The Cinema of My Dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 50

Arrival in Sorrento

…

We didn’t have to wait that long to see what our tail did, he simply sped up and drove off, perhaps satisfied he had been made, and knew we were going to ditch him before we got to our eventual destination.

It would be hard for him to guess where we were going, so that meant that he would arrange for someone to pick us up as we came into the city, or after.

After all, he knew what car I was travelling in, and he knew what we looked like. Which is why we stopped briefly in Naples and changed cars and clothes.

Then, by a quirk of fate, we saw him again, parked on the side of the road, near Pompei, waiting. He had been hidden behind several trucks, but at the last minute on of the trucks moved, and I saw the car.

And there he sat, not assuming we would be smart enough to change cars. What was it Rodby said from time to time? Good help is hard to find.

I had no doubt the moment he reported in, that other arrangements were not already underway. If they were smart, they’d know what my destination was, the home of the Burkehardt’s up in the hills that overlooked the Mediterranean, with billion-dollar views, nestled in among the exclusive and very expensive resorts.

Cecelia had booked on and it was where she had been relaxing in what time she had away from surveillance. She was at the hotel when I called, and we arrived there a half hour later.

I’d already forewarned her about my new shadow.

She met us down in the foyer, gave Francesca her ‘don’t mess with me, or else’ scowl, and then took us up to the room. It was amazing, and I would probably never be able to afford to stay in a room, or place, like it if I had to pay for it myself.

Francesca was suitably impressed. “How much had you got on your expense account. I can barely buy a sandwich with mine.”

“Normally we don’t either, but this is a ‘by all means available’ mission.”

She gave me a blank look, and I didn’t have the time or inclination to explain it to her. We would not be seeing her again after this.

“I trust your charges are behaving themselves selves and remaining anonymous,” I asked her, after sitting down with a bottle of wine and three glasses, and we’d all taken a separate chair each.

“No. You didn’t expect them to stay in the room, despite the fact someone is trying to kill them. I’m not their nursemaid. They want to get killed they can.”

I frowned at her. We were supposed to be keeping them alive. I suppose learning they were fakes didn’t help. Vittoria and Juliet weren’t, or at least I hope they weren’t, but the jury was still out on that.

I was going back to see them after I spoke to the Burkehardt matriarch. Or maybe I would talk to Juliet again. I couldn’t believe that everything I did seemed to involve her, and I was hoping the universe wasn’t trying to tell me something.

“Who are these people again,” Francesca asked.

“Didn’t you tell her?” Cecelia looked at me.

“No. Relevance?”

“None,” she looked at Francesca. “A woman called Vittoria who was a maid at the house I’ve been watching for that last day or so and her daughter Juliet are supposed to be keeping a low profile. It appears Juliet might be another direct descendant of the Count’s. I’m surprised your employers didn’t tell you of her?”

“They mentioned the possibility of another heir. They just didn’t know who or where she was. She’s here, you say?”

“Yes. I hope they’re safe, and, no, we’re not telling you where they are. Not until we know your employers, whom I’m assuming are the Burkehardt’s, are not trying to kill her.”

“I assure you that neither am I, and I work for the investigations company, not the Burkehardt’s. I can only take orders from my boss. He was very clear about that.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to shoot you because you lied.”

I could see she meant what she said. I hoped Francesca did too. She seemed to brush that threat aside.

“What about the countess?”

“That’s the bigger question, where is she? We’d like to know so if you have any ideas, please share. For this dynamic to work, you must be willing to share information. It’s not going to be a one-way street.”

“So, you don’t know where the countess is?”

Cecelia looked at me.

“Inquisitive little bugger, isn’t she? Don’t make it so obvious you want to know. Didn’t your boss tell you; that you must be subtle when approaching people like us, people with more experience, and less of a conscience.

Francesca looked at me.

“Don’t think I won’t stop you if you get in the way. You can stay while it is useful to us, but don’t ask questions you know we’re not going to give you answers for.”

“Then I’ll assume you don’t know where she is, other than most likely in Sorrento, waiting for the meeting.”

“Good assessment.”

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 4

How did I get into this mess in the first place?

I had a few moments for reflection…

…

When I opened my eyes, it was a revelation that I was still alive.

Whether or not I was still on one piece was not exactly the first thought that crossed my mind.

It was, oddly enough, how I got into this situation.

So, two days earlier…

Someone once told me it was not a good idea to ask your commander out to dinner. Not a date, just the fact you’d like to get to know her better.

Yes, my commanding officer was a woman.

I thought the dinner went well, we found some common ground, ice hockey, and baseball, albeit barracking for different teams.

Then, the next day when I went into ‘the office’, the operations officer called me aside.

“Who’d did you piss off?”

Good question, had I, and who? And asked, “You tell me.”

“Apparently the Commanding Officer. She asked me to put you on patrol, where nothing ever happens and it’s as boring as shit.”

Usually, I was in the front line, what they called in the army, cannon fodder. Some said I had a death wish.

I shrugged. “No doubt she has her reasons. I could think of worse assignments.”‘

“Well, till then you’re on standby. Make the most of it.”

Of course, the question I should be asking is why she had put me on patrol, where I was rostered for front line recovery.

When I got back to my quarters, I called her.

Her assistant answered, “The commanding officer is not available at the moment and has advised me that she will remain so for the next forty-eight hours.”

That was the end of the conversation.

How come she had not told me? Probably none of my business, but it was worrying.

…

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 36

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, 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.

Chasing leads, maybe

I’m glad she didn’t ask me about Nobbin, or the fact a woman by the name of Josephine was working for him. That went ditto for Severin, and Jan, who was working for him.

It was a tangled web. Now, apparently, I was working for her.

I had another idea, and went back to the computer room to do another search, this time for the names of those who had been on my training course, and who was also assigned to the surveillance job.

I checked the name Jack Temple, and his file was marked closed, with a stark, red, deceased across the first page.

I checked the name Adam Alwin, and it was the same, deceased.

I checked the name Jennifer Underwood, and it had the label inactive, on medical leave. She had been injured and was recovering. There was no reference to her being in a hospital, or a recovery facility so I presumed she was at home.

It was another address to remember, this time what I assumed was a flat in Putney. It was not something she had mentioned in all the time we have been together. She had spoken of a house in Scotland.

But, then, who really told the truth when we were trained and continually told to lie about everything. In the end I don’t think we quite knew who we were. I knew her as Jennifer, but I doubted that was her real name.

Maybe I’d find out when I went to see her. I needed help and from someone I could trust. It was logical to select her. We had, for at least six months, relying on each other to get through.

I cam out into the daylight and it hurt my eyes. The artificial light, not that it was very bright, had queered my sight briefly. No good, because for a minute at least I was vulnerable to an attack.

Good thing it didn’t happen.

But something else did. A car pulled up on the side of the road, one I instantly recognised as the same Nobbin had used when he collected Josephine.

He wound down the rear kerbside window and said, “Sam. Just the man I want to see. Get in.”

I saw him slide over. I opened the door, got in, and the driver drove off.

He seemed pleased with himself.

“How is the hunt?”

“How do you think it’s going?”

He looked quizzically at me. “Why would I ask if I knew the answer?”

“I think you do. I was at O’Connell’s flat when one of your assistants was there. She discovered the same as I did, nothing.”

“What assistant?” He tried to sound surprised.

“We’re not going to be very good friends if you are going to lie to me. She called herself Josephine. I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve. And, lets be clear about one thing, if nothing else, you want to play games, fine. So will I.”

“What did Monica want?”

“What everyone wants. There appear to be secret documents on the loose. Everyone thinks they’re on a USB, and that O’Connell has hidden them somewhere. They’re not in his flat, and the cat wasn’t talking.”

“Just remember that O’Connell was working for me, and he was getting the documents for me.”

“So you know what these documents are about?”

“No. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t look at them. He couldn’t. They’re encrypted, and he doesn’t have the code.”

Which wouldn’t do much good for me if I tried to see what the fuss was about. Perhaps the best idea would be to destroy the USB so no one had these documents, given the trouble they’d caused so far.

“Anyone check O’Connell’s body properly for the USB? He may have had it hidden in his clothing somewhere.” I knew I didn’t have sufficient time to thoroughly check myself.

“No one knows where the body is.”

“I saw the cleaners arrive to process the scene.”

“Well, if they did, the job never reached the books. According to the cleaners, no one was dispatched to take care of anything at the location.”

Which meant Severin had the body, had checked as I would if I had the time, and it was not on him. Otherwise, he would not have paid me a visit. It was back to Peaslake then, the next step in the investigation.

“Recovery of these documents is time-sensitive Sam. You need to double your effort.”

“A lack of clues is not helping. Nor is everyone working on their own agenda.”

“Then don’t lose focus.”

I saw him motion to the driver to pull over and let me out.

I waved as the car pulled back out into the traffic.

First Dig Two Graves – the editor’s final draft – Day 2

This book has been sitting in the ‘to-be-done’ tray, so this month it is going to get the final revision.

…

Just when you think you’ve got a good start, it all comes crashing down.

Here’s the thing…

I’ve been planning the sequel for quite some time, and from time to time, I’ve been jotting down notes about how the story will go. I thought I had filed them all in the same place, and because I thought I had all of them, I missed a part.

This was confirmed when I found a synopsis, something I rarely make before writing a story, with details of several sections I obviously added when the thought came to me. Perhaps the idea of the synopsis was to consolidate all the ideas, at a time when I thought I was going to sit down and write the story.

Dated a month or so before covid came along, I suspect it all got set aside for the two or so year’s hiatus.

Now, the time has come, and today, I went n a detailed search of three computers, four phones, cloud storage, and the boxes that hold all the handwritten notes.

I have a reference to the section, and several chapters, but no writing. In the back of my mind, I have a feeling I’d written the chapters, but the evidence says otherwise.

Damn!

I’ll move on, and come back to it later. At the moment it doesn’t have relevance.

Oh, and Zoe has now become Mary-Anne. What is John going to think when he finally finds her.

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 editor’s final draft – Day 1

This book has been sitting in the ‘to-be-done’ tray, so this month it is going to get the final revision.

…

At the end of the first book in the series, Alistair, Zoe the assassin’s handler, was killed.

As far as he was concerned, Zoe had reneged on the contract to kill a target, and for that, she had to be punished, just to let the rest of the team know they could not decide arbitrarily who or who they would not kill.

For her sins, Zoe had been captured and was about to be executed when John, the man who wanted to become her boyfriend, turned up on a luckless and unplanned rescue mission.

But as ad-hoc operations go, that one was very successful. Zoe, though badly injured aided John in a do-or-die escape.

Alistair learned to his chagrin, that a badly injured Zoe and untrained well-meaning friend trumped overconfidence.

Of course, Alistair’s death does not go unnoticed, and his mother, a renowned and very capable ex-KGB agent with connections, wanted to avenge his death. Her influence reaches as far as the upper echelons of the State’s intelligence services, and requests from her would never be ignored.

Such a request for information is made, and so starts the next book in the series.

Revenge.

Of course, nothing to do with Zoe or John, or their relationship, runs smoothly, and once again in pursuit of the impossible, makes it his mission in life to win over the assassin-on-sabbatical.

But first, he has to find her., and sort through the lies and treachery of his best friend who is also looking for Zoe, but for entirely different reasons.

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

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

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

The Cinema of My Dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 48

An extra passenger

…

I was literally waiting for her to tell me she hadn’t anything to wear for our little trip, but instead said she would need to take a few things. She added, in the same breath, that she would tell her bosses whatever they needed to hear.

I didn’t think that included that I’d take a shine to her. I don’t think she quite knew what that meant. At any rate, she had to go home, and I had to head to the car, and on the way, call Cecelia.

She wasn’t going to believe half of what I had to tell her.

I gave her the address of the parking garage and told her I would see her there in two hours. I seriously doubted I would see her again.

Back on the train, I called Cecelia. She answered straight away but with a noncommittal “Yes?” Perhaps she was guarding against the phone falling into the wrong hands. Hers and two others were the only numbers on speed dial.

“It’s me.” I didn’t qualify ‘me’ she would know.

“Where are you?”

“Just leaving Rome after seeing the countess’s solicitor.”

“Did you get a voice recording from Rodby?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suitably surprised?”

“That we only get half, or in this case, a quarter of the story. I didn’t see that coming, though I had an inkling that Martha wasn’t Martha, but then I wouldn’t recognise my mother some days.”

“Who’s that woman pretending to be the countess?”

“Anyone’s guess. Did you get them into the hotel?”

“And left them to it. I’ve been at the Sorrento mansion, waiting for the old lady. The two boys are here, Alessandro and Fabio.”

“Given what we know about the fake Countess, you might want to stay away until I get there. I’m not sure where Vittoria and Juliet fit into the puzzle yet, or whether the fake Countess is keeping them nearby for other reasons, but I’m sure the two of them can take care of themselves.”

As for the information the solicitor gave me, I would save that until I saw her.

“Just one other wrinkle, I picked up some surveillance, and now I have one of their team with me. She’ll be coming to Sorrento. I believe she’s working for a PI who’s working for the Burkehardt’s who want to know where the countess is. They would want to know before the sealing of the inheritance, so extra eyes and ears might be useful.”

“She could be trouble.”

“Which I’m sure you’ll deal with like I will. I’ll be there in three to four hours. Have we got another hotel? I don’t fancy staying with the others?”

“Yes. I text you the name. Take care.”

I waited in the café near the parking garage, and three minutes before the two hours were up I saw her getting out of a taxi, and leaning in to talk to someone who had accompanied her.

A husband, or a boss?

The taxi drove off and she looked around, then saw me sitting at the table on the street. Not the safest place to be, but needs must.

I waited until she sat down and called the waiter over to order her coffee.

“Your supervisor in the car?”

“He insisted on coming with me. I told him the truth, rather than what you said, and he wasn’t pleased. However, at that moment, he said, our interests are aligned, so I would be better off staying with you. At least then if you find the countess, so will we.

“Did you bring a gun?”

“What. Wait. Why would I? A gun?”

She didn’t answer the question, so it was likely the boss just gave her one. I wasn’t going to search her handbag right then, but maybe later. It also raised a small red flag in my head, what if she was more than just a ‘pretty face’?

I shrugged. “If you have, remember don’t point it at me. I tend to get a little annoyed at people who do stupid things like that, with very bad consequences. For them. I hope you like 80s rock. if you don’t then you only have to endure it for about three hours.”

She smiled wanly. “I’d rather not be going, but we don’t always get what we want.”