Category: Thriller

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 6

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 prioritising.

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

Did he just witness an execution?

…

I could see the cogs in his mind turning over.  Calculating what it would take to get past me.

Running would only help me.

Walking, well, he wasn’t going to get far.

A fight?  He might be more experienced, but I was more angry, now controlled anger aided by rational thinking.  There would be no blindly lashing out.

Reconnaissance, Surveillance, and Self defence.

We were ten yards apart when he stopped, moving to one side near the wall.  I’d seen him looking for a weapon, but luckily none were on offer.  Someone kept this laneway very clean.

A car had been parked at the end, and I’d seen him try the doors.  Locked.  It would not be available for his escape.

He glared at me.  “You’re Jackson, right?”

A brief moment of shock.  How did he know my name?

“Who I am is irrelevant.”

“So you say.  But I can assure you this is all wrong.”

Rule number seventy, or something like that, the target will say anything to get you offside.

“You harmed my friends.”

“Then, you’re in big trouble if you regard them as friends.  In this business, we don’t have friends.”

He was right in one respect.  Having friends gave out enemies leverage.  But without friends, the loneliness of the job could break you.

But, right then I wasn’t interested in his opinion.

When I didn’t answer he said, “This is a setup.  I’m not the enemy, I’m one of you.  I made a mistake, and now they’ve set the dogs on me.”

I didn’t ask why we were following him, that was above my pay grade, added to the fact I didn’t want to know.  Knowing the perfidy of the target could compromise how I treated him.

“You’re the target, why I don’t care.”

“Look, I haven’t got much time.  Find a man called Alfred Nobbin.  I work for him.  I found something I shouldn’t, which is why you are here, now.  Tell him the evidence is ….”

I didn’t hear the bullet that killed him, but it came from behind me, hit him in the chest, its force sending him backwards, and he was dead before he hit the ground.”

I turned but there was no one there.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2022

“The Document” – 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.

And so, it begins…

…

At last, a chance to get words on paper

…

Planning is fine but it’s not much good if you are up against a deadline. I’ve given myself 30 days to get this done, using the methodology I use for NaNoWriMo.

(Picture me shaking my head right here!)

I know where this story is going to end up, that isn’t going to change, but some elements of it might. That’s the ramifications of yesterday’s tangent.

I guess writing a story is always a fluid situation, but it’s not a first for me.

I’m generally a fly-by-the-seat of my pants writer so let’s see where this takes me.

For now, it’s back to the pen and paper.

I haven’t edited my quota of words for today yet.

‘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 Document” – 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.

And so it begins…

…

I thought I had this under control.

After all, for the first time, I had a title, a plan, and a synopsis, and was ready to go. I’ve never tried to write a novel this way before.

Of course, it showed because the editor wasn’t impressed, and returned the manuscript with a raft of changes.

And for the moment it looks daunting, and may take longer than 30 days.

So, less talking and more working.

Then, damn it, I get another idea, and off I go on that tangent.

The plan’s now looking like it needs an update.

Didn’t plan for that, did I?

Oh, well, day 1 down, 29 more to go, perhaps tomorrow will be better.

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’.

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 18

Observing the enemy

…

“She’s not talking,” the detective who had been trying to get answers to various questions, said, after coming out of the room, looking somewhat exasperated.

I’d been watching him spar with her, and her legal representative telling her that unless the police had concrete evidence, she need not answer any questions, except with a ‘No comment’.  Not once though did she ask to leave, which she could do at any time.

That was interesting.

“I’m not surprised.  Technically she’s done nothing wrong, yet.  Perhaps we need to ask some different questions.”

He sighed.  “Then, by all means, do so.  I’ve been told you know more about her connection to Larry Fortescue, a person we are very familiar with, but this is a connection we’re not fully across yet.  You are aware we found several crates in one of her warehouses with his name on them, one of which had several blocks of C4 in it.  She claims it’s not hers and has no idea who it got there, but not the fact she knows him in passing.”

Denying as one would expect that there was more to the relationship other the acquaintances, and appropriate for so-called rival crime bosses.

“You have to admit, though, it’s not the sort of stuff your average beauty products sales person would have lying around.”

Nominally, she called herself a beautician who runs a chain of so-called health clinics which made the perfect front for other more nefarious activities, allegedly.  No one had yet proved without a doubt anything else happened there.

“These days nothing would surprise me.  Some of the chemicals we also found could very easily be ingredients for bombs, but she had the permits, and it’s all accounted for.  This is the first time we’ve been able to pull her in.”

“A routine check, or a tip?”

“Actually, someone called the hotline to say that men who looked like terrorists in a white van were unloading crates in a suspicious manner.  I kid you not, that was what we were told.”

Men who looked like terrorists.

“Now that Larry is implicated, well be happy to share what we have.  He would be a far likelier owner of the explosive, and this is a rare mistake on his part to leave his name on the crate.  This is the first lead we have on how he keeps one step ahead of us, using others to hold his stuff and why we can never find it in his possession.  He’ll deny it’s his and that it’s one of his enemies setting him up.”

“We’ve been trying to find him.”

“He’s in Sorrento Italy visiting his mother, and no doubt combining business with pleasure.  It’s no coincidence she is there, he’s looking for me.”

“Then he’ll be out of luck then.  Thanks for the info, I’ll get our people onto tracking him down.  He also has a few questions to answer.”

I looked at the screen on which I had been viewing the interview, noted the smug expression, and the body language that said she thought she was untouchable.

In a sense, she had every right to believe that.  She hadn’t been on Rodby’s radar until she took up with Larry.  Larry was Rodby’s obsession, why I never found out, and knew better than to ask.  Both she and Larry were well known to the police, and both had managed to keep out of jail because they were careful, though Larry had been far more careless in his younger days.

And for a person who was firmly entrenched, but more or less invisible in the criminal landscape, joining with Larry was her biggest mistake.

Rodby had brought a file with him and I read it in the car on the way here and it was another very thorough deep dive into a woman who for all intents and purposes was nothing like who she portrayed in real life.

A woman with secrets she believed were still intact.

Secrets I could use to gain some leverage, not that I ever liked doing so because often it involved innocents caught up in a world, not of their choice.

But she chose to be a criminal, and there were always consequences, unintended or otherwise.

Enough thinking, it was time.

© Charles Heath 2022

That word: Home – in sayings

I’m always on the lookout for inspiration for stories, especially the short stories I attach to photographs in my Being Inspired series, and one of the topics that has been suggested is along the lines of the following.

There is certainly a lot of scope with these.

Home is where the heart is

One’s home is the preferred place to all others, the one you are most emotionally attached, i.e. you have the deepest affection for. It may not necessarily be a physical place though.

I must say I tend to agree with this because every time I go away, I’m always looking forward to coming home.

Even when I’ve had to stay away for a few months, it’s not possible to call that home, it’s just another place to stay.

On the other hand…

It’s the name of a song by Elvis Presley.

And it has been the title of several films.

The Hallmark channel presses this point home time and time again.

Pliny the Elder is credited with coming up with the saying.

Home is what you make it

This is a similar saying, but, to me, it means something completely different

Though many will say this means that it’s where family and friends can come to, a place where memories can be made, I don’t believe it’s the same as the first saying.

What you make of it depends on your circumstances, you can hate it because it might be because you’re stuck with one parent with perhaps a step-parent. Or you might love it because you’ve escaped a bad situation.

But it’s not necessarily where your heart is.

Wherever I hang my hat I call home

Barbra Streisand made this song famous, and probably means that no matter where you are, it is home to you. It would be more fitting for someone who doesn’t necessarily see their true home very often, ie you work in the diplomatic service or in the military and you move around a lot.

Home away from home

This is a place that is as good as your real home.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 6

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 prioritising.

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

Did he just witness an execution?

…

I could see the cogs in his mind turning over.  Calculating what it would take to get past me.

Running would only help me.

Walking, well, he wasn’t going to get far.

A fight?  He might be more experienced, but I was more angry, now controlled anger aided by rational thinking.  There would be no blindly lashing out.

Reconnaissance, Surveillance, and Self defence.

We were ten yards apart when he stopped, moving to one side near the wall.  I’d seen him looking for a weapon, but luckily none were on offer.  Someone kept this laneway very clean.

A car had been parked at the end, and I’d seen him try the doors.  Locked.  It would not be available for his escape.

He glared at me.  “You’re Jackson, right?”

A brief moment of shock.  How did he know my name?

“Who I am is irrelevant.”

“So you say.  But I can assure you this is all wrong.”

Rule number seventy, or something like that, the target will say anything to get you offside.

“You harmed my friends.”

“Then, you’re in big trouble if you regard them as friends.  In this business, we don’t have friends.”

He was right in one respect.  Having friends gave out enemies leverage.  But without friends, the loneliness of the job could break you.

But, right then I wasn’t interested in his opinion.

When I didn’t answer he said, “This is a setup.  I’m not the enemy, I’m one of you.  I made a mistake, and now they’ve set the dogs on me.”

I didn’t ask why we were following him, that was above my pay grade, added to the fact I didn’t want to know.  Knowing the perfidy of the target could compromise how I treated him.

“You’re the target, why I don’t care.”

“Look, I haven’t got much time.  Find a man called Alfred Nobbin.  I work for him.  I found something I shouldn’t, which is why you are here, now.  Tell him the evidence is ….”

I didn’t hear the bullet that killed him, but it came from behind me, hit him in the chest, its force sending him backwards, and he was dead before he hit the ground.”

I turned but there was no one there.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2022

“The Document” – 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.

And so, it begins…

…

At last, a chance to get words on paper

…

Planning is fine but it’s not much good if you are up against a deadline. I’ve given myself 30 days to get this done, using the methodology I use for NaNoWriMo.

(Picture me shaking my head right here!)

I know where this story is going to end up, that isn’t going to change, but some elements of it might. That’s the ramifications of yesterday’s tangent.

I guess writing a story is always a fluid situation, but it’s not a first for me.

I’m generally a fly-by-the-seat of my pants writer so let’s see where this takes me.

For now, it’s back to the pen and paper.

I haven’t edited my quota of words for today yet.

“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