The Cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 67

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…

Was it all simply a dream?

…

If I thought the death of O’Connell and the detention of Dobbin and Jennifer was the end of it, I was wrong. Both Monica and Joanne Arrived with several agents and took us back to the sandstone building, separated us, and then subjected us to endless questions.

I sat in the room with a guard outside in case I decided to leave, which I considered after an hour, but just as I was standing up, Monica walked in. If I was to guess at the tactics, she had interviewed Yolanda, and possibly Jan as well before she came to me.

It was a technique we were taught, to know the answers before you ask the questions. But, you had to assume the other people knew what the answers were, and I knew they were not in possession of all the facts.

I was not sure I was in possession of all the facts.

Monica had a file with her, quite large, put it on the desk unopened and then sat down opposite me. I pretended not to watch. I pretended not to care. More lessons from agents who were now dead. I’m not sure what sort of a recommendation that was as to how good they were.

“You seem to have a particular knack for picking up people to help you, Sam. Annoying, and loyal. I need more people like you, Sam. You’ll be pleased to know they had not one bad word to say about you.”

“Hardly a recommendation if you’re going to throw me into a bottomless pit.”

“Interesting idea. I suspect though you would know how to get out of it, or if you didn’t, had some experts hiding somewhere who would come and get you out.”

“Good to know. So, why am I here?”

“Anna.”

“Anna is dead, she was killed in the café explosion.”

“I’d agree with you, only the body we pulled out of the café was male, what is believed to be a homeless man who was sheltering in there. The café hadn’t been used for a year, and there were no locks on the back entrances.”

“No Anna?”

“No.”

“Yolanda said she saw Anna in the café.”

“Yolanda is no longer sure what she saw. She admits to impersonating her, contacting O’Connell, and selling him the bogus USBs. We recovered the money, less a hundred thousand pounds. She claims she didn’t take any money for herself. There were another 8 USBs all with the same files on them. We recovered the two from Dobbin. The same. He was not very pleased.”

“Was he responsible for killing Severin and Maury, and O’Connell?”

“He says no.”

“Jan?”

“She wishes she stayed at MI6 and never got dragged into Dobbin’s fantasy.”

“The notion there are the formulas to create super viruses on the loose?”

“We only had Severin and Maury’s word that was the case. The laboratory where the scientist worked and supposedly created the viruses, refute that any such data had escaped their premises, and better still, had destroyed it when they realised what was happening. I would not put it past them to have arranged for the death of the inventor. If the truth is known, Severin was trying to worm his way back into the fold with a whole end of days scenarios which he manages to save the day. In other words, it’s quite possible the whole exercise was a hoax.”

“With endless dead people.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Dead people add credence to a scenario, it helps to sell the notion what they’re saying is true.”

So, the whole affair was simply a situation created by Severin for his own benefit. “Dobbin thinks he was had, like us?”

“Exactly. The trouble is we must take all threats seriously until proven otherwise. So, the upshot of all this is, if you, Jennifer, or Yolanda want a job with the department, let Joanne know and we’ll put you into the program. There’s one coming up next month.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

”O’Connell? Where did he fit into all this? I mean we were following him, he killed three of our surveillance team, and he was obviously spooked about something. And someone was trying to kill him. Dobbin?”

“Dobbin believes he set the whole thing up himself.”

“He had turned the seed of a hox into five million pounds. Why didn’t he abscond with it?”

“He thought he was, with Yolanda. We believe he let her take the money with the intention of killing her and taking it back when he got to London. It’s convoluted but in a way, it makes sense. Yolanda is very lucky to be alive. So are you and Jennifer.”

I shrugged. “Do all your operations end up like this?”

“Mostly. If you decided to join the fold you’ll discover what we do is little more than smoke and mirrors. Sometimes we have a win. Sometimes.” She stood. “I hope you decided to join us.”

With that she left the room, leaving the door open. No threats about spilling secrets, no signing of papers, nothing. Perhaps she believed I wouldn’t tell anyone, but probably more to the point, who would believe me.

Maybe when I woke up tomorrow morning, I will realize it was all just a dream.

…

“The Enemy Within” – the editor’s third draft – Day 3

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

And so it begins…

…

How quickly things change.

…

Chapter two is now chapter three and I need to add some new words in what will become chapter five because of a small change in chapter one.

The plan is changing, but that is always the case when you start delving into the motivations and actions of characters, and how they may react to a certain situation.

I had sketchy outlines of characters to begin with, but they, like the plot, will evolve as I move forward.

Nothing like writing a story where the end is still not clear in my head.

Outside it is very hot, and inside where the writing is happening, I need to be cold, cold as Scotland in winter with snow, so getting into the scene is going to be quite difficult.

I wonder how low I can turn the air conditioner …

This is beginning to sound a lot like…

It’s odd how art sometimes imitates life, but it’s much, much worse when life imitates art.

I mean, in a sense, it’s good that life imitates Star Trek because we need lasers to ward off unfriendly aliens when they finally arrive, as well as having intergalactic warp-speed vessels.

But it’s very, very bad when a contagion pops up, and the scenario that follows is right out of the script for the movie Contagion.

Or Outbreak, not that any President would ever nuke a US City, which was the premise in that film.

Or follow along the lines of The Omega Man, where a virus turns everyone into a zombie-like creature, with the last surviving human finally running out of luck.

There’s been quite a few doomsday scenario films, the most interesting one involving walking plants (The Day of the Triffids) but scary as they might be, what’s happening now is equally scary.

And the thing is, with the benefit of hindsight, the COVID pandemic was predicted, so it seems sci-fi writers, and screenwriters knew long before us what was going to happen.

So, what’s the next thing sci-fi writers have in store for us?

Time travel?

It’s been getting a lot of reports, and photographs of people in the 1930s or 1940’s supposedly with mobile phones in their hands.

Were they just ‘visiting’ or were they there to change the course of history. It doesn’t seem like there have been any changes so maybe it’s just about interpretation.

How about travelling through portals, one minute you’re in Sydney, and the next you’re in New York, on the other side of the planet. That would be good, but then we’d be upsetting the plane manufacturers, so if there was such technology, wouldn’t they buy it and shelve it?

It’s what the oil people did every time someone invented a car engine that ran on water.

What else is there that people with vested interests have shelved – a cure for cancer maybe?

I guess that’s why we have science fiction, and how some authors’ ideas become reality. I’m guessing somewhere in a laboratory there is a spaceship with a warp engine capable of travelling at the speed of light.

And there might be colonies of humans living on the moon, or on Mars – we just don’t know about it yet.

Or that aliens from other worlds live on earth, or that a select group of people on earth have met people from other planets, not necessarily in this solar system, because we know there are livable planets out there.

But the thing is if they told us the truth, would we believe it?

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

“The Enemy Within” – the editor’s third draft – Day 2

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

And so it begins…

…

The best-laid plans of mice and men …

…

All come to grief when you begin writing. Sure, you have a plan, it may be meticulous, it might be scrambled, it might be almost perfect.

I thought mine was almost perfect.

Then chapter one started and I reached a fork in the road. This way or that, or another altogether.

It was a possibility I didn’t see in the planning stage.

Will it affect the outcome?

Too early to tell.

Part of chapter one has now become chapter two, and the ripple effect has changed the number of chapters. It’s a common feature in a rewrite.

Let you know more tomorrow!

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 11

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 instalment of an old feature, and back on the treasure hunt.

…

“Do you remember Nadia?”

Boggs was out the back on the veranda, sitting in an old lounge chair that had seen better days, eating tacos, or at least I think they were tacos. He offered me one but I didn’t like the look of it. Aside from the fact I wasn’t a fan of Mexican food.

“One of the Cossatino’s, Vince’s sister, tall, shorts skirts and big, well you know what I mean.”

Statuesque, Amazonian, yes I did. We all coveted what we couldn’t have.

“The same. She’s back in town.”

“And this means what to us if anything. As I recall, the one time we tried talking to her, Vince had his friends rough us up.”

“I saw her with Alex today, in the warehouse.”

I had his attention. I knew what he was thinking.

“Doing what, as if I couldn’t guess?”

“Alex wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“And we also said that when he fucked Annie in front of the class in the sports hall, not that we knew then what he was doing.”

Good point. “No. He told her to get the map from Rico. Has Rico and her…”

“Dated? Like Rico would be in her league. He’d be little more than trash in her eyes. But, no, not that I’m aware of. But, if she was to throw herself at him, I’m sure he would react like any other dumb bastard who thinks with his dick and not his head. But he hasn’t got the map.”

“Yet.”

“I still think I should try to sell it to Alex.”

“And I think if you are looking for a reason for a long hospital stay, that would be it. You need to be careful where Rico is concerned. Maybe we should check him out tomorrow.”

“I thought you had a job, and couldn’t get away.”

“My shift has changed to the afternoon, so I’ll be available in the mornings. Do you know where Rico lives?”

“On his boat. He has a small cruiser at the docks. Uses if for, he says, fishing trips for businessmen, but I think he does the drug run from the shipping lanes to a quiet cove.”

“For the Benderby’s?”

“No idea, and don’t care. But you’re right. We should check him out. Tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you at Al’s fishing shop at about 9:00.”

He’d finished the tacos, and clearly had something else to do, something that didn’t involve me. I felt a little disappointed.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 35

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

04:00 in Africa was an interesting time of the morning, especially after a few hours of intense rain during the night. I could see what the Colonel meant if it had been raining because outside the barracks it was very wet.

Whilst the others appeared to get some sleep, in a much better environment than the back of an aircraft, I lay awake, at first waiting for the sound of the aircraft leaving, and then listening to the rain that started an hour or so later, followed by the sounds that came afterward. It was never silent, and there was always that suspicion of being attacked when you’re at your most vulnerable. I had a weapon ready, just in case.

Outside the cloud cover had gone and it looked like it would be a fine day.

When I did the headcount, I noticed Mobley was missing as agreed, and by the time we had assembled, the cars had arrived. We would be driving ourselves in a convoy behind Monroe and the Colonel, who was no longer dressed in army fatigues, along with Jacobi and one of his guards.

For the trip, we had been supplied with the western notion of jungle wear, safari suits, that identified us not only garrulous visitors, but typical tourists hardly prepared for what was to come. It made a good cover for a group of ‘fools’ making a documentary.

All we had to do was get to the location for the exchange of the hostages reportedly between Aba, a town in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and somewhere on the outskirts of the Park. It was going to be an easy drive from Uganda to Aba, then the situation might change.

I was going to be in the rear vehicle, with Leslie Davies. The more I thought about her being assigned to this mission, it seemed she was here solely for her ability to fly anything with wings. It was the part that was missed on her resume, perhaps for a reason, but whatever that reason was, it would become clear eventually.

We left at 04:05. Monroe had a slight problem starting her car.

Other than exchanging a few words before getting on the plane and then getting off the plane, Davies and I had not spoken. After half an hour of driving in silence, I decided to break the ice.

“What did you do to get nominated for this mission?”

A glance sideways gave me no indication of her thoughts, or what look was hidden behind the aviator sunglasses. I hadn’t seen her smile, or talk to any of the other team members other than a few brief words with Monroe, likely because she was the only other female.

Even then, I didn’t get the impression they were going to be best friends.

“Best you don’t know.”

Her reply came about three minutes after I’d asked, and at a point where I assumed she was going to ignore me.

“Let’s say I’m curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“I’m not a cat.”

Another two minutes of silence, then, “Disobeyed a direct order.”

Not as bad as killing your immediate superior because you didn’t like him. And I could sympathize. Some orders were utterly ridiculous.

“Not a bad thing.”

“Not what the court-martial thought.”

I noticed she didn’t use sir. I could live with that.

“You volunteer?”

“In a manner of speaking. You?”

She raised her glasses slightly and gave me a sideways glance.

“In a manner of speaking. Been here before, not that it was for very long, and in a different part of the country, but the powers that be deemed my experience adequate for the mission.”

“I take it the mission isn’t to take pictures of animals?”

It might. Just not the animals you’re expecting.”

It was our lucky day. At the Vurra customs post we were met by a Ugandan official who had been forewarned of our arrival, and whom I expect was well compensated for his work, and after going through a half-hour of paperwork, we were taken to the Congo counterpart with whom Jacobi weaved his magic.

I say lucky because the border crossing was often closed, either because of the weather, the road conditions, or the fact neither country was talking to the other, though it was more to do with the Congo villagers and their dispute over lands that stretched into Uganda.

We arrived with a number of trucks, to join a long line waiting to cross, and included were several United Nations vehicles.

Everyone seemed to take the delays and administrative diligence in their stride.

We were moving again, behind several tracks, almost an hour and a half after arriving. All of the crates of equipment had been opened and inspected, as had our packs, and the raft of documents Monroe had been supplied. She had a satellite phone at the ready in case we needed to make any calls, though I was not sure what Bamfield would have been able to do.

But, after a few tense moments, everyone lost interest in the documentary crew and moved onto the next vehicle.

Jacobi said it was the easiest crossing he’d made.

About a half-hour, after we had driven on our way, then my radio crackled, and Mobley reported in. He had just crossed over and was behind us, and a number of trucks.

I got a strange look from Davies.

“Insurance,” was all I said. “Which no one else needs to know about.”

The road was not exactly in the best of condition in places and having four-wheel drives was a help. The lie of the land was quite flat, and we passed a lot of small villages and curious looks from the villagers. Some parts of the road were quite bad, and we had to drive very slowly, especially where it was damp, but for the most part, it was reasonably dry and the roads were navigable.

Other times, Jacobi said, after the rains, those same roads were impossible to drive on and would often see villagers out trying to help the truck drivers keep moving.

I had expected to run into a number of soldiers, but for the first few hours after leaving the border, there wasn’t a lot to see other than flat land, villages, and people on the side of the road, along with the occasional vehicle, belying the fact it was a major road between the border and a town called Aba, a distance that was measured at about 170 kilometers.

Anywhere else in the world it would have taken about an hour and a half, but here, it was early afternoon and finally on a stretch of reasonable road into Aba. A refuel and we’d be on our way quickly. The first of the kidnappers appointed times was 16:00 hours and I was hoping the roads would get us there by that time.