them over but others I worked with.  I’d been lucky so far, but that luck was always going to eventually run out.

My last visitors had been several hikers looking for the caves, about thirty miles to the west.  I pointed them in the right direction and sent them on their way the next morning.

It’d been a month or two since then, and with the advent of summer, I was expecting more.

Or so the forest ranger had said last time he came.  Apparently, the caves, thirty miles away, were supposed to have gold nuggets in the walls.

No sooner had he left, a pair of hikers, a man and a woman ,come out of the woods via the eastern trail.  I was cutting wood when they appeared.

I waited until they’d crossed the clearing before letting them know I was there, just out of their sight.

My voice startled them, so I came out of the hollow, axe in hand, trying not to look threatening.

“We heard someone was hiding in the woods.  That would be you?”

He had that smart Alec look about him, the sort who knew everything but knew nothing.  A city boy dressed up to look like a country boy.

The girl looked like she would be more at home on a catwalk, with designer everything.

These two were no more hikers than the man in the moon was, if there was one.

“Not hiding, just keeping away from people.  I don’t get along with people.  What are you doing here?”

He stopped a short distance from me and put his pack down.  It looked heavy.  The girl did likewise and sat on hers.  She said, to no one in particular, “I’ve done enough walking for today.”

I could see she was tired and angry.  I had heard raised voices earlier and wondered if it was them.

The man, or boy, looked at me.  “We’re heading towards the caves.  I guess we still have a ways to go.”

I pointed with my hand, “Thirty miles that away.”

The girl groaned.

“Any chance we can stay for the night?”

“If you don’t mind the floor.”

“We have sleeping bags and food.”

I shrugged.  “If you want.  There’re no showers, but there is a river about half a mile away.”

“Fair enough.”  He sat too, and I could see they both had equipment that was new, including the boots.

“Phones don’t work out here,” the girl said, holding up her cell phone and moving it around.

“No.  Just satellite phones.  It’s one of the reasons I’m off-grid.  No longer attached to a phone or anything, really.  I’ll finish cutting the wood, and I’ll be back.”

They didn’t look like they were going anywhere for a while.

When I came back with a bundle of wood, I let them into the cabin and showed them where they could stay.

At one end was my room; the rest of the cabin was given over to kichen, lounge and fireplace where I had the fire.  It was down to embers waiting for my return with wood for tonight.

They put out their sleeping blankets and took off their boots, which may have been a mistake because I thought I saw blood on their socks while I stoked the fire into life.  The girl made strange faces as she removed her boots.

There was a pot over the flames and they said they could use it to make their dinner.

While it was heating, I said, “I take it you don’t hike much.”

“It’s a recent thing,” the girl said.  “Fresh air and countryside.  A bit different to walking in the park.”

“Are you here just for the fresh air?”

The girl looked at the boy, and I could see a slight shake of the head.

He spoke, “Just taking a hike as far as the caves to check them out. You know them?”

“Never been there.  The last people passing through were headed there, too.  I don’t think they made it.”

Last I heard from the ranger, they’d rescued two people from the forest, one of whom had fallen down the side of the mountain and had been badly injured.

“I’m guessing the trail is difficult?”

“To an inexperienced hiker, yes, but you guys look like you’ve done this before.”

“A little.  But what we lack in experience, we make up for with enthusiasm.”  He looked at the girl.  “Don’t we?”

Her look at him, then me, said anything but.

“Then you should be fine.”

I was up and about before they woke, making sure there was hot water for coffee.

They could also cook something if they wanted to, but after the evening effort, I got the impression they were yet to shake off the trappings of a fast food diet.

When I came back from the river with water, they were up and about, hardly enthusiastic, the toll of the previous day’s trek plain to see in their pained expressions.

“Good morning,” I greeted them cheerfully, hoping it would improve their demeanour.

Both muttered a greeting on return.  The girl added, “Which way is the river?”

I pointed in the direction where the trail began at the tree line.  “Ten minutes that way.  The water is cold but refreshing.  Stick to the pool.  You’ll see it.”

“Thanks.”

I noticed that she started off by herself.

The man gathered his bathroom bag and started to follow her, then stopped.

“How long will it take to reach the caves?”

“Two days if you keep an even pace and head in the right direction, north west.  I’m assuming you have a map?”

“Yes.  I have a GPS that should help.  But, we were wondering, have you been to the caves at all?”

Odd question to ask.  “No.  It’s a long way just to see some bat droppings.  You’re not the first people to pass through and ask me the same question.”

“We were hoping you would guide us.  I’m wise enough to know that we are too inexperienced to do it on our own.  You can see how we ended up when we arrived.”

“Then you should go home.  It’s not for the faint hearted.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t.  I made a bet, and it’s not one I can afford to lose.  I can pay you, if that will change your mind.  Think about it.”

Just what I didn’t need.  I came to this place to get away from people and responsibility.  I shouldn’t really care what happened to fools, and this fellow was a prize fool.

I didn’t need money, but if he was willing to pay, I’d put a high price on it.  After I let him stew for a few hours.

I had been taught to take people at face value, but there would always be people who would slip past the usual scrutiny.

People were good at pretending to be something else and telling you in the most sincere of tones everything you want to hear.

My record on judging people was not the best.

Still, as my mother always said, the majority of people will be fine, there’s only a few scumbags that ruin it for everyone else.

My two visitors and upcoming intrepid adventurers were too good to be true.  And we all knew the saying, if it’s too good to be true, it generally is.

Call me cynical.

Years of being taken advantage of had forced me off the grid, and I had hoped that I’d got far enough away that only the forest ranger could find me.

It was good to learn that both rangers who worked this part of the forest were the same as me, escaping from a wretched life borne out of trusting all the wrong people.

Dave was the closest, and while down by the river and far enough away from my visitors, I called him.  I had a satellite phone, not for general use, but to call the ranger station if there was a fire or other calamity.  This was the second time I’d called.

“Ethan.”

“Dave.”

“How is it out there in Shangrila?”

“Almost perfect.  I had two hikers turn up yesterday telling me they were heading towards the caves.”

“Gold miners?”

“They don’t look as if they have ever hiked anywhere in their lives.  Everything they have is just off the shelf, minus the price tag.”

When I first arrived at the ranger station, there was a long discussion about setting up a camp and staying.  Of course, it was not allowed unless I worked as a fire spotter.  There was no pay and a good chance of being burned to death, but it offered the solitude I was looking for.

They said people had to report to the ranger station before venturing into the unknown, and if anyone was coming my way, they would tell me.

“They did not report to the office.  We have only one registered group out there but in a different quadrant.”

“Is it possible they didn’t know about the regulations?”

“If they’re proper hikers, no.  Have they told you why they’re out there?”

“Not in as many words.  Is there something out here that I don’t know about?

“Only that some guy found a fifty-ounce nugget in one of the caves.  Since then, it’s been proved that he had stolen it from a private collection, but news of that has been suppressed because of who it was stolen from.  But to stop people from going there, a bulletin was released telling everyone the nugget didn’t come from the caves.  We don’t want a mini gold rush sending thousands of people into impenetrable parts of the forest, getting lost, injured, or worse.  Perhaps they didn’t get the memo.”

“Or they’re up to something else.”

“You going with them?”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“I can offer you a small guide’s fee, a couple of hundred dollars a day, because it will cost tens of thousands to get them out when, not if they get lost.”

“OK.  You should be able to track us.  If anything else is in play, I’ll call you.”

“No problems.”

I felt better knowing the forestry rangers were monitoring us.  Just in case.

When I got back to the cabin, they were sitting outside, all packed up and ready to go.  I thought it was a little strange that the girl looked more like a fashion model with perfect makeup; the last thing she needed in the forest.

There was also an air of tension between the two, the sort that was often said it was so think you could cut in with a knife.  An argument?

The boy sounded happier than he looked.  “Have you considered the offer?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

“A round thousand, five hundred each way.”  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the notes.”  New, and crisp.  “Half now, the rest when we get back.”

I came over and took the money.  “I’ll be five minutes. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course.  And thank you.”

I looked at the girl and had a sudden flash of memory.  I’d seen her before, somewhere, but where?  It certainly wasn’t in hiking gear, and she certainly wasn’t as miserable as she looked then.

I shook my head.  It would come back, only by then it would be the wrong time and definitely the wrong place.

The first mile was the hardest.  Not necessarily in terms of terrain; it was nearly flat country before we started up the first mountain, the first of five or six.

Firstly, they had to get over the previous day, and after seeing their feet, the initial struggle just getting the boots back on would have been interesting.

Secondly, it was the time of the year for the first snow of the season, so it was cold.  Very cold.  Fortunately, they had dressed for the weather.

Thirdly, the animals were active, and both of them were easily startled.  I wasn’t expecting to see any bears, but there might be one of two skulking. Generally, they left people alone.

We stopped twice in clearings for a break, and at first, I told them that at the rate we were going, it might take three or four days to get there.

Note:  they were not in a hurry.

I tried to engage them in small talk, but I got the impression there was little to talk about.  The girl wanted to, but a glance from the boy stopped her.

Note: They did not want me to know who they were.   My guess is that the first names were not their real names.

By the time we had traversed the first mountain and had reached a tributary that ran into the main river, some distance away, we stopped for lunch.

They had wisely brought energy bars and drinks.  I suspected the girl was a gym freak because she seemed more at home with the physical exercise.  The boy wasn’t and was sweating profusely, the sort who avoided exercise and fitness.  His definition of exercise would be running for the train to avoid being later than late.

I led, the girl followed, and the boy was the rearguard.  More than once, I saw him looking around.

Note:  Was he expecting someone, or did he believe someone was following us?

With the rustling sounds in the undergrowth, it wasn’t hard to be worried about what could suddenly appear.  I had seen the odd wild pig and several bears over the last year.

By the time we made it over three of the five hills or mountains, we were making a good pace, and by the time light was fading, we had traversed about sixteen miles.

This was going to take two full days, perhaps a little longer.  Darkness fell quickly, and rest beckoned.  Out in the forest, the notion of sleep was a luxury.  Although I didn’t tell them, I rarely slept when on a trek it was never that safe.

Something else I may have failed to mention is that sound travels on the cold night air.  They had moved to a position at the bottom of a rocky escarpment, where they thought they were far enough away not to be heard.

“Tell me again why I let you talk me into this ridiculous odyssey?”  The petulance and contempt were plain to hear in her tone.

“You wanted a life of luxury.  It wasn’t my fault that your parents cut you off.  I can’t see why they don’t like me, other than I’m not one of their self-entitled fools they were throwing at you.”

There was no mistaking the contempt in his tone either.  It still didn’t identify who she was other than she was from a wealthy background.  It explained the attitude and the equipment.

“You told me that money wasn’t an issue.”

“It isn’t.  Once we find a chunk of gold, everything will be fine.”

” I hope you’re not expecting to find it just lying around waiting for you to simply pick it up.  The guy who told you about it would have taken everything he could see.”

“He couldn’t carry it all.”

“So he chose you above everybody else he could tell where this El Derado is?  If it was me, I wouldn’t tell a soul.  Or I would tell people to go somewhere entirely different.”

She had made some very valid points, and if I had been the original discoverer, I would not tell anyone where the gold was.  Not unless I was selling bogus treasure maps.  And the caves were not exactly unknown.  Intrepid hikers who wanted a challenge set it as the hardest trek that could be had in the area.

If there was gold in the caves, it would have long been discovered before this.

“Well, he didn’t.  Just accept that I know what I’m doing.”

That next statement should have been, ‘You’ve been scammed’, but instead, she didn’t say another word.   My only thought was that anything was possible, but I remembered the rangers saying that the geological structures were not conducive to finding any sort of mineral.

Something was not right.

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 83

Day 83

The story is never about you

Well, sometimes it is.

Why?

In the beginning, we tend to write ourselves into the stories we write, and also, the various other characters are a collection of traits of people we have known in the past and present.

The trick is with those other people not to make them too much like their real-life counterparts, or you may spend the rest of your life in litigation.

I know there are parts of me in my characters because people I know who have read my stories tell me how much they are like me. The problem with that is I didn’t realise I was doing it.

But, to emphasise, the story is not about you.

Unless it is an autobiography.

I have thought about it, writing the story of my life, but it’s so boring, the best use of my book would be to read it just before going to bed.

What is probably more interesting would be the story of my family, traced back to the mid-1700s, and they are a very interesting bunch. To me, it seems that people who lived a hundred years ago had far more interesting lives than we do these days.

NANOWRIMO – April 2025 – Day 9

The Fourth Son

All the while we are talking about the nuts and bolts of the story, words are being put on paper more or less at the rate of 1,666 a day.

Of course, chapters don’t magically write themselves into 1,666 words; I wish they did.

That means after 10 days, we should be a third of the way through the story, and we almost are.

I am having fun imagining what it would be like to live in a draughty and cold castle, not for the first time, I have been here before, and what it’s like for the prince who tried so hard to escape the inevitability of his life.

Perhaps a few banquets with dancing might make him see differently.

Maybe waiting for his mother to return to sanity after she couldn’t cope after losing her husband.

Or perhaps discover things about his mother that he would prefer not to know.

Perhaps discovering how far his older brother was going to throw his country under the bus because he didn’t care, might motivate him to institute a few changes.

The question is, can he? 

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

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!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

Searching for locations: The Pagoda Forest, near Zhengzhou City, Henan Province, China

The pagoda forest

After another exhausting walk, by now the heat was beginning to take its toll on everyone, we arrived at the pagoda forest.

A little history first:

The pagoda forest is located west of the Shaolin Temple and the foot of a hill.  As the largest pagoda forest in China, it covers approximately 20,000 square meters and has about 230 pagodas build from the Tang Dynasty (618-907) to the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).

Each pagoda is the tomb of an eminent monk from the Shaolin Temple.  Graceful and exquisite, they belong to different eras and constructed in different styles.  The first pagoda was thought to be built in 791.

It is now a world heritage site.

No, it’s not a forest with trees it’s a collection of over 200 pagodas, each a tribute to a head monk at the temple and it goes back a long time.  The tribute can have one, three, five, or a maximum of seven layers.  The ashes of the individual are buried under the base of the pagoda.

The size, height, and story of the pagoda indicate its accomplishments, prestige, merits, and virtues. Each pagoda was carved with the exact date of construction and brief inscriptions and has its own style with various shapes such as a polygonal, cylindrical, vase, conical and monolithic.

This is one of the more recently constructed pagodas

There are pagodas for eminent foreign monks also in the forest.

From there we get a ride back on the back of a large electric wagon

to the front entrance courtyard where drinks and ice creams can be bought, and a visit to the all-important happy place.

Then it’s back to the hotel.

Writing a book in 365 days – 83

Day 83

The story is never about you

Well, sometimes it is.

Why?

In the beginning, we tend to write ourselves into the stories we write, and also, the various other characters are a collection of traits of people we have known in the past and present.

The trick is with those other people not to make them too much like their real-life counterparts, or you may spend the rest of your life in litigation.

I know there are parts of me in my characters because people I know who have read my stories tell me how much they are like me. The problem with that is I didn’t realise I was doing it.

But, to emphasise, the story is not about you.

Unless it is an autobiography.

I have thought about it, writing the story of my life, but it’s so boring, the best use of my book would be to read it just before going to bed.

What is probably more interesting would be the story of my family, traced back to the mid-1700s, and they are a very interesting bunch. To me, it seems that people who lived a hundred years ago had far more interesting lives than we do these days.

“The Devil You Don’t”, she was the girl you would not take home to your mother!

Now only $0.99 at https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.

Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.

If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.

At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.

That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.

Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.

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In a word: Dry

We all know what this means, without moisture, in other words not wet.

It could also mean dull factually, as in reading some non-fiction books, and quite often those prescribed as mandatory reading at school.

You could also have a dry sense of humour, where you have to be on your game to understand, or get, the humour.

It could also describe boredom by saying that it’s like watching paint dry.

For those who like a bit of a tipple, the last place you want to go is a dry bar, where no alcohol is served.

Perhaps this should be mandatory for weddings and funerals, places where feelings often run very high and do not need the stimulus of half a dozen double Scotches.

And speaking of alcohol and cider in particular, you can have it sweet, dry, or draft. Many people prefer dry, sometimes the drier the better, especially wine, and oddly martinis.

Aside from whether they are shaken or stirred.

But the most fascinating version of dry is dry cleaning. Just how can you ‘dry’ clean clothes?

Would that be what they call an oxymoron?

An excerpt from “One Last Look”: Charlotte is no ordinary girl

This is currently available at Amazon herehttp://amzn.to/2CqUBcz

I’d read about out-of-body experiences, and like everyone else, thought it was nonsense.  Some people claimed to see themselves in the operating theatre, medical staff frantically trying to revive them, and being surrounded by white light.

I was definitely looking down, but it wasn’t me I was looking at.

It was two children, a boy and a girl, with their parents, in a park.

The boy was Alan.  He was about six or seven.  The girl was Louise, and she was five years old.  She had long red hair and looked the image of her mother.

I remember it now, it was Louise’s birthday and we went down to Bournemouth to visit our Grandmother, and it was the last time we were all together as a family.

We were flying homemade kites our father had made for us, and after we lay there looking up at the sky, making animals out of the clouds.  I saw an elephant, Louise saw a giraffe.

We were so happy then.

Before the tragedy.

When I looked again ten years had passed and we were living in hell.  Louise and I had become very adept at survival in a world we really didn’t understand, surrounded by people who wanted to crush our souls.

It was not a life a normal child had, our foster parents never quite the sort of people who were adequately equipped for two broken-hearted children.  They tried their best, but their best was not good enough.

Every day it was a battle, to avoid the Bannister’s and Archie in particular, every day he made advances towards Louise and every day she fended him off.

Until one day she couldn’t.

Now I was sitting in the hospital, holding Louise’s hand.  She was in a coma, and the doctors didn’t think she would wake from it.  The damage done to her was too severe.

The doctors were wrong.

She woke, briefly, to name her five assailants.  It was enough to have them arrested.  It was not enough to have them convicted.

Justice would have to be served by other means.

I was outside the Bannister’s home.

I’d made my way there without really thinking, after watching Louise die.  It was like being on autopilot, and I had no control over what I was doing.  I had murder in mind.  It was why I was holding an iron bar.

Skulking in the shadows.  It was not very different from the way the Bannister’s operated.

I waited till Archie came out.  I knew he eventually would.  The police had taken him to the station for questioning, and then let him go.  I didn’t understand why, nor did I care.

I followed him up the towpath, waiting till he stopped to light a cigarette, then came out of the shadows.

“Wotcha got there Alan?” he asked when he saw me.  He knew what it was, and what it was for.

It was the first time I’d seen the fear in his eyes.  He was alone.

“Justice.”

“For that slut of a sister of yours.  I had nuffing to do with it.”

“She said otherwise, Archie.”

“She never said nuffing, you just made it up.”  An attempt at bluster, but there was no confidence in his voice.

I held up the pipe.  It had blood on it.  Willy’s blood.  “She may or may not have Archie, but Willy didn’t make it up.  He sang like a bird.  That’s his blood, probably brains on the pipe too, Archie, and yours will be there soon enough.”

“He dunnit, not me.  Lyin’ bastard would say anything to save his own skin.”  Definitely scared now, he was looking to run away.

“No, Archie.  He didn’t.  I’m coming for you.  All of you Bannisters.  And everyone who touched my sister.”

It was the recurring nightmare I had for years afterwards.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the thoughts, the images of Louise, the phone call, the visit to the hospital and being there when she succumbed to her injuries.  Those were the very worst few hours of my life.

She had asked me to come to the railway station and walk home with her, and I was running late.  If I had left when I was supposed to, it would never have happened and for years afterwards, I blamed myself for her death.

If only I’d not been late…

When the police finally caught the rapists, I’d known all along who they’d be; antagonists from school, the ring leader, Archie Bannister, a spurned boyfriend, a boy whose parents, ubiquitously known to all as ‘the Bannister’s, dealt in violence and crime and who owned the neighbourhood.  The sins of the father had been very definitely passed onto the son.

At school, I used to be the whipping boy, Archie, a few grades ahead of me, made a point of belting me and a few of the other boys, to make sure the rest did as they were told.  He liked Louise, but she had no time for a bully like him, even when he promised he would ‘protect’ me.

I knew the gang members, the boys who tow-kowed to save getting beaten up, and after the police couldn’t get enough information to prosecute them because everyone was too afraid to speak out, I went after Willy.  There was always a weak link in a group, and he was it.

He worked in a factory, did long hours on a Wednesday and came home after dark alone.  It was a half mile walk, through a park.  The night I approached him, I smashed the lights and left it in darkness.  He nearly changed his mind and went the long way home.

He didn’t.

It took an hour and a half to get the names.  At first, when he saw me, he laughed.  He said I would be next, and that was four words more than he knew he should have said.

When I found him alone the next morning I showed him the iron bar and told him he was on the list.  I didn’t kill him then, he could wait his turn, and worry about what was going to happen to him.

When the police came to visit me shortly after that encounter, no doubt at the behest of the Bannister’s, the neighbourhood closed ranks and gave me an ironclad alibi.  The Bannister’s then came to visit me and threatened me.  I told them their days were numbered and showed them the door.

At the trial, he and his friends got off on a technicality.  The police had failed to do their job properly, but it was not the police, but a single policeman, corrupted by the Bannisters.

Archie could help but rub it in my face.  He was invincible.

Joe Collins took 12 bullets and six hours to bleed out.  He apologized, he pleaded, he cried, he begged.  I didn’t care.

Barry Mills, a strong lad with a mind to hurting people, Archie’s enforcer, almost got the better of me.  I had to hit him more times than I wanted to, and in the end, I had to be satisfied that he died a short but agonizing death.

I revisited Willy in the hospital.  He’d recovered enough to recognize me, and why I’d come.  Suffocation was too good for him.

David Williams, second in command of the gang, was as tough and nasty as the Bannisters.  His family were forging a partnership with the Bannister’s to make them even more powerful.  Outwardly David was a pleasant sort of chap, affable, polite, and well mannered.  A lot of people didn’t believe he could be like, or working with, the Bannisters.

He and I met in the pub.  We got along like old friends.  He said Willy had just named anyone he could think of, and that he was innocent of any charges.  We shook hands and parted as friends.

Three hours later he was sitting in a chair in the middle of a disused factory, blindfolded and scared.  I sat and watched him, listened to him, first threatening me, and then finally pleading with me.  He’d guessed who it was that had kidnapped him.

When it was dark, I took the blindfold off and shone a very bright light in his eyes.  I asked him if the violence he had visited upon my sister was worth it.  He told me he was just a spectator.

I’d read the coroner’s report.  They all had a turn.  He was a liar.

He took nineteen bullets to die.

Then came Archie.

The same factory only this time there were four seats.  Anna Bannister, brothel owner, Spike Bannister, head of the family, Emily Bannister, sister, and who had nothing to do with their criminal activities.  She just had the misfortune of sharing their name.

Archie’s father told me how he was going to destroy me, and everyone I knew.

A well-placed bullet between the eyes shut him up.

Archie’s mother cursed me.  I let her suffer for an hour before I put her out of her misery.

Archie remained stony-faced until I came to Emily.  The death of his parents meant he would become head of the family.  I guess their deaths meant as little to him as they did me.

He was a little more worried about his sister.

I told him it was confession time.

He told her it was little more than a forced confession and he had done nothing to deserve my retribution.

I shrugged and shot her, and we both watched her fall to the ground screaming in agony.  I told him if he wanted her to live, he had to genuinely confess to his crimes.  This time he did, it all poured out of him.

I went over to Emily.  He watched in horror as I untied her bindings and pulled her up off the floor, suffering only from a small wound in her arm.  Without saying a word she took the gun and walked over to stand behind him.

“Louise was my friend, Archie.  My friend.”

Then she shot him.  Six times.

To me, after saying what looked like a prayer, she said, “Killing them all will not bring her back, Alan, and I doubt she would approve of any of this.  May God have mercy on your soul.”

Now I was in jail.  I’d spent three hours detailing the deaths of the five boys, everything I’d done; a full confession.  Without my sister, my life was nothing.  I didn’t want to go back to the foster parents; I doubt they’d take back a murderer.

They were not allowed to.

For a month I lived in a small cell, in solitary, no visitors.  I believed I was in the queue to be executed, and I had mentally prepared myself for the end.

Then I was told I had a visitor, and I was expecting a priest.

Instead, it was a man called McTavish. Short, wiry, and with an accent that I could barely understand.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Alan.”

When I saw it was not the priest I told the jailers not to let him in, I didn’t want to speak to anyone.  They ignored me.  I’d expected he was a psychiatrist, come to see whether I should be shipped off to the asylum.

I was beginning to think I was going mad.

I ignored him.

“I am the difference between you living or dying Alan, it’s as simple as that.  You’d be a wise man to listen to what I have to offer.”

Death sounded good.  I told him to go away.

He didn’t.  Persistent bugger.

I was handcuffed to the table.  The prison officers thought I was dangerous.  Five, plus two, murders, I guess they had a right to think that.  McTavish sat opposite me, ignoring my request to leave.

“Why’d you do it?”

“You know why.”  Maybe if I spoke he’d go away.

“Your sister.  By all accounts, the scum that did for her deserved what they got.”

“It was murder just the same.  No difference between scum and proper people.”

“You like killing?”

“No-one does.”

“No, I dare say you’re right.  But you’re different, Alan.  As clean and merciless killing I’ve ever seen.  We can use a man like you.”

“We?”

“A group of individuals who clean up the scum.”

I looked up to see his expression, one of benevolence, totally out of character for a man like him.  It looked like I didn’t have a choice.

Trained, cleared, and ready to go.

I hadn’t realized there were so many people who were, for all intents and purposes, invisible.  People that came and went, in malls, in hotels, trains, buses, airports, everywhere, people no one gave a second glance.

People like me.

In a mall, I became a shopper.

In a hotel, I was just another guest heading to his room.

On a bus or a train, I was just another commuter.

At the airport, I became a pilot.  I didn’t need to know how to fly; everyone just accepted a pilot in a pilot suit was just what he looked like.

I had a passkey.

I had the correct documents to get me onto the plane.

That walk down the air bridge was the longest of my life.  Waiting for the call from the gate, waiting for one of the air bridge staff to challenge me, stepping onto the plane.

Two pilots and a steward.  A team.  On the plane early before the rest of the crew.  A group that was committing a crime, had committed a number of crimes and thought they’d got away with it.

Until the judge, the jury and their executioner arrived.

Me.

Quick, clean, merciless.  Done.

I was now an operational field agent.

I was older now, and I could see in the mirror I was starting to go grey at the sides.  It was far too early in my life for this, but I expect it had something to do with my employment.

I didn’t recognize the man who looked back at me.

It was certainly not Alan McKenzie, nor was there any part of that fifteen-year-old who had made the decision to exact revenge.

Given a choice; I would not have gone down this path.

Or so I kept telling myself each time a little more of my soul was sold to the devil.

I was Barry Gamble.

I was Lenny Buckman.

I was Jimmy Hosen.

I was anyone but the person I wanted to be.

That’s what I told Louise, standing in front of her grave, and trying to apologize for all the harm, all the people I’d killed for that one rash decision.  If she was still alive she would be horrified, and ashamed.

Head bowed, tears streamed down my face.

God had gone on holiday and wasn’t there to hand out any forgiveness.  Not that day.  Not any day.

New York, New Years Eve.

I was at the end of a long tour, dragged out of a holiday and back into the fray, chasing down another scumbag.  They were scumbags, and I’d become an automaton hunting them down and dispatching them to what McTavish called a better place.

This time I failed.

A few drinks to blot out the failure, a blonde woman who pushed my buttons, a room in a hotel, any hotel, it was like being on the merry-go-round, round and round and round…

Her name was Silvia or Sandra, or someone I’d met before, but couldn’t quite place her.  It could be an enemy agent for all I knew or all I cared right then.

I was done.

I’d had enough.

I gave her the gun.

I begged her to kill me.

She didn’t.

Instead, I simply cried, letting the pent up emotion loose after being suppressed for so long, and she stayed with me, holding me close, and saying I was safe, that she knew exactly how I felt.

How could she?  No one could know what I’d been through.

I remembered her name after she had gone.

Amanda.

I remembered she had an imperfection in her right eye.

Someone else had the same imperfection.

I couldn’t remember who that was.

Not then.

I had a dingy flat in Kensington, a place that I rarely stayed in if I could help it.  After five-star hotel rooms, it made me feel shabby.

The end of another mission, I was on my way home, the underground, a bus, and then a walk.

It was late.

People were spilling out of the pub after the last drinks.  Most in good spirits, others slightly more boisterous.

A loud-mouthed chap bumped into me, the sort who had one too many, and was ready to take on all comers.

He turned on me, “Watch where you’re going, you fool.”

Two of his friends dragged him away.  He shrugged them off, squared up.

I punched him hard, in the stomach, and he fell backwards onto the ground.  I looked at his two friends.  “Take him home before someone makes mincemeat out of him.”

They grabbed his arms, lifted him off the ground and took him away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a woman, early thirties, quite attractive, but very, very drunk.  She staggered from the bar, bumped into me, and finished up sitting on the side of the road.

I looked around to see where her friends were.  The exodus from the pub was over and the few nearby were leaving to go home.

She was alone, drunk, and by the look of her, unable to move.

I sat beside her.  “Where are your friends?”

“Dunno.”

“You need help?”

She looked up, and sideways at me.  She didn’t look the sort who would get in this state.  Or maybe she was, I was a terrible judge of women.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Nobody.”  I was exactly how I felt.

“Well Mr Nobody, I’m drunk, and I don’t care.  Just leave me here to rot.”

She put her head back between her knees, and it looked to me she was trying to stop the spinning sensation in her head.

Been there before, and it’s not a good feeling.

“Where are your friends?” I asked again.

“Got none.”

“Perhaps I should take you home.”

“I have no home.”

“You don’t look like a homeless person.  If I’m not mistaken, those shoes are worth more than my weekly salary.”  I’d seen them advertised, in the airline magazine, don’t ask me why the ad caught my attention.

She lifted her head and looked at me again.  “You a smart fucking arse are you?”

“I have my moments.”

“Have them somewhere else.”

She rested her head against my shoulder.  We were the only two left in the street, and suddenly in darkness when the proprietor turned off the outside lights.

“Take me home,” she said suddenly.

“Where is your place?”

“Don’t have one.  Take me to your place.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I’m drunk.  What’s not to like until tomorrow.”

I helped her to her feet.  “You have a name?”

“Charlotte.”

The wedding was in a small church.  We had been away for a weekend in the country, somewhere in the Cotswolds, and found this idyllic spot.  Graves going back to the dawn of time, a beautiful garden tended by the vicar and his wife, an astonishing vista over hills and down dales.

On a spring afternoon with the sun, the flowers, and the peacefulness of the country.

I had two people at the wedding, the best man, Bradley, and my boss, Watkins.

Charlotte had her sisters Melissa and Isobel, and Isobel’s husband Giovanni, and their daughter Felicity.

And one more person who was as mysterious as she was attractive, a rather interesting combination as she was well over retirement age.  She arrived late and left early.

Aunt Agatha.

She looked me up and down with what I’d call a withering look.  “There’s more to you than meets the eye,” she said enigmatically.

“Likewise I’m sure,” I said.  It earned me an elbow in the ribs from Charlotte.  It was clear she feared this woman.

“Why did you come,” Charlotte asked.

“You know why.”

Agatha looked at me.  “I like you.  Take care of my granddaughter.  You do not want me for an enemy.”

OK, now she officially scared me.

She thrust a cheque into my hand, smiled, and left.

“Who is she,” I asked after we watched her depart.

“Certainly not my fairy godmother.”

Charlotte never mentioned her again.

Zurich in summer, not exactly my favourite place.

Instead of going to visit her sister Isobel, we stayed at a hotel in Beethovenstrasse and Isobel and Felicity came to us.  Her husband was not with her this time.

Felicity was three or four and looked very much like her mother.  She also looked very much like Charlotte, and I’d remarked on it once before and it received a sharp rebuke.

We’d been twice before, and rather than talk to her sister, Charlotte spent her time with Felicity, and they were, together, like old friends.  For so few visits they had a remarkable rapport.

I had not broached the subject of children with Charlotte, not after one such discussion where she had said she had no desire to be a mother.  It had not been a subject before and wasn’t once since.

Perhaps like all Aunts, she liked the idea of playing with a child for a while and then give it back.

Felicity was curious as to who I was, but never ventured too close.  I believed a child could sense the evil in adults and had seen through my facade of friendliness.  We were never close.

But…

This time, when observing the two together, something quite out of left field popped into my head.  It was not possible, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I thought she looked like my mother.

And Charlotte had seen me looking in their direction.  “You seem distracted,” she said.

“I was just remembering my mother.  Odd moment, haven’t done so for a very long time.”

“Why now?”  I think she had a look of concern on her face.

“Her birthday, I guess,” I said, the first excuse I could think of.

Another look and I was wrong.  She looked like Isobel or Charlotte, or if I wanted to believe it possible, Melissa too.

I was crying, tears streaming down my face.

I was in pain, searing pain from my lower back stretching down into my legs, and I was barely able to breathe.

It was like coming up for air.

It was like Snow White bringing Prince Charming back to life.  I could feel what I thought was a gentle kiss and tears dropping on my cheeks, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Charlotte slowly lifting her head, a hand gently stroking the hair off my forehead.

And in a very soft voice, she said, “Hi.”

I could not speak, but I think I smiled.  It was the girl with the imperfection in her right eye.  Everything fell into place, and I knew, in that instant that we were irrevocably meant to be together.

“Welcome back.”

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

onelastlookcoverfinal2

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 30

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and the question of who is a friend and who is a foe is 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.

At the end of the discussion, which began to get quite heated, I was escorted from the room and taken to another interrogation room.

Fresh from his intimidatory success with Jacobi, Lallo was, no doubt, going to try and press on his advantage with me though I was not quite sure what it was he thought I could help him with, other than to dissuade him from his current plan.

I had to wait an hour in that small, stuffy room considering the possibilities.  Surely he wasn’t expecting me to join his band of merry men.

When he finally came, he arrived with a folder and two bottles of cold water, one of which he gave to me before he sat down.

I took a sip of water out of the bottle, after checking the seal hadn’t been broken.  I still didn’t trust him, and with good reason considering the trick he’d played on me.

“Now, I’m sure you saw and heard everything that happened with Jacobi.”

I nodded.

“He’s the reason your mission failed.  He met the other team on the ground and was supposed to lead them to the building where the targets were hiding.  Instead, he told the Government forces, Bahti, the plan for their rescue and their location.  It was a double-cross brought on by greed.”

“It always is.  But he’s more than likely right about the fate of the two prisoners.”

“Half dead, yes, pressed into working on a prison farm, but neither has been cracked yet.  After the last attempt at rescuing them, we cultivated new agents on the ground.  Their advice has led to us being able to formulate a new attempt to rescue them.”

Had they asked my opinion long before the first attempt, I would have told them to have more than one source, particularly if they were paying handsomely for information.  It was always an opportunity for double-crossing.

There still was, but I don’t think that eventuality was factored into Lallo’s thinking.

“Who’s the fool you have in mind to lead this disaster.”

“You.”

Good thing I’d braced myself for the bad news, and it came as no surprise.  In that hour of considering possibilities, they all seemed to come back to one person.  I was the only one left who’d been there, if only for a few hours.

It had also given me time to work on an excuse not to go.

“I don’t think so…”

Lallo put his hand up to stop me.  My protestations might have worked on a reasonable man, but Lallo wasn’t reasonable.

“Well, you, too, have a choice.  Stay and be court marshalled for your failure to follow orders in the last attempt or redeem yourself and volunteer to lead the next.”

“I did nothing wrong the last time.”

“Not according to the investigation I’ve just completed, the one that I intend to submit to the JAG if you are unwilling to follow orders.”

And there it was.  All the time I’d been in Lallo’s hands he had been compiling a feasible case against me, just so that I could be induced to do his bidding.  I was stupid not to connect the dots long before this and shut my mouth.  Everything I had denied, was the same evidence he could use against me.

n typical military style, someone had to shoulder the blame for the previous mess.

And to be given a choice, one that made me as expendable as Jacobi, was, as far as Lallo was concerned, a masterstroke.

If I went and was killed in action, he would have a scapegoat he needed.  If I didn’t go, I would be court marshalled and thrown in a cell for the rest of my life.  And if I went, and succeeded, he would become the golden boy in the intelligence services, and the same fate as any other scenario would befall me.  It was a lose-lose.

“You’re not throwing out any bones?”

“Don’t have to.  But you get to pick the team you want to go with you.”  He tossed a file across the table to me, and I opened it.  Several pages, with photos attached.

A who’s who of the military types that spent more time in the stockade than on the battlefield.  Men who would do anything to stay out, men who had nothing to lose.  Men who were expendable.

“You’re kidding?”  I looked up at him, but his expression told me he wasn’t.

“Are you sure any of these will obey orders?”

“You have my assurance they will.  We’re sending an observer, just to make sure everyone stays on mission.  You have three days to pick a team of four men, establish command, and prepare to leave.”

Something else I thought about in that hour, other than it was probably the last time I would have for reflection, was that it would have been better to die in the helicopter crash.

I waited until he left the room before I reopen the file.

© Charles Heath 2019-2023