365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 262/263

Days 262/263 – Writing Exercise

…

The sun shone down brightly, although the air was cool.  A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, reminding me that autumn was disappearing and winter was about to set in. 

I’d promised myself I was not going to last another winter in England and had all but made up my mind to move to a small cottage I had bought in the Provence area of France about 10 years before.

IT was where Evelyn and I were going to retire until she got cancer, and despite every effort, the remissions and the hopes, she finally succumbed a few months before.

I was reassessing my life and decided it was time to retire.  Policing was no longer the way it used to be, and criminals were getting away with more, and our powers were getting less.

I was not the only one disenchanted.

My cell phone rang, and I half decided not to answer it, but it was a call I could not put off any longer.

My superior, Chief Superintendent Jamieson.  He was calling to get my decision.  Staying or going.  Not only had Evelyn’s death affected me, but my last case had also been harrowing, and almost the cause of my death.  I was still recovering from that, not physically, but mentally.

“Sir.”

“Rogers, how are you?”

“Well enough.  I know I’ve been tardy…”

“That’s not why I’m calling.  I have a job for you.  One you’re not going to like, but it will not have any life-threatening element.  Call it a swansong.”

Interesting lead-in.  Had he guessed I was about to pack it in?  I had intimated it to a few of the others at the station a few weeks back.

“Do I have a choice?”  He wouldn’t be calling me if I did.  He was that sort of person.

“Call in tomorrow at nine, and we’ll talk about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

I knew him well enough to know that he would give me the details straight, without embellishment, and without a sales pitch.  He was the first of my bosses who was.  And he had been very accommodating with my personal issues.

I owed him an audience.

…

I’d been summoned to his office three times since I joined the station.  My first day, the day he told me I was seconded to a task force, the one that nearly got me killed, and the last, the day my wife had died, to break the news.

His office wasn’t the biggest, not the smallest.  He didn’t like the accoutrements of his rank, except for the personal assistant, Marianne, who guarded his door like a Grenadier Guard/

She smiled when I turned up at her desk, asked me the usual questions, then told me to go straight in.

He was looking out the window, not that there was anything particular to look at; it was basically the carpark and a small garden with a fountain which didn’t work.  Marianne had complained to the council a dozen times, and still nothing had been done about it.

He heard me come in but didn’t turn straight away.  He would have seen me come up the side street and enter by the side entrance.  Time to think about what he was going to say.

Three minutes later he turned but didn’t sit.  He motioned for me to take the chair opposite his desk, and I did.

“Have you decided?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It’s time.  With one thing or another, I don’t feel I could put everything that’s needed into the job.  IT’s not a matter of losing interest; it’s just the job is not the same anymore.”

“For some, yes.  But I understand.  With Evelyn, and the last assignment.  Hell of a mess, I’m afraid, still trying to find out exactly what happened.”

I could tell him if he wanted to listen, but he would not.  One of his personally selected officers wasn’t quite up to the mark and crumbled under pressure.  Trouble was, he died in the crossfire, and I wasn’t going to throw him under the bus now that he was dead.

The review would find that out soon enough, if they did a thorough job.  If….

“It was a difficult situation that no training could prepare anyone for, sir.”

He shrugged.  “Perhaps.  We’ll find out in due course, I expect.”

He sat.

I waited.

“There’s one last job I would like you to do.  We’ve had a request for an officer of your rank to go to the Met and run an investigation.  It’s one of the own Inspectors.  Bad situation, one where his fellow officers are judged to be too close to the case, and it needs an outsider’s perspective.”

“Not an internal review, sir.  I don’t think it’s a job any officer would want to conduct on a fellow officer, our office or theirs.”

“It’s a delicate situation, and needs care and understanding, the sort you have brought to this division.  And you have experience.”

I sighed inwardly.  There’s only one case that fit that category.  It didn’t end well for anyone.

I didn’t say anything, so he continued, “The Met have a case involving a Detective Inspector who has been shot by his wife.  You might have heard about it in the media; unfortunately, they like to make mountains out of molehills, and it’s blown up.”

“Three days ago?  DI Chalmers?” 

The Detective credited with bringing down a crime family responsible for killing half a dozen rivals over the last few years.  Undercover for the last three years, celebrated after the convictions, award ceremonies, media interviews- a hero.

Now a dead hero.

Day one, she was arrested.

Day two, ugly rumours started surfacing.

Day three, I was about to be sent into the fires of hell.

He slid a file across the desk towards me.  “If anyone can work out what the hell is going on, it’s you.  The Chief Super there wants this sorted as soon as possible.  Someone over there leaked confidential details, so finding out what happened and who the leak is are your first two priorities.”

“If I take the job.”

“You do, and I’ll personally shake your hand on the way out the door.”

“If I don’t?”

“That’s not a question, Rogers.  You have to give notice, and you’ve been cleared by the doctors to come back to work.  I’m sure you would want to be doing something proactive rather than shuffling paper clips down in the basement.”

He was probably right.

…

Chief Superintendent Graham was completely different to my Chief Super.  Big office, big personality, and what I would call a persuader, oozing all the charm of a snake oil salesman.  He shook my hand, gave me the glowing report he had received on me and said it was an open-and-shut case.

As far as he was concerned, the wife was guilty, and all I had to get was her confession.  Anything I had read in the media about the case was a load of bollocks, and that was the end of it.

This had all the hallmarks of a set-up.  If I succeeded, everything would be fine; if I dragged my feet, or found a different outcome, then I would become a scapegoat.

That feeling was confirmed after my first question, “I understand that Mrs Chalmers refuses to speak to anyone from this division.  Why?”

“Her lawyer.  Says we are biased.  We’re the goddamn police, for Christ’s sake.  We are supposed to be impartial.  We could have handled the case, but upstairs got involved after someone leaked case details to the media.  I want to know who.”

“And if she won’t speak to me?”

“She will.  She has to speak to someone, eventually; otherwise, it will seal her guilt.  She did it, there’s no doubt.  The forensics have her dead to rights.  The case files are on your desk, and your first interview is set for 11 am.”

He picked up the phone, then snapped, “Send Cartright in.”

A minute later, a female detective came in.  I had expected a male assistant.

“Ah, Cartright.  This is Detective Chief Inspector Rogers for the Thames Valley police.  It was agreed we get an outside officer to investigate, so we’re not accused of bias.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You belong to him for the duration of the investigation.  Anything he needs, make it happen.”

“Yes, sir.”

A wave of the hand and we were dismissed.

…

She took me downstairs to a separate office with two desks, filing cabinets, computers, printers, a large white board already covered in photos, papers and writing, and a door that closed out the rest of the office.

A half dozen detectives whom I had no doubt were best friends with the deceased, and looking for answers and someone to blame.

“You drew the short straw,” I said.

“No.  I volunteered.  They had me doing administrative work, nothing like what I signed up for.  None of the others wanted to work with you, so I stepped forward.”

“Why none of the others?”

“They think they should run the investigation, not someone from outside.”

“And what do you think?”

“It has to be someone from outside.  They aren’t prepared to believe that he was at fault, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

At least she hadn’t tried to condemn me; I was sure by the end of the day there would be an approach by one, or a group.

I had read the case notes in the file that my Chief Super had given me, but they were written up with exactly the sort of bias that wasn’t going to help anyone.  It would be interesting to get her view.  And I wondered if it was not a mistake on the part of this station’s Chief Super to allow her to work with me.  I’d know in a few minutes.

“And what are the facts, as you understand them?”

“Not what this board has on it.  First, Mrs Chalmers was home after accompanying her husband to a gathering where her husband, Detective Inspector Chalmers, was the guest of honour.  It started at six.  By ten, according to several witnesses, there was a heated argument, apparently about his excessive drinking, and she left. 

“Chalmers remained and continued drinking.  She went home and arrived there about Eleven.  The gathering ended about twelve-forty-five, and those remaining got cabs home.  One of the Detective Sergeants put Chalmers in a cab.  He said he was quite intoxicated, but still coherent.  Apparently, he is a functioning alcoholic, whatever that means. 

“Next report: a call from a neighbour next door about loud shouting, and then a scream.  Seconds later, there was a shot fired.  The first responders found Mrs Chalmers with a gun in her hand, and her husband dead on the floor near the door. 

“Her only statement so far: she was defending herself from a raving, drunken lunatic who was trying to kill her.  There was no one else in the apartment; the gun had just been fired, one round, the bullet that killed him came from the gun in her hand.”

“Has there been any previous arguments, similar behaviour?”

“No.”

“They questioned the same neighbours?”

“They said that night was the first time anything had happened.  She had not presented herself as a killer, but several people in the building said she was ‘strange’.”

“Strange?”

“Odd behaviour.”

“These interviews were conducted by detectives and officers from this station?”

“Yes.”

“They are here?”

She picked up a folder and handed it to me.  “A dozen or so, right after the first responders and forensics got there.  Questioned everyone in the vicinity.  Some heard shouting, some didn’t. Most heard the shot, thought it was a backfiring car.”

“How long was he undercover?”

“Two years.”

“Report?”

She handed me another file.  It was quite thin.  Three pages.  I guess there was little need be said about an operation that ended with such success.

“We have an interview at 11.”

“She won’t talk.  Doesn’t trust any of us.”

“You too?”

“I work here.  I guess I’m one of ‘them’.”

“We’ll soon see.  You can sit in.  How much do you know about the case?”

“As much as I just told you, sir.  I probably know slightly more than you.”

“Mrs Chalmers?  You have half an hour to tell me as much as you can.”

…

My first question at the end of that briefing was why?  Why would she shoot her husband?  My knowledge of people who shoot other people wasn’t extensive, but those reasons I understood to be: if they were threatened to the point where there was no other choice, the trigger was exceptionally light, and it was an accident; that they had always intended to shoot the person in front of them because that person had driven them to it; they were a soldier shooting at the enemy in a war zone.  That was it.  The next question was how she came to have a gun.  Perhaps that was because it was not hers.  A quick look at the forensic report showed it to be her husband’s spare gun, usually locked away in the gun cabinet, at the bottom of the closet in the main bedroom.

It didn’t help her case, because she must have got it out between the time she got home and the time he got home, which meant she knew she might have to use it, or she intended to use it.

Why?

There was a debriefing report for Chalmers, and a psychological report after two years undercover.  I’d been there myself, though not in such an evil environment, so it had to have played havoc with his view of normal life.  The report said he had readjusted well, and that he had conducted himself in such a manner that the courts were impressed with his ability to factually and clearly report the facts for the prosecution.  A man on the edge after a two-year trip to hell and back might not have been as coherent and clear-minded.

It was a pity I could not talk to him and get a clear idea of his state of mind, irrespective of the words on the paper.

There was no psychiatric report on Mrs Chalmers yet.  It would be in her best interests if there was.  Perhaps I could persuade her.

We’d soon find out.

Cartright took me downstairs to the interview room where Mrs Chalmers was waiting.  She had been brought, under guard, from the holding cell.  She was, as I understood it, being held until after the initial investigation was finished, determining when she would come before a magistrate.  Someone had determined her to be a flight risk if she was bailed.

Outside the room, a man was waiting; I suspect one of Chalmer’s fellow officers, and one of two who had conducted the first interviews with his wife and witnesses.  The result of his initial interview was that she would not talk to any of the station staff, or anyone connected to her husband.  The transcript of what little had been exchanged told me everything I needed to know.

“Are you in charge of the Chalmers investigation?”

His tone was belligerent, and if strict protocol was being followed, he should not be here, or anywhere near the investigation.

“Who wants to know?”

“Detective Sergeant Blake, Detective Inspector Chalmers partner.  I would like to sit in on the interview.”

“You have the explicit permission of the Chief Superintendent?  I can call him if you like?”

“As a matter of courtesy.”

I looked at him and gauged the level of hatred he was feeling towards my presence.  I was sure there were three others just like him who would like to be here also.

He was here for a reason.

“What is it you don’t want me to find out?”

He looked at me with all the venom he could muster.

“You don’t know anything about the man or the case.”

“Which is exactly why I’m here.  I’m not too close to the subject, and I certainly have no biases one way or the other.  Fresh eyes, neutral attitude.  Your first interview with the subject will be a separate report from me.  You cannot be here, or anywhere near Mrs Chalmers, or for that matter, any of the witnesses already interviewed.  That includes all the Detective staff in this station, and former colleagues of Detective Inspector Chalmers.”

“A good man died, and we want to know why.”

“That’s why I’m here.  Let me do my job, and I’ll get the answers.”

I could see that was the last thing he wanted me to do, which told me one very important fact: there was more to this death than just a wife killing her husband after a violent argument.

He had more to say but decided not to.  “This isn’t right.”  He glared at Cartwright, which was much the same as intimidation, then left.

I saw her shiver.  Fear.  He had that ability, which to me was a sign.

“You may wish you didn’t volunteer.”

“No.  They’re all like that, looking down on the junior staff, and women in particular.  I was hoping it was better here than my last station.

I shook my head.  Despite all the programs, there were still pockets of bad behaviour.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

I nodded to the officer in charge of the section, and he came over and showed us into the interview room.

I never got over that first look from the suspect, the one that either held fear or contempt, though of late it had been more of the latter.  The new criminal class were bolder, meaner, and more contemptuous of the police, and tended to hide behind very expensive lawyers.

Mrs Chalmers lawyer looked positively sedate.  That meant perhaps I should be careful.

Mrs Chalmers did not speak.  I was guessing she had been advised to speak only when spoken to.

Cartright and I sat, and Cartright switched on the recording device and made the introduction.

Then she spoke.  “I don’t remember seeing you before at this station.  Are you new?”

“No.  I usually work at Thames Valley and have been seconded to this investigation to keep it impartial.  It has been decided that no one from this station, or anyone who worked with your husband, can investigate his death.  It would be a conflict of interest, as well as make it impossible to secure a conviction, if, and not when, you were found guilty.  My attitude is that everyone is innocent until proven guilty.  I understand you have refused to talk to any of the detectives in this location.”

“They are all Rodney’s mates.  None of them ever liked me, not one of the girls.”

I had some appreciation of what she was talking about.  Evelyn had a hard time getting along with some of the other wives, women who had a more, as she called it, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude.  These officers were crude and unruly for want of a better description, and sometimes a little too free with women other than their wives or girlfriends.  They called it ‘letting off steam’

“Evely had that problem too.” She gave me a strange look.  “My wife.  She didn’t fit in, but then, neither did I.  I was reminded by colleagues that it was part of the job, the dangers, the hours, what we had to put up with, but I didn’t quite see how overindulgence in alcohol and drugs, and having affairs, compensated.  Did your husband have problems?  I understand he was undercover for two years, often in bad situations, maintaining his position.”

“He never spoke about it.  Just seemed to be angry all the time.  I realised, after the first year, that he was drinking more, and I suspect part of that cover included being ‘one of the boys’.  I wasn’t that naïve as to know he was less than faithful, although when I asked him, he wouldn’t talk about it.  I know he was seeing someone else.”

“You know who it was?”

“Just a first name. She would call him at odd hours, and he would go off, saying it was a call he had to answer for work.”

“That makes you angry?”

“Disappointed.  I don’t think he realised how much he would have to change to do the job, or that he would like it so much.  He said that a few months ago, I was boring.  I offered to leave, let him have the file he wanted.  I don’t think he liked the idea of me leaving him.”

“So, was life for you worse after he went undercover, or had it started earlier, with the feeling you didn’t quite measure up to his and other officers’ expectations of a policeman’s wife or girlfriend?”

“Only after he joined the task force.  The officers were a different breed, as he called them.  They seemed to take more risks.  Worked hard, played hard, he said.  I didn’t like it.”

“Did you argue over it??

“Not at first.  He was on the fringe, trying to prove himself.  He was different, but the sort of different I liked, what attracted me to him.  Over time, he changed.  He couldn’t see it.  I and others outside the force could see it and tried to tell him.  That’s when things changed.  About a year ago.  I only recently found out there had been several people killed, and he blamed himself for not preventing it.”

A flare-up in the turf war.  A death on either side.  It could have escalated, but it didn’t.  I knew a little about taking the blame for something I could have prevented.  Not that I could have, but it doesn’t stop you.  It changed me until I got help.  Evelyn had insisted.

…

She took a drink of water, then exchanged a meaningful look with her lawyer.  Perhaps she suspected I was going to start asking the difficult questions.

I was.

“Let’s move forward to three days ago.  Tell me what happened before and during the party.”

I expected silence, because any questions prior to this regarding that night went unanswered.

“Perhaps you would be better asking me about the month or the week before.”

“After he came back from the undercover assignment, and working with the prosecution lawyers over the evidence he had gathered, and the arrests?”

“That was work.  He was a different person at work than at home.  He found it very difficult to settle back into a normal life.  He was, what I would call, a different set of withdrawal symptoms.  At first he wouldn’t tell me that he was going, what’s the expression someone used, cold turkey, after years of boozing and drugs.  He should have taken the offer of spending time in a facility to wind down, but he didn’t.  He spent more time with his fellow officers than he did with me; we never talked, and when I wanted to, he would get angry and walk out, coming back later drunk or high on drugs, and abusive.  Then he started spending days away, not telling me where he was or what he was doing.  I endured this for several months until that party, the one celebrating the end of the evidence-gathering and laying of charges phase.  I told him before we left that it was all but over now; we could go back to our life.  He basically said whatever we had was over, and he had moved on.  It was not unexpected.  I asked him if he didn’t want me to go, and he said we could discuss it more after the party, that he hadn’t told any of the others yet, and we had to show unity.”

“You could have stayed home.”

“No.  There was an edge to his tone that told me that if I didn’t do as he asked, there might be trouble.  Appearances were important, even if our marriage had gone to hell in a handbasket.  For the sake of appearances, I went.  Then he treated me like I wasn’t there.  As the evening wore on, I was speaking with the other wives, and one in particular asked if everything was alright.  She and the others were completely unaware of our situation.  I said it was not, and she mentioned that Gerry, her husband, had said he was seeing another woman.  I felt stupid being there, everyone knowing, but it always is a case of the wife being the last to know.  I told him I wanted to leave, and he basically told me to go, with a few extra expletives.  I’m sure you have a pieced-together version of the words spoken.”

“We have a phone video, perhaps to paint you in a particular light. You were, if I may say, remarkably calm.”

“I wasn’t.  It was probably the worst few minutes of my life.  I had no real friends there.  As you are aware, I left alone and went home.”

“And when he came home?”

“When he decided to come home and proceed to abuse me because I had to go digging into stuff that didn’t concern me.  Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about.  All I did was mind my own business; it was the other ladies that picked and probed and told me what was going on, trying, I believe, to make me look like a fool.”

Mad enough to shoot him?  “You had a few hours to stew over the news.”

“No.  I packed a bag and left it by the front door.  I was going to say I’d had enough and leave.”

“There was an argument?”

“He was screaming at me, calling me names I dare not repeat, and then threatened me.”

“Where did the gun come from?”

“The gun safe.  It was his spare weapon.  I went to get it, and it wasn’t in there.  It was in the drawer of his bedside table next to the bed.”

“Was he expecting trouble from those he was testifying against?”

“He never said, but he knew I hated the sight of it, and insisted he never get it out where I could see it.”

“Have you used it before?”

“No.  I knew it was there; I believed that when he came home he would be belligerent, and I would have it near me just in case.  I had no intention of using it.”

“Have you used any sort of gun before?”

“No.”

“So, you had the gun and didn’t know how to use it.  Was the safety off?”

“I didn’t know anything about a safety.  I assumed he had it stored in a safe mode.”

“And you were going to use it, how?”

“Aim it, tell him I was going and to keep his distance.”

“He would know the safety was engaged and simply take it off you.  So, it got to the point where you aimed it at him.  How far away was he when you did?”

“About 6 feet at most.  Just out of his reach.  When he saw it, he grinned.  He put his hands up and said, ‘Just pull the trigger and get it over with’.  He would have known the safety was set.  I didn’t.  By that time my hands were shaking, and I was losing resolve.  He knew that.  He took a step, and I pulled the trigger, and the gun went off.  The next thing, he was on the ground, and there was blood everywhere.  I fainted and was roused when the first police arrived on the scene.  I had no intention of using the gun.  Pulling the trigger was purely reflexive when he advanced on me, and I did not expect it would fire.”

I could see she was exhausted.  It hadn’t been a long interview, but it was difficult.  Perhaps she trusted me, but it was more than I could have hoped for.  At the very least, there was a basis for manslaughter, but there was something else that was off.  Not in her testimony but in the documentation, and I had to go back to the files.

“Thank you for your time, and for giving me as full an account of the events from your perspective.”

“You should discuss that with your legal representative.”

That was as much as I could tell her.

…

When we got back to the office, I closed the door.  I could feel the heat of the stares from the other detectives there.  They knew where I had been and who I had interviewed.  I expected a call from the Chief Superintendent.

“What are your first thoughts?”  I had cautioned her not to speak of anything we had just heard until back in the office.  I had no doubt the walls had ears.  There would be a queue a mile long to hear what was on that tape.

Cartright went to her desk and picked up the rushed forensics.  It had arrived just before I did that morning, and I hadn’t got to read it.  She had.

“The bullet had been fired from a distance between ten and twelve feet.  She could not have shot him, not on her evidence.”

“Would she lie about that distance, make a mistake? She was in fear of him.”

“Possibly.”

She turned the page and read.  “There’s a question mark, not a serious problem, but while the striation marks were a match, there was an anomaly, but not enough to discount the fact the gun was fired from the gun she was holding.”

I shrugged.  We should go to the scene and have a look.”

“For what?”

“Whatever it is we are missing.”

…

It took another three days and a lot of pressure from above not to have her arrested for the murder of Detective Inspector Chalmers.  When the Chief Superintendent received a copy of the interview, he summoned me to his office.

He held up the document.  “A confession.  Well done.  Have her charged.”

“She fired the gun.  It was just not the one that killed her husband.”

“The forensic evidence says otherwise.  This is as open and shut a case as you will get.”

“In that I will disagree.  It’s far more complicated than that.”

“Then if it was not her, who was it?”

“One of his colleagues’ wives, the one he was having an affair with.  I thought it was the husband, but he has an alibi.”

“What are you talking about?”  I could see the frustration and rage building.  I had to be clear in my facts before I could definitively say who it was.

“As I said, it was complicated.  There was a second bullet; it took a while to find it, but where it landed made sense given that Mrs Chalmers had never used a gun before, and as you are aware, ever gun kicks, and if you aren’t prepared, the bullet could go anywhere.  Certainly not where you aim it, and definitely if you have the shakes.”

“I read the interview.  She could be lying.  There’s been a distinct lack of emotion after his killing.”

“I believe she was a victim of domestic violence, particularly after the undercover role.  Indications are that he immersed himself too deeply in the role, taking on aspects of the character that changed his personality and attitude.  It’s a shame he did not accept counselling when it was offered.”

There was a knock on the door.  His personal assistant put her head in nd said, “Sergeant Cartwright, sir.”

“Send her in.”

She came in, closed the door, and gave me a sheet of paper.

“What is it?”

“Second bullet, sir.  Perfectly matches the gun Mrs Rogerson used.”

“So did the other bullet.”

“It seemed to, but it didn’t.  It came from a similar gun.  It was one of two that Chalmers and a fellow detective inspector, Rogerson, bought from a gun dealer as backup weapons, and as it happens, were consecutive serial numbers.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I thought so too, but the forensics team are writing it up.  It’s one of those very strange anomalies.”

“That means Mrs Rogerson was having an affair with Chalmers.  She used to work in forensics and knew about the striation factors for consecutive guns because it was one of her cases; she got his gun and sneaked into the Chalmers residence and waited.  She had fuelled the rumours of an affair and probably hoped more than she knew she would confront him and had left his gun where she could see it, with the safety off.  It was risky, ill-thought-out, but in the end nearly worked.  That will be the basis of the report.”

“Both the Rogersons are in custody and awaiting interview.  Both are waiting for legal representation.”

“Good work.” He shook his head and sat down.  The interview was over.

Now the real work began.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

Inspiration, maybe – Volume 1

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

And the story:

…

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discreet distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road we were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places, just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three-thousand-foot fall down the mountainside.

Good thing then, I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner, we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication of where he had gone.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2026

…

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”, available soon.

InspirationMaybe1v1

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 51

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…


Once out of the elevator I could see another security desk halfway up the corridor.  There were no doors before the desk, only after, so my destination was past the desk.

I pulled out my card in readiness, and as I approached, a woman came out of a door behind the desk and joined the security guard.

She spoke to the guard, then looked at me.  “My name is Joanne, I have been assigned to help you, and in accordance with security measures in place on the floor, I will be accompanying you.  One of the conditions of access is to not be anywhere on your own.”

“Except in the restroom, I hope.”

A momentary frown, “Common sense applies, you know.”

OK, try not to be flippant.

She handed me a form, I read it, ticked several boxes, and signed it.  I gave the guard my card and he scanned it.  Logging my movements, was not unexpected.  Having a shadow was.

But, there was nothing I was going to look at, that I didn’t want anyone not to know about.

“Good,”: she said when I handed the form back.  She in turn passed it to the guard, then said, “Follow me.”

A gate opened to let me through, then jolted shit behind me.  Either the mechanism was broken, or the thud was just to remind people going through it, it was not a toy.

We went three doors up the corridor where she stopped, opened the door, and ushered me in.

It was a reasonable-sized room with a desk, a computer with three screens, and two chairs, one I guess for me, and one for her.

We sat.

I thought I’d ask a couple of questions first.  “Do you always look after incoming researchers?”

“Yes.”

“And when there is none?”

“I work in with the research team, creating or updating breeding papers for agents in the field.”

“Do agents normally come in to look stuff up?”

“No.  Generally, they request it through secure channels.”

“Secure channels?”

“Usually, one of our consulates or embassies scattered all over the world.”

Good to remember.

“You’re just going to sit there?”

“Yes.”

I shrugged.  So be it.

I logged in and typed in Severin’s original name David Westcott.

The search engine brought back over a million hits, the first dozen relating to a violinist who seemed to be having a relationship and drug problems.

To narrow that search down, I added ‘Military service” in the hope that he may have been in the military before joining the intelligence services.

He was.  I did the same for Bernie Salvin and found the two of them had served roughly at the same time, in the same places, and were among the last people out in 2014.

When I added “Intelligence” to the search, the computer sent me on a side mission, bringing up documents relating to both men’s service in various branches of the intelligence services, for 5 years, after which it seemed they had just up and left, their service sheet marked ‘retired’, which could have meant anything, but I think it was a euphemism for ‘dead’.

I thought about asking my shadow, but that would lead to too many other questions that I didn’t want to answer.  As it was, I could see she was very interested in the two names I’d just searched on.

It explained how both men were so knowledgeable about the operations and facilities.  A quick search on the training facility we had used showed it had been closed, and abandoned, 6 years before.  I’d always thought it had that abandoned feel about it, and we were using it for the atmosphere value.

Then came searches on Severin and Maury and Arche Laboratories, and that too brought up the Security profiles of both men, but their prior history had been manufactured, though no doubt based on their real experience, being in the military in Afghanistan, and in a branch of the intelligence services, though not mentioning the specifics.

There was information on several security breaches and the computer systems being hacked reportedly by a foreign country, but nothing had been taken, a story perhaps to allay the fears of people who might think dangerous material might have fallen into the wrong hands.

At the very least, it was reported the facility would be shut down, due to its age and everyone being reassigned to a new more secure facility.  The fact Severin and Maury didn’t transfer told me they had either been caught, or they ad jumped before the fingers of accusation were pointed at them.  Either way, both had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Until I and others have become their unwitting recruits.

Everything O’Connell said was true, and it was all there, so Dobbin was as well versed on the pair as I now was.  And, now I had some background before I met Severin later in the day.

When Joanne finally plucked up the courage to ask me about my searches, I told her I had been reading up on a lot of old laboratories that used to contract government research and had narrowed the place where the information came from to several candidates and struck it luck the first search.  Arche Laboratories.

Previously I had got a list of the security staff from half a dozen labs that had closed unexpectedly, looking for possible matches to Severin and Maury, because I thought they would have a military and intelligence background, but the two I’d used, didn’t seem to fir the profile.  Their photographs, those that were posted for Arche Laboratories looked nothing like the Severin and Maury today, but I’d expected that.

She didn’t need to know that and looked satisfied with my answers.

Now it was time to look at some CCTV feeds.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

First Dig Two Graves

A sequel to “The Devil You Don’t”

…

Revenge is a dish best served cold – or preferably so when everything goes right

Of course, it rarely does, as Alistair, Zoe’s handler, discovers to his peril. Enter a wildcard, John, and whatever Alistair’s plan for dealing with Zoe was dies with him.

It leaves Zoe in completely unfamiliar territory.

…

John’s idyllic romance with a woman who is utterly out of his comfort zone is on borrowed time. She is still trying to reconcile her ambivalence after being so indifferent for so long.

They agree to take a break, during which she disappears. John, thinking she has left without saying goodbye, refuses to accept the inevitable and calls on an old friend for help in finding her.

After the mayhem and being briefly reunited, she recognises an inevitable truth: there is a price to pay for taking out Alistair; she must leave and find them first, and he would be wise to keep a low profile.

But keeping a low profile just isn’t possible, and enlisting another friend, a private detective and his sister, a deft computer hacker, they track her to the border between Austria and Hungary.

What John doesn’t realise is that another enemy is tracking him to find her too. It could have been a grand tour of Europe. Instead, it becomes a race against time before enemies old and new converge for what will be an inevitable showdown.

The 2am Rant: Why is writing so hard

In just about every book about how to be a good writer, there seems to be a pile of problems that at some time in a writer’s life will need to be overcome.

Writer’s block

Don’t have it.  The ideas pour out of my head like water over a waterfall

Don’t use abstract descriptions in your writing

Damn, I do that all the time

But, back to writer’s block, is that where you write 37 chapters and there the story stops?

Oops.

Plan your book and have an outline so you can write it from start to finish

Plan?  What Plan?

That only happens when I’ve written the book and prior to the first edit, I make a precise of each chapter to make sure of continuity.

Plan your characters and give them a timeline

Oh God is that why characters’ names are often changing as the story progresses.

Believe it or not, I’m working on this issue.

Manage your time.

Still can’t get it right.

Write at least a thousand words a day, no matter if it’s rubbish or not.

Does that include writing for social media?

Apparently not.

At least this is one of the requirements I follow religiously. Sometimes it’s a lot more words but a least some writing finished up either on paper in on the word processor.

Now it’s time to write those thousand words.

Look, there, I’ve at least got one part of time management under control.

What I learned about writing – ‘The End’ is never the end!

The End… Or Just the Beginning? Why “The End” of Your Novel Is Never Truly the End

You’ve done it. Stared down the endless white expanse of the page, wrestled with characters who refused to cooperate, and battled plot holes that threatened to swallow your narrative whole. After months, maybe even years, of dedication, you finally type those two glorious words: “The End.”

For a fleeting moment, there’s a sense of triumphant finality. The story is complete. The world you’ve meticulously crafted is now bound between covers, waiting to be discovered. You might even allow yourself a daydream or two – the bestseller lists, the glowing reviews, the Hollywood deal for that blockbuster movie you’ve always envisioned.

But if you’re an author, you know deep down that “The End”… is never quite the end, is it?

This isn’t about the gruelling process of revisions, the agonising search for an agent, or the nail-biting wait for a publisher’s acceptance. Those are the necessary hurdles after you’ve reached that initial conclusion. This is about something more profound, a shift in perspective that redefines what “finished” truly means.

“The End” is a Birth Certificate, Not a Tombstone.

When you type those final words, you’re not burying your story. You’re giving it life. You’ve breathed it into existence, and now it has the potential to live, to breathe, to impact lives beyond your own.

Think about it:

  • The Reader’s Journey Begins: Your “End” is the starting point for countless readers. They will embark on their own journey through your words, interpreting your characters, feeling your emotions, and drawing their own conclusions. The story truly comes alive in their minds, a unique experience for each individual.
  • The Sequel Whispers: Even if you had no intention of writing a sequel, the characters you’ve created, the world you’ve built, can linger. They might start whispering ideas for new adventures, new conflicts, new possibilities. The “End” of one chapter often feels like the fertile ground for another.
  • The Adaptations Unfold: As you so accurately predicted, that blockbuster movie deal might be on the horizon. This new phase of your story, translated into a visual medium, brings a whole new set of challenges and triumphs. The characters you envisioned will be embodied, your dialogue spoken aloud, your settings brought to life on screen. It’s the same story, yet utterly new.
  • The Author’s Evolution: “The End” also marks a significant point in your own evolution as a writer. You’ve learned, you’ve grown, you’ve conquered. The skills honed during this project will inevitably inform your next. The very act of finishing has changed you, making you a more capable storyteller.
  • The Legacy Takes Root: A completed novel, especially one with potential, becomes a part of a larger legacy. It can spark conversations, influence other artists, become a touchstone for readers. That “End” begins a quiet, yet powerful, ripple effect in the world.

So, the next time you type “The End,” take a moment. Bask in the satisfaction, yes. Dream of those bestseller lists and movie deals. But also understand that you haven’t closed a door; you’ve opened a universe. Your novel’s journey is just beginning, and the true “end” is a concept that perhaps, as storytellers, we’ll never truly reach.

What does “The End” mean to you as a writer? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

…

Writing a compelling book or television series requires a complex infrastructure to keep audiences engaged over multiple installments. Beyond generational lineages, world-building locations, historical integration, and timelines, several critical structural elements are essential for crafting a successful series:

1. The Overarching Narrative Arc (The Macro-Plot)

While individual books or episodes have their own self-contained conflicts, a series requires a macro-plot that spans the entire run.

  • The “Uber-Conflict”: This is the ultimate threat, mystery, or goal that won’t be resolved until the final installment (e.g., defeating a Dark Lord, solving a multi-year conspiracy, or reaching a distant destination).
  • The Breadcrumb Trail: Each installment must advance this macro-plot slightly, offering clues, minor victories, or shifts in power so the audience feels a continuous sense of momentum.

2. Series-Length Character Arcs

Characters in a standalone story change over 300 pages; characters in a series must evolve sustainably over thousands of pages.

  • Slower Burn Development: Flaws, trauma, and growth must be rationed. A character shouldn’t overcome their core emotional wound in book one, or they will have nowhere to go in book two.
  • The Cost of Consistency: Writers must balance keeping characters recognizable (their core traits, humor, or skills) with allowing them to be permanently altered by the events of each previous installment.

3. Structural Formula & Narrative Pacing

A series needs a reliable structural blueprint so the audience knows what kind of experience to expect.

  • Procedural vs. Serialised: You must decide if your series is episodic (a “monster-of-the-week” or “case-of-the-book” format where status quo is largely maintained) or serialised (one continuous, unfolding story where you cannot skip an instalment).
  • The 70/30 Rule: A common pacing strategy where roughly 70% of an individual book focuses on resolving the immediate, self-contained plot, while 30% dedicatedly services the ongoing series-wide arcs and subplots.

4. The Integration of Subplots (A-Plot, B-Plot, C-Plot)

To keep a long-form story from feeling stagnant, a series relies heavily on a rotating matrix of subplots.

  • The A-Plot: The immediate conflict of the current book (e.g., catching this killer).
  • The B-Plot: Ongoing character relationships, personal dramas, or professional rivalries that evolve slowly across multiple books.
  • The C-Plot: Subtle seeds planted for future books—an unexplained magical anomaly, a background political shift, or a minor character who will become the main antagonist three books later.

5. Managing Information Architecture

In a series, how you ration and recall information is just as important as the plot itself.

  • The Exposition Balance: Every subsequent installment must gracefully remind returning readers of past events without alienating or boring them, while simultaneously catching up new readers.
  • Payoff Trajectory: You must master the art of the setup and payoff across vast distances. A passing comment in book one might be the twist ending of book four.

6. Theme and Motifs

A series is often unified by a central thematic question that is explored from multiple angles through different characters and situations across the installments.

  • Thematic Evolution: If book one explores the corrupting nature of absolute power, book two might explore the burden of rebuilding after power falls, and book three might look at the compromises required to maintain peace. The setting and characters stay the same, but the thematic lens shifts.

…

If I only had one day to stop over in – Oslo – what would I do?

One‑Day Stopover in Oslo?  Make It Unforgettable With a Visit to the Oslo Opera House

If you’ve only got 24 hours in Norway’s capital, there’s one spot that captures the city’s spirit, history, and modern vibe in a single, unforgettable experience – the Oslo Opera House.


Why the Opera House Is the Perfect One‑Stop Choice

What you’ll loveHow it ties into Oslo’s identity
Iconic Architecture – A marble‑white “iceberg” rising from the fjord, designed by Snøhetta.It’s a bold statement of Norway’s design excellence and its close relationship with the sea.
Free Roof Walk – Climb to the roof for panoramic views of the fjord and city skyline.Offers a bird’s‑eye glimpse of Oslo’s blend of urban life and natural beauty.
Cultural Hub – Home to opera, ballet, concerts, and cutting‑edge performances.Shows Oslo’s vibrant arts scene, from classic works to avant‑garde Norwegian productions.
Central Location – Just a 10‑minute walk from the bustling waterfront Aker Brygge and the historic Gamla Oslo.Lets you easily combine the visit with a quick bite, a coffee, or a stroll through the old town.

In short, the Oslo Opera House packs art, architecture, history, and stunning scenery into a compact, easily reachable venue—exactly what a one‑day traveller needs.


How to Make the Most of Your Visit (Even If You’re On a Tight Schedule)

1. Get There in 5 Minutes

  • From Oslo Central Station (Oslo S): Hop on the Tram 12 (direction Kongens gate). It drops you off right at the Opera House after a single stop—about 3 minutes.
  • From the Airport (Gardermoen): The Flytoget high‑speed train to Oslo S, then the same tram. Total travel ≈ 25 minutes.

2. Time‑Smart Itinerary (≈ 4 Hours)

TimeActivity
0:00 – 0:20Enter & Explore the Lobby – Admire the sweeping marble staircases and the giant “Seahorse” sculpture. Grab a quick coffee at the on‑site café (the “Operabutikken” serves great espresso).
0:20 – 1:30Roof Walk – Follow the sloping ramps to the top. Walk the entire 500‑meter “runway” for three distinct viewpoints: the Oslofjord, the city’s rooftops, and the surrounding islands. Snap photos at sunrise or golden hour for epic lighting.
1:30 – 2:00Quick Cultural Bite – Pop into the Kunstner restaurant on the ground floor for a light Norwegian snack (smoked salmon on rye, or a mini “lefse”).
2:00 – 3:30Mini‑Performance or Guided Tour – Check the day‑of schedule; many days feature a free lunchtime concert in the main hall. If you prefer a deeper dive, book a 30‑minute backstage tour (available on the official website).
3:30 – 4:00Souvenir Stop – The Opera House gift shop offers beautifully designed Norwegian design items—think wool scarves, minimalist jewelry, and limited‑edition prints of the building’s blueprint.

Pro tip: If you’re traveling with kids, the roof walk is a “playground” in disguise—no tickets, no lines, just endless imagination.

3. Practical Details at a Glance

ItemDetails
Opening HoursPublic areas (roof, lobby) open 7 am – 11 pm daily. Performances and tours follow separate schedules; check operaen.no.
AdmissionFree for roof access and lobby. Concerts, operas, and tours have ticket fees (often discounted for students and seniors).
AccessibilityWheelchair‑friendly ramps all the way to the roof; elevators inside the building.
Nearby FoodAker Brygge (15‑minute walk) offers a vibrant waterfront dining scene—think fresh seafood, craft beer, and Nordic pastries.
What to WearComfortable shoes for the roof walk; a light windbreaker (the fjord can be breezy).

The “Secret Sauce” – Making It Memorable

  1. Capture the Moment – The roof’s glass‑backed edges reflect the sky, turning every photo into a living postcard. Use the golden hour (just after sunrise or before sunset) for the most dramatic contrast.
  2. Listen to the Fjord – While perched on the roof, close your eyes and listen to the gentle lapping of the Oslofjord against the pier below. It’s a surprisingly meditative pause amid a busy travel schedule.
  3. Blend Past & Future – Inside, the modern interiors sit beside a historic marble staircase that once served as a gathering place for Oslo’s elite. Feel the continuum of Norwegian culture in one space.

Bonus: If You Still Have an Hour to Spare…

A short 15‑minute stroll northwards brings you to Karl Johans gate, Oslo’s main boulevard. Pop into a bakery for a kanelsnurr (cinnamon roll) and watch locals hustle between the Parliament and the royal palace. It’s the perfect “after‑opera” slice of everyday Oslo life.


Wrap‑Up: One Day, One Icon, Endless Memories

A stopover in Oslo can feel fleeting, but the Opera House transforms those 24 hours into a vivid, multi‑sensory story—architecture that you can walk on, sea views that you can breathe in, and cultural moments you can hear.

Next time your itinerary says “just a layover,” make it a standing‑ovation layover at the Oslo Opera House.

Ready to book your runway walk? Check the official schedule, grab a last‑minute ticket for a lunchtime concert, and let Oslo’s “iceberg” welcome you home—if only for a day.


Feel free to share your Oslo Opera House experience in the comments!
Happy travels.

In a word: Great

Or is it grate?

Is it possible to mix the two up?  I don’t think so.

Great usually means: everything is great, or good, or excellent, whatever degree of goodness you want to put to it.

It could also mean something else, like:  Well, you were a great help! when in fact you want to say how useless they were.

Large or little.

Like all creatures great and small,  Why not say big or small.  Big doesn’t quite have the same effect.

Of course, you could be a great person, well, what I really mean is distinguished.  Besides, great could mean way above average, too.  Or grand, or impressive, the list goes on.

And haven’t we all, at some time had a great-aunt.  No not the good one, the ‘great’ one, denoting her seniority, not necessarily how nice she is.

 

As for the other grate, we can build a fire in it.

Or add an ‘un’ in front and ‘ful’ at the end, to denote what parents sometimes think of their children

Or get a block of cheese and ‘grate’ it into small shreds.

Or speak in a voice that grates on your nerves, possibly by that great-aunt.

An excerpt from “Strangers We’ve Become” – Coming Soon

I wandered back to my villa.

It was in darkness.  I was sure I had left several lights on, especially over the door, so I could see to unlock it.

I looked up and saw that the globe was broken.

Instant alert.

I went to the first hiding spot for the gun, and it wasn’t there.  I went to the backup, and it wasn’t there either.  Someone had found my carefully hidden stash of weapons and removed them.

Who?

There were four hiding spots, and all were empty.  Someone had removed the weapons.  That could only mean one possibility.

I had a visitor, not necessarily here for a social call.

But, of course, being the well-trained agent I’d once been and not one to be caught unawares, I crossed over to my neighbour and relieved him of a weapon that, if found, would require a lot of explaining.

Suitably armed, it was time to return the surprise.

There were three entrances to the villa: the front door, the back door, and a rather strange escape hatch.  One of the more interesting attractions of the villa I’d rented was its heritage.  It was built in the late 1700s by a man who was, by all accounts, a thief.  It had a hidden underground room, which had been in the past a vault but was now a wine cellar, and it had an escape hatch by which the man could come and go undetected, particularly if there was a mob outside the door baying for his blood.

It now gave me the means to enter the villa without my visitors being alerted, unless, of course, they were in the vicinity of the doorway inside the villa, but that possibility was unlikely.  It was not where anyone could anticipate or expect a doorway to be.

The secret entrance was at the rear of the villa, behind a large copse, two camouflaged wooden doors built into the ground.  I moved aside some of the branches that covered them and lifted one side.  After I’d discovered the doors and rusty hinges, I’d oiled and cleaned them, and cleared the passageway of cobwebs and fallen rocks.  It had a mildew smell, but nothing would get rid of that.  I’d left torches at either end so I could see.

I closed the door after me and went quietly down the steps, enveloped in darkness till I switched on the torch.  I traversed the short passage, which turned ninety degrees about halfway to the door at the other end.  I carried the key to this door on the keyring, found it and opened the door.  It too had been oiled and swung open soundlessly.

I stepped into the darkness and closed the door.

I was on the lower level under the kitchen, now the wine cellar, the ‘door’ doubling as a set of shelves which had very little on them, less to fall and alert anyone in the villa.

Silence, an eerie silence.

I took the steps up to the kitchen, stopping when my head was level with the floor, checking to see if anyone was waiting.  There wasn’t.  It seemed to me to be an unlikely spot for an ambush.

I’d already considered the possibility of someone coming after me, especially because it had been Bespalov I’d killed, and I was sure he had friends, all equally as mad as he was.  Equally, I’d also considered it nigh on impossible for anyone to find out it was me who killed him because the only people who knew that were Prendergast, Alisha, a few others in the Department, and Susan.

That raised the question of who told them where I was.

If I were the man I used to be, my first suspect would be Susan.  The departure this morning, and now this was too coincidental.  But I was not that man.

Or was I?

I reached the start of the passageway that led from the kitchen to the front door and peered into the semi-darkness.  My eyes had got used to the dark, and it was no longer an inky void.  Fragments of light leaked in around the door from outside and through the edge of the window curtains where they didn’t fit properly.  A bone of contention upstairs in the morning, when first light shone and invariably woke me up hours before I wanted to.

Still nothing.

I took a moment to consider how I would approach the visitor’s job.  I would get a plan of the villa in my head, all entrances, where a target could be led to or attacked, and where there would be no escape.

Coming in the front door.  If I were not expecting anything, I’d just open the door and walk in.  One shot would be all that was required.

Contract complete.

I sidled quietly up the passage, staying close to the wall, edging closer to the front door.  There was an alcove where the shooter could be waiting.  It was an ideal spot to wait.

Crunch.

I stepped on some nutshells.

Not my nutshells.

I felt it before I heard it.  The bullet with my name on it.

And how the shooter missed, from point-blank range, and hit me in the arm, I had no idea.  I fired off two shots before a second shot from the shooter went wide and hit the door with a loud thwack.

I saw a red dot wavering as it honed in on me, and I fell to the floor, stretching out, looking up where the origin of the light was coming and pulled the trigger three times, evenly spaced, and a second later I heard the sound of a body falling down the stairs and stopping at the bottom, not very far from me.

Two assassins.

I’d not expected that.

The assassin by the door was dead, a lucky shot on my part.  The second was still breathing.

I checked the body for any weapons and found a second gun and two knives.  Armed to the teeth!

I pulled off the balaclava; a man, early thirties, definitely Italian.  I was expecting a Russian.

I slapped his face, waking him up.  Blood was leaking from several slashes on his face when his head had hit the stairs on the way down.  The awkward angle of his arms and legs told me there were broken bones, probably a lot worse internally.  He was not long for this earth.

“Who employed you?”

He looked at me with dead eyes, a pursed mouth, perhaps a smile.  “Not today, my friend.  You have made a very bad enemy.”  He coughed, and blood poured out of his mouth.  “There will be more …”

Friends of Bespalov, no doubt.

I would have to leave.  Two unexplainable bodies, I’d have a hard time explaining my way out of this mess.  I dragged the two bodies into the lounge, clearing the passageway just in case someone had heard anything.

Just in case anyone was outside at the time, I sat in the dark, at the foot of the stairs, and tried to breathe normally.  I was trying not to connect the dots that led back to Susan, but the coincidence was worrying me.

A half-hour passed, and I hadn’t moved.  Deep in thought, I’d forgotten about being shot, unaware that blood was running down my arm and dripping onto the floor.

Until I heard a knock on my front door.

Two thoughts: it was either the police, alerted by the neighbours, or it was the second wave, though why would they be knocking on the door?

I stood and immediately felt a stabbing pain in my arm.  I took out a handkerchief and turned it into a makeshift tourniquet, then wrapped a kitchen towel around the wound.

If it were the police, this was going to be a difficult situation.  Holding the gun behind my back, I opened the door a fraction and looked out.

No police, just Maria.  I hoped she was not part of the next ‘wave’.

“You left your phone behind on the table.  I thought you might be looking for it.”  She held it out in front of her.

When I didn’t open the door any further, she looked at me quizzically and then asked, “Is anything wrong?”

I was going to thank her for returning the phone, but I heard her breathe in sharply and add, breathlessly, “You’re bleeding.”

I looked at my arm and realised it was visible through the door, and not only that, the towel was soaked in blood.

“You need to go away now.”

Should I tell her the truth?  It was probably too late, and if she were any sort of law-abiding citizen, she would go straight to the police.

She showed no signs of leaving, just an unnerving curiosity.  “What happened?”

I ran through several explanations, but none seemed plausible.  I went with the truth.  “My past caught up with me.”

“You need someone to fix that before you pass out from blood loss.  It doesn’t look good.”

“I can fix it.  You need to leave.  It is not safe to be here with me.”

The pain in my arm was not getting any better, and the blood was starting to run down my arm again as the tourniquet loosened.  She was right, I needed it fixed sooner rather than later.

I opened the door and let her in.  It was a mistake, a huge mistake, and I would have to deal with the consequences.  Once inside, she turned on the light and saw the pool of blood just inside the door and the trail leading to the lounge.  She followed the trail and turned into the lounge, turned on the light, and no doubt saw the two dead men.

I expected her to scream.  She didn’t.

She gave me a good, hard look, perhaps trying to see if I was dangerous.  Killing people wasn’t something you looked the other way about.  She would have to go to the police.

“What happened here?”

“I came home from the cafe and two men were waiting for me.  I used to work for the Government, but no longer.  I suspect these men were here to repay a debt.  I was lucky.”

“Not so much, looking at your arm.”

She came closer and inspected it.

“Sit down.”

She found another towel and wrapped it around the wound, retightening the tourniquet to stem the bleeding.

“Do you have medical supplies?”

I nodded.  “Upstairs.”  I had a medical kit, and on the road, I usually made my own running repairs.  Another old habit I hadn’t quite shaken off yet.

She went upstairs, rummaged, and then came back.  I wondered briefly what she would think of the unmade bed, though I was not sure why it might interest her.

She helped me remove my shirt and then cleaned the wound.  Fortunately, she didn’t have to remove a bullet.  It was a clean wound but it would require stitches.

When she’d finished, she said, “Your friend said one day this might happen.”

No prizes for guessing who that friend was, and it didn’t please me that she had involved Maria.

“Alisha?”

“She didn’t tell me her name, but I think she cares a lot about you.  She said trouble has a way of finding you, gave me a phone and said to call her if something like this happened.”

“That was wrong of her to do that.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  Will you call her?”

“Yes.  I can’t stay here now.  You should go now.  Hopefully, by the time I leave in the morning, no one will ever know what happened here, especially you.”

She smiled.  “As you say, I was never here.”

…

© Charles Heath 2018-2022

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