“The Things We Do For Love”

Would you give up everything to be with the one you love?

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?

For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  It takes him to a small village by the sea, a place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.  

Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

The cover, at the moment, looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?

For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  It takes him to a small village by the sea, s place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.  

Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

The cover, at the moment, looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Lucerne

The Untouched Side of Lucerne: 5 Off‑the‑Beaten‑Path Experiences Worth Your Time

When most travellers think of Lucerne, the mind instantly jumps to its iconic Chapel Bridge, the towering Lion Monument, and the glittering waters of Lake Lucerne. Those are, of course, must‑see sights—but after you’ve snapped a photo of the medieval wooden bridge, you’ll probably crave something a little more intimate, a little more local.

Below is a curated list of five experiences that sit just beyond the typical tourist trail. They’re perfect for curious explorers who want to feel the pulse of Lucerne’s culture, nature, and history without the crowds.


1. Hike the Seeboden Alp – A Quiet Alpine Meadow With Panoramic Views

Why it’s special: While the classic Rigi‑Panorama trail draws hundreds of hikers each day, the Seeboden Alp route (also called the “Hidden Alpine Meadow”) remains a serene escape. Beginning at the Kreuzlingen train station (a short 10‑minute ride from Lucerne’s main station), the trail winds through pine forests, past crystal‑clear streams, and finally opens onto a broad alpine pasture that offers unobstructed 360° views of the Rigi, Pilatus, and the Central Swiss Alps.

What to expect:

ItemDetails
DifficultyModerate – steady ascent (≈ 400 m elevation gain) over 3 km (round‑trip).
Time needed1.5–2 hours (including photo stops).
Best seasonLate June to early October – wildflowers in full bloom, snow‑free paths.
What to bringSturdy hiking shoes, water bottle, a light jacket (weather changes quickly at altitude).
Hidden gemNear the meadow’s highest point lies a small, centuries‑old shepherd’s hut that still hosts occasional cheese‑making demonstrations on weekends.

Tip: Grab a Bündner cheese platter from the nearby Kreuzlingen Café before you set off – the fresh alpine cheese pairs perfectly with the panoramic vista.


2. Discover the Münsterplatz Secret Garden – A Verdant Oasis Behind the Cathedral

Why it’s special: Tucked behind the St. Leodegar’s Cathedral (the “Münster”) is a modest, privately‑maintained garden that most visitors never notice. The garden was originally created in the 19th century by a local merchant’s family as a private retreat and was opened to the public only a few years ago.

What you’ll love:

  • Botanical variety: Over 60 species of Alpine roses, lavender, and wild herbs flourish here, creating a fragrant scent trail that drifts out onto the square.
  • Historical whispers: A marble bench inscribed with a 1902 dedication reads, “Für die Ruhe der Seele” (“For the peace of the soul”). The bench has become a favoured spot for local poets and book clubs.
  • Artistic surprises: Every summer, a local artist collective installs rotating sculptures made from reclaimed wood and stone—perfect for Instagram‑ready shots without the crowds.

How to visit:

  • Access: Walk straight through the cathedral’s side entrance onto Kleinbaslertrasse; a discreet wooden gate leads into the garden.
  • Opening hours: 9 am–6 pm (closed on Mondays).
  • Cost: Free – donations are welcome at a small, tastefully designed donation box.

Tip: Pair your visit with a quick stop at the Café du Lac just across the square for a slice of Zuger Roggenbrot and a steaming cup of locally roasted coffee.


3. Board a Traditional Schiff to Ufenau Island – Switzerland’s Smallest Inhabited Island

Why it’s special: While most lake tours circle the main harbours, a morning “Ufenau Express” departs from the Kornmarkt dock and takes you to the tiny island of Ufenau, situated just a few kilometres downstream from Lucerne. The island hosts an 11th‑century Benedictine chapel, a modest vineyard, and a tranquil walking trail that circles the perimeter.

Highlights:

  • Historical depth: The chapel, St. Peter & St. Paul, survived the Reformation and still hosts occasional organ concerts in the summer.
  • Wine tasting: A small family‑run winery produces a crisp Riviera Pinot Noir that you can sample right on the island’s sun‑warmed terrace.
  • Birdwatching: Ufenau is a protected nesting ground for white‑tailed eagles and golden plovers—bring binoculars for a rewarding encounter.

Practicalities:

ItemDetails
Departure9:15 am and 2:30 pm daily (July–September).
Duration45 minutes each way, plus 1‑hour island stay.
Ticket priceCHF 12 return (includes a brief guided tour).
What to packComfortable shoes, a light windbreaker, and a reusable water bottle.
AccessibilitySmall ramp available for wheelchair users; however, the island’s paths are uneven, so assistance may be needed.

Tip: Combine this trip with a lunch at the Lakeside Restaurant “Seespitz” in nearby Weggis—order the fresh‑caught perch with a side of herb‑infused potatoes for an authentic lakeside feast.


4. Explore the Musegg Wall’s Hidden Courtyards – Medieval Fortifications With a Modern Twist

Why it’s special: The iconic Musegg Wall—the well‑preserved part of Lucerne’s old city fortifications—features six towers (including the famous Zytturm). While most tourists climb the Zytturm for its city views, the inner courtyards behind the lesser‑known towers, especially the Löwendenkmal Tower (Lion Tower), remain quiet and surprisingly artistic.

What you’ll find:

  • Secret exhibitions: Each courtyard hosts rotating pop‑up galleries showcasing works by emerging Swiss photographers and sculptors.
  • Interactive history: QR codes installed on stone walls lead to short augmented‑reality videos that reconstruct medieval daily life—watch a blacksmith at work or a merchant’s stall bustling with trade.
  • Rooftop café: The “Turmlounge” atop the Schaulaufen Tower (open only on Saturdays) serves a selection of local pastries, honey‑infused tea, and a spectacular view of the Reuss River in a peaceful setting.

How to make the most of it:

  1. Start at the Schnürschlösschen Gate—enter the wall’s pathway and follow the wooden signposts labelled “Kunst & Geschichte”.
  2. Take your time in each courtyard; the installations are designed for contemplation, not rush.
  3. Check the calendar on the city’s tourism website for the “Musegg Night” event, where the courtyards are lit by candlelight and local musicians perform acoustic sets.

Tip: Bring a small sketchbook. The quiet corners are perfect for drawing, and you might catch a street performer impromptu sketching session.


5. Ride the Historic Pilatus Bahn to Kriens‑Imfeld – A Scenic Railway Journey With a Surprise Picnic Spot

Why it’s special: Everyone knows about the Pilatus Railway (the world’s steepest cogwheel line) that rockets tourists up to the summit of Mount Pilatus. However, the first leg of the line, from Alpnachstad to Kriens‑Imfeld, is a gorgeous, lesser‑known ride that offers sweeping views of Lake Lucerne, the surrounding alpine ridges, and quaint farming villages—all without the crowds that flood the summit during peak season.

What makes it unique:

  • Historic carriages: The early‑20th‑century wooden carriages retain their original brass fittings and plush leather seats, creating a nostalgic travel experience.
  • Picnic paradise: At the Imfeld Station, a small meadow opens up beside the railway, dotted with wild strawberries in early summer. A traditional “Bürli”—a wooden table with benches—invites you to lay out a picnic while enjoying the gentle hum of the passing train.
  • Local flavours: The nearby Imfeld Bakery sells freshly baked “Saffron‑Rosinen‑Brot” (saffron raisin bread) and a selection of homemade jams made from locally harvested berries.

Logistics:

ItemDetails
DepartureTrains run every hour from Alpnachstad between 8 am–5 pm (May–September).
TicketCHF 7 one‑way (discounted day‑pass available).
Duration15 minutes to Imfeld; optional onward hike of 2 km to the Bergsee (mountain lake).
Best time to visitEarly morning (8–10 am) for tranquil light and fewer passengers.
AccessibilityCarriages are wheelchair‑compatible, but the meadow has uneven ground.

Tip: Purchase a “Picnic Pass” at the Imfeld ticket window – it includes a voucher for a slice of Alpine cheese tart from the station café, plus a reusable wooden cutlery set (eco‑friendly and perfect for your spontaneous snack).


Bonus: How to Blend These Experiences Into One Perfect Day

If you’re staying in Lucerne for a short visit and want to sample a slice of each hidden gem, here’s a suggested itinerary:

TimeActivity
08:00Grab a quick croissant at Café Heini and head to Alpnachstad for the Pilatus Bahn ride.
09:00Arrive at Kriens‑Imfeld, enjoy the meadow picnic and stroll to the Bergsee.
11:30Take the train back to Lucerne, then hop on the Ufenau Express from Kornmarkt.
13:00Disembark on Ufenau Island, explore the chapel, and sip wine on the terrace.
14:30Return to Lucerne; walk through the Münsterplatz Secret Garden for a quiet afternoon tea.
16:00Head to Musegg Wall – wander the hidden courtyards and perhaps catch a pop‑up gallery.
18:00Finish the day with a gentle hike to Seeboden Alp for sunset views over the lakes and mountains.
20:00Dinner at Restaurant Nidelgau (book a table with lake view).

Adjust the timing according to the season and your personal pace—each stop can easily become a half‑day adventure if you wish!


Final Thoughts

Lucerne’s charm isn’t confined to its postcard‑perfect bridges and bustling promenades. By stepping off the well‑trodden path, you’ll discover serene alpine meadows, hidden gardens, intimate islands, and living pieces of history that reveal the city’s authentic soul.

Whether you’re a seasoned backpacker, a history buff, or simply a curious traveller seeking a quieter connection with Switzerland’s heart, these five hidden gems promise unforgettable moments—far from the crowds but close to the spirit of Lucerne.

Pack your camera, bring an open mind, and let the road less travelled become your favourite story to tell.

An excerpt from “If Only” – a work in progress

Investigation of crimes doesn’t always go according to plan, nor does the perpetrator get either found or punished.

That was particularly true in my case.  The murderer was incredibly careful in not leaving any evidence behind, to the extent that the police could not rule out whether it was a male or a female.

At one stage the police thought I had murdered my own wife though how I could be on a train at the time of the murder was beyond me.  I had witnesses and a cast-iron alibi.

The officer in charge was Detective First Grade Gabrielle Walters.  She came to me on the day after the murder seeking answers to the usual questions like, when was the last time you saw your wife, did you argue, the neighbors reckon there were heated discussions the day before.

Routine was the word she used.

Her fellow detective was a surly piece of work whose intention was to get answers or, more likely, a confession by any or all means possible.  I could sense the raging violence within him.  Fortunately, common sense prevailed.

Over the course of the next few weeks, once I’d been cleared of committing the crime, Gabrielle made a point of keeping me informed of the progress.

After three months the updates were more sporadic, and when, for lack of progress, it became a cold case, communication ceased.

But it was not the last I saw of Gabrielle.

The shock of finding Vanessa was more devastating than the fact she was now gone, and those images lived on in the same nightmare that came to visit me every night when I closed my eyes.

For months I was barely functioning, to the extent I had all but lost my job, and quite a few friends, particularly those who were more attached to Vanessa rather than me.

They didn’t understand how it could affect me so much, and since it had not happened to them, my tart replies of ‘you wouldn’t understand’ were met with equally short retorts.  Some questioned my sanity, even, for a time, so did I.

No one, it seemed, could understand what it was like, no one except Gabrielle.

She was by her own admission, damaged goods, having been the victim of a similar incident, a boyfriend who turned out to be an awfully bad boy.  Her story varied only in she had been made to witness his execution.  Her nightmare, in reliving that moment in time, was how she was still alive and, to this day, had no idea why she’d been spared.

It was a story she told me one night, some months after the investigation had been scaled down.  I was still looking for the bottom of a bottle and an emotional mess.  Perhaps it struck a resonance with her; she’d been there and managed to come out the other side.

What happened become our secret, a once-only night together that meant a great deal to me, and by mutual agreement, it was not spoken of again.  It was as if she knew exactly what was required to set me on the path to recovery.

And it had.

Since then, we saw each about once a month in a cafe.   I had been surprised to hear from her again shortly after that eventful night when she called to set it up, ostensibly for her to provide me with any updates on the case, but perhaps we had, after that unspoken night, formed a closer bond than either of us wanted to admit.

We generally talked for hours over wine, then dinner and coffee.  It took a while for me to realize that all she had was her work, personal relationships were nigh on impossible in a job that left little or no spare time for anything else.

She’d always said that if I had any questions or problems about the case, or if there was anything that might come to me that might be relevant, even after all this time, all I had to do was call her.

I wondered if this text message was in that category.  I was certain it would interest the police and I had no doubt they could trace the message’s origin, but there was that tiny degree of doubt, about whether or not I could trust her to tell me what the message meant.

I reached for the phone then put it back down again.  I’d think about it and decide tomorrow.

© Charles Heath 2018-2020

Writing a book in 365 days – 351

Day 351

“Why a Budding Author Should Dive into Joan Didion’s Masterful Body of Work”

For aspiring writers, the journey to finding one’s voice is as much about discovery as it is about study. Joan Didion, a literary icon whose career spans decades, offers a treasure trove of insights for those seeking to refine their craft. From her sharp-eyed novels to her incisive essays, Didion’s work is a masterclass in clarity, emotional resonance, and the art of observation. Let’s explore how delving into her oeuvre—comprising five seminal novels, screenplays, and countless articles and essays—can illuminate the path for emerging authors.


1. Novels: The Power of Precision and Dissecting the Human Condition

Didion’s novels—Run, RiverPlay It as It LaysA Book of Common PrayerThe Last Thing He Wanted, and Marry Me—are defined by their sparse, crystalline prose and unflinching exploration of identity, disillusionment, and collapse. For a budding author, studying her work reveals a critical lesson: less is not just more—it’s everything. Didion strips language of excess, using plain, punchy sentences to evoke profound unease or beauty. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live,” she famously writes in The White Album—a philosophy that permeates her fiction, where characters are often unravelling personal myths in a disintegrating world.
Aspiring writers can learn to mirror this by focusing on what isn’t said and how silence, space, and subtext amplify meaning. Her characters also serve as case studies in emotional complexity; they’re flawed, often detached, yet achingly human. How does Didion achieve this? By grounding them in precise details—a crumbling California landscape, a flicker of a smile—that anchor the surreal in the real.


2. Screenplays: Visual Storytelling and the Art of Compression

Didion’s screenplays (notably A Point of No Return and Up at the Villas) offer a different but equally valuable lesson. Adapting her own stories and others’, she demonstrates how to transform prose into visceral, visual narratives. Screenwriting demands concision; dialogue must carry weight, and scenes must be sculpted to evoke emotion without over-explaining. For an author interested in crossing genres, Didion’s screenplays are a masterclass in pacing and economy.
Take Up at the Villas, adapted from her 1982 novel of the same name. The screenplay retains the novel’s cold, observational tone but distils its themes into sharp, symbolic images—a storm, a locked door—to convey what words alone might not. For writers, this is a reminder that showing, not telling, is a skill honed through ruthless editing. Studying her scripts can teach how to craft tension through structure and dialogue, even in literary works.


3. Essays and Journalism: The Alchemy of Observation and Truth-Telling

Joan Didion’s nonfiction—collected in volumes like The White AlbumSlouching Toward Bethlehem, and Where I Was From—is where her genius as a writer truly shines. Her essays are micro-surgeries of culture, politics, and personal history, blending reportage with poetic reflection. How can a budding author benefit from this?

  • The art of the unsparingly honest narrative: Didion doesn’t flinch from ambiguity. She asks, What do we do when we can’t believe the story we’ve told ourselves? This intellectual honesty teaches writers to dig deeper, to question their own assumptions.
  • The marriage of personal and political: In pieces like “Los Angeles Notebook” or “On Self Respect”, Didion ties intimate self-doubt to societal decay. Aspiring authors can learn to weave the private and the public, creating work that resonates beyond the individual.
  • Research as storytelling: Her essays are meticulously researched yet read like lyrical journeys. Writers can study how she transforms facts into narrative threads without losing a reader’s interest.

4. Beyond Technique: Embracing Didion’s Curiosity and Courage

Perhaps the most profound lesson from Didion’s work is her relentless curiosity and willingness to confront the uncomfortable. Her writing force-feeds the idea that truth is not a destination but a process. For emerging authors, this mindset—questioning, observing, and daring to write what feels fragile or controversial—can be transformative. Didion’s essays on the Vietnam War, the Manson Family, or her own grief in The Year of Magical Thinking demand that we look at the world with both empathy and rigour.


Conclusion: Let the Questions Be the Point

Reading Joan Didion is not just about learning how to write—it’s about learning how to see. Her work challenges authors to strip away the superfluous, to wield language like a scalpel, and to embrace the messiness of human experience. For a budding writer, this is an unparalleled education. Start with her essays; they are accessible and brimming with insight. Then, move to her novels and screenplays to understand how themes translate across genres. Finally, ask yourself: What story have I been avoiding, and how can I tell it with Didion’s clarity?

In a world of noise, Didion’s voice cuts through with surgical precision. For any writer seeking to carve their own path, her work is not just a blueprint—it’s an invitation to observe, to question, and to distil the chaos of life into something that might resonate for generations.

So pick up a Joan Didion. Let her words unsettle you. Then, let me know how far you’ve come.

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

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In a word: Brevity

Now, brevity is something that I have not been able to fully wrap my head around.

The dictionary explains Brevity as

‘concise and exact use of words in writing and speech’

So…

I remember working with a writer a long time ago who explained certain authors styles, and for James A Michener of Hawaii fame, he said Michener wrote sentences instead of words, paragraphs instead of sentences, pages instead of paragraphs and chapters instead of pages.

It was a little harsh considering I’d just read the book and had liked it, despite its length and the time it took.

But some time later I realized he was not criticizing Michener, but trying to tell me, in his, what I came to discover, interesting way, that I should strive to write more compactly.

I then came across a book by Brian Callison which was exactly that, the concise version, a story that fitted into about 200 pages.

That too was a good book and it took me a day to read it, and by his use of that economy of words, it read quickly.

Of course, I have tried over the years to emulate both styles, and to a certain degree, failing, because I think I have created my own style which is somewhere in between.

Still, when editing, it is always in the back of my mind that I should be

Using words instead of sentences

Using sentences instead of paragraphs

Using paragraphs instead of pages, and

Using pages instead of chapters.

The chapters, he said, with an air of amusement, will always take care of themselves.

 

“What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

David is a man troubled by a past he is trying to forget.

Susan is rebelling against a life of privilege and an exasperated mother who holds a secret that will determine her daughter’s destiny.

They are two people brought together by chance. Or was it?

When Susan discovers her mother’s secret, she goes in search of the truth that has been hidden from her since the day she was born.

When David realizes her absence is more than the usual cooling off after another heated argument, he finds himself being slowly drawn back into his former world of deceit and lies.

Then, back with his former employers, David quickly discovers nothing is what it seems as he embarks on a dangerous mission to find Susan before he loses her forever.

Find the kindle version on Amazon here:  http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

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“Uncanny good luck shines upon me…” – a short story


I never did take advice very seriously.  Especially when they were issued by old man Taggard, a man of some mystery that we all, adults and children alike wanted to know about.

Everyone in the street knew him as he had lived in the almost derelict mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac forever, way longer than anyone else in the neighbourhood had.  In fact, it was rumoured he had owned all the land around and sold it off bit by bit over time, the reason why there were so many houses of varying age in the estate.

Ours was one of the older houses, a few doors up from it.  We were close enough to observe Taggard’s habit, like sitting on the porch on an old swing chair in the afternoons, to the late-night wanderings in the street.  Some said he was accompanied by the ghost of his long-dead wife, which led to stories being told of the house he lived in being haunted.

As children, we had been brought up on a diet of TV shows such as ‘The Munsters’ and ‘The Addams Family’, and had invented our own make-believe show called ‘The Taggard Mansion’, the house with ghosts, and the neighborhood center for strange goings-on.

And as children were wont to do, we had to ‘investigate’.

There was a ‘gang’ even though we didn’t refer to it as such, about seven of us who lived in nearby houses, and all of whom had very active imaginations.  We also met in the cubby house out the back of our house to plan forays to find out whether the rumours were true.  The thing is we never got very far as he seemed to know when we were sneaking in and scared us off, so for years, the rumours remained just that, rumours.

But as grown-ups, and by that I mean, middle teens, our plans became bolder and more sophisticated, based on a whole new breed of TV shows, where the seemingly impossible was no longer that.  And Andy Boswell, my older brother’s best friend, his father was a private detective, or so he told us, and he had managed to ‘secure’ some of his father’s tools of the trade; a camera on the end of a wire that could connect to a cell phone, a listening device that could hear through walls, and in-ear communicators.  We could now, if we were close enough, see under doors, and hear if anyone was in.  We could all keep in touch, though I couldn’t see how this would help.

But a plan was formulated.  All seven of us had a role to play.  My brother Ron and Delilah, his girlfriend, were taking point, whatever that meant, Andy and I were going to take point, while Jack, Jill, and Kim were going to run distraction.  The theory was, they’d make enough noise to keep the old man occupied chasing them.  No one had been inside the house, ever.  Andy and I were going to be the first.

Andy had drawn up a plan and it was up on the wall.  He had charted the house, and had a very accurate picture of the house’s footprint, where doors and windows were, likely entrance points, including a hatchway down into what he assumed was a basement, though he preferred to call it the dungeon, and a layout of the grounds.  Apparently under the undergrowth were paths and gardens, even a large fountain that once graced the grounds of the three-story mansion made of sandstone, and built sometime during the middle of the 1800s.

Andy had done some research, mostly from old newspapers, and also discovered that the old man had once been married, they had a half dozen children, three of whom had died, the others scattered around the world.  It explained why no one ever visited the place.

The distraction team would be going in through the front gate, easy enough because it had come off its hinges and just needed a shove to open.  The old man usually emerged from the house via the driveway, or what was once a drive where cars could enter one side of the property, stop under a huge canopy, and emerge onto the road further along.  But it’s overgrown stare, the width of the pathway was now about six feet.  The fact it was once an amazing feature was the roadside lights, now all but disappearing behind the undergrowth.

Andy had found a photograph in the paper of it, and it had looked magnificent, as had the gardens, the overhanging canopy, and all the lights.  To think such magnificence was now lost.  And having seen it for what it once was, it was not hard to imagine any number of scenarios, my favourite, rescuing a damsel in distress from the tower.  Yes, it even had a tower, two, in fact, at each end of the house.  My brother always said I had an overactive imagination.

Andy and I would be going in by the less-used car exit, and heading for the left side of the building where Andy said were several floor-to-ceiling windows that looked to him like French doors.  Of course, none of us knew what French doors were, and my brother cut Andy short when he tried to explain.

Failing that, there was a door at the rear that seemed to be open, and we’d try that next.  We would get into position, advise the distraction team, and the operation would be a go.  The only debate was about what time of the day were we going to do it.  My brother preferred late in the afternoon.  Andy said it was better at dawn, or soon after if we were looking for maximum confusion about the target.

Dawn, confusion, tactics, target, Andy was in his element.  He was going to be a spy when he grew up.  My brother said he would never grow up, but then, my brother said I was a dreamer and would never amount to anything.  We ignored his advice, well, we pretty much ignored everything he said.

We were going in at dawn.

At 5 a.m. on Saturday morning, we gathered at the cubby house ready for action.  We all took a communicator and put it in our ears, and then had fun saying stupid stuff, and hearing it through the earpieces.  It was weird but added an exciting element to the adventure.  I know my heart was beating faster in anticipation.  Andy was pretending to be cool and failing.  I suspected my brother and Delilah had other plans when we left them alone in the cubby house.  The distraction team was ready to go.

Shortly after the sun came up, it was cool and the air still.  It was going to be a hot day, and in that first hour, everything was almost perfect.  It seemed a waste to do anything but let the early morning serenity settle over us.  Not today.  Andy and I went to our position, slowly feeling our way through the bushes, taking bearings from the light poles, and every now and then seeing the guttering and what looked to be a concrete path.  Beyond that was once a garden, and I tried, more than once, to imagine what it was like.

In my ear I could hear the others in the distraction team setting up at the start of the driveway, ready to go.  We reached our position, about twenty feet from the so-called French windows, the view into the house blocked by curtains, but beyond that, what we could see was darkness inside the house.  Taking in the whole side of the house, there were no lights on behind any of the windows.  If we didn’t know better, we could have assumed the house was empty.

I heard Andy say, “Ready.  Start making noise.”

A minute later we could both hear the distraction team in the distance and through the communicators.  It took two minutes before we heard the old man, yelling, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Their job done, getting him out of the house, all they had to do was retreat.

Time for Andy and I to go.

Working on the basis that no one else was at the house, and the fact we had no evidence there was, we were not overly worried about making a stealthy approach.  I could hear in my earpiece, the gasping of those in the distraction team, having just made it outside the gate, and to tell us the old man had stopped them at the gate.  I doubt he had been running, but his yelling was just as effective.

That had stopped, and a sort of silence fell over the area.

We were now at the French doors, and Andy produced another tool that he’d forgotten to tell us about, a lock pick.  The fact it didn’t take long to unlock the door told me he was either very talented, or the lock was old and presented no problems.  Either way, he opened the door and ushered me in.

I brushed the curtains aside for him to follow, then moved in as he followed, closing the door behind him.

I’d taken five steps before I heard a woman’s voice say.  “Uncanny good luck shines upon me.  My knights in shining armour.  You’ve come to rescue me, no?”

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

The 2am Rant: Children are all the same

They just live in different houses

It’s quite remarkable to discover that your children are not unique.

For years I thought that we had spawned monsters that had quite likely come from another planet because the other children in the family seemed so different.

I didn’t realise that the parents had issued death threats if they so much as looked sideways while out.

It was where I suddenly realised that parents of children if taken at their word, could be mass murderers, or at the very best, the worst kind of bullies.

The threats of violence that they used, in any other circumstances would elicit a rather lengthy jail sentence.

I was guilty of it myself, and such threats had come to roll off the tongue so easily that you didn’t really know you were doing it.

If you don’t do this, I’ll kill you. There’s no thought to the significance of this statement, or the consequences if you were to actually do it.

No wonder the children just look at you like you’re deranged.

Of course, there are fewer murderous ways of dealing with the problem, but the sad fact is they have probably driven you into a blind rage and just past into that zone where you really have no idea what you’re saying.

Been there too.

But the revelation that all the other parents are the same, that you see them threatening their children with death or worse.

Then, after they’ve grown up and moved on as all children do, they return on odd occasions for Sunday lunch and there you begin to learn the stuff they did when younger that you never knew about

It’s seeming a rite of passage for all children, and it’s odd to hear others discussing it, especially when you hear someone else referring to their children the same as you do.

Did they come from the same planet too?

That’s when a friend told me the truth of the matter. All children are the same, they just live in different houses.

Ain’t that the truth!

Writing a book in 365 days – 350

Day 350 – Writing exercise

He had never liked the desert, or anywhere hot, if he was telling the truth.

It started out as a joke and ended up as the reason for defunding my project, but irrespective of the reason given, it was not unexpected because of the lack of progress and cost overruns.

And the fact that I had suffered a minor breakdown, having laboured day and night, in very hot, dusty, trying conditions for longer than I expected.

Of course, the fact that I had assured the Management team that I would be available 24/7, and was forced to go on indefinite sick leave, was probably the final nail in the coffin.

That, and the fact that I had participated in an interview where I had confessed, in a moment of reflection, that I preferred to live in the cooler climate of the mountains than in the middle of the desert, the place where I had been running a major investigation into underground rivers.

Or, as my hard-working and cynical assistant project manager had put it, they didn’t want a woman taking my place, and worse, they didn’t want anyone to know they had run out of funding.

In the end, none of it mattered.  They shut down the site.

Melanie, Acting Project Manager, resident cynic, and all-around conspiracy theorist, had dropped in on her way home, or as she put it, a welcome deviation before returning to a ‘rat hole’ at her sister’s residence while in transit between jobs.

I had just left the hospital, and arrived at my ‘Shangrila’ the day before.  She had just wrapped up the operation in Mexico.  She looked as exhausted as I still felt.

When Melanie watched the replay of the post-project interview, curious to see what had been said, she realised one very important point.  “You were led. The interviewer had a definite plan to lead you down a particular path and then took a run with it.”

“I was tired and wanted to get it over with.”

“You didn’t ask for the slate of questions ahead of time?”

“I did and was given a folder.  There was nothing about climate preferences, or the possibility of exhaustion, in them.”

“There you are.  It was nothing less than a set-up, clearly designed to derail your project.”

Melanie always suspected the organisation that funded the projects to be exactly the sort of people they portrayed to the outside world, and she had been very vocal at the first meeting, and several since, citing the world needed water, not geothermal energy.

In the beginning, it had been a hard sell.  Until suddenly they changed their minds from a hard no to a three-year deal.

That was until the two board members who agreed with her had retired in the last six months.

“If they hadn’t retired, we wouldn’t be here.”

Actually, we would.  We had not found irrefutable evidence that there was water under the impenetrable rock.  It was somewhere near there, I just wasn’t sure exactly where, and drilling bores wasn’t cheap.

I had been assured they’d come back to it later.

Meanwhile…

I was on administrative leave.  Melanie was supposed to go to Peru or Chile.  Instead ,she stayed with me.

Melanie had also suspected the Project Management organisation of having ulterior motives.  I had also heard the rumours that somewhere of the projects had two purposes.

The most recent, an archaeological dig turned into a search for oil, in a place where the local government had been prevented from prospecting.

Our project had the security team ‘enhanced’ because of ‘perceived’ threats to our safety, which, in the end, didn’t materialise.

Just before the funding dried up.

It was not as if they didn’t have a reason.  Suddenly, we found it difficult to bore through the hard rock to get down to the suspected cavern where an underground river ran from the Arctic to the north to the equator.

We had found what was believed to be the entrance in northern Scandinavia, but not the outlet, other than ancient evidence of water feeding a flourishing Aztec city, not just dry dusty ruins.   It had been paradise.

And as much as I would like to also give my archaeological skills a run, that hadn’t been our focus.  We just had to work around the archaeological aspects of the site.

Even so, I had a feeling someone was poking around the ruins, with people going missing, and strange noises at night.

Melanie was adamant that the ghosts of the city’s once-inhabitants were rising up to protect their final resting place from us invaders.

It became the subject of a conversation one morning, after about a week, the amount of time it took for Melanie doing nothing to start getting bored.

She had just latched onto the archaeological aspects of the site, just arriving at a conclusion I had considered a possibility, but unlikely given the local government’s stand on exploration of the ruins.

“It’s an unjustified cost to bore through impassable rock, especially when we cannot prove an outcome.”

“What if it wasn’t and they’re just telling you that?”

I looked at her over the conference table with surprise.  Melanie was my guru for superstitions and conspiracy theories and was often closer to the bone than most.

She had said once after a few too many margaritas that the site we were working at had been an old Aztec temple and place of worship and sacrifice, and more than one ghost had been seen at night.

I thought I had seen one myself, but I didn’t believe in such things.  But I did suspect that there might be an element of truth in another myth she had uncovered, that somewhere within the boundaries of the site was a reputed entrance to a network of caverns and tunnels, where artifacts had been hidden from the Spanish conquerors, and which several items had been found nearby.

It would make more sense to think we had been shut down so that another clandestine expedition was being funded to locate the entrance or determine whether there was any truth to the supposition that gold and or artifacts were hidden there.  That would make more money than finding underground watercourses.

“Then what are you telling me?”

“Those extra security staff sent to save us from the revolting masses would know one end of a gun from the other.  Did they look like mercenaries?”

After a few more margaritas, she confessed her ideal man was that Hollywood stereotype mercenary. This stereotype was not supported by the members of the security team or the additional people sent.

“Not really, but do we really know that security people have a ‘type’?”

“Girls who look like they just came from a fashion show in Milan.  You remember Joanne and Louisa?”

I don’t think anyone could forget them.  She had a point, but by that time, I was almost overcome by exhaustion.

“You think they were archaeology students?”

“Isn’t that how digs work?  One or two experts and a dozen students are working towards their degrees.  You went through that process.”

I had, though, not been so lucky to find a dig so rich in history.  “We were strictly forbidden from any archaeological exploration.”

“And Management knew you’d assure them that nothing like that was going on.  They relied on your reputation, one of the main reasons the local government allowed the project.  That you’d run it and you’d find water.  Especially if you found water.  When I stopped by the mayor’s office to give him the keys, half a dozen of the newbies, including the girls, were still there.  They were supposed to be on a plane a week ago.”

“They don’t have permission to conduct archaeological exploration of the ruins.”

“Who needs permission to do anything, other than us good guys.  We’ve been running a distraction.  I think they’ve discovered the tunnels and caverns.  And they, more than anything else, might lead us to the water.  We were looking in the wrong place.  I think the city was built on top of the water outlet, and the Aztecs destroyed it themselves to spite the Spanish”

“But we were not in the business of treasure hunting.”

Or were we?

“Why don’t we go and find out?”

©  Charles Heath  2025