Tag: #amwriting

The A to Z Challenge –

If ever I needed a reminder that my understanding of women was appallingly bad, was the after I took Jennifer Eccles home.

Of course, I didn’t read the signals, that the invitation to come in for coffee was an invitation to explore where a relationship might go.

Instead, I dropped her off and said I would see her in the morning.  It was an informative if not frosty day and in the end a nice enough parting, but not one that I interpreted as an opportunity to move forward.

Friends, I’d said, and friends of a sort it was.

Because she was in sales and I was in marketing, our paths crossed constantly, so there was no room for animosity or regrets. If things didn’t work out, if that is, things were to ever to progress.

And to be honest, I was careful not to let romance rule what happened at work.  My father had made a mess if his life with an improper office romance, and I was determined not to let it happen to me.

So, after the tour date, if you could call it that, we reverted to being just colleagues, but it was evident we got along very well, to a point where it had been noticed, and asked to work together, side by side, rather than in different areas.

Something else I’d noticed about her, she toyed with all the boys, some might say she was a teaser, but I think it was her manner to be extroverted and flirt.  It was on us not to misinterpret her actions and act accordingly.

And, after about six weeks, relaxed in each other’s company, there was a slight shift in the relationship, where for a moment, our eyes met and lingered.

I blinked first.

“Would you like to go for a bite, talk about something other than work?” I asked.

I was not sure what to make of her expression, but it went from perhaps slightly puzzled, to a wry smile.

“I’d love to, thank you.  I’m a bit guilty myself with the all work, no play…”

“It’s why we’re here, I guess.”

…

I offered to pick her up from her place and take her to dinner.  My choice! I suspect she would be happy with a hamburger, but that was not what she would expect.

There was something else, I was going to see what she wore, having had one girl base what she wore on where I was taking her.  For that reason, we only went to a nightclub once.

Jennifer had a long, flowing dress that suggested somewhere formal, so it was going to be fine dining.  Something else I noticed, once removed from the office, and taking leave of her work-based demeanor, that she was almost someone who was barely recognizable from the woman I worked side by side with up to 12 hours a day.

I had to wonder for a moment if the girl I was seeing now was Jennifer’s twin sister, or simply an alternative ego.  And there was the issue I had with dating at work, that it would be easy to fall for this version.

But we were both in agreement this was not a date, just two colleagues having dinner, and not talking about work.

The question was where we expected to be in five years’ time.

It was a question that I’d not normally think about, but it was one of those questions people who were interested in other people liked to ask.

I delivered my answer with usual candor.  By now she had a good idea of what she could expect, and I wasn’t going to change, or surprise her.

“Not here,” I said.

That was the one thing I was certain of.  Whether we succeeded or failed, we will have all moved on to someplace else.  Very few were asked to remain, either as an ordained executive on the way to the top or in a training capacity.

“Because?”

Was she interested in staying, or did she have an indication she might be one of the ordained executives?  It was a nice city, smallish enough to have the best of both worlds, and the countryside was not far away.  That begged the question of whether her aspirations were based on being safe, rather than taking risks.

Ambition is one thing, but real ambition always came with taking a risk or two.  I knew from the outset I was not the overly ambitious type and being surrounded by a group that had only made that abundantly clear.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have a clear idea of what I really wanted out of life.  I was less sure about my ideal partner to spend the rest of my life with.

“I always wanted to live near the ocean, not necessarily in the city.  In my mind’s eye, there’s a large house on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the aroma of salt water when the breeze is blowing in odd the sea.  Not far from the mountains, hiking in summer, skiing in winter.”

“And work-wise, where do you see yourself?”

“Preferably not in an office.  The idea of working eighteen hours a day for someone else doesn’t hold much appeal.  The point is, only a few make it to the top, but I have the fear if I did make it, it wouldn’t last, because you have the expectations of many on your shoulders, and you only have to make one mistake…”

“But isn’t that the reason why you aspire to get to the top?  You don’t want to think much beyond that, or, as you say, you wouldn’t necessarily do it.”

A point, and a good one.  Most people never think of the consequences of being so driven that everything ends up being sacrificed for what is only an ideal.  I saw that happen with people close to me, and I vowed I would not be that person.

And yet, I was going down that path.  It wasn’t something I’d expected to discover about myself.

All of this soul searching had been going on alongside a three-course meal with wine and topped off by French champagne, what I could only describe as a gastronomic triumph.

That voyage of self-discovery had come to the end with coffee, and Jennifer explained what her ideas were for the figure, which, like me, having put it into words, had caused moments of pause.

In the end, she stood, and it was time to go.  It had been an experience, but the idea before the evening started that I would walk away with a different perspective was entirely unexpected.  And that I could reach those conclusions with her, well, I never expected that.

By the time we reached the car we were holding hands, a subconscious action, I was sure, on both our parts.

It was a clear, cool night, clear sky, and almost a full moon making it lighter than normal.  It was almost as if the moonbeams were directed at us.

I had only one thought.

There was a wan smile as if she knew what I was thinking.

“Right idea, but bad timing.  But it’s the best non-date date I’ve ever been on.  It’s going to be hard for you to top this.”

A kiss on my cheek and the moment was over.

© Charles Heath 2022

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 35

This is Railway Hotel in Gympie, adjacent to the old Gympie station

Just the name Railway Hotel conjured up a lot of interesting connotations. There’s one in almost every rural town that has Railway station, or perhaps a Junction Hotel, a Railway Hotel, or a Terminus Hotel.

And, once upon a time, there were nearly 600 of them, up until the 1920s, ubiquitous hotels build to house the people building the railways, and, then, when they were finished a lot disappeared, but a lot also remained to service the railway station and passengers coming and going.

These days, these old hotels that still exist are anachronisms of a bygone age, rather ornate wooden structures with big rooms and communal bathrooms, bars, saloons, and dining rooms, and only those curious about the past would stay there.

I’ve stayed in a few myself.

But, as for a story, well, the older, the better, because these would have ghosts.

They could also have infamous pasts, like a fire that destroys only part of the hotel, signs of which form part of the character.

A doorway into a now hidden room closed off because of something horrible happening there, could suddenly become a portal, where stepping through takes you back to the time of the event.

In fact, I’m in the mood to write just such a story…

NaNoWriMo – April 2022 – Day 23

First Dig Two Graves, the second Zoe thriller.

…

Worthington was in a state, now realizing that he had become a target, and immediately assumes it was Zoe on the end of the sniper rifle.

He considers calling John and telling him what just happened, but if Zoe was there with him… 

No, better to attend to the problems at hand.  Arabella wasn’t dead, but it had come very close.  And, he suspected, it was because he had asked her to get a drink for him, and if she had not moved, the damage would be far less.

It was important then to go to the hospital with her and make sure he was then when she woke up to explain what just happened.  If she would ever speak to him again, that is.

Meanwhile, John is ‘collected’ at his hotel, and taken to Olga.  When he wakes up in a rather quaint bedroom or what seems to be a house in the countryside, he only remembers being in the hotel, then nothing.

When he is escorted to the meeting room, it is not the sort of interrogation he was expecting but is fascinated with the old Russian woman who claims to be Zoe’s mentor and teacher, and says that she has no interest in harming him, she only wants Zoe back.

John works out that the woman is in fact Alistair’s mother and presses her for more information about Zoe.

…

Today’s writing, with Zoe languishing in a dungeon waiting for a white knight, 1,771 words, for a total of 57,988..

A photograph from the Inspirational bin – 33

This is countryside somewhere inside the Lamington National Park in Queensland. It was one of those days where the rain come and went…

We were spending a week there, in the middle of nowhere on a working macadamia farm in a cottage, one of four, recuperating from a long exhausting lockdown.

It was not cold, and we were able to sit out of the verandah for most of the day, watching the rain come and pass over on its way up the valley, listing to the gentle pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and nearby leaves.

But as for inspiration:

This would be the ideal setting for a story about life, failed romance, or a couple looking to find what it was they lost.

It could be a story about recovering from a breakdown, or a tragic loss, to be anywhere else but in the middle of dealing with the constant reminders of what they had.

It could be a safe house, and as we all know, safe houses in stories are rarely safe houses, where it is given away by someone inside the program, or the person who it’s assigned to give it away because they can’t do as they’re supposed to; lay low.

Then there’s camping, the great outdoors, for someone who absolutely hates being outdoors, or those who go hunting, and sometimes become the hunted.

Oh, and watch out for the bears!

The A to Z Challenge – S is for -”So, what do you think?”

I thrived on the notion that I was invisible.

Every time I went out with friends, no one ever asked my opinion about anything, and I never really ventured one, and it had been that way all my life.

It came from learning at a very young age that I should listen not prattle and speak only when spoken to.

All through school I spent most of my time studying alone, or with one or two others who wanted to help with their schoolwork, and I think that after a while I’d become a definitive nerd.

Things changed a little when I went to university and found there were quite a few just like me, and we sort of gravitated towards each other.

After that, getting a job, I still found myself more or less keeping my own company though from time to time one or other of my contemporaries would ask I’d I was going to the drinks after work on Friday night, which usually I avoided.

My contemporaries were a little too outgoing for a self-confessed boring person.

Then things changed, a promotion to a different branch in an office in the next state, with new people and a different atmosphere, fuelled a desire to break the mold I’d created for myself.

It was time to be more outgoing.

…

What kicked off the new attitude was a meeting of department heads.  I found that the company had brought together a group of people, hovering in the middle management group, of which I was only one of about a dozen of similar age, experience, and qualifications.

It was an interesting meeting because it was addressed by the current CEO, a man who was rarely seen out of head office, on the other side of the country.  We were, he said, the up-and-coming future of the company, and our time in this particular branch would determine our trajectory.

So much easier then to crash and burn.

I was last to leave the room, with much to ponder.

“You’re new, aren’t you?”  One of the female attendees had been talking to several others, then turned her attention to me.

“Two weeks on Thursday, but yes.”

I’d see her at various times during the last week, in different parts of the building, leaving me to think she had some sort of managerial role.  It was no surprise to learn she was in sales.

“Jennifer Eccles.”

‘Daniel Wells.”

We shook hands, which was a surprise.

“New to the city then?” She asked.

“I am.  I’m still working on what I want to see, but there’s plenty of time for that.  I have a mountain of reading to get through.”

“You know the saying, all work, and no play…”

She had a look about her that suggested she might be the life of the party, certainly if the meeting was anything to go by, the center of attention.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

…

I had made our acquaintances in the first week, Oliver Birtwhistle, another introvert like myself, a candidate settling into research and development, right down to the white coat and pencil pack in the pocket.

He had also been at the meeting, and had Bern at the company for three months and had been giving me the drill, who to avoid, who had nuisance value, and how to get ahead if I was that way inclined.

The thing is, he had said, you were sent to this place to prove your boss’s faith in your potential.  Each manager of each branch hot to pick the brightest candidate.  I had been my manager’s choice, odd because there were others who would have appreciated the opportunity more than me.

He had to go past my office to get to the laboratory and dropped in, flooding into the lounge chair along the sidewall, a remnant of the last office owner who used to sleep on it overnight while going through a messy divorce.

“I see you were ambushed by the incorrigible Jennifer Eccles.”

“You say it as if it’s a bad thing.’

“That’s because it is.  You would be well advised to steer clear of her.  The last three people like you she selected as work partners all left broken from the experience.  She sucks novices dry of all their knowledge, claims it as her own, and moves up another rung.”

“She seems quite nice “

“So does a rattlesnake until it bites you.”

“Well, forewarned is forearmed.  She doesn’t have anything to fear from me, I’m not the ambitious sort.”

“That’s not how it works here.  You need to be competitive just to stay here.  There are no free lunches.  Next meeting you’ll be required to make a pitch, and if the boss doesn’t like it, you go back home.”

“You’re still here?”

“That’s more because I have an incompetent manager.  It’s easy to create cost/benefit savings when his methods ate all last century.  All I’m saying is watch your back.”

…

I never gave Oliver’s advice another thought, as the days passed, and Jennifer was just a shadow on the horizon.

Until she dropped into my office, on her way to somewhere else.  Another person, also wary of her, had said she burned shoe soles faster than a spendthrift spent money.

“How are you settling in?”

She sat exactly where Oliver had been a month before.

“Feels like home.”

“See anything of the place?”

“I bought a car, moved into company-assisted accommodation, just haven’t had the time to get out and about.”

“OK.  Tell you what, I’m free this weekend, come by my place and I’ll show you around.  And, Friday night, drinks in the bar off the cafeteria.  You should come, meet the competition.”

“Do I want to?”

“Of course, you do.  You want to at least meet the people who are most likely going to stab you in the back.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Me, no.  I’m a woman.  We use poison.  Much more efficient “

…

So, curiosity got the better of me, and on the way out, I had a last-minute change of heart, thinking about what the harm could be.

When I arrived most of the staff cafeteria was already there, and underway, and by the look of it, for some time.

As I’d surmised, Jennifer was the Queen bee surrounded by her drones.  Crossing the room, I tried to pick of the ones she had picked up and spat out.  Probably all of them, hence her interest in me.

She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me, and then abandoned the group, to come over and give me a kiss on the cheek, and a hug.  It did not go unnoticed.

Then we went back to the group with several new faces, and she introduced me.  I was ‘the new guy in marketing’ who was ‘working on a huge new concept’.  Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, but let it ride.  It was a close approximation of the truth.

This informal get-together was much like a brainstorming session, but to me, with one purpose in mind.  Run, clearly, by Jennifer, for the purpose of mining their ideas.

I was encouraged to talk about my huge ideas, but in reality, they were just pie in the sky clouds, there was nothing to talk about.  And that seemed to annoy her.  It wasn’t for the want of gentle prodding, down to outright asking me, but I generally ignored her, and it was noticed.

Then she manicured us to be alone at the bar.  Was this going to be the big push?

“Haven’t forgotten about tomorrow, have you?” She said, sliding a Millers across to me.

She was a beer drinker, a tick in a box if I was ticking boxes.

“No.  Looking forward to not talking shop.”

“Oh, you never stop living a breathing work at this level.  It can be all-consuming for some.  Just as a matter on interest, had any of the orders spoken about me?”

There was that fraction of a second hesitation that could be construed in a dozen different ways. I tried covering it, but she knew, so I tried walking carefully through the mindfully.”

“I suspect that most of the guys I’ve spoken to consider you just a little out of their league. I should be so lucky to be spoken of so highly.”

I had always dreamed of following my father into diplomacy, but there was little on offer these days.  The old days had long since been replaced by the new generation who considered diplomats anachronisms of a colonial empire.

She smiled.  She was smart enough to see what I was doing.  But I was still treading water.

“So, what do you think of me?”

Direct.

“That’s a question of whether you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or tell you what I think, which is something entirely different.”

“What you really think, of course.”

I could see that she didn’t, but this was rapidly leading up a one-way street to the firing squad.

“Here’s the thing.  I learned a long time ago that opinions count for nothing, and more often they cause more grief than anything else.  You don’t need other people’s opinions of you to validate who you are, and what you want to do with your life, especially not from me.

“I have no opinion.  As for me, I am not ambitious, and truth be told I don’t belong here.  If the powers that be thought I’d play the competition, there wrong.  Actions speak louder than words, and I will do my job to the best of my ability, but I won’t depressive someone else of an opportunity because I think I’m better than them.  I’m not.

“I like you, and I’m happy to be your friend or something else if it ever comes to that, but don’t expect me to play the game, or be something I’m not.”

There, I said it, and it was what I intended, and perhaps if she was to read the subtext, would realize I was subtlety telling he she didn’t need to screw everyone over to better herself, but the truth is, she was, and perhaps she didn’t really know it.

Judging by the look on her face, I was blindfolded up against the wall in front of the firing squad, and then we’d just received the ready, aim, and about to say fire.

“Friend, you say.”

“There’s a lot of wiggle room with a word like that.  It’s all in the individual interpretation.”

“Wow.  For not giving an opinion…”

“I’m sorry it was not what you were expecting.”

It was interesting if not strange in a way to watch her expression change with each new thought pr reaction.  I wondered for a moment if any of the other men spoke to her in such a manner

Perhaps not, because they would not want to sully their chance of getting a date with what was a woman that had both brains and beauty.  As for me, I hadn’t been thinking of her in that way, but only in terms of how we could work together.

Perhaps that would be regarded as strange also.

Then she smiled, or perhaps it was a smirk, I was not quite sure, but it seemed she had come to a conclusion.

“You do realize no one has ever spoken to me in that manner, especially the men here.  I can see now that asking me on a date, or the preliminaries before that are not on your immediate agenda, and, in fact, I suspect you did that to some of the other women here, you’d get a very cold shoulder.  I’ll admit now, that you intrigue me, and I want to know more about you.  You still want to go touring tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Then you can take me home, so you know where to pick me up.  But, for now, we’d better get back to the others before we become the subject of tomorrow’s water cooler gossip.

My take: Perhaps I could refine what is and isn’t opinion before I actually did upset someone.

© Charles Heath 2022

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 32

This is a spot behind a group of restaurants at Victoria Point, Queensland.

But it could be anywhere, like a spot we saw on a boat trip on a river in the Daintree, in far north Queensland

So, this could be a spot, not far inland from the ocean where smugglers, or drug runners come ashore, in a place so remote they would never get caught.

Unless an enterprising federal agent comes up with a plan to track them from the ocean side using satellite images, or reported sightings of suspicious activity.

My money is on a random sighting, a vague report files in a small town police station, and a body washed up in shore, apparently the victim of a crocodile attack. Or not a crocodile.

It cold be a fishing trip gone wrong in a backwater stream, a weekend away by a dialled group of friends, who are not really friends, which all comes to a head when one of the friends go missing.

Or, I’d you like the idea of historical drama, a story about the first expedition from the bottom of Australia to the very top, for the first time, with all the hazards of rivers to cross, paths to create though the bush, the heat, the animals, the local inhabitants who have yet to see Europeans.

To be honest, I would not want to be one of those early explorers, especially those who went inland and struck desert, or died just short of their goal.

Just as an aside, we did learn about these people, Hume and Hovell, Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson, Burke and Wills, and others.

The A to Z Challenge – R is for -” Riches beyond avarice”

We were standing at the entrance of Aladdin’s cave.  At least that was the name on the sign above the entrance.

Three days driving, the last 122 miles into the desert, or what was now desert, through three ghost towns, which looked like sets out of a movie, to what was once supposed to be a theme park.

In the middle of nowhere.  Literally.

We’d parked in what was once a thousand car carpark now almost relatives by the sand, through a large gate that proclaimed the seven wonders of the world, through to a cliff face where there were several caves, where we were now.

“And remind me exactly why we are here?”

“We win the bidding war for this place.  I mean, think of the potential.”

“I’m thinking, but not of the potential.”

Good thing then Lexie was not my wife or girlfriend, because if she was, she’d be questioning my sanity right about now.

She was a work friend, along for the ride.

Well, to begin either, this whole area was a storage facility for the nuclear weapons that were designated for destruction after the non-proliferation treaty.  There are about a dozen caves around here, all with massive blast doors, of which Aladdin’s cave was the first.  I can’t wait to see inside.”

“If it truly is Aladdin’s cave then should it not be riches beyond avarice.  I want the lamp.”

There was only one small problem.  I needed the code to open the doors, and that was only available once we had arrived.  Once there, I was to give a person on the end of the phone a code, one that changed every day, once I proved my identity.  It was a crazy system, but I had to admit, it made the cave secure.”

I made the call, once I could see the code.  It was on the screen, behind a nuclear blast-proof window, rather apt considering.  It was a code that changed every hour.

“The voice on the other end of the phone simply said, “Code please?”

I read it to them.  As soon as the call was disconnected, the doors began to open.

Then behind me, another voice.  “Thank you for that.  Now, step away, or your friend here dies.”

I turned.  I thought I recognized the voice of Joe Santiago, crime boss, a man who’d served his ten years, but never divulged where he had hidden the loot.

Another six months with guns were standing in a semi-circle, cutting off any exit I might try.

“So, this is where you hid the money, and key evidence.”

“And, as they say, it’s where the bodies are buried.  This really wasn’t going to be a theme park.”

“O rather guessed that.  I was expecting someone else, a lackey, but you did say one, you couldn’t trust any of those you worked with.”

With that said, six shots, six men down, and a seventh, at that moment when Santiago was disorientated by the first six shots.  Not to kill but disable.

A well-planned and executed operation to catch Santiago, who had never suspected we had turned one of his gang and had known all along where his loot was. 

Then it was just a matter of waiting until he got out of jail, after advertising the fact I’d won the auction to buy the Theme Park site, outbidding all of his people.

A visibly shaken Lexie said, “and when were you going to tell me we were going to be bait?”

“None of us were sure this was going to work.”

A swarm of agents moved in to take away the seven, including a cursing Santiago, who swore he’d been set up.

The doors were now open, and we were looking into a dark abyss.  The light only went so far.  I stepped inside and used the torch on the side wall, looking for the light switch.

It was about ten feet away, a large lever that had to be pushed up.  I gave it a moment, then pushed it into the on position, and the lights came on.

I heard a gasp from Lexie and turned around.

It was huge, a cavern gouged out of the small mountain, all but empty except for a shipping container sitting about fifty yards from the entrance.

Yet another new voice came from behind us.

“We’ll take it from here.”

It belonged to an FBI agent, who was with three others.  No guns were drawn, but I suspect if I objected, they might.

“Did you not get the memo that I am in charge here,” I said.

He handed me a phone, “Your commander would like a word.”.

I took it.  “Sir?”

“We’ve been trumped by jurisdiction, just let them take over, but stay and let me know when they’ve gone.”

“There’s a shipping container right bang in the middle of the cave.”

“Let them take it “

He disconnected the call, and I returned the phone.

“Do as you wish.”

A forklift went past, and we watched as it picked up the container and took it to a waiting truck.

The FBI agent saluted, and he left with his team.

Lexie had watched the whole proceedings with an amused expression on her face.  This was obviously not news to her.  “Couldn’t have predicted that could we.”

I pulled out my phone and called the boss.  “They’ve gone.”

“They went for the big shiny object.  I’m surprised they didn’t realize Santiago is all about the show.  I’m sure they’ll soon discover it’s booby-trapped, but that’s fine, they’ll take a while to realize they’ve been had.  Now, you two go to work.  The real evidence is hidden in there somewhere.  Call me when you find it.”

Lexie looked over at me.  “What did he say?”

“The evidence is still here, not in the container.”

She looked around at the wide, deep, open space where, if it was going to be Aladdin’s cave, there would be treasure stacked everywhere.

“I’m guessing we need yo do a sweep.  You start on the other side, I’ll start here, and we’ll meet at the middle of the rear.”

I waited until she was in position, and then we moved towards the rear, studying the wall for hidden doors.  It was possible that rooms or passages ran off this cave.

A few minutes later Lexie let out a triumphant “Ah-ha!”

I stopped.  “What is it?”

She held up a small object that looked like the proverbial lamp.

“Aladdin’s lamp.  Perhaps if I polish it.” She did so, with a flourish.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light…

© Charles Heath 2022

“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

NaNoWriMo – April 2022 – Day 21

First Dig Two Graves, the second Zoe thriller.

…

But, here’s the thing.

John and Zoe are nowhere near Vienna, Zoe having gone to Bucharest and then Zurich on her way back to see John who was going to pick her up from the airport, then the both of them were going to Lucerne for a few days.

A reminiscing cruise on Lake Geneva had been on the cards, but there might not be time.

First, they had to do some work on charting who was trying to kill her, because she has finally come to the realization that there is more than one.  Her visit to Bucharest yielded another name, quite possibly the person who was masquerading as Komarov.

Second, John was intending to introduce her to the new members of their team, the team he hasn’t quite got around to telling her about, who will be dedicated to research, investigation, and, via Isobel and the dark web, organizing the hits.

John had decided that she should not out there be distracted by finding work, just doing the work.  He was going to take care of the rest.

Perhaps a good time would be over dinner?

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Rupert are on surveillance duties while Isobel is tracking down which hotel the lovebirds are staying in. As soon as she has the information, Rupert is on the job.

She then moved to track John, knowing Zoe will be with him because she has seen the passenger lists for flights from Bucharest to anywhere.

Both are thankful neither John nor Zoe was in Vienna, which then makes it a priority that neither Worthington of Arabella should leave, except to go back home.  Although they hadn’t established it was the reason Worthington was in Vienna, it was too close to the bungled attempt on their lives for them not to draw the appropriate conclusion.

Sebastian has a plan B that no one was going to like, not even himself.

Plan A was yet to be formulated.

…

Today’s writing, with Zoe languishing in a dungeon waiting for a white knight, 1,566 words, for a total of 54,355.

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 31

This is rugged bushland not far from suburbia, though you wouldn’t know exactly where it is just by looking at the photograph

But, for the writer, this is an excellent setting.

For instance, once again we are out wandering in the bush, lost. It’s not hard to get lost, and stay lost if there are no recognizable landmarks, and given we all walk with a bias to one side or the other, and we have to avoid objects like trees, ravines, animals, and rocks, keeping a straight line is impossible.

But the question is, how did you get into the bush in the first place?

It’s not as if you would deliberately go there, just to if you can get lost.

No, my idea is that you have been kidnapped and drugged, then taken to a location either in the book of a car or just in the back seat with a hood, then dropped off and left to die

The criminals in this story are more efficient in getting rid of pesky witnesses.

Or maybe it’s something less sinister, like going out and counting the koalas in the bush, well, what’s left of the bush as the suburban spray takes more and more of the koala’s habitat.

And it could also be like the planet of the apes, the koalas start fighting back.

Stranger things have been known to happen.