Tag: Fiction

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 100

Day 100 – Write like a spy

…

The Art of the Dossier: What Writers Can Learn from the CIA’s Style Guide

In the world of espionage, information is the ultimate currency. But information is useless if it’s buried under a mountain of fluff, jargon, and muddy thinking.

The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) is arguably the world’s most demanding editor. When an intelligence officer files a report, they aren’t writing for leisure; they are writing for a busy policymaker who needs to make life-or-death decisions in seconds. To ensure clarity, the CIA famously published Psychology of Intelligence Analysis and various internal style guides.

For the fiction writer or the essayist, these rules are more than just bureaucratic mandates—they are a masterclass in narrative tension and reader engagement. Here is how you can write like a spy to make your prose lethal.

1. The Principle of “Bottom-Line Up Front” (BLUF)

In intelligence, the most important information must come first. The CIA mandates that reports lead with the “BLUF”—the core conclusion or the most vital intelligence finding.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Stop burying the lede. If you’re writing a thriller, don’t spend three pages describing the weather before the murder happens. If you’re writing a blog post, don’t make the reader hunt for your thesis. If your reader has to guess what your point is, you’ve already lost them. Lead with the punch, and use the rest of the text to provide the evidence.

2. Radical Brevity

The CIA’s style guide is obsessed with brevity. Intelligence officers are taught to cut every word that doesn’t contribute to the meaning. Adjectives are suspicious; adverbs are practically treasonous.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Your readers aren’t sitting in a bunker waiting for your next sentence—they’re scrolling through a world of distractions. Every word you write that fails to advance the plot or the argument is a “dead drop” of wasted space. Use the “CIA Filter”: If you can delete a word without changing the meaning, delete it. Your prose will become muscular, cold, and confident.

3. Precision Over Poetry

“The night was dark and menacing.” To a spy, this is a useless sentence. It’s subjective. It tells us nothing.

The CIA demands objective, verifiable language. Instead of “menacing,” they want “the suspect was observed checking his watch every thirty seconds.”

The Writer’s Takeaway: Show, don’t tell—but do it through the lens of a forensic investigator. Instead of using purple prose to describe an emotion, focus on the physical tells. A character who is nervous doesn’t need to be described as “anxious”; have them obsessively clean their glasses or avoid eye contact. Precision creates a psychological atmosphere that “poetic” writing often ruins.

4. Know Your Audience’s “Knowledge Gap”

Spy reports are calibrated specifically to the knowledge base of the recipient. If you’re writing for a President, you don’t explain the history of a region; you explain how a regional event threatens national interests.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Who are you writing for? If you’re writing a technical guide for experts, use the jargon. If you’re writing for a general audience, simplify. The biggest mistake writers make is “The Curse of Knowledge”—assuming the reader knows what you know. A spy anticipates the reader’s ignorance and bridges the gap quickly, without condescension.

5. Differentiate Fact from Inference

This is the cardinal rule of intelligence: never confuse what you saw with what you think.

The Writer’s Takeaway: This is perhaps the best lesson for fiction writers. Writers often conflate a character’s internal thoughts with the objective reality of the scene. By maintaining a sharp line between “The gun went off” (fact) and “He felt like a coward” (inference), you create a much stronger narrative layer. It forces you to rely on external evidence to show internal truth.

The Verdict: Is it useful?

If you want your writing to be flowery, whimsical, or deeply introspective, the CIA’s style guide will feel like a straitjacket. But if you want your writing to be gripping, clear, and impossible to put down, it is the best advice you will ever receive.

Writing like a spy means respecting the reader’s time and intelligence. It means stripping away the ego of the author to focus entirely on the delivery of the mission—the story.

Next time you open a blank document, imagine the stakes are highest. Cut the fluff. Lead with the punch. Identify your objective.

Go dark, write sharp, and don’t get caught in the weeds.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 100

Day 100 – Write like a spy

…

The Art of the Dossier: What Writers Can Learn from the CIA’s Style Guide

In the world of espionage, information is the ultimate currency. But information is useless if it’s buried under a mountain of fluff, jargon, and muddy thinking.

The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) is arguably the world’s most demanding editor. When an intelligence officer files a report, they aren’t writing for leisure; they are writing for a busy policymaker who needs to make life-or-death decisions in seconds. To ensure clarity, the CIA famously published Psychology of Intelligence Analysis and various internal style guides.

For the fiction writer or the essayist, these rules are more than just bureaucratic mandates—they are a masterclass in narrative tension and reader engagement. Here is how you can write like a spy to make your prose lethal.

1. The Principle of “Bottom-Line Up Front” (BLUF)

In intelligence, the most important information must come first. The CIA mandates that reports lead with the “BLUF”—the core conclusion or the most vital intelligence finding.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Stop burying the lede. If you’re writing a thriller, don’t spend three pages describing the weather before the murder happens. If you’re writing a blog post, don’t make the reader hunt for your thesis. If your reader has to guess what your point is, you’ve already lost them. Lead with the punch, and use the rest of the text to provide the evidence.

2. Radical Brevity

The CIA’s style guide is obsessed with brevity. Intelligence officers are taught to cut every word that doesn’t contribute to the meaning. Adjectives are suspicious; adverbs are practically treasonous.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Your readers aren’t sitting in a bunker waiting for your next sentence—they’re scrolling through a world of distractions. Every word you write that fails to advance the plot or the argument is a “dead drop” of wasted space. Use the “CIA Filter”: If you can delete a word without changing the meaning, delete it. Your prose will become muscular, cold, and confident.

3. Precision Over Poetry

“The night was dark and menacing.” To a spy, this is a useless sentence. It’s subjective. It tells us nothing.

The CIA demands objective, verifiable language. Instead of “menacing,” they want “the suspect was observed checking his watch every thirty seconds.”

The Writer’s Takeaway: Show, don’t tell—but do it through the lens of a forensic investigator. Instead of using purple prose to describe an emotion, focus on the physical tells. A character who is nervous doesn’t need to be described as “anxious”; have them obsessively clean their glasses or avoid eye contact. Precision creates a psychological atmosphere that “poetic” writing often ruins.

4. Know Your Audience’s “Knowledge Gap”

Spy reports are calibrated specifically to the knowledge base of the recipient. If you’re writing for a President, you don’t explain the history of a region; you explain how a regional event threatens national interests.

The Writer’s Takeaway: Who are you writing for? If you’re writing a technical guide for experts, use the jargon. If you’re writing for a general audience, simplify. The biggest mistake writers make is “The Curse of Knowledge”—assuming the reader knows what you know. A spy anticipates the reader’s ignorance and bridges the gap quickly, without condescension.

5. Differentiate Fact from Inference

This is the cardinal rule of intelligence: never confuse what you saw with what you think.

The Writer’s Takeaway: This is perhaps the best lesson for fiction writers. Writers often conflate a character’s internal thoughts with the objective reality of the scene. By maintaining a sharp line between “The gun went off” (fact) and “He felt like a coward” (inference), you create a much stronger narrative layer. It forces you to rely on external evidence to show internal truth.

The Verdict: Is it useful?

If you want your writing to be flowery, whimsical, or deeply introspective, the CIA’s style guide will feel like a straitjacket. But if you want your writing to be gripping, clear, and impossible to put down, it is the best advice you will ever receive.

Writing like a spy means respecting the reader’s time and intelligence. It means stripping away the ego of the author to focus entirely on the delivery of the mission—the story.

Next time you open a blank document, imagine the stakes are highest. Cut the fluff. Lead with the punch. Identify your objective.

Go dark, write sharp, and don’t get caught in the weeds.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 27

It’s interesting that no matter how much you outline and plan a chapter, when it comes to actually putting words on paper, it doesn’t quite run the way it should.

Last night I toiled over the chapter that has the first of the plot twists.

It’s been writing itself in my head, and I’ve been making notes to supplement the plan and take those notes into consideration.

But…

When I wrote it, the first time around, it didn’t seem right. You know what that’s like. It’s not the second-guessing thing, it’s not the being over-critical thing, you write it, walk away, get a coffee, or in my case, a large Scotch and soda water, and go back.

You either tell yourself it’s utterly brilliant, or at the other end of the scale, complete rubbish.

I was somewhere in between, and the cat, who was skulking nearby, suddenly found himself a captive critic.

I read it out loud, he made weird faces, and, yes, I could see what was bothering me.

Three hours later, past two in the morning, it was in better shape than I was.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 26

Today went well; the book is now almost editing itself, such is the benefit of outlining.

I’m almost sold on the planning idea, but that will sort itself out next time.

The way the story is running, and the additions I have made so far, the story is going to be longer than anticipated.

I’ve just seen a glaring plot hole and will be working to fix that, and then that opens a can of worms because the ending is now a choice of three.

This is the trouble with rereading and changing and not being satisfied and letting editors tell you what needs to be fixed when nothing really needs to be fixed in the first place.

Damn, it’s just the editing jitters kicking in.

It’s time to get back to the current project and finish it.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 99

Day 99 – The Forster Effect

…

The Unspoken Truth: Why Writing is the Ultimate Act of Discovery

“How can I tell what I think until I see what I say?”

E.M. Forster, the celebrated author of A Passage to India, penned this deceptively simple line, and it has echoed through the halls of literature and psychology ever since. At first glance, it sounds like a paradox. We usually think of thought as the precursor to action—we process, we formulate, and then we speak or write.

But Forster flips the script. He suggests that thought is not a static state waiting to be expressed; it is a fluid process that is crystallised through the act of expression.

If you’ve ever sat down to write an email, a journal entry, or a creative piece, you’ve likely experienced the “Forster Effect.” You start with a vague, amorphous cloud of feelings or ideas. You type a sentence. You look at it, frown, delete it, and try again. Suddenly, as the words hit the page, the fog lifts. You realise, “Oh, that’s actually what I believe.”

Here is why Forster’s wisdom is the key to unlocking your own clarity.

1. Thought is Abstract; Language is Structural

Our internal lives are messy. They are collections of half-formed impulses, sensory memories, and emotional echoes. When we keep these inside, they remain formless.

Language, however, is structural. It requires a subject, a verb, and an object. It demands logic. When you force your subconscious thoughts into the rigid architecture of a sentence, you are forced to choose. You must discard the surplus and define the core. Writing acts as a refining fire, burning away the noise and leaving behind the essence of your position.

2. The “Mirroring” Effect of the Page

When you “see what you say,” you are essentially externalising your consciousness. By putting your thoughts on paper, you turn them into an object you can observe.

You stop being the person having the thought and become an editor viewing the thought. This shift in perspective is transformative. You can spot the gaps in your logic, the inconsistencies in your values, or the hidden fears driving your opinions. You can’t argue with your own brain when it’s spinning in circles, but you can argue with a paragraph on a screen.

3. Writing as a Discovery Tool (Not a Recording Tool)

Most people make the mistake of using writing only to “record” thoughts that were already fully formed. They treat the pen (or keyboard) like a stenographer.

But true creativity and clarity come when you use writing as a discovery tool. Don’t write to tell people what you know; write to find out what you know. If you start a sentence without knowing how it ends, you are giving your subconscious permission to take the wheel. You will often find yourself surprised by your own insights. That surprise is the feeling of growth.

How to Practice the “Forster Method”

If you want to clear the mental clutter, try these three strategies:

  • The Morning Pages Technique: Commit to writing three pages of stream-of-consciousness thoughts first thing in the morning. Don’t edit, don’t worry about grammar, and don’t stop. Just let the pen move. You will be shocked by the realisations that emerge when you bypass your inner critic.
  • The “Why” Chain: When you have a strong opinion, write it down. Then, write “Because…” and finish the sentence. Then write “Because…” again for that sentence. You will eventually hit the bottom of your own belief system.
  • Talk to the Page: If you’re struggling with a difficult decision, treat your journal like a trusted friend. Write, “I’m not sure how I feel about X, but here is what I’m worried about…” and let the dialogue unfold.

The Bottom Line

We spend so much of our lives waiting for “the right time” to speak or “the perfect thought” to arrive. But silence is rarely as clarifying as we hope it will be.

If you want to understand your own mind, stop waiting for the epiphany. Pick up a pen. Start a sentence. You might be surprised at who you find on the other side of that first period. As Forster knew, we aren’t just expressing ourselves—we are inventing ourselves with every word we choose.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 99

Day 99 – The Forster Effect

…

The Unspoken Truth: Why Writing is the Ultimate Act of Discovery

“How can I tell what I think until I see what I say?”

E.M. Forster, the celebrated author of A Passage to India, penned this deceptively simple line, and it has echoed through the halls of literature and psychology ever since. At first glance, it sounds like a paradox. We usually think of thought as the precursor to action—we process, we formulate, and then we speak or write.

But Forster flips the script. He suggests that thought is not a static state waiting to be expressed; it is a fluid process that is crystallised through the act of expression.

If you’ve ever sat down to write an email, a journal entry, or a creative piece, you’ve likely experienced the “Forster Effect.” You start with a vague, amorphous cloud of feelings or ideas. You type a sentence. You look at it, frown, delete it, and try again. Suddenly, as the words hit the page, the fog lifts. You realise, “Oh, that’s actually what I believe.”

Here is why Forster’s wisdom is the key to unlocking your own clarity.

1. Thought is Abstract; Language is Structural

Our internal lives are messy. They are collections of half-formed impulses, sensory memories, and emotional echoes. When we keep these inside, they remain formless.

Language, however, is structural. It requires a subject, a verb, and an object. It demands logic. When you force your subconscious thoughts into the rigid architecture of a sentence, you are forced to choose. You must discard the surplus and define the core. Writing acts as a refining fire, burning away the noise and leaving behind the essence of your position.

2. The “Mirroring” Effect of the Page

When you “see what you say,” you are essentially externalising your consciousness. By putting your thoughts on paper, you turn them into an object you can observe.

You stop being the person having the thought and become an editor viewing the thought. This shift in perspective is transformative. You can spot the gaps in your logic, the inconsistencies in your values, or the hidden fears driving your opinions. You can’t argue with your own brain when it’s spinning in circles, but you can argue with a paragraph on a screen.

3. Writing as a Discovery Tool (Not a Recording Tool)

Most people make the mistake of using writing only to “record” thoughts that were already fully formed. They treat the pen (or keyboard) like a stenographer.

But true creativity and clarity come when you use writing as a discovery tool. Don’t write to tell people what you know; write to find out what you know. If you start a sentence without knowing how it ends, you are giving your subconscious permission to take the wheel. You will often find yourself surprised by your own insights. That surprise is the feeling of growth.

How to Practice the “Forster Method”

If you want to clear the mental clutter, try these three strategies:

  • The Morning Pages Technique: Commit to writing three pages of stream-of-consciousness thoughts first thing in the morning. Don’t edit, don’t worry about grammar, and don’t stop. Just let the pen move. You will be shocked by the realisations that emerge when you bypass your inner critic.
  • The “Why” Chain: When you have a strong opinion, write it down. Then, write “Because…” and finish the sentence. Then write “Because…” again for that sentence. You will eventually hit the bottom of your own belief system.
  • Talk to the Page: If you’re struggling with a difficult decision, treat your journal like a trusted friend. Write, “I’m not sure how I feel about X, but here is what I’m worried about…” and let the dialogue unfold.

The Bottom Line

We spend so much of our lives waiting for “the right time” to speak or “the perfect thought” to arrive. But silence is rarely as clarifying as we hope it will be.

If you want to understand your own mind, stop waiting for the epiphany. Pick up a pen. Start a sentence. You might be surprised at who you find on the other side of that first period. As Forster knew, we aren’t just expressing ourselves—we are inventing ourselves with every word we choose.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 26

Today went well; the book is now almost editing itself, such is the benefit of outlining.

I’m almost sold on the planning idea, but that will sort itself out next time.

The way the story is running, and the additions I have made so far, the story is going to be longer than anticipated.

I’ve just seen a glaring plot hole and will be working to fix that, and then that opens a can of worms because the ending is now a choice of three.

This is the trouble with rereading and changing and not being satisfied and letting editors tell you what needs to be fixed when nothing really needs to be fixed in the first place.

Damn, it’s just the editing jitters kicking in.

It’s time to get back to the current project and finish it.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 25

Having reached the milestone of writing 50,000 words plus, it’s not the time to hang up the pen and think the job’s done.

It isn’t.

I still have a few more chapters to write, to bring the story to a satisfying conclusion.

That I’m still not quite sure about, but I have one conclusion I’ll write, and then later if I think of something better, I’ll substitute it.

That isn’t to say the end won’t change when it’s time to make a second pass at the manuscript.

Other than that, things are going according to plan. This means, I guess, that writing to a plan can work even for someone who doesn’t usually use that method

I will be considering this to plan the sequels for the two series I’m writing at the moment.

But, not to get ahead of myself, I have this project to finish.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 98

Day 98 – The truth in your voice

…

Beyond the Lab Coat: What Rachel Carson Teaches Every Aspiring Writer

In the 1930s, the scientific community was a fortress of rigid archetypes. To be a “scientist” meant you were expected to behave, dress, and communicate in a specific way—usually echoing the dry, inaccessible jargon of academia.

Then came Rachel Carson.

Carson didn’t fit the mold. She wasn’t a stereotypical lab-coat-wearing academic, but she possessed a secret weapon that would eventually change the world: a profound flair for narrative. Her journey—from her humble beginnings writing radio scripts on the habits of fish to authoring the earth-shattering Silent Spring—offers a masterclass for any beginning writer today.

If you are just starting your writing journey, here is why Rachel Carson should be your guiding light.

1. Your “Lack of Fit” is Your Greatest Asset

When Carson started, she was an outlier. She didn’t have the traditional “authority” that a tenured professor might have had, but that was precisely why she succeeded. Because she didn’t write like a scientist, she didn’t write for scientists; she wrote for the public.

The Lesson: If you feel like an imposter because you don’t have a specific degree, a decade of experience, or a “correct” background, stop worrying. The most compelling stories are often told by the outsiders. Your unique perspective is not a lack of qualification; it is your competitive edge.

2. The Power of “Translating” Complexity

Carson’s genius lay in her ability to take dense, technical data about marine biology and transform it into lyrical prose. She understood that facts are meaningless if they don’t resonate with the reader’s emotions. Her early work on fish wasn’t just a report; it was storytelling.

The Lesson: Don’t just dump information. Your job as a writer is to be a bridge between complexity and comprehension. Whether you are writing about technology, finance, or arts and culture, focus on the “human” angle. Use metaphors, narrative arcs, and evocative language to make your subject matter breathe.

3. Start Small, But Think Big

Carson didn’t set out to write Silent Spring as her first project. She started by writing scripts for the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries. Those seemingly small, unglamorous tasks were the forge where she sharpened her voice. She mastered the craft of clear, rhythmic, and persuasive writing on a small scale before she took on the monumental task of changing global environmental policy.

The Lesson: Don’t wait for the “Big Book” or the “Viral Hit” to start practising. Hone your craft on the small stuff. Write the blog post, the newsletter, the caption, or the short essay. Every sentence is a rep in the gym. You are building the muscle that will eventually allow you to write something that matters.

4. Curiosity is the Engine of Credibility

Carson’s work on Silent Spring wasn’t just a sudden burst of inspiration; it was built on years of being a voracious learner. She cared deeply about the subject matter. Readers can smell when a writer is just “phoning it in.”

The Lesson: Write about what you are legitimately curious about. If you are passionate and curious, you will do the deep research required to back up your claims. That research is what gives you authority—not a title, not a degree, but the sheer effort you put into understanding your subject.

The Takeaway

Rachel Carson reimagined what a “science writer” could be. She proved that you don’t need a formal invitation to change the conversation; you just need a pen, a perspective, and the courage to tell the truth in your own voice.

If you’re a beginner, remember: You don’t need to fit the mold of the authors who came before you. You just need to show up, do the work, and let your curiosity lead the way. You never know—the “small” piece you write today might be the one that shifts the world tomorrow.

An excerpt from “Mistaken Identity” – a work in progress

The odds of any one of us having a doppelganger are quite high. Whether or not you got to meet him or her, or be confronted by them was significantly lower. Except of course, unless you are a celebrity.

It was a phenomenon remarkable only for the fact, at times, certain high-profile people, notorious or not, had doubles if only to put off enemies or the general public. Sometimes we see people in the street, people who look like someone we knew, and made the mistake of approaching them like a long lost friend, only to discover an embarrassed individual desperately trying to get away for what they perceive is a stalker or worse.

And then sometimes it is a picture that looms up on a TV screen, an almost exact likeness of you. At first, you are fascinated, and then according to the circumstances, and narrative that is attached to that picture, either flattered or horrified.

For me one turned to the other when I saw an almost likeness of me flash up on the screen when I turned the TV on in my room. What looked to be my photo, with only minor differences, was in the corner of the screen, the newsreader speaking in rapid Italian, so fast I could only translate every second or third word.

But the one word I did recognize was murder. The photo of the man up on the screen was the subject of an extensive manhunt. The crime, the murder of a woman in the very same hotel I was staying, and it was being played out live several floors above me. The gist of the story, the woman had been seen with, and staying with the man who was my double, and, less than an hour ago, the body had been discovered by a chambermaid.

The killer, the announcer said, was believed to be still in the hotel because the woman had died shortly before she had been discovered.

I watched, at first fascinated at what I was seeing. I guess I should have been horrified, but at that moment it didn’t register that I might be mistaken for that man.

Not until another five minutes had passed, and I was watching the police in full riot gear, with a camera crew following behind, coming up a passage towards a room. Live action of the arrest of the suspected killer the breathless commentator said.

Then, suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. On the TV screen, plain to see, was the number of my room.
I looked through the peephole and saw an army of police officers. It didn’t take much to realize what had happened. The hotel staff identified me as the man in the photograph on the TV and called the police.

Horrified wasn’t what I was feeling right then.

It was fear.

My last memory was the door crashing open, the wood splintering, and men rushing into the room, screaming at me, waving guns, and when I put my hands up to defend myself, I heard a gunshot.

And in one very confused and probably near-death experience, I thought I saw my mother and thought what was she doing in Rome?

…

I was the archetypal nobody.

I lived in a small flat, I drove a nondescript car, had an average job in a low profile travel agency, was single, and currently not involved in a relationship, no children, and according to my workmates, no life.

They were wrong. I was one of those people who preferred their own company, I had a cat, and travelled whenever I could. And I did have a ‘thing’ for Rosalie, one of the reasons why I stayed at the travel agency. I didn’t expect anything to come of it, but one could always hope.

I was both pleased and excited to be going to the conference. It was my first, and the glimpse I had seen of it had whetted my appetite for more information about the nuances of my profession.

Some would say that a travel agent wasn’t much of a job, but to me, it was every bit as demanding as being an accountant or a lawyer. You were providing a customer with a service, and arguably more people needed a travel agent than a lawyer. At least that was what I told myself, as I watched more and more people start using the internet, and our relevance slowly dissipating.

This conference was about countering that trend.

The trip over had been uneventful. I was met at the airport and taken to the hotel where the conference was being held with a number of other delegates who had arrived on the same plane. I had mingled with a number of other delegates at the pre conference get together, including one whose name was Maryanne.

She was an unusual young woman, not the sort that I usually met, because she was the one who was usually surrounded by all the boys, the life of the party. In normal circumstances, I would not have introduced myself to her, but she had approached me. Why did I think that may have been significant? All of this ran through my mind, culminating in the last event on the highlight reel, the door bursting open, men rushing into my room, and then one of the policemen opened fire.

I replayed that last scene again, trying to see the face of my assailant, but it was just a sea of men in battle dress, bullet proof vests and helmets, accompanied by screaming and yelling, some of which I identified as “Get on the floor”.

Then came the shot.

Why ask me to get on the floor if all they were going to do was shoot me. I was putting my hands up at the time, in surrender, not reaching for a weapon.

Then I saw the face again, hovering in the background like a ghost. My mother. Only the hair was different, and her clothes, and then the image was going, perhaps a figment of my imagination brought on by pain killing drugs. I tried to imagine the scene again, but this time it played out, without the image of my mother.

I opened my eyes took stock of my surroundings. What I felt in that exact moment couldn’t be described. I should most likely be dead, the result of a gunshot wound. I guess I should be thankful the shooter hadn’t aimed at anything vital, but that was the only item on the plus side.

I was in a hospital room with a policeman by the door. He was reading a newspaper, and sitting uncomfortably on a small chair. He gave me a quick glance when he heard me move slightly, but didn’t acknowledge me with either a nod, or a greeting, just went back to the paper.

If I still had a police guard, then I was still considered a suspect. What was interesting was that I was not handcuffed to the bed. Perhaps that only happened in TV shows. Or maybe they knew I couldn’t run because my injuries were too serious. Or the guard would shoot me long before my feet hit the floor. I knew the police well enough now to know they would shoot first and ask questions later.

On the physical side, I had a large bandage over the top left corner of my chest, extending over my shoulder. A little poking and prodding determined the bullet had hit somewhere between the top of my rib cage and my shoulder. Nothing vital there, but my arm might be somewhat useless for a while, depending on what the bullet hit on the way in, or through.

It didn’t feel like there were any broken or damaged bones.

That was the good news.

On the other side of the ledger, my mental state, there was only one word that could describe it. Terrified. I was looking at a murder charge and jail time, a lot of it. Murder usually had a long time in jail attached to it.

Whatever had happened, I didn’t do it. I know I didn’t do it, but I had to try and explain this to people who had already made up their minds. I searched my mind for evidence. It was there, but in the confused state brought on by the medication, all I could think about was jail, and the sort of company I was going to have.

I think death would have been preferable.

…

Half an hour later, maybe longer, I was drifting in an out of consciousness, a nurse, or what I thought was a nurse, came into the room. The guard stood, checked her ID card, and then stood by the door.

She came over and stood beside the bed. “How are you?” she asked, first in Italian, and when I pretended I didn’t understand, she asked the same question in accented English.

“Alive, I guess,” I said. “No one has come and told what my condition is yet. You are my first visitor. Can you tell me?”

“Of course. You are very lucky to be alive. You will be fine and make a full recovery. The doctors here are excellent at their work.”

“What happens now?”

“I check you, and then you have a another visitor. He is from the British Embassy I think. But he will have to wait until I have finished my examination.”

I realized then she was a doctor, not a nurse.

…

My second visitor was a man, dressed in a suit the sort of which I associated with the British Civil Service.  He was not very old which told me he was probably a recent graduate on his first posting, the junior officer who drew the short straw.

The guard checked his ID but again did not leave the room, sitting back down and going back to his newspaper.

My visitor introduced himself as Alex Jordan from the British Embassy in Rome and that he had been asked by the Ambassador to sort out what he labelled a tricky mess.

For starters, it was good to see that someone cared about what happened to me.  But, equally, I knew the mantra, get into trouble overseas, and there is not much we can do to help you.  So, after that lengthy introduction, I had to wonder why he was here.

I said, “They think I am an international criminal by the name of Jacob Westerbury, whose picture looks just like me, and apparently for them it is an open and shut case.”  I could still hear the fragments of the yelling as the police burst through the door, at the same time telling me to get on the floor with my hands over my head.

“It’s not.  They know they’ve got the wrong man, which is why I’m here.  There is the issue of what had been described as excessive force, and the fact you were shot had made it an all-round embarrassment for them.”

“Then why are you here?  Shouldn’t they be here apologizing?”

“That is why you have another visitor.  I only took precedence because I insisted I speak with you first.  I have come, basically to ask you for a favour.  This situation has afforded us with an opportunity.  We would like you to sign the official document which basically indemnifies them against any legal proceedings.”

Curious.  What sort of opportunity was he talking about?  Was this a matter than could get difficult and I could be charged by the Italian Government, even if I wasn’t guilty, or was it one of those hush hush type deals, you do this for us, we’ll help you out with that.  “What sort of opportunity?”

“We want to get our hands on Jacob Westerbury as much as they do.  They’ve made a mistake, and we’d like to use that to get custody of him if or when he is arrested in this country.  I’m sure you would also like this man brought into custody as soon as possible so you will stop being confused with him.  I can only imagine what it was like to be arrested in the manner you were.  And I would not blame you if you wanted to get some compensation for what they’ve done.  But.  There are bigger issues in play here, and you would be doing this for your country.”

I wondered what would happen if I didn’t agree to his proposal.  I had to ask, “What if I don’t?”

His expression didn’t change.  “I’m sure you are a sensible man Mr Pargeter, who is more than willing to help his country whenever he can.  They have agreed to take care of all your hospital expenses, and refund the cost of the Conference, and travel.  I’m sure I could also get them to pay for a few days at Capri, or Sorrento if you like, before you go home.  What do you say?”

There was only one thing I could say.  Wasn’t it treason if you went against your country’s wishes?

“I’m not an unreasonable man, Alex.  Go do your deal, and I’ll sign the papers.”

“Good man.”

…

After Alex left, the doctor came back to announce the arrival of a woman, by the way she had announced herself, the publicity officer from the Italian police. When she came into the room, she was not dressed in a uniform.

The doctor left after giving a brief report to the civilian at the door. I understood the gist of it, “The patient has recovered excellently and the wounds are healing as expected. There is no cause for concern.”

That was a relief.

While the doctor was speaking to the civilian, I speculated on who she might be. She was young, not more than thirty, conservatively dressed so an official of some kind, but not necessarily with the police. Did they have prosecutors? I was unfamiliar with the Italian legal system.

She had long wavy black hair and the sort of sultry looks of an Italian movie star, and her presence made me more curious than fearful though I couldn’t say why.

The woman then spoke to the guard, and he reluctantly got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.
She checked the door, and then came back towards me, standing at the end of the bed. Now alone, she said, “A few questions before we begin.” Her English was only slightly accented. “Your name is Jack Pargeter?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You are in Rome to attend the Travel Agents Conference at the Hilton Hotel?”

“Yes.”

“You attended a preconference introduction on the evening of the 25th, after arriving from London at approximately 4:25 pm.”

“About that time, yes. I know it was about five when the bus came to collect me, and several others, to take us to the hotel.”

She smiled. It was then I noticed she was reading from a small notepad.

“It was ten past five to be precise. The driver had been held up in traffic. We have a number of witnesses who saw you on the plane, on the bus, at the hotel, and with the aid of closed circuit TV we have established you are not the criminal Jacob Westerbury.”

She put her note book back in her bag and then said, “My name is Vicenza Andretti and I am with the prosecutor’s office. I am here to formally apologize for the situation that can only be described as a case of mistaken identity. I assure you it is not the habit of our police officers to shoot people unless they have a very strong reason for doing so. I understand that in the confusion of the arrest one of our officers accidentally discharged his weapon. We are undergoing a very thorough investigation into the circumstances of this event.”

I was not sure why, but between the time I had spoken to the embassy official and now, something about letting them off so easily was bugging me. I could see why they had sent her. It would be difficult to be angry or annoyed with her.

But I was annoyed.

“Do you often send a whole squad of trigger happy riot police to arrest a single man?” It came out harsher than I intended.

“My men believed they were dealing with a dangerous criminal.”

“Do I look like a dangerous criminal?” And then I realized if it was mistaken identity, the answer would be yes.

She saw the look on my face, and said quietly, “I think you know the answer to that question, Mr. Pargeter.”

“Well, it was overkill.”

“As I said, we are very sorry for the circumstances you now find yourself in. You must understand that we honestly believed we were dealing with an armed and dangerous murderer, and we were acting within our mandate. My department will cover your medical expenses, and any other amounts for the inconvenience this has caused you. I believe you were attending a conference at your hotel. I am very sorry but given the medical circumstances you have, you will have to remain here for a few more days.”

“I guess, then, I should thank you for not killing me.”

Her expression told me that was not the best thing I could have said in the circumstances.

“I mean, I should thank you for the hospital and the care. But a question or two of my own. May I?”

She nodded.

“Did you catch this Jacob Westerbury character?”

“No. In the confusion created by your arrest he escaped. Once we realized we had made a mistake and reviewed the close circuit TV, we tracked him leaving by a rear exit.”

“Are you sure it was one of your men who shot me?”

I watched as her expression changed, to one of surprise.

“You don’t think it was one of my men?”

“Oddly enough no. But don’t ask me why.”

“It is very interesting that you should say that, because in our initial investigation, it appeared none of our officer’s weapons had been discharged. A forensic investigation into the bullet tells us it was one that is used in our weapons, but…”

I could see their dilemma.

“Have you any enemies that would want to shoot you Mr Pargeter?”

That was absurd because I had no enemies, at least none that I knew of, much less anyone who would want me dead.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then it is strange, and will perhaps remain a mystery. I will let you know if anything more is revealed in our investigation.”

She took an envelope out of her briefcase and opened it, pulling out several sheets of paper.

I knew what it was. A verbal apology was one thing, but a signed waiver would cover them legally. They had sent a pretty girl to charm me. Perhaps using anyone else it would not have worked. There was potential for a huge litigation payout here, and someone more ruthless would jump at the chance of making a few million out of the Italian Government.

“We need a signature on this document,” she said.

“Absolving you of any wrong doing?”

“I have apologized. We will take whatever measures are required for your comfort after this event. We are accepting responsibility for our actions, and are being reasonable.”

They were. I took the pen from her and signed the documents.

“You couldn’t add dinner with you on that list of benefits?” No harm in asking.

“I am unfortunately unavailable.”

I smiled. “It wasn’t a request for a date, just dinner. You can tell me about Rome, as only a resident can. Please.”

She looked me up and down, searching for the ulterior motive. When she couldn’t find one, she said, “We shall see once the hospital discharges you in a few days.”

“Then I’ll pencil you in?”

She looked at me quizzically. “What is this pencil me in?”

“It’s an English colloquialism. It means maybe. As when you write something in pencil, it is easy to erase it.”

A momentary frown, then recognition and a smile. “I shall remember that. Thank-you for your time and co-operation Mr. Pargeter. Good morning.”

…

© Charles Heath 2015-2021