This is one of those images that could be anywhere.
So, here’s the problem:
Ethan was reluctant to agree to go to the stag night, knowing firstly, that the others going were a bit too unruly when they had too many drinks, secondly, that they had to agree to not know where they were being taken by the bus, and thirdly, anything they saw or did had to remain completely confidential.
That was particularly the case when it came to the ‘stag’.
In that case, Ethan knew exactly what this night was going to be, hours of unrelenting debauchery.
And, since Ethan was the stag’s brother, and he was the best man, there was no way he could wriggle his way out of this one.
On top of that, Ethan had to promise the bride to be that he would not let her husband to be go too far. That statement, of course, was like a box full of hand grenades. He didn’t ask for a definition of too far.
So, seven sober, respectable, hard-working junior executives in suits that were worth more than Ethan’s annual salary boarded the bus.
What happened from that moment the bus drove off, until Ethan’s brother’s body was found floating face down in the river behind the resort, handcuffed to a naked girl in a rubber dinghy, barely alive from an overdose, was anyone’s guess, and Ethan’s worst nightmare.
Especially when he was the last one to see his brother, and the girl, alive.
And, no, this is not based on a real-life experience, though in recurring nightmares I’m the one floating face down in the river.
It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you?
John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.
So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?
That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.
What should have been solace after disappointment turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
He suddenly realises his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.
The story paints the characters, cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times, taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice, where, in those back streets, I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.
All in all, a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.
I had hoped never to see Rodby again, and yet here I was in that oppressively warm wood polish-smelling office of his, sitting uncomfortably opposite him, a very large and clear desk between us.
In all the time I’d known him, and those visits to his office, there had never been anything on it. Not even a phone.
The last time I was in this position, to inform him of my retirement, I’d been reluctant to put the resignation envelope on the pristine surface.
Significantly, it was a month to the day after I left Larry’s mother’s house in Sorrento.
The day after I went with Cecilia to her audition, and she smashed it, getting the role from a rather astonished casting director, and director. He was calling it a possible break-out performance, in a whole different language that I didn’t understand.
That same night I found Juliet dining alone in the hotel restaurant and told her the good news, but her brother had already called her. We had dinner, and it could have been more, but there was that Cecilia thing in the back of her mind so we parted as friends.
And at a loose end, Venice no longer hold any significance for me, I moved back to London.
I should have gone to Paris. There, it would have been harder for Alfie to find me.
He had been giving me the ‘come back’ look, one that I had taken a long time to learn how to ignore.
Seeing he wasn’t making any impact, he said, “They found Larry.”
An enigmatic statement. Who found Larry?
“The Italian police recovered the body, in a little-used area of Lake Como. No signs of physical damage, not shot or stabbed, but apparently, he died of natural causes. We’re still waiting for a definitive coroner’s report. You never really elaborated on what happened at his mother’s house.”
My report was short and lacked detail, more notable for what I didn’t say rather than what I did.
“Nothing to tell. Brenda just told him his days of running the organization were over, she and Jaime Meyers had collaboratively taken over, and things would be different. I notice several other hard-line criminals have been taken off the streets since, so Inspector Crowley’s arrangement with her is working. A win-win situation. And you don’t have to deal with Larry anymore.”
“That’s the problem. If something is too good to be true, it generally is. I have to wonder what has replaced him.”
“I’m retired sir. No longer interested. Why am I here?”
I could see he had more, possibly to pique my interest, but just shrugged.
“Nothing of any importance. I thought you might want to know what happened to Larry. And Martha wants me to go to the opera tonight and she specifically asked me to ask you, and as you know she does not take no for an answer.”
I shrugged. He was right about his wife, a force of nature to be reckoned with. I had met her several times, and she had been intrigued with Violetta and had been devastated when she learned of her death.
“Then I guess I’d better dust off the monkey suit.”
“Good. I’ll text you where and when and send a driver to pick you up.”
This is a residential tower down at the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, with every apartment on the beachside overlooking the ocean.
There could almost be a Die Gard scenarion going on here, but I like the idea of a drama unfolding in the penthouse, like
The husband comes home and finds the wife with her personal trainer, who is getting too personal, and he is about to thrown him over the balcony. That’s a long way down.
Uber eats arrive at the door, but it’s really two wannabe ransomers who take the daughter, tie her up, then start making absurd demands, and the daughter almost throws the two of them over the balcony.
But, not one to miss an opportunity, or get her stepmother, who is younger than her, into all sorts of trouble.
The brother of the owner, a single father is killed in a freak accident, and his son has to be taken in, brought back to the penthouse, and thinks he’s struck it rich. The conniving brat is about to be taught a lesson he’ll never forget when he discovers all is not what it seems.
Or my absolute favorite, I win the lottery, move into the apartment, and so do the other 27 layabout members of my family.
I guess the point is that I have at least crystallised my thoughts on paper so that I can do something with them. After all, anything is better than nothing, isn’t it?
Sometimes I wonder. I look back on a lot of the stuff I wrote forty or fifty years ago, and it looks bad. The thing is, then, I thought it was great, and that I was destined to do great things with the written word.
Pity, all this time later, I’ve turned into a self-critical monster, where it seems nothing I write is any good.
So, does that mean we need to be less critical of our work? After all, through the years, when I’ve shared novels and short stories with others, they have all universally said they’re quite good.
So…
It’s time to go back to the previous day’s work and rework it. Yes, the idea that I wanted to write about is where I wanted the story to go; it’s just the execution.
The problem is, since then, a few other ideas have been running around in the back of my head, and these could be added or used to further the current plotline.
The other problem is, it is one of the six stories that I’m writing by the seat of my pants, you know, the way some pilots like to fly a plane, without all that computer backup. Similarly, this is the way I sometimes like to write.
It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to the reader.
There are good arguments for having planned the story from start to finish, but with these, I like to write it and see where it takes me. They’re episodic, so sometimes I get to write three or four episodes at a time, and these would most likely, in a boo,k become a chapter.
Last night I wrote two episodes, but it seems that it might need pointers back in previous episodes, because we all like to leave a trail of crumbs for the reader, so when they get to the denouement, they remember, ah yes, back in chapter two, such and such happened, but why am I only remembering it now?
Ok, enough convincing myself I’m a good writer, it’s time to get back to work…
Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
We met the Blaines at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaines frequently visited and had recommended.
Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’. It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.
It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over. It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.
Aside from the half-frown, half-smile, Alison was looking stunning. It had been months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary. On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to. She had adored it and me, for a week or so after.
For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.
She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars get on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds of silence, and many more gasps.
I even had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room. Once more, I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me. Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others out there who were more appealing.
Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight. She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.
More than once, I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”
Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together. It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement. Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.
The battle lines were drawn.
Jimmy was looking fashionable, with a permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and a designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it. Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.
The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out, she had straightened it. And took the moment to look deeply into my soul. It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.
Then it was gone.
I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me. A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.
When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.” It was not a question, but a statement.
I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’, but I accepted it with good grace. Sometimes, Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand. I guessed she was talking about the new job. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
She smiled widely. “There are no secrets between Al and me, are there, Al?”
I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.
I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al. I tried it once and was admonished. But it was interesting that her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not. It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.
Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil. As I understood it, the Blaines were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in. I didn’t ask if the Blaines thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.
And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realised I was looking at both of them. I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand. And yet, apparently, Alison did. I must have missed the memo.
“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”
No secrets. Her look conveyed something else entirely.
The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us. It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me. We were going to need it.
Then, a toast.
To a new job and a new life.
“When did you decide?” Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.
Alison had a strange expression on her face. It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind. Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.
Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realised it would be churlish, even silly, if I made a scene. I knew what I wanted to say. I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine or upsetting Alison. This was not the time or the place. Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.
Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing. If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decided there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control. “It’s the little things. They all add up until one day …” I shrugged. “I guess that one day was today.”
I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real? Or, I told you he’d come around.
I had no idea the two were so close.
“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me. I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points. It was all I could come up with at short notice.
“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted. “Alison was off to get some studying in with one of her friends.”
“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up and immediately got the ‘shut up, you fool’ look that cut that line of conversation dead. Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.
It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose. Care to join me, Al?”
A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend. “Yes.”
I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation. I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.
I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.
There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show. I was quite literally gob-smacked.
I drained my champagne glass, gathering some courage and turned to him. “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up. You know Alison is doing her law degree.”
He looked startled when he realised I had spoken. He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed. Or perhaps it was deliberate. She’d definitely had some enhancements done.
He dragged his eyes back to me. “Yes. Elaine said something or other about it. But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week. Perhaps I got it wrong. I usually do.”
“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.” I shrugged as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again. “This week or next, what does it matter?”
Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart. It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; she might have been telling me lies. If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?
We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”
“Trouble, I suspect. Definitely more money, but less time at home.”
“Oh,” raised eyebrows. Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details. “You sure you want to do that?”
At last, the voice of reason. “Me? No.”
“Yet you accepted the job.”
I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him. Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him. “Jimmy, between you and me, I haven’t as yet decided one way or another. To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”
“Barclay?”
“My boss.”
“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay who recently moved into the tower a block down from us. I thought I recognised the name.”
“How did Elaine get the job?”
“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”
“When?”
“A couple of months ago. Why?”
I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker. I felt sick, faint, and wanted to die all at the same moment. “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time. Too busy with work, I expect. I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”
I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted, and I knew I had to keep it together. I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down. I sucked in some deep breaths and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.
And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown. Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”
Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth. It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction. It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.
When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and me. I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, but it didn’t matter. If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact that I took over the dining engagement did. She knew well enough that the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket. She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.
But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points. Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine. She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.
Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly. I chose to ignore her and pretend nothing had happened, rather than tell her how much I was enjoying the evening.
She had her ‘secrets’. I had mine.
At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent-up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me. It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, that Jimmy came looking for me. I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse. When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was, but neither made any comment.
It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which, to a large degree, it was for the other three. But I had achieved what I set out to do: to play them at their own game, watching the deception once I knew there was one, as warily as a cat watches its prey.
I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree. It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.
We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaines back to the Upper West Side. But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer. She showed concern for my health and asked me what was wrong. It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.
She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it. Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.
And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.
It left me confused and lost.
I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.
And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.
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 them.
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!
Larry saw them first, and from his stance and expression, it looked to me like he had seen a ghost.
It was not a ghost, but two women, one easily identified as Cecilia in a khaki soldier uniform, with the sniper rifle over her shoulder, and another, and perhaps the more interesting of the two, Jaime.
I heard Larry mutter under his breath, “What the fuck is she doing here?”
Whilst I would not have used the same words, I did wonder why she was here.
They both stopped at the threshold of the patio. Curiously, the only two people not fazed by either presence seemed to be Brenda and Larry’s mother.
“I see the gang’s all here.” Jaime had a smile on her face like it was a party, and she was late. She looked at me. “You can still surprise me. It was a good thing I turned up late, your friend here might have had a problem.”
“I had them covered,” Cecilia said, a little defiant.
A close inspection revealed that Cecilia was rather dishevelled and had a few abrasions. The question was who she had been scrapping with.
As I swivelled towards Larry, Jaime said, “The rest of your crew are feeling somewhat sorry for themselves, and, last I saw, are being taken away by the local police.”
Cecilia came over to stand next to me.
Larry asked, “What were you going to do with that weapon?”
“Shoot you if all else failed. I had the shot.”
“Let me guess. Jaime convinced you not to.”
“Only because she wants to do it herself. Fine with me, because I hate shooting people. Even scum like you.”
I was not sure if Larry was upset over being labelled scum or if she had been prepared to shoot him. I was still trying to understand what was happening.
Brenda looked in the mother’s direction, “Can you take the children into the other room. We need some grown-up time.”
Whilst none of them wanted to leave the room, curious at the turn of events, especially the son, they reluctantly joined the mother and left the room.
It took a minute, maybe a little longer, to finally figure out the dynamic in the room. There had been several, I wouldn’t call them furtive but knowing, looks between Brenda and Jaime, not as if they were foes, but friends. The same could be said for Larry’s mother, and putting the pieces together, I realised I had been used as a pawn in a plan to isolate Larry.
Although I didn’t think it was likely, it seemed to me that Jaime had made overtures to Larry rather than the other way around, gained his trust, got him to put his stuff in her warehouse, informed on him, and gotten herself raided so she had a degree of plausible deniability. That would allow her to shift the blame to Larry, earning him a place on the most wanted list, and being out of the country at the time was a bonus. Before all this, either Brenda or his mother had arranged for him to come and see her, thus effectively isolating him from his organisation, and coincidentally making him more guilty.
So, what was the reason for me attending the interview, other than to reinforce Larry’s criminality and use Rodby to fire up the local police? How could she know about Rodby … unless, of course, she had been speaking to Larry’s mother, to whom I let slip was interested in her son.
Then the timing of all this happening was of interest because they could all have moved on this ten years ago, right after Trevor’s untimely death, but, I guess, they had to wait until the inheritance came due. The death of Larry’s brother and the upcoming distribution of his father’s assets seemed to be the catalyst for what now appeared to be a bloodless coup.
And with Larry out of the way, it would all go to Brenda, or perhaps the mother. The terms of the will would make very interesting reading.
The next question was whether Jaime was taking over, with the consent of both the mother and daughter-in-law? Or was the daughter-in-law taking over from the incompetent son? Or would they all be running the operation together?
The questions were piling up.
“I can see this situation is somewhat perplexing for both you and Larry,” Brenda said to me.
“I’ve just been reading between the lines, and if it is what I think it is, then it’s well played.”
“You have nothing to fear from us,” Jaime said. “You, too, had a problem, and Christina wanted to do something for you after you helped her out of a tricky situation. Things will be different from now on, and you might be interested to know I made arrangements with the Detective Inspector as you suggested.”
I was watching Larry the whole time, and he was definitely at a loss, not quite comprehending what was happening, simply because to him it would be incomprehensible that women were capable of doing anything.
Brenda added, “Larry has been staggering from disaster to disaster, but there is only so much one can put up with before something has to be done. Jaime came to see me about a year ago and proposed a mutually advantageous merger, and that she would take care of Larry. We let him think he was running things, but really, he hasn’t had a say in the business for about six months now. The old ways are no longer useful; violence only brings attention to our business, the attention we don’t need or want. Sorry, Larry, but you are surplus to requirements.”
Larry had, over the course of the last few minutes, looked both astonished, angry, about to unleash a torrent of abuse, and appearing to think twice about it. To be honest, I could not imagine what he was thinking.
But it did make his obsession with wanting to wreak vengeance on me a rather sorry footnote to a long and useless career in crime. I could almost want to believe his wife had sidelined him out of pity, but a practical person would say it was out of self-preservation. How he managed to keep out of jail was a minor miracle.
But it was true, he had been leading them down a very dangerous path, bringing unwanted attention to his own organisation, and now, in the case of Jaime Meyers, others too. What I saw now was a new brand of criminality, and it was going to be a lot harder to deal with.
“This is a joke, of course,” he finally said. “Who put you up to it? Tell me who it is, and I make him regret the day he was born.”
It was still inconceivable to him that Brenda could be smarter than him.
“And that, Larry, is exactly the reason you have to go.” It was a statement delivered by Jaime in a manner that sent shivers down my spine.
To me, she said, “As much as I would like you to stay and get to know you better, I think it’s time you and your friend left. The less you know about what happens next, the better for you. Just be happy in the knowledge that your problem will be dealt with, swiftly and permanently.”
“Then I can go back to retirement?”
“Definitely. I am sorry to hear about your recent loss. You can tell Juliet when you see her that her brother has been released, and she is no longer obligated to Larry. Tell her very few people get a second chance.”
“Indeed.” I looked at Cecilia.
“Let’s go. I’ve got an audition for that mercenary role tomorrow, and I think I know exactly how I’m going to play it.”
The bridge was subdued as I came out of the elevator and made my way to the chair. Number one was standing next to it.
“Where are we?” I asked him.
“Close enough to open communications.”
“The ships behind us?”
“Slowed to maintain distance, at the moment still out of communication range.”
“Time of arrival at the ships?”
“Ten minutes.”
“We’re being hailed,” the comms officer said, turning to look at me.
“Video?”
“Yes.”
To Number One, “Tell the General to get his team together and be ready to mobilise in 15 minutes.”
“Sir.” He rushed out. He would be back in 5 minutes or less.
To the communications officer, “On screen then.”
A male, one that looked very much like the others we had met earlier, and it made me think that at one time all the people in this part of the galaxy got along well enough to share the longevity technology to make them all look the same.
There were slight changes between them, because the man I was looking at had more human skin tones, whereas the others were much paler. Perhaps they had advanced the technology to make them more lifelike.
“Captain. I am assuming you are the vessel from Earth recently at Grurzek?”
“You would be correct. To whom am I speaking, and don’t say that it is irrelevant.”
“I am a Commander of the Foroi. I believe you have one of our people aboard your vessel.”
“We are bringing her back to her home world, yes.”
“We will take her from here. We understand you are on a voyage of discovery, and you have come out of your way to deliver her. We can relieve you of that responsibility.”
And what would happen after she boarded their ship? I could only imagine, but one possibility that reached the top of the list, imprisonment and possibly death.
“I was charged with delivering her in person to her family members. That means I cannot pass that responsibility to anyone else.”
There were no recognisable expressions on their faces and odd thought, but I would hate playing poker with these people.
But, by the length of the silence, I assumed my statement didn’t go well.
“I understand you are an honourable man, but we are dealing with matters of state which I’m sure you can understand, as you have these back where you come from.”
Did everybody know about us?
I glanced over at Number One, breathless but hiding it well and who nodded to confirm the General was in place, he was as intrigued as I was. As was every member of the bridge crew. They had the most experience with these new people, and for them, it was the reason they signed on.
“Matters of state indeed, but a promise is a promise, and I will be completing the mission.”
“That would be a very dangerous undertaking.”
Once again, the notion of threats was raised.
“What do you know of Earth?” I thought I’d take a different path rather than take the bait.
I guess I was wrong about expressionless beings. He was genuinely surprised.
“More than you might think.”
“Then can I assume from that all of you in this part of the galaxy were once united, sharing technology and intelligence?”
It wasn’t a leap to see that these people once lived together in harmony. We on Earth were heading in that direction and would be interesting to find out what happened so we could avoid the same mistakes.
Not from this commander though.
“Then you’ll know that we will die for an ideal. You will also know we have weapons that can cause a life-extinction event. No one has used it yet, more by good luck than good management, but we carry those weapons, just in case. We call this weapon a deterrent against foolhardy notions.
“So, if you are thinking of coming here by force and taking her, and perhaps destroying any evidence of us, I’d think again. We have a weapon aimed at each of your three vessels. We have scanners that can pick up signs you are about to deploy weapons, as I’m sure you do.
“Take a deep breath, and we’ll talk again soon.”
A nod to the communications officer cut the feed.
“Are we dancing with death, sir?” The first officer was a little tense, but we’d been here before.
“Sir, weapons are on each of the vessels, awaiting your orders.” The General had been monitoring the conversation.
“Very good. You know the drill if anything happens on the bridge.”
For a minute the air on the bridge was so thick you could literally cut through it with a knife.
The communications officer broke the silence, “One of the ships behind us is hailing.”
This is an inlet near Port Macquarie in northern New South Wales. It is adjacent to a caravan and camping park, close to the ocean and parklands.
But, for our purposes, this scene is going to have a few more interesting connotations than just a few campers going for a jog along the beach, fishing in the estuary, or further out to sea on the other side of the wall in the background.
Firstly, to my favorite kind of story, a spy story…
It’s basically the evil billionaire’s backyard to his island hideaway, and our hero intends to come ashore at night and do battle with the guards, break into the underground holding cells and save the girl.
As always, saving the world comes second!
Or, it’s a place like Fantasy Island, without the landing strip on the beach, where people come to have their fantasies fulfilled. OK, to start there are no robots that are going to go berserk, that’s so ten years ago.
And, no, the hosts won’t be dressed in white safari suits. They went out in the 70s.
Then, I suppose, a story that I like, about people who have secrets, people who are broken, people who just want to get away from everyone else, come to this island where they can live in anonymity, without having to interact with anyone unless they want to.
