Category: Mystery

First Dig Two Graves – The Final Draft – Day 14

The second Zoe thriller.

…

We’re still in Bratislava with Zoe making a few repairs, having been injured in the getaway from the hotel, where bullets were flying around indiscriminately.

In a nondescript hotel near a railway station, the favourite accommodation for assassins, maybe, there’s enough time for John to get the message Zoe is not happy with him bringing along a hit squad.

And, they’re on the news, that is to say, they know who it is that’s on the news, the blurry figures are too indistinct for anyone else to identify them. It was disconcerting to be called criminals fleeing the scene of a crime.

Back in London, Sebastian is about to have a set to with Worthington, who has decided Sebastian is too close and might compromise his black op, so he’s sending him to Paris.

It’s here we learn that Sebastian has both Isobel and Rupert locked up in the cells in the basement, awaiting interrogation, and Worthington orders him to send them home.

Of course, Sebastian is not going to do anything of the sort.

He knows they know where John is, and by implication, where Zoe is, and wants to know.

In the first edit, I suspect I will have to mention Sebastian ‘arresting’ Rupert and Isobel just to keep continuity, and no unfathomable surprises later on.

…

Today’s writing, with Worthington getting his ducks in a row, 1,445 words, for a total of 41,162.

Motive, means, and opportunity – Episode 4

…

Bryson goes to Bergman’s workplace

…

The address for Avondale Traders Inc, the Bergman company was in 47th Street, Brooklyn, near the old docks, certainly not far from the water.  A quick check on the internet showed that the company was in Imports and Exports though it didn’t specifically say what, or where from or where to.

And when he saw the block, it looked reasonably new and perhaps not the most expensive piece of real estate there.  Bergman’s office was on the third floor, a trip up in the elevator and along a narrow passageway.

The door had a ‘Please Enter’ sign on it, so Bryson did just that.  Inside was a desk, but no one sitting at it.  The office was open plan with several desks and a partitioned area at the end where he suspected Bergman sat.  There was another area, smaller, next to it, with a woman standing in front of the desk, delivering papers.

When the door closed, she turned to see who it was.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, finished putting the papers on the desk, then came back.

“What can I do for you?”

“Detective Bryson, New York Police Department.  I’m here about James Bergman.”

“He’s not in at the moment, in fact, I think he’s away for a few days.  I can check, if you like?”

“I’m not here to see him.  I regret to inform you that he was found deceased this morning, and I am investigating what could be a suspicious death.”

He let that sink in, and noted that it didn’t seem to affect her as it possibly should have.  It was not every day you were told your boss died in suspicious circumstances.

“To be honest,” she said, “I’m not surprised.”

Her response and lack of emotion surprised him.  “How so?”

“The people he dealt with, well, some of them.  Very interesting for want of a better word, people coming and going.  I didn’t ask, and he didn’t enlighten me which was just fine.  If you’ve seen his wife, she would be happy he’s gone.”

“I have.  Is there a reason for the bad feelings?”

“I’m not one to spread rumours, but he had affairs.  Wanted me to arrange his liaison and I refused.  I don’t approve of cheating.  Probably one of the husbands done him in.  They sometimes turned up here looking for him.”

Interesting point, he noted.

“If you’ve got names, it would be helpful.  Is there anyone else who would want to hurt him?”

“A dozen or so business rivals.  Fellow importers he stripped of their suppliers, and/or their customers.  Other than the jilted husbands.  Ruthless, and without scruples.”

She sat down at the desk and started her computer, found a document, and then printed it.  When it finished printing, she gave it to Bryson.

It had at least thirty names on it.  “After the first few turned up at the door spitting blood, I took down their names just in case.”

“Out of curiosity, if he’s so bad, why are you still here?”

“Great pay, great hours, I don’t live far away, and he’s rarely here,”

“Anyone else work here?”

“His business partner, James Anderson.  He’s not here, he’s currently in Manila negotiating a new supplier contract, won’t be back until the end of the week.  I should tell him about the boss.  I’m sure you’ll want to speak to him.”

“If you give me his number, I can talk to him first.”

“OK.  I’m not quite sure how I was going to do it.  Better from you anyway.”  She gave him a post it note with the name and cell number on it.

“What exactly do you import or export here?”

“Anything and everything.  From anywhere except China.  He didn’t like doing business with the Chinese.”

Bryson had been making notes through the interview and checked his list of items to ask.  The cell phone.

“Is Bergman’s cell phone here?”

“Why would it.  He takes it with him.  In fact, I know he has two.  I can check.” 

Bryson nodded and watched her go to his office and search.  Neither were there.  But having two was interesting.  Why?

When she came back, the next item, “Do you know where he was going yesterday?”

He watched her pull up his diary on the computer.  “Nothing.  I’m sure there was an entry there, but he must have erased it, or it was cancelled.  It may have been a meeting with his lawyer over the divorce settlement.  It was getting very acrimonious.  She might have killed him, she came here and threatened him several times.”

Not a surprising action for a woman being cheated on, Bryson thought.

“Does the name Phillip Megarry mean anything to you?”

A change in expression.  “That’s the name he once asked me to book his hotel rooms.  I suspect it’s the name he uses when he meets other woman.  I don’t think he’s used it lately, but then, he doesn’t tell me everything he does these days.  I suppose this means I’m out of a job now.”

“That would be up to his beneficiaries, if he made a will. The lawyer handling his divorce, you know who it is?”

Another post it note and a name and number, and, “The only person who would kill him for his money is his wife.  Other than that, like I said, some angry husband.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 37

Could it be an alien spaceship?

…

“We’re being hailed,” the communications officer said in her matter-of-fact tone.

“Not an alien then?”

The moment I said it, it sounded inappropriate.

“Definitely human, with an accent.”

I was not sure what I was expected to make of that.

“On screen.”

A bridge, not dissimilar to ours appeared, with the captain, or the person I assumed to be captain, standing in front of his chair.

“Whom am I addressing?” He asked.

I gave him my name, the ship, who we were, standard name, rank, and serial number stuff as per regulations.

“Where is the previous Captain?”

He seemed to have information about us, if not recent.

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

OK, I didn’t think he was coming just to make small talk.

“Ship slowing, no signs of weapons charging,” I saw pop up on the screen.  In situations like this, best not to communicate when there’s an open communication session.

Then, a new notice, “second ship following the first, moving at the same spot, arrival time 18 minutes.”

I looked at the inset on the master screen, and even at that distance and low-quality magnification, it definitely didn’t look like anything in our fleet.

It begged the question, were they running away?

“Are you alone?”

“No.  But it’s not one of our ships.”

Not very helpful.

“I suggest you turn around and go back,” he added.

I saw him turn, as if someone beside him had spoken, or gestured.

“Sorry.  We have to go.  Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

“Who are they?”

“People you don’t want to meet.”

The screen went back to being a window, and the vessel we’d just been in communication with came clearly into view, then vanished.

It was larger than our ship, but more streamlined, my first thought, like a sleek racing car.

“It seems we’re about to have our first encounter.  Number one, stay on the highest alert, the rest of the crew, battle stations, quick as you can.”

To the navigator, “Did we get anything on that ship, scans, personnel, weapons, engines, anything?”

“A little.  We can go through it later.  If we’re still in one piece.”

If the oncoming ship was alien, it was an unknown quantity, and the navigator could be forgiven for thinking we might not be able to defend ourselves.  Questions we should have asked the other ship were plentiful, and the surprise it caused caught us all offside when I should have been the exception.

There would be time later to analyze everything we did wrong, what I did wrong

Hopefully.

The alien ship was no longer a blurry blob in the distance, but an oddly shaped ship that bore similarities to our own.

I could only guess at the lifeforms aboard if there were any.  It was a moment of thrill, fear, and intense expectation.

Those last few minutes of waiting disappeared as though they were seconds, and suddenly it was opposite us, in space, on station maintaining its distance.  I had us brought to a stop after the other ship left, but in a state of instant readiness to depart just in case we were fired upon.

I was banking on the fact the aliens might be as curious about us as we were about them.

“Can we communicate with that vessel,” I asked, turning the senior communications officer, now on the bridge at the comms station.

“You can speak to them; we have all means of external communication open.”

He didn’t add that they might not understand what I said.

I shrugged.  “We are from the planet Earth on a voyage of exploration and discovery with no other agenda other than to meet and talk to other civilizations.”

It sounded quite strange listening to a somewhat stumbling and unrehearsed greeting that was to be our first words to an alien species.  I hoped that our credibility didn’t rest of those words.”

Silence.

“Any detectable activity aboard their ship?”

“Our scanners can’t penetrate their hull.  Nothing noteworthy outside the hull, but, then, if we don’t know what we’re looking for…”

“We know where you are from and who you are.”

It was a crackling rendition, the sort of sounds I’d expect from a vintage radio broadcast.”

I looked at the comms officer.

“An ancient radio frequency once associated with AM radio, sir, 812 megahertz.”

Did that mean we were more advanced than them?  I didn’t think so.

“Who am I addressing?”

This time the silence was broken by crackling, and what sounded like a tape recorder fast-forwarding.  This went on for about five minutes.

Then, much stronger, and clearer, “Who I am is irrelevant.  If you have similar intentions as the vessel before you, I strongly suggest you turn around and go back to your own galaxy.”

“They’ve moved to FM sir, not sure why they’re using such old technology”, the comms officer said quietly.

Two things popped into my head; from that proverbial left field, I once heard a language professor once pontificate on. The first, was from a scientist at the space training facility on what an alien race mighttry to communicate with us on, and that in his opinion would be the band waves we had been sending out into space for years. AM and FM in that context made perfect sense.

The second: how did an alien speak such good English?

“We have not, though I suspect that will not allay your fears.  All humans, which is what we call ourselves, are not the same.”

“Yet your ship carries weapons.”

“For defense.  If we are attacked, we will respond.  I would expect no less from you.”

There was a minute or so of silence, time I was guessing for my counterpart to formulate his next move.

It came sooner than I expected.

A humanoid form appeared, not exactly like us, but much the same as the early humanoid robots we created at the start of our foray into robotics and for that matter AI.

“We have had much interaction with your kind, one way or another, and it has always ended badly.  If you have no ill intentions towards up, will you accompany me back to my ship?  I assure you, and your crew I have no ill intentions.”

It would be a huge leap of faith.

 Number one, you have the ship.  I’m going to take a short trip to the other vessel.”

“You should take a crew member, as per protocol.”

Yes, the instruction. If we were to were to meet an alien, it was not to go with them without one or more crew members.

“Unfortunately, he’s a stickler for regulations.  I must go with another crew member, just in case.”

I didn’t add the ‘harm cones to me, and retribution will be meted out.’  I didn’t think at this delicate stage that would fly.

“No weapons then.”

“No weapons.  Nancy Woolmer to the bridge immediately.”

She arrived within five minutes, and the moment she was in proximity, we were, I assumed, beamed aboard his ship.

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

Where is that glamorous life of an Author?

I’m currently sitting in my car waiting to pick the grandchildren up from school wondering where that dream of the glamorous life of an author went.

Can it be said that any author leads a glamorous life, except for maybe J K Rowling, James Patterson, and a handful of others?

That dream is of course only a dream.  I did not start this writing caper to become rich and famous or live a glamorous life.  I started It, and it continues in the same vein, that I have a lot of stories in my head that I want to get on paper.

If anyone else wants to read them, then that’s a bonus.  If I happen to make enough money, rather than live high on the hog, an expression my father often used to describe the rich, I would happily invest in programs that get young people reading more.

It also strikes me that it would be difficult to write a literary novel in the vein of Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters, to name a few because modern-day life has no real meaning like it did then.

Instant news, instant communications, and the rest of the country, as well as the world, do close, we can go anywhere, and communicate instantly.  In the days of classic literature, the protagonist’s exchange of letters, and the arduous traveling to another part of the same country would be enough to generate a chapter, or the visit itself could generate several.

But those tales of life were always about people of means, not the ordinary people.  Stories that have the minutiae of daily life do not appeal.  No one wants to read about their lives, they want to be transported to another world where there is no such inanity like cooking, cleaning, washing, and picking up children.

I’m using this time to write another episode or chapter, or, in this case, a blog post.

As any parent will tell you, it is the calm before the storm.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 77

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

Boggs is not a happy man

…

I could feel the waves of hate emanating from Boggs as he was staring at Nadia, who was doing her best to ignore him.

The previous evening when I made the suggestion to her that we should do whatever we could to aid in his search, on the Cossatino’s beach head without involving the Cossatinos, and in an attempt to have a backup plan if they caught up with us, met the same stony silence as it had when I told Boggs.

Her response was a stony, ‘don’t expect me to go up against my father and Vince, I’m not that brave.”

All Cossatino’s were tarred with the same brush, he said, just short of telling me he was convinced she was working with them, trying to find out what he knew via me.  He didn’t believe me when I told him she had done anything but interrogate me.

I wanted to believe she was not on their side, but just in case he might be right, my idea was to keep the enemy, if she was playing me, close.  Certainly, if the family turned up to thwart us, then I’d be convinced she was against us.

But, at least we’d then know, and it would make little difference in the end.  What Boggs was planning, with or without me, was basically suicide.

And she had voiced exactly the arguments that I’d already expected, although stopping short of saying she would not be part of it.

What had surprised me, Boggs had actually come, knowing Nadia would be there.

I let the silence reign for a minute or so, then dived in.

“Right.”

Both heads turned towards me, and I could feel the temperature rise about 10 degrees.

“I had imagined this would go so much better when I planned it in my head, but I can see quite plainly there are trust issues on either side.  The point is, Boggs, you can’t do this on your own.  You tried once and failed.  You might get lucky a second time, but I suspect the Cossatinos know now what you’re trying to do, and will be waiting.”

“They tried to kill me,” he muttered.

That might be putting it a bit strongly, because he had said as much to the sheriff, and the Cossatino’s denied it, as expected, but the evidence was quite clear, Boggs’s rope had been severed with a knife, located when the sheriff had visited the site and found the rope still attached to the top of the cliff.

The Cossatinos had been sloppy in covering their tracks, and the excuse they had been rock climbing hadn’t been taken seriously since no equipment had been found at the house, and none of them could provide any details of doing so elsewhere.

Evidence or not, no charges had been laid yet, nor had the Cossatinos proceeded with a trespass charge, perhaps fearing a more detailed investigation might be too intrusive or prove Boggs’s case.  In turn,  Boggs had been forced to agree not to go back, but simple words on the paper he signed, meant nothing.

“Deter you, I’d say,” Nadia said, “because killing you would bring unwanted attention to their activities.” 

Nadia was probably right because Boggs’s quest was too well known, as was the theory that the treasure was still on The Grove.  Already, the story was on the front page of the local paper, and Lenny was trying to get interviews.

And it was attracting attention from other media.  If anything, the Cossatinos would want to hose it down, not throw fuel on the fire.

“Well, you’re not dead,” I said, “fortuitously we found you, and now if you are going to persist with this quest, there has to be a plan, and Nadia has to be part of it.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“OK.  Then I’ll start my own quest, with Nadia’s help, and we’ll see who gets to the treasure first.  I told you I believe I know where it is, and I think you believe you know too.  Your problem will be getting back there, whereas, I have no such problem.  So,” I pointed to the door, “you can leave any time, but don’t call me again.  We’re done.”

I glared back at him, and while not exactly squirming in his seat, he appeared to be mulling over the ultimatum.  I hadn’t planned to give him one, but he was pushing all the wrong buttons.

It also elicited an interesting look from Nadia, because it was the first time she was hearing that I knew where the treasure was.  It was a calculated risk telling her, but I’d know soon enough whose side she was on.

“If you sign a document forfeiting any rights over the treasure you have a deal.  Both of you.”

So, it came down to the money, pure and simple.  I thought I’d made it clear long ago that I wasn’t interested in anything to do with the treasure because it was cursed.  “No problem.”

I looked at Nadia.

“God no, I want nothing to do with it.  I’ve seen what the obsession with wealth can do to people, and families, and it’s why I left.  I’m happy to sign anything you want.”

He pulled what looked to be sheets of folded paper from his pocket, unfolded them, and gave one to each of us.

“Call me when they’re notarized.”  With a final glare, he left.

That left Nadia looking at me with a curious expression.  “You know where the treasure is?”

“Maybe.  I just wanted to put the wind up him because I think he does.  There are clues that Boggs doesn’t know about, and I haven’t told him about.  I believe according to some of the information I’ve found, that he was in the right place when we found him.”

“I didn’t see any caves or tunnels, or any sort of hiding place, just rocks.”

“There are a few factors involved that make that area a likely spot and the reasons that spot was chosen.  One is that there doesn’t seem to be apparent access by land, other than the way we came, across the rocks, but at the time the pirates might not have had the time or the know-how to get there by anything other than the sea.”

“So, you’re saying they came by sea.  How did they get past the reefs?  And how the hell could they see a cave or tunnel in that rockface?”

“It’s been a couple of hundred years, and I think back then that shoreline would have been a lot different.  I’m not a geologist but that cliff face shows signs of rockfalls and slippage, so it’s possible it’s now concealed.  From what I’ve read, just in the newspaper archives alone, there’s been seismic activity occurring for the last seventy-odd years and maybe even during the last few centuries, just look at the fact there used to be a lake further inland.  Then, I suspect they came ashore by an abnormally high tide.  For an experienced seafarer, it has the pluses, and precise navigation through the reef, and it’s the hardest to get to spot on the Grove’s coastline.  An ideal spot that is to everyone other than a master mariner, an unlikely place to get to.

She looked like she was weighing up the pros and cons of what I’d told her.

“I’m surprised you’re telling me this.”

“The chances of the treasure still being there or that I’m right about the location is quite remote, so it doesn’t really matter.  Anyway, up to now, you haven’t given me a reason not to trust you, so if there’s anything you want to tell me, now would be the time.”

So, she had considered how it might look to me, the family name and reputation she had inherited.

“I’ve told you what my situation is.  To be honest, I don’t think there’s any treasure to be found either.  I once heard a discussion between family members, when I was very young and didn’t understand what they were talking about, involving putting a story out there that there was a treasure, and if they sold it well enough, people would pay plenty for maps.  In my opinion, the treasure story is a Cossatino special money-making scheme built off Ormiston’s and layer, Boggs’s obsession.  The myth has been perpetuated by articles in papers, and new maps surfacing from time to time.  I’d be surprised if you did find anything, but for Boggs’s sake, it’s better he learn the truth than hang on to false hope.”

“So you know it’s all a hoax?”

“On the face of it, you would think so, but Vince, not the sharpest of people, bought into it, especially when Boggs’s father came on board to draw the maps.  He was a cartographer you know, and worked for the county authorities in mapping the area.  I’m guessing that’s how he got started on this treasure thing.  That was another story my father liked to tell us, how Boggs had found a cave that was a pirates lair, only to see it destroyed not long after in one of the recent earthquakes.  That discovery turned him into a true believer and was happy to help the Cossatino’s so he could muddy the water while he searched for it.  There have always been rumors of treasure along this coastline.  It might be possible there was treasure somewhere, but don’t you think it’d be found by now?”

“Logic dictates that it would be, but anything’s possible.  Why did you take me on that coin-seeking exercise?”

“The truth Sam?  I heard Vince talking about Boggs snooping around, and I was hoping we’d find nothing.  Vince can be an ass most of the time, and I want to believe he wouldn’t do anything to seriously hurt Boggs, just put the wind up him.  Thankfully nothing happened, and it’s the best I could do in the circumstances.  I’m sorry.”

Was she by definition somewhere between a rock and a hard place?

“This time we were lucky.  Next time it might be a very different story.  I’ll understand if you want to quit now, because you may have to pick a side.”

“Let’s hope then it doesn’t come to that.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s 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 was 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 got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I 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 the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and 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 I, 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 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 Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s 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 realized 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 realized 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 decide 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 study 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 realized 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; it was possible she was now 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 that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized 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 wanting 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 I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough 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, instead of telling 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, 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, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, 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 Blaine’s 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, 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.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

First Dig Two Graves – The Final Draft – Day 14

The second Zoe thriller.

…

We’re still in Bratislava with Zoe making a few repairs, having been injured in the getaway from the hotel, where bullets were flying around indiscriminately.

In a nondescript hotel near a railway station, the favourite accommodation for assassins, maybe, there’s enough time for John to get the message Zoe is not happy with him bringing along a hit squad.

And, they’re on the news, that is to say, they know who it is that’s on the news, the blurry figures are too indistinct for anyone else to identify them. It was disconcerting to be called criminals fleeing the scene of a crime.

Back in London, Sebastian is about to have a set to with Worthington, who has decided Sebastian is too close and might compromise his black op, so he’s sending him to Paris.

It’s here we learn that Sebastian has both Isobel and Rupert locked up in the cells in the basement, awaiting interrogation, and Worthington orders him to send them home.

Of course, Sebastian is not going to do anything of the sort.

He knows they know where John is, and by implication, where Zoe is, and wants to know.

In the first edit, I suspect I will have to mention Sebastian ‘arresting’ Rupert and Isobel just to keep continuity, and no unfathomable surprises later on.

…

Today’s writing, with Worthington getting his ducks in a row, 1,445 words, for a total of 41,162.

In a word: needle

…

In the current times, the word needle is very polarising.

Will you have the vaccine, or not.  Is one of the reasons simply because you hate needles?

I know I do and have a fear factor of 100%.  Fortunately, I got very sick a few years ago and spent 10 days in the hospital, and was forced to have multiple needles every day.

Now it’s not so hard

But, I digress.

A needle is one of those things used in the medical profession mainly to deliver vaccines and medicine.  It is a very small cylinder.

A needle can be used to sew up a garment or make repairs.  This is a smallish piece of metal with an eyelet.

A needle can also be used to stitch up wounds, though it’s best you have a local anesthetic first.

Another way of using needles is to describe tiny icicles which hurt when they hit your face or your eyes.  It is called a needle effect.

Then, another use of the word, is to needle someone, that is to say, bombard them with questions, or annoy them.

It’s a pointer on a dial, like that of a fuel gauge, which for me, always seems to hover just above empty.  It can also be on a compass, where heading north is not always clear especially where magnets are nearby.

A fir tree’s leaves are more like needles.

You need one to play a record on a gramophone, not that they exist anymore.

Paradoxically it can also be used to describe a pointy rock or an obelisk-like “Cleopatra’s Needle”

It is also an etching tool.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 66

This story is now on the list to be finished so over the new few weeks, expect a new episode every few days.

The reason why new episodes have been sporadic, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Things are about to get complicated…

Behind me, I could see Dobbin moving towards the door.

“You really don’t want to do this,” I said.

“He offered me a better deal.”

“I give you these, you will probably have about an hour, two at the most before he kills you.”

She shrugged.   She was a deadly shot, so it was not an option to talk her out of it.  I threw the plastic bag to her.

“This way, at least, you live.  You’re good, but too trusting.”

Dobbin opened the door.  “Enough chit-chat; let’s go before someone else turns up.  Walk away Jackson, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

I watched them leave, then turned to Anna.  “This should please you immensely.”

“You mean you couldn’t see it coming?  Hell, with all that analysis it wasn’t hard to work out Dobbin was the one orchestrating everything.”

I pulled out my phone and dialled Joanne’s number.  When she answered I said, “They just left.”

“With the data?”

“With what they think is the data.”

“You have it?”

“No.  O’Connell had it, and someone got to him.  He’s dead next door, by the way, and we have two medical cases, one relatively serious, both requiring an ambulance sooner rather than later.”

“On it.  And thanks.”

I went over to Anna and sat beside her.

Jan was glaring at us.  “You said no one would get shot.”

We watched her slide over and join us against the wall.

“I said Jennifer was an unknown quantity.  I didn’t think she’d take me so literally, but on the other hand, the signs were there.  In training, she shot at three of the recruits.”

“Well, she didn’t recognise me, which, I guess, is something.”

“Who are you again?” Jan asked her.

“Yolanda.  I was at the training camp with Sam.  Severin made a pass at me, I kicked him in the you know what’s, and he kicked me out.  I never gave back the comms unit, and I used to listen in to the exercises and discovered they’d finally been activated, so I went to have a look.  Things got very scary when the target started taking out the surveillance team.  They were out of their depth.  Then I caught up with Sam, called him, and asked him what was going on.  He said the target was going to the café and for me to go around the back, no time for hello’s.  A minute or so later I see a guy toss something into the back of the café and take off.  Then it goes up and all hell broke loose.  Naturally, I got the hell out of there, and called him later, asked if he needed some off-book help, and here I am.”

“Could have been the death of you.”

“Nah.  Sam and I were the best two of that bunch, and then maybe Jennifer.  Damn that bitch to hell now.  Hope they give us five minutes with her.”

“So,” I could see Jan was still wrestling with details.  “Anna died in that explosion?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know who Anna was?”

“Not at first, but when I saw a photo of her, and the similarities I shared with her, Sam suggested I take her place, and we took it from there.  Sam told me where I could find O’Connell and it wasn’t hard to reconnect, it was six months and he didn’t notice the changes in Anna, which, to me, is a sign of bad tradecraft.  He still had the money, I pretended to still have the USB but not with me but back at the flat.  He tested the USB and found the right level of encryption, then gave me the five million pounds, and we parted.  Now he’s dead.  When Sam arrived, I thought it was going to be me next.”

“How did you know what sort of encryption was on the USB?”

Good question.  Jan was thinking outside the box, which is what any agent should be doing.

“We spend a few weeks off and on in training, studying encryption techniques, but concentrated on one, for reasons we were never told.  I realized that it was related to the eventual mission.  It wasn’t hard to emulate.  I made up about a dozen USBs just in case.”

“Just out of curiosity, what’s on those USB’s?”

“A PDF copy of War and Peace.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2023