A long short story that can’t be tamed – I never wanted to be an eyewitness – 7

Seven

Watching the body language of both husband and wife, it was hard to tell who was in charge, but if I had to make a guess, Angelina was in front by a nose.

Who had the most clout in that room, that was Angelina, via her father, Benito?  He might have retired and passed the reins onto his eldest son, but in terms of respect, he had it from all the crime families and syndicates, and was, for all intents and purposes, still a force to be reckoned with.

That was even after he and his eldest son, the heir apparent, decided to go straight.  It was a surprising turn of events for a crime family that had been notorious in its heyday.  Now the family were more involved in banks, shopping malls, casinos, and bearer bonds.

As for their illegal activities, those were shared out among the other three major crime syndicates equally so as to avoid a turf war. It also led to the marriage of convenience between Fabio Latanzio and Benito’s eldest daughter Angelina, mutually profitable for both sides.

At that time, Fabio had just been promoted to understudy his father, the heir apparent for that syndicate.  Fabio was ambitious but respectful, until his father was killed in a suspected hit, which led to a few months of tit for tat killings until Benito brokered an uneasy peace.

That meant Fabio became head of the family, and instead of sitting back and letting others do the work for him, he chose to be hands on.  And three suspicious murders later this he had privately said was to avenge the death of his father, here he was, on the brink of a long jail sentence. 

And the fact that he had allowed himself to be broken free of custody was a tell take sign that he knew he was both guilty of the crime, and that he was looking at a long sentence in jail.

Then there was the other undeniable fact, he had sent in a team to kill me.  If he was innocent, why would he bother?

Amy had been watching the family reunion with interest. She too, saw the signs of a rift which she could use against him.

She sat down when they went onto silence each on a separate side of the room, the air between them could be cut with a knife.  Benito, no doubt would be very angry at the turn of events, and of Fabio’s behaviour.  It was common knowledge that Benito thought him too big for his boots.

“Happy families, eh,” I said.

“That’s the trouble with absolute power, you tend to think after a while that you are untouchable.  He’s about to find just how wrong he is.  And, if we’re lucky we might yet get to find out who his high-level police contact is.”

That of course was something else I learned very quickly that a few, a very few cops were corrupt, and one in particular, the one that ratted me out.

It was a bit of a shock to discover that your safety really couldn’t be guaranteed, particularly when a high-profile criminal was involved, like Latanzio.

It was a can of worms she really didn’t want to open, but those who had helped Fabio stay free as long as he had, it was her intention to find out who it was and make sure they were punished.

It was determination I had seen only intensify since the attacking the hotel, and an escape after seeing several colleagues either killed or injured.

To me, sitting there watching the man who had ordered a hit on me and very nearly succeeded, and being able to observe the whole operation around his capture was, to say the least, fascinating.

It would be interesting to see how Latanzio reacted.

The least expected reaction was a steady pounding on the door, accompanied by yelling, Latanzio wanted to speak to the person in charge.

We watched him for a few minutes, and it looked like Amy wanted him angry, very angry, before she had him taken to an interview room.

She was expecting trouble, because he was not cuffed now, with two men collecting him, and two in the shadows with instructions to shoot a tranquilizer dart into him if he misbehaved.

The passageway was also set up so we could watch him, and there was definite proof he was seriously considering tackling the escort and making a break for it.  Amy could see the signs, but watching his escort, there were very aware of what he might do.

But in the end, he didn’t try to escape.

Not yet.

He was sent into the room, one guard outside, the other inside the door.  He kept what looked like a truncheon visible so the Latanzio would think twice about considering his odds against one rather than two.

For me, I might get past the first but not the second.  Any sensible person could see the odds stacked against them.

Amy stood up.  “Time to have a first pass at him.  Wish me luck.”

She didn’t need luck.  So far her plan was working.

Two minutes, perhaps three, passed before I saw her enter the room.  Latanzio has stopped pacing and had finally sat.  I could see him evaluation the possibility of using her as leverage to escape.

Whatever happened, the guards were instructed to kill him, irrespective of hostages.  It was a hard call, but everyone in the team chose to be there.

She sat but did not speak.  It was up to him to make the first move.

It didn’t take long.

“Just what exactly is going on here?  Who organised this?”

She took a moment to look him up and down, the sort of look that could make another, more ordinary person, squirm.  Latanzio was unmoved.

“The who, as I said before, is irrelevant.  The what is because we are putting the rest of your journey together, and it’s taking some time.  With one person it’s easy, with four it is more difficult.”

“Then forget about the family.  They’re safe.  No one will dare touch them.  I should be your most pressing case.”

Interesting that, if politely put, the rat thinks only of himself.

“You should realise that your wife and children will suffer the consequences of your actions if you leave them behind, so according to my instructions, you all go, or no one goes.”

“What does that mean?”

I thought it was obvious, but I was beginning to think Latanzio was not as clever as I thought he was.

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Is Benito behind this?  This smells like something he would do. More about saving his daughter than worrying about me.  He needs me.”

From what Amy’s sources had learned in the last few hours, the opposite was true.  Benito had put a contract out on him.  It hadn’t helped Fabio’s cause that she had leaked the fact Fabio was cheating on his daughter.

“Not since he was told about Gabrielle.  It is why we had to bring her in, too.  So, Benito is not your benefactor, he had, in fact, put a contract out on your head.  You should be thankful we got you out of jail, or you’d be dead by now.”

I could see his mind working, taking in what she had just told him and processing it.

Amy decided to add another variable.  “You have to decide who you want to go with you, Angelina or Gabrielle.  It can’t be both.”

There were a few seconds delay like a conversation being conducted from the earth to the moon

The he said, ” What will happen to those left behind?”

“I’m sure you know exactly what will happen.  The problem is, if you hadn’t shot that fool in the street in front of a witness, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“That witness is dead.  There is no witness.”

She shook her head.  ” No, Mr Latanzio, he is not dead.  You had to take on a very resourceful man, not your average Joe, nor by a long shot.  Special forces, or marines, or something I’m told, and he hasn’t taken it very well that you sent in a team to kill him.  It’s another mess were going to have to clean up.  All in all, you were given a simple job to do, and instead, let your ego and stupidity get us to this point.  You should realise my first instruction was to get you out and then put a bullet in your head.  I might still do it.  My people have been instructed to shoot you if you try anything.  That also means if you die, so does Angelina, Gabrielle, and your children.  My instructions are very clear.”

She stood, signalling the interview was at an end.

“You now have to make a decision.  Who would you like to see now?”

“Gabrielle.”

Angelina was going to be very impressed with her husband when Amy told her.

©  Charles Heath 2024

Writing about writing a book – Day 12

Today, I’ve decided on doing a little research, and this means giving the internet and Google a good workout.

I need some information about the Vietnam War.

So, as a start, I type in the words ‘Vietnam War’ into Google.

This returns: About 699,000,000 results (0.83 seconds)

Wikipedia says “The Vietnam War, also known as the Second Indochina War, and in Vietnam as the Resistance War Against America or simply the American War, was a conflict that occurred in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia from 1 November 1955 to the fall of Saigon on 30 April 1975”

OK, so this gives me the broadest outline.  What I need is details, so it’s a matter of where to start.  This means to start with, when did troops get sent from both Australia and the United States for service.  It seems the US sent troops from 1964 to 1969, and Australia between August 1965 and March 1966.  This gives me a starting point, because our main character is Australian, and somehow gets seconded to the Americans.

January 1972, the war ends.

Now we need to know

  •  where the bases were
  • where the battle zones were
  • methods of transportation
  • what happened to prisoners of war
  • rest and recreation points
  • CIA involvement (which will no doubt be impossible to find evidence)
  • what happened to soldiers injured in battle

It’s a list that will get longer and may require a reading list, and first-hand accounts.

It looks like it’s going to be a long day.

“Sunday in New York”, a romantic adventure that’s not a walk in the park!

“Sunday in New York” is ultimately a story about trust, and what happens when a marriage is stretched to its limits.

When Harry Steele attends a lunch with his manager, Barclay, to discuss a promotion that any junior executive would accept in a heartbeat, it is the fact his wife, Alison, who previously professed her reservations about Barclay, also agreed to attend, that casts a small element of doubt in his mind.

From that moment, his life, in the company, in deciding what to do, his marriage, his very life, spirals out of control.

There is no one big factor that can prove Harry’s worst fears, that his marriage is over, just a number of small, interconnecting events, when piled on top of each other, points to a cataclysmic end to everything he had believed in.

Trust is lost firstly in his best friend and mentor, Andy, who only hints of impending disaster, Sasha, a woman whom he saved, and who appears to have motives of her own, and then in his wife, Alison, as he discovered piece by piece damning evidence she is about to leave him for another man.

Can we trust what we see with our eyes or trust what we hear?

Haven’t we all jumped to conclusions at least once in our lives?

Can Alison, a woman whose self-belief and confidence is about to be put to the ultimate test, find a way of proving their relationship is as strong as it has ever been?

As they say in the classics, read on!

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-SundayInNewYork

“Echoes From The Past”, the past doesn’t necessarily stay there


What happens when your past finally catches up with you?

Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.

Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment Will’s life slowly starts to unravel and it’s obvious to him it’s time to move on.

This time, however, there is more at stake.

Will has broken his number one rule, don’t get involved.

With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.

But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved there is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.

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newechocover5rs

Writing about writing a book – Day 12

Today, I’ve decided on doing a little research, and this means giving the internet and Google a good workout.

I need some information about the Vietnam War.

So, as a start, I type in the words ‘Vietnam War’ into Google.

This returns: About 699,000,000 results (0.83 seconds)

Wikipedia says “The Vietnam War, also known as the Second Indochina War, and in Vietnam as the Resistance War Against America or simply the American War, was a conflict that occurred in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia from 1 November 1955 to the fall of Saigon on 30 April 1975”

OK, so this gives me the broadest outline.  What I need is details, so it’s a matter of where to start.  This means to start with, when did troops get sent from both Australia and the United States for service.  It seems the US sent troops from 1964 to 1969, and Australia between August 1965 and March 1966.  This gives me a starting point, because our main character is Australian, and somehow gets seconded to the Americans.

January 1972, the war ends.

Now we need to know

  •  where the bases were
  • where the battle zones were
  • methods of transportation
  • what happened to prisoners of war
  • rest and recreation points
  • CIA involvement (which will no doubt be impossible to find evidence)
  • what happened to soldiers injured in battle

It’s a list that will get longer and may require a reading list, and first-hand accounts.

It looks like it’s going to be a long day.

An excerpt from “What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

See the excerpt from the story below, just a taste of what’s in store…

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whatsetscover

McCallister was old school, a man who would most likely fit in perfectly campaigning on the battlefields of Europe during the Second World War. He’d been like a fish out of water in the army, post-Falklands, and while he retired a hero, he still felt he’d more to give.

He’d applied and was accepted as head of a SWAT team, and, watching him now as he and his men disembarked from the truck in almost military precision, a look passed between Annette, the police liaison officer, and I that said she’d seen it all before. I know I had.

There was a one in four chance his team would be selected for this operation, and she had been hoping it would be one of the other three. While waiting for them to arrive she filled me in on the various teams. His was the least co-operative, and the more likely to make ad-hoc decisions rather than adhere to the plan, or any orders that may come from the officer in charge.

This, she said quite bluntly, was going to end badly.

I still had no idea why Prendergast instructed me to attend the scene of what looked to be a normal domestic operation, but as the nominated expert in the field in these types of situations, it was fairly clear he wasn’t taking any chances. It was always a matter of opinion between us, and generally I lost.

In this case, it was an anonymous report identifying what the authorities believed were explosives in one of the dockside sheds where explosives were not supposed to be.

The only reason why the report was given any credence was the man, while not identifying himself by name, said he’d been an explosive expert once and recognized the boxes. That could mean anything, but the Chief Constable was a cautious man.

With his men settled and preparing their weapons, McCallister came over to the command post, not much more than the SUV my liaison and I arrived in, with weapons, bulletproof vests, and rolls of tape to cordon off the area afterward. We both had coffee, steaming in the cold early morning air. Dawn was slowly approaching and although rain had been forecast it had yet to arrive.

A man by the name of Benson was in charge. He too had groaned when he saw McCallister.

“A fine morning for it.” McCallister was the only enthusiastic one here.

He didn’t say what ‘it’ was, but I thought it might eventually be mayhem.

“Let’s hope the rain stays away. It’s going to be difficult enough without it,” Benson said, rubbing his hands together. We had been waiting for the SWAT team to arrive, and another team to take up their position under the wharf, and who was in the final stages of securing their position.

While we were waiting we drew up the plan. I’d go in first to check on what we were dealing with, and what type of explosives. The SWAT team, in the meantime, were to ensure all the exits to the shed were covered. When I gave the signal, they were to enter and secure the building. We were not expecting anyone inside or out, and no movement had been detected in the last hour since our arrival and deployment.

“What’s the current situation?”

“I’ve got eyes on the building, and a team coming in from the waterside, underneath. Its slow progress, but they’re nearly there. Once they’re in place, we’re sending McKenzie in.”

He looked in my direction.

“With due respect sir, shouldn’t it be one of us?” McCallister glared at me with the contempt that only a decorated military officer could.

“No. I have orders from above, much higher than I care to argue with, so, McCallister, no gung-ho heroics for the moment. Just be ready to move on my command, and make sure you have three teams at the exit points, ready to secure the building.”

McCallister opened his mouth, no doubt to question those orders, but instead closed it again. “Yes sir,” he muttered and turned away heading back to his men.

“You’re not going to have much time before he storms the battlements,” Benson quietly said to me, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “I’m dreading the paperwork.”

It was exactly what my liaison officer said when she saw McCallister arriving.

The water team sent their ‘in position’ signal, and we were ready to go.

In the hour or so we’d been on site nothing had stirred, no arrivals, no departures, and no sign anyone was inside, but that didn’t mean we were alone. Nor did it mean I was going to walk in and see immediately what was going on. If it was a cache of explosives then it was possible the building was booby-trapped in any number of ways, there could be sentries or guards, and they had eyes on us, or it might be a false alarm.

I was hoping for the latter.

I put on the bulletproof vest, thinking it was a poor substitute for full battle armor against an exploding bomb, but we were still treating this as a ‘suspected’ case. I noticed my liaison officer was pulling on her bulletproof vest too.

“You don’t have to go. This is my party, not yours,” I said.

“The Chief Constable told me to stick to you like glue, sir.”

I looked at Benson. “Talk some sense into her please, this is not a kindergarten outing.”

He shrugged. Seeing McCallister had taken all the fight out of him. “Orders are orders. If that’s what the Chief Constable requested …”

Madness. I glared at her, and she gave me a wan smile. “Stay behind me then, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Believe me, I won’t be.” She pulled out and checked her weapon, chambering the first round. It made a reassuring sound.

Suited up, weapons readied, a last sip of the coffee in a stomach that was already churning from nerves and tension, I looked at the target, one hundred yards distant and thought it was going to be the longest hundred yards I’d ever traversed. At least for this week.

A swirling mist rolled in and caused a slight change in plans.

Because the front of the buildings was constantly illuminated by large overhead arc lamps, my intention had been to approach the building from the rear where there was less light and more cover. Despite the lack of movement, if there were explosives in that building, there’d be ‘enemy’ surveillance somewhere, and, after making that assumption, I believed it was going to be easier and less noticeable to use the darkness as a cover.

It was a result of the consultation, and studying the plans of the warehouse, plans that showed three entrances, the main front hangar type doors, a side entrance for truck entry and exit and a small door in the rear, at the end of an internal passage leading to several offices. I also assumed it was the exit used when smokers needed a break. Our entry would be by the rear door or failing that, the side entrance where a door was built into the larger sliding doors. In both cases, the locks would not present a problem.

The change in the weather made the approach shorter, and given the density of the mist now turning into a fog, we were able to approach by the front, hugging the walls, and moving quickly while there was cover. I could feel the dampness of the mist and shivered more than once.

It was nerves more than the cold.

I could also feel rather than see the presence of Annette behind me, and once felt her breath on my neck when we stopped for a quick reconnaissance.

It was the same for McCallister’s men. I could feel them following us, quickly and quietly, and expected, if I turned around, to see him breathing down my neck too.

It added to the tension.

My plan was still to enter by the back door.

We slipped up the alley between the two sheds to the rear corner and stopped. I heard a noise coming from the rear of the building, and the light tap on the shoulder told me Annette had heard it too. I put my hand up to signal her to wait, and as a swirl of mist rolled in, I slipped around the corner heading towards where I’d last seen the glow of a cigarette.

The mist cleared, and we saw each other at the same time. He was a bearded man in battle fatigues, not the average dockside security guard.

He was quick, but my slight element of surprise was his undoing, and he was down and unconscious in less than a few seconds with barely a sound beyond the body hitting the ground. Zip ties secured his hands and legs, and tape his mouth. Annette joined me a minute after securing him.

A glance at the body then me, “I can see why they, whoever they are, sent you.”

She’d asked who I worked for, and I didn’t answer. It was best she didn’t know.

“Stay behind me,” I said, more urgency in my tone. If there was one, there’d be another.

Luck was with us so far. A man outside smoking meant no booby traps on the back door, and quite possibly there’d be none inside. But it indicated there were more men inside, and if so, it appeared they were very well trained. If that were the case, they would be formidable opponents.

The fear factor increased exponentially.

I slowly opened the door and looked in. A pale light shone from within the warehouse itself, one that was not bright enough to be detected from outside. None of the offices had lights on, so it was possible they were vacant. I realized then they had blacked out the windows. Why hadn’t someone checked this?

Once inside, the door closed behind us, progress was slow and careful. She remained directly behind me, gun ready to shoot anything that moved. I had a momentary thought for McCallister and his men, securing the perimeter.

At the end of the corridor, the extent of the warehouse stretched before us. The pale lighting made it seem like a vast empty cavern, except for a long trestle table along one side, and, behind it, stacks of wooden crates, some opened. It looked like a production line.

To get to the table from where we were was a ten-yard walk in the open. There was no cover. If we stuck to the walls, there was equally no cover and a longer walk.

We needed a distraction.

As if on cue, the two main entrances disintegrated into flying shrapnel accompanied by a deafening explosion that momentarily disoriented both Annette and I. Through the smoke and dust kicked up I saw three men appear from behind the wooden crates, each with what looked like machine guns, spraying bullets in the direction of the incoming SWAT members.

They never had a chance, cut down before they made ten steps into the building.

By the time I’d recovered, my head heavy, eyes watering and ears still ringing, I took several steps towards them, managing to take down two of the gunmen but not the third.

I heard a voice, Annette’s I think, yell out, “Oh, God, he’s got a trigger,” just before another explosion, though all I remember in that split second was a bright flash, the intense heat, something very heavy smashing into my chest knocking the wind out of me, and then the sensation of flying, just before I hit the wall.

I spent four weeks in an induced coma, three months being stitched back together and another six learning to do all those basic actions everyone took for granted. It was twelve months almost to the day when I was released from the hospital, physically, except for a few alterations required after being hit by shrapnel, looking the same as I always had.

But mentally? The document I’d signed on release said it all, ‘not fit for active duty; discharged’.

It was in the name of David Cheney. For all intents and purposes, Alistair McKenzie was killed in that warehouse, and for the first time ever, an agent left the Department, the first to retire alive.

I was not sure I liked the idea of making history.

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

“Trouble in Store” – Short Stories My Way:  The re-write – Part 1

Now that I’ve gone through the story and made quite a few changes, it’s time to look at the story

Another long day, another argument, always the same one, when were they going to move to a more ‘desirable’ neighbourhood?

OK, the neighbourhood was a little more downmarket than they expected, and the landlord could do more to make the apartments more livable, but it was as much as they could afford in the inner city area.

But Chelsea kept arguing for the fact their lives would be better and she would feel safer if they moved to New Jersey.  It would mean being much closer to her parents, and it meant a longer trip to the office.

Rather than get into a more heated discussion, which always came back to her parents, he stormed out slamming the door behind him.

Now out on the street, it was very cold, and in his temper forgetting to collect his coat.  There was no going back, not until he calmed down.

He could see the lights of the corner store on and headed towards it.  A six-pack would help soothe the nerves, and perhaps tell the shopkeeper his problems.  He had been in there a few times and the chap seemed amiable enough.

He crossed the road, quiet for this time of night, and pushed the door open, setting the bell that alerted the shopkeeper of a new arrival.

Something was wrong.

Jack was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He’d seen the girl holding the gun several times and knew she lived in their apartment block, closer to the ground floor.  She had seemed pleasant if not a little out of place, but quite a few people who once had money were down in their luck.

He had thought she was in the same situation.

Then his eyes strayed to the floor beside her, just as the door shut with a bang putting everyone on edge.  Except the man on the floor whom he recognized as her boyfriend.

They’d spoken once and Jack didn’t like him.  Chelsea said he was a meth junkie.  Sprawled on the floor curled up in an almost fetal position, he didn’t look very well.

Had she shot him?

A quick glance at the shopkeeper told him this might be an attempted armed robbery, but for what?

The guy on the floor either needed drugs or hospital care neither of which would be available at the point of a gun.

She looked nervous and the gun was wavering in her hand.

“Get in front of the counter and make sure you show me your hands.”  She motioned with the gun where she wanted him to stand.

He put his hands out where she could see them.  He wanted no trouble.

“What’s wrong with your friend on the floor?” Jack asked trying to keep his voice and manner calm.

“He isn’t my friend, not anymore.  Shit.”  She waved the gun at the shopkeeper and said in a slightly hysterical voice, “This is entirely your fault.”

© Charles Heath 2016-2024

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 41

Nothing is ever what it seems

I didn’t have the luxury of taking a moment to consider what I was going to do, other than to draw the inevitable conclusion that whatever I did, there would be consequences.

One thought did cross my mind, in relation to the alien ship and her Captain, why hadn’t they exercised their superior capability, stopped the Russian ship, and taken the offenders away themselves.  And, given the captain was prepared to destroy my ship, why had he let the Russians go?

“The Russian ship is hailing us, sir.”

“Very good, I’ll be there in a moment.”

They had waited a long time before asking our intentions, so what had they been waiting for?  The fact they appeared to be immobilized was, to me, a little too convenient.  Also, they had to know the alien ship was nearby, but even that raised the question of why they were standing off, and not alongside us.

Something was not right about this whole scenario.

I came on to the bridge, Number One standing in front of the Captain’s chair, the bridge crew waiting expectantly.

“Get the Russian ship’s Captain on screen.”

A moment later he appeared, with a depleted bridge crew, different from the last time we spoke.

“What can I do for you?”

“Why is the alien vessel here?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

“What did he tell you?”

“How about you tell me why you think he’s here?”

Why was his concern more about the alien vessel than the state of their propulsion unit?  Unless there was nothing wrong with it.

Silence.

I motioned to the comms officer to cut our side of the conversation.

“General?”

He had taken up a position behind the defense team.

“Sir?”

“If they try to move or power weapons, stop them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Russian ship powering up propulsion, sir.”

“General?”

“Just say the word.”

“Comms.”

A gesture told me the artesian ship was back online.

“Do not try to leave or we will disable your ship.”

A tense few seconds before the navigator said, “powering down.”

“Good choice.  Now, prepare to be boarded.  Any resistance will be met with force.  Am I understood, Captain?”

A measured reluctance in his tone when he said, “Yes.”

“Number one, boarding team assembled?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.  Any resistance is to be dealt with severely.  If the Captain or a representative of the ship wants to come with their crew members, let them.   Bring those on the list back here.”

“Understood.  Sir.”

The Russian captain was still on the screen.

“You have no right or jurisdiction to do what you are doing, and I will be recording this as an act of piracy.”

“Will that be with the international space agency?”

“My superiors, we have already alerted them to the situation.”

“As far as I am aware, your superiors did not register your flight plan as per the treaty that they are signatories to.  Also, you are on a ship that no one knows about.  All of that could be forgiven though, but you had to cause what can I call it, an Intergalactic incident which may yet setback relations with an alien race for a long time.  You would be well advised to tell me now what the hell happened so I can at least try and save you from very severe consequences.”

On a secondary channel that number one had switched to after arriving at the Russian vessel, I heard, “what do you mean you cannot dock?”

The pilot replied, “They haven’t initiated the docking sequence.”

“Is it an incompatible system?”

“No, it’s exactly the same as ours.  It’s like they’ve ripped everything off.  They’re stalling.”

To the captain of the Russian ship, I said, “I get it.  No Captain likes to have his ship boarded.  But this is not the time.”  To the General, “Target their propulsion unit.  On my mark…”

“You are making a mistake,” the Russian captain said.

“Docking initiated.  It is exactly like our system, right down to the override authorization code.”  Number one had the same thought that just come to mind.  Then, “Lieutenant, don’t hesitate to use force if you have to. We have to assume anyone on the other side of the door is a potential hostile.  Counting down, three, two, one…”

I heard the whoosh of the door, and then utter silence, broken only by Number One, “What the hell…”

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

A long short story that can’t be tamed – I never wanted to be an eyewitness – 6

Six

Given the time we had from getting off the helicopter and the pickup of Latanzio, Amy had managed to collect his wife Angelina and her two children, and Gianna and her son, Latanzio’s mistress whom very few knew about.

It transpired Amy’s people had only discovered the mistress by accident during a surveillance mix-up.  It was, in Amy’s opinion, pure gold if it came to needing leverage, though she didn’t say what she might need leverage for.

Both were kept in separate rooms in different parts of the underground complex, each with their own guards.

And, what’s more, the wife had no idea her husband had a mistress, and even though she doubted his fidelity, it was not something a woman in her position could talk to anyone about because there was no knowing who she could trust, or whether it would get back to her husband with disastrous consequences.

Trust in anyone when being married to such a man, was non-existent.  To a degree, I felt sorry for her, though she had to know what she was getting into because he’d been a part of the family crime business from a very early age.  And, for that matter, so had she, but in her case of my was unfortunate in that she had very little chance of picking who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

It seemed that being a Latanzio caused a great deal of grief for anyone who knew him or got in his way.

Both rooms were set up with CCTV cameras, and we were recording everything.  Amy wasn’t expecting much from their conversation, if there was any, as it was well known that Angelina was kept out of the loop deliberately.

As I sat in front of the monitors, set up in a room well away from the holding rooms, I could see Amy over on one side talking earnestly to a man I had not seen before, but the suit told me he was some sort of law enforcement, perhaps a superior and they were planning the next move

I slipped on the headphones at just the right moment, Latanzio being escorted into the room where Angelina was being kept.

She watched him come in, the door closed, but I could see him gesture for her not to speak. 

In a few seconds, he had summed up the room, the two cots provided for the children who were asleep, a state Amy had arranged to spare them the memories of being there, and then a glance at his wife which didn’t spark much of a reaction.

There was still a degree of residual anger in his manner, still trying to come to grips with the manner of how this escape was being run.

The lack of any outside communication. Or news on what was happening might become a concern at some point so it would be interesting how Amy handled it.

I had seen the surveillance reports and it seemed that for a married couple, they spent a lot of time apart, but that was mainly due to the fact she had insisted he not bring his work home, and that gave her plausible deniability.

And, because of that position, there was no surprise it had led to the affair.  Although Angelina had not mentioned it to anyone, whether she knew about it or not, there was no doubt in my mind she did but may have not known who it was.

When she did, it was going to be a very interesting few minutes.

He knew the room was bugged, but may not necessarily suspect he was on CCTV given the time frame in getting this together.  Perhaps he had been looking for obvious cameras as he came in, and during the time the guards removed the cuffs and shackles and saw none.

I hadn’t either until she showed me.

Not even a close inspection would find any cameras, but there were several obvious points where microphones were placed so he’d find them, enough that after he had discovered them, he would believe the room was clean.

As with most parts of the underground complex, it had been made over by a team of very experienced set decorators.  I had seen the before and the after and it was difficult to believe it was the same place.

I watched him systematically search and find four devices, and after the last, the triumphant expression.

“So, why am I here?” Angelina asked after he had finished his search.

“I was told that we would be removed to a safe location “

“But you don’t think so?”

“This whole operation doesn’t feel right.  If Benny had arranged this,  we would not be languishing in a dump like this.”

“Who then?”

“Either one of the Carmichaels or the cops.”

“Why would the cops kidnap you?  They already had you in custody.”

He didn’t answer, but I could see he was weighing the possibilities, and in his position, given he hadn’t been executed, which by my understanding of the rivalry between the two families, the only option if they had been responsible for his liberation.

So that left his own people or in his mind, the police.  It seemed to me if it had been his brother, another of our guests, he would not be languishing in that small room, and Benny would be there to greet him.

I wondered briefly whether we had been too clever.

From what I understood of the operation, no one knew what we had been planning and then executed it, and outside the world we had created, all hell was breaking loose.  It had to be done this way for realism and having a legitimate reason to scoop up all of the necessary parties associated with him, operations that would have failed without the right background.

To every media outlet, he had been taken in a daring raid on the prison transfer convoy. That in itself had been a carefully staged scene, right down to the last detail including ambulances for the injured guards.  But it wouldn’t take long before questions would be asked.

But, for now, he was the subject of a city-wide manhunt, and it was also noted that both his brother and his family were also missing, and the Carmichaels were top of the police department list of suspects.

“Frankly,” he said, I have no idea what’s going on, but if this is Benny’s doing, he’s not doing a very good job of it.  We should be a long way away from here.”

“You might think so, but I’d say we’re lucky we’re still alive.  Do you have any idea what’s going on outside?  Did you ever consider that it’s your actions that have brought this on?  Benny told me you killed someone, which can’t be true because you promised me you would not be like your father.”

“I’m nothing like my father, and you don’t want to believe everything Benny tells you.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it?  I told you I didn’t want to know about your business, and I trusted you to keep your word.  Trust, I’m afraid, that was misplaced.  I listened to your lies when the police accused you of murdering some rival not wanting to believe it was true, and now, on top of that, the police say you’ve either kidnapped or killed some guy who witnessed that murder.  I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt, now it’s time to tell me the truth.”

“It a frame-up.  The cops have been accusing me of everything they can’t solve, and none of it’s true.  I swear.  But this isn’t the time or the place to be talking about such matters.”

“No, perhaps not.  But tell me this, if you’ve got Benny to break you out of custody, that doesn’t strike me as the actions of an innocent man.  An innocent man would stay and take his chances in a court of law.”

“A court of law that’s stacked against me.  All they have is circumstantial evidence.  All they’ve ever had is circumstantial evidence.”

“Because all the so-called witnesses either disappear, recant their testimony, or turn up dead.  This has to end, if only for the children’s sake.”

Angelina, then, was no fool.  She knew exactly who it was she married, and I suspect she had, until now, overlooked the lies.  And in saying what she had, she was taking a very big risk.

“Like I said, this is neither the time or the place to be discussing such matters, so you will stop talking or there will be consequences.”

Even from where I was viewing the discussion, and in particular Angelina, I could plainly see he had hit a raw nerve.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair and looked up.  Amy had returned and was looking at the monitor.   She had put on the other headphones but left one ear uncovered.

I did the same. 

“What have I missed,”

“A joyous reunion, not.  I think Angelina is about to wring a confession of sorts out of the bastard.”

We both went back to the screen.

“Is that a threat, Tony?” 

Her voice had changed, not the sound of a wife who was disappointed, or was tired of her husband’s lies.  This was different.

“What do you mean?  No.  I wouldn’t threaten you, or anyone.”  Slightly apologetic. 

There was a change in the atmosphere in that room, and he had lost some of that bravado.

“Then you’d better remember that.  When we get out of here, you will be having a discussion with my father.  He had been taking a keen interest in your recent activities, and he tells me you have been indiscreet.  He wouldn’t tell me what it’s about, but I will find out, and you better not have broken your promise.”

With that, the conversation was over.  Perhaps there was more to Angelina than I first thought.

©  Charles Heath  2024

Writing about writing a book – Day 11

Once again, instead of writing, I have been obsessing over the planning and creation of a website for the book.

And, that being the case, now I have to give the book a name so I can name the site/blog after it.

The word Starburst has featured in the story so tentatively I’m going to name it “The Starburst Conspiracy”

The site will be on WordPress.  There will be progress blog posts, there will draft writing and possible chapters for beta reading and comment.  There will be separate pages for each of the characters.

I’m not sure how I’m going to build an email list so perhaps I’ll build a following first.

So, having mapped out a plan for the site, I’ve made the first post and written the ‘About’ page which basically gives a bit of history about the book.

Bear in mind the original book of about 400 pages scribbled over a long period of time, and not really a book in the sense of the word (more a collection of ideas set in some form of chronology) and set in the early eighties and will probably stay there but will be the basis for the new novel.

Another interesting aspect of this exercise is to see how far I have come writing-wise in the last 30 years and how easy it is to spot the issues with the original manuscript.

I’ve also created a master page for the cast of characters and only a page for the main character so far.  Others will follow.

There will be another page with an ongoing, updated synopsis.

Shortcuts to these pages, as the information flows will be in subsequent posts.

 

For now, it’s back to writing, after a long gap, and the ideas have been churning in my head.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020