Category: Books

“Strangers We’ve Become” – The final countdown to publishing in 13 Days

Again, why am I doing this?

…

That notion of conducting surveillance on his spouse seemed strange to David when he spoke out loud about it.  Of course, the face looking back at him from the mirror didn’t have a reply, but there was a wry expression.

The thing is, he would not have contemplated it if two rather interesting events had not taken place,

Firstly, the photos of her new lover turning up in his email, and that very same man was now her new head of security, and,

Secondly, he had not gotten into a scrape with several of the new security team, just trying to access his own house, or what he thought was his.

He had no doubt Susan would welcome him with open arms, and in fact, does ask him to stay, but they both knew he would probably end up killing one or all of them.

And there was the fact she didn’t know he knew about her secret affair, not that it really bothered him, just the fact it was an arrogant mercenary, and not really her type.

But there again he didn’t really know all that much about her.

What better way to find out than to observe and learn.

In the meantime, he could visit Alisha in the hospital and check on her progress.

…

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.

NANOWRIMO November 2023 – Day 23

“Opposites Attract”

…

Where’s Tim?

…

Our boy quickly realizes there’s going to be no help from Emily.  She is too mad at him for deserting his grandmother, nor is she going with the search party.

One is the loneliest number…

On the bright side, Genevieve, the go-to girl when everything goes to hell in a handbasket, is handing off to the new PA the grandmother has appointed for him.  Guinevere.

She and Genevieve are twins.  And scarily alike.  They almost talk in unison, and they cannot be identified when together.

Married life is going to be fun when each has their PA with them, and their together.

However…

She had organised the corporate jet and their embarking for the hometown because our boy knows Tim’s friends are there, one in particular, Fred.

Of course, Fred hates our boy as much as Tim so getting information out of him is going to be interesting.

So is going home and breaking the news of the proposal to Darcy.

The runaway train just sped up a little more.

…

Today’s words:  801, for a total of 43,375

The cinema of my dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 64

What is Juliet’s game?

…

Juliet was waiting for me by the car where we left it.

By that time, I was almost ready to strangle her with my bare hands.

“Where did you go?”

“Away from trouble.  I waited until I was sure you were not going to be killed, then I left.”  She held out the gun by the barrel.  “I figured you would have been able to take that guy with the gun, and there was no point being captured with it.”

She was right, but that didn’t make me any less angry.

I took it and unlocked the car.

“Where are the women?”

“He doesn’t know.  Worse still, he had no idea that another woman was taken at the same time.”

“You believe him?”

“Given the circumstances of seeing the woman that was going to solve all your problems dead on the floor had a way of making you believable.  No one is that good an actor.”

She looked at me with a strange expression.  “You have one working with you.”

“Her mother wasn’t killed in front of her.  Not the same.”

“Square one then?”

“It might be.  If he didn’t know where they were or wanted to, it’s like as not they are not on any of his properties.  If he didn’t care what happened to the countess, that doesn’t mean the same for those who are holding her, or Mrs Rodby.  They’ll know, eventually a reward will be offered., and we’re giving them one.”

I called Cecilia.  “How’s the search going.  I assume the fact you haven’t called me means you’ve found nothing?”

“Zip.  This Dicostini has a lot of dud property.  Maybe someone should tell him to build a resort rather than try to grow grapes.  There’d be a lot more money in it.”

“I think he has more problems than that to worry about right now.”

“How did you go?”

“Kept the place under surveillance waiting to see if the fake countess was hiding at his place.  She was.  She came out, and they had an argument. And he killed her.”

“What?  Shot her?”

“He hit her in a moment of temper, she fell awkwardly hitting her head on the table, dead before she hit the floor.”

“That makes things a little difficult.  I assume you didn’t get the location of the two women?”

“You assume correctly.”

“Then they could be anywhere?”

“Maybe, maybe not.  I’m going to give you a name and address.  Get onto Anthony and find out where he lives, then park yourself outside until you hear from me.  I have a hunch but be prepared to waste some time if it doesn’t pan out.  Take Alfie with you.  Leave Francesca, there’s nothing she can do now.”

“What are you planning?”

“Offering a huge reward for Mrs Rodby.  I think we can safely say the countess is either dead or will be when Dicostini calls the kidnappers.”

“Wouldn’t they just kill her too.  Faces?

“They might, but if they’re good, that won’t be a problem.  Getting a bigger payday is.  Everybody has a price.”

“Even you?”

“When I figure out how to disappear, maybe.  Go.  Times wasting.”

I thought about starting the car, then didn’t.

It was not enough that so many different scenarios were running through my head when the call finally came.  I was sure now the main game was over, they side players would be looking for a slice of the action.

There were only two candidates.  One seemed improbably, which made it the more likely, the other the logical choice, but unlikely.  It all depended on how fast Anthony could get the wanted poster out there.

In the meantime, I had another more perplexing problem.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Juliet.

She looked at me strangely.  “You asked me.”

“I mean what are you doing here in Italy?”

She kept looking at me as if I was mad.

“I was setting up for a conference.”

She looked earnest, but there was something in her manner.

“Are you really that pathologist.  I mean for a down and out doctor how could such a disgraced person get a foot back in the door?”

Her look of bemusement turned to annoyance.  “Tell me what you really think?  It took a lot of banging on doors and grovelling.”

I shook my head.  That wasn’t the whole story.

“Why so I keep running into you?”

“Fate.  Serendipity.  The universe telling us we didn’t end things properly the last time.”

Words.  Words that had a certain ring to them.  I shook my head. 

“Fate is a load of bollocks, Juliet.”

“You can call me Julie if you like.  It sounds better.”

“This is not done with, not by a long chalk.”

© Charles Heath 2023

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

 

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

 

Searching for locations: From X’ian to Zhengzhou dong by bullet train, China

Lunch and then off on another high-speed train

We walked another umpteen miles from the exhibition to a Chinese restaurant that is going to serve us Chinese food again with a beer and a rather potent pomegranate wine that has a real kick.  It was definitely value for money at 60 yuan per person.

But perhaps the biggest thrill, if it could be called that, was discovering downstairs, the man who discovered the original pieces of a terracotta soldier when digging a well.  He was signing books bought in the souvenir store, but not those that had been bought elsewhere.

Some of is even got photographed with him.  Fifteen minutes of fame moment?  Maybe.

After lunch, it was off to the station for another high-speed train ride, this time for about two and a half hours, from X’ian to Zhangzhou dong.

It’s the standard high-speed train ride and the usual seat switching because of weird allocation issues, so a little confusion reigns until the train departs at 5:59.

Once we were underway it didn’t take long before we hit the maximum speed

Twenty minutes before arrival, and knowing we only have three minutes to get off everyone is heading for the exit clogging up the passageway.  It wasn’t panic but with the three-minute limit, perhaps organized panic would be a better description.

As it turned out, with all the cases near the door, the moment to door opened one of our group got off, and the other just started putting cases on the platform, and in doing so we were all off in 42 seconds with time to spare.

And this was despite the fact there were about twenty passengers just about up against the door trying to get in.  I don’t think they expected to have cases flying off the train in their direction.

We find our way to the exit and our tour guide Dannie.  It was another long walk to the bus, somewhat shabbier from the previous day, no leg room, no pocket, no USB charging point like the day before.  Disappointing.

On the way from the station to the hotel, the tour guide usually gives us a short spiel on the next day’s activities, but instead, I think we got her life history and a song, delivered in high pitched and rapid Chinglish that was hard to understand.

Not at this hour of the night to an almost exhausted busload of people who’d had enough from the train.  Oh, did I forgot the singing, no, it was an interesting rendition of ‘you are my sunshine’.

The drive was interesting in that it mostly in the dark.  There was no street lighting and in comparison to X’ian which was very bright and cheerful, this was dark and gloomy.

Then close to the hotel our guide said that if we had any problems with the room, she would be in the lobby for half an hour.

That spoke volumes about the hotel they put us in.

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

© Charles Heath 2019

“Strangers We’ve Become” – The final countdown to publishing in 14 Days

Let the fun begin

…

Today we’re dealing with problems on all fronts.

After the assassination attempt in Russia, it was up to Boris to save them from the local security services and ensure their return home.

Alisha had not fully recovered and arrived back only to be sent to the hospital.

Prendergast and David have a very loud argument over several matters, the main one that he has been associating with a high-ranking FSB officer – Boris.

It ends with David being sent to a debriefing that was tantamount to torture, conducted by the department’s two best interrogators, oddly nicknamed Boris and Natasha.

David survives and a free to go home.

Only home is no longer the place it used to be.

There’s a new security team in place, and by accident, his name was left off the list of those with access to the Featherington London residence.

A number of broken bones and dishevelled security guards later, David makes it very clear what he thinks of them, and the fact he will not be staying with Susan. He is also sad to discover the new head of her security team is both the man he saw in Monaco with Jos, the one Susan was covertly observing before he derailed their meeting up, and the same man appearing in a set of revealing photographs of the two of them together.

Susan will, in the very near future, have some explaining to do.

There’s no doubt that despite what she might have done with the other man, David takes their relationship to another level, and makes sure his rival knows his place.

And there’s equally no doubt that rival was going to be very, very dead if he was not more careful.

…

‘Sunday in New York’ – A beta reader’s view

I’m not a fan of romance novels but …

There was something about this one that resonated with me.

This is a novel about a world generally ruled by perception, and how people perceive what they see, what they are told, and what they want to believe.

I’ve been guilty of it myself as I’m sure we all have at one time or another.

For the main characters Harry and Alison there are other issues driving their relationship.

For Alison, it is a loss of self-worth through losing her job and from losing her mother and, in a sense, her sister.

For Harry, it is the fact he has a beautiful and desirable wife, and his belief she is the object of other men’s desires, and one in particular, his immediate superior.

Between observation, the less than honest motives of his friends, a lot of jumping to conclusions based on very little fact, and you have the basis of one very interesting story.

When it all comes to a head, Alison finds herself in a desperate situation, she realises only the truth will save their marriage.

But is it all the truth?

What would we do in similar circumstances?

Rarely does a book have me so enthralled that I could not put it down until I knew the result. They might be considered two people who should have known better, but as is often the case, they had to get past what they both thought was the truth.

And the moral of this story, if it could be said there is one, nothing is ever what it seems.

…

Available on Amazon here: amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

An excerpt from “Echoes from the Past”

Available on Amazon Kindle here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

…

With my attention elsewhere, I walked into a man who was hurrying in the opposite direction.  He was a big man with a scar running down the left side of his face from eye socket to mouth, and who was also wearing a black shirt with a red tie.

That was all I remembered as my heart almost stopped.

He apologized as he stepped to one side, the same way I stepped, as I also muttered an apology.

I kept my eyes down.  He was not the sort of man I wanted to recognize later in a lineup.  I stepped to the other side and so did he.  It was one of those situations.  Finally getting out of sync, he kept going in his direction, and I towards the bus, which was now pulling away from the curb.

Getting my breath back, I just stood riveted to the spot watching it join the traffic.  I looked back over my shoulder, but the man I’d run into had gone.  I shrugged and looked at my watch.  It would be a few minutes before the next bus arrived.

Wait, or walk?  I could also go by subway, but it was a long walk to the station.  What the hell, I needed the exercise.

At the first intersection, the ‘Walk’ sign had just flashed to ‘Don’t Walk’.  I thought I’d save a few minutes by not waiting for the next green light.  As I stepped onto the road, I heard the screeching of tires.

A yellow car stopped inches from me.

It was a high powered sports car, perhaps a Lamborghini.  I knew what they looked like because Marcus Bartleby owned one, as did every other junior executive in the city with a rich father.

Everyone stopped to look at me, then the car.  It was that sort of car.  I could see the driver through the windscreen shaking his fist, and I could see he was yelling too, but I couldn’t hear him.  I stepped back onto the sidewalk, and he drove on.  The moment had passed and everyone went back to their business.

My heart rate hadn’t come down from the last encounter.   Now it was approaching cardiac arrest, so I took a few minutes and several sets of lights to regain composure.

At the next intersection, I waited for the green light, and then a few seconds more, just to be sure.  I was no longer in a hurry.

At the next, I heard what sounded like a gunshot.  A few people looked around, worried expressions on their faces, but when it happened again, I saw it was an old car backfiring.  I also saw another yellow car, much the same as the one before, stopped on the side of the road.  I thought nothing of it, other than it was the second yellow car I’d seen.

At the next intersection, I realized I was subconsciously heading towards Harry’s new bar.   It was somewhere on 6th Avenue, so I continued walking in what I thought was the right direction.

I don’t know why I looked behind me at the next intersection, but I did.  There was another yellow car on the side of the road, not far from me.  It, too, looked the same as the original Lamborghini, and I was starting to think it was not a coincidence.

Moments after crossing the road, I heard the roar of a sports car engine and saw the yellow car accelerate past me.  As it passed by, I saw there were two people in it, and the blurry image of the passenger; a large man with a red tie.

Now my imagination was playing tricks.

It could not be the same man.  He was going in a different direction.

In the few minutes I’d been standing on the pavement, it had started to snow; early for this time of year, and marking the start of what could be a long cold winter.  I shuddered, and it was not necessarily because of the temperature.

I looked up and saw a neon light advertising a bar, coincidentally the one Harry had ‘found’ and, looking once in the direction of the departing yellow car, I decided to go in.  I would have a few drinks and then leave by the back door if it had one.

Just in case.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

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