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

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

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

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

Routine was the word she used.

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

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

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

But it was not the last I saw of Gabrielle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it had.

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

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

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

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

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

© Charles Heath 2018-2020

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…

---

I had no idea how long I had before Monica or someone else turned up to take charge, so it was time for questions.

To Anna, “Were you having an affair with Severin back at the lab, before you hatched this plan, or was it Severin’s idea?”

“Are we playing truth or dare now?”  She was trying to be detached, but the pain must be excruciating by now.

“We’re playing how to save your life.  You can live or you can die, it’s your choice, but my patience is very thing at the moment.”

“I liked Severin.  At the time I thought he was just a security guard.  And yes, after a few months, he did suggest, in a kidding sort of way, that money could be made by stealing the formulas.  A lot of money.”

To Dobbin, “Either you or someone else had sent Severin and Maury to the lab after a mock discharge from the service and given them glowing resumes to get jobs there.  It was an odd choice given Severin had a rather interesting career, particularly in his handling of women operatives.  Was that you?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“I don’t have to shoot you in various painful places when you test my patience, but I will if I have to.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes.  An inveterate liar who had been leading me down the garden path for far too long.  I will ask once more, was that you.  Don’t make me count to three.”

He glared at me, the sort of glare that mean there was going to be hell to pay eventually.

“No.  I did not.  But I was interested in the fact they were sent to Arche Laboratories.  It wasn’t until the data came up for sale on the dark web did I put two and two together.”

“That’s when you got O’Connell to handle the purchase and delivery of the data?”

“Yes.”

“Why the six-month delay between negotiation and delivery?”

“Anna’s husband in his infinite wisdom must have guessed he was going to be double-crossed and put a security protocol in place.  We made arrangements to keep her safe until the exchange.  At the appropriate time when the six months had lapsed, O’Connell was tasked to go to a specified meeting place, pay the money and collect the USB.”

“In the meantime, you arranged for Severin and Maury to put a surveillance team together.  I assume Severin came clean about what had happened, and you gave him a chance to redeem himself.”

“Yes.”

“At what point did you realize the operation was compromised?  My guess, is when O’Connell was running late, and the bomb went off on time, but before the exchange could take place.  Surely you knew O’Connell couldn’t have the USB.”

“True, so we arranged for an extraction and led him to the alley where you cornered him.  Total unexpected.  As was the sniper, who I believe had tapped into our communications with O’Connell.  I’m not sure why Severin and Maury were there, but once they saw O’Connell get shot they left.  They, for some reason, believed O’Connell had the USB and passed it to you before they got there, hence the visit you had from Severin.  Their usefulness ended at the alley.”

“Who was the sniper working for?”

“No idea.  Another interested party perhaps, that Anna forgot to tell us about.  It would be no surprise to know she had other buyers waiting.”

“I didn’t.  O’Connell was the only one as per our agreement.  You don’t think I was going to screw up a five-million-pound payday.”  Anna sounded indignant.

To Anna, “When did you and O’Connell get together, after the explosion.  Or did you think he set you up?”

“I waited a few days then called him and asked what we should do.  He said he got the impression he’d been set up, that we were both in danger and to individually go into hiding until he could find out who was after us.  He said he couldn’t trust his boss after what had happened, both at the café and then in the alley.  He mentioned that I should find you and insinuate myself into your investigation because he knew you’d find out eventually.  He was right, by the way,:” she said to no one in particular.

Back to Dobbin, “Why did O’Connell suddenly no longer trust you and for all intents and purposes disappear?”

“He didn’t say, but I suspect nearly getting killed may have pushed him in that direction.  I did not sanction that bomb, by the way.”

“What was the purpose of the surveillance team?”

“To find out where the exchange point was because it was always agreed that they should be the only two to preserve their safety.  He was not supposed to find out about the surveillance.  It’s the reason why we were not responsible for the bomb in the café because we didn’t know where the exchange was taking place.”

“If he didn’t know, and then discovered people following him, I’m not surprised he killed most of them.  That’s on you, Dobbin.”

“It was a calculated risk, but the stakes were very high, and the operation was justified.  It also afforded us the opportunity to discover a new and very accomplished agent, namely you.”

“Flattery will not stop me from shooting you if I have to.”

His look of disdain went to utter disdain.

“I’ve answered your questions, now what?”

“Anna will now give me the USBs, the real USBs with the data on them.  I will destroy them, and then we can all go about our business.”

“You…”

“If you say anything other than, Sam, here they are, you will die.  They are in this room, and I will find them, whether you are dead or alive.  Personally, if I were you I’d want to live, but then, you might have a death wish you want fulfilled.  I’ll be happy to count to three if you like?”

She thought about it, but not for too long.  She reached into a pocket and pulled out another plastic bag.

I went over and took it from her. 

Two more USBs.

“I’ll take those, thank you.”  Jennifer.  “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

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

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