How not to win friends

…

Here’s the thing

It is far harder for people who are not used to keeping secrets to keep a secret from someone who has been trained to uncover them.

Whilst David had been to the castle before, there seemed to be new people there, as well as those he remembered, and he took an instant dislike to some.  The estate manager, the construction manager, and the cook.

Perhaps the cook was possibly the wrong person to get on the wrong side, but David never had any qualms about rubbing people up the wrong way.  If only he could shoot her and get away with it.

A private tour of the estate would require the subtle sidelining of his shadow, whom he discovers is really part of the surveillance team, and a secret way in and out of the castle, not all that hard because all castles have secret, and not so secret, passageways, and this was no exception.  The construction within the castle walls turns out to be useful camouflage.

But, like any sortie under the eyes of the enemy, he nearly gets caught.

And cops a rebuke from Susan when his shenanigans are reported.

Not that he learns any real intelligence from what seems to be run-of-the-mill repairs and enhancements, though the new stables seem to be much bigger and more sophisticated than he would have thought necessary.

But Susan does like riding, and the estate is large enough to indulge that passion.

…

Your friends are not my friends

…

So, integration into the Featherington empire is not going according to plan.

Whose plan, it might be asked.

Instead of just settling into a life of luxury and being the plus one for a woman who simply needed a consort, David has the nagging feeling everything around him is not as it should be.

He could cite the pain-killing drugs sending him into a world of conspiracies and hallucinations, that not everything around him was suspicious.

Take, for instance, her new business partners, far too handsome for their own good, and why is Susan flirting so openly with them?

Then there are the three Russian maids.  See no evil, hear no evil, speak evil, if they’re maids, why did they look and act like Russian spies?

Perhaps an old friend might be able to clear that up for him/

And why does the old family Butler, the only authentic person, other than the housekeeper who truly is both British to the core, and as genuine as they get, whispering in David’s ear that the mistress has changed, and he is concerned/

On day one in the London residence, it doesn’t take long to realize the walls have both eyes and ears, and thus the game’s afoot.

Once more he finds himself back in the murky world of lies and deceit.

…

The worst part of it is that he has no tangible truth that anything is amiss, and truth be told, David just wants everything to go back to the way it was.

A holiday in Berlin

…

Most people think the life of a ‘problem solver’ is simply staying in the best hotels, and virtually going on an expensive all-expenses paid holiday, with a little work on the side.

They’d be wrong.

No first-class hotels, no living in the lap of luxury, just a hard slog, sometimes without result, sometimes ending up in a hospital, or in detention in a country where you really don’t want to be in detention.

And definitely no sightseeing.

So, in his place, we will take in the sights, like:

The Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Tiergarten and Hitler’s Bunker

Just to name a few.

Of course, there is the Stasi records office where our main character spends time researching various people.

Then, there are the beer halls, like then Hofbräuhaus München Berlin, and Alexanderplatz, accessible via the U-Bahn, and a station that was partially closed off during the division of Berlin, up until 1990.

But, after a week David is getting restless, and it’s time to go home.  Fortunately, or otherwise, Susan is coming to join him as she has decided it’s time for them to present him to the world at large, and back into her life.

But as always there’s a problem lurking, and maybe even an unexpected visit from …

People change.

It’s a fact of life that over time people change.  Yes, they do keep some of their original characteristics, but a lot of people sometimes wake up, forty years later, and wonder who it is that they are in bed with.

It hasn’t happened to me yet, but the person I married has changed.

We all do.

External influences like workplaces, friends, enemies, attitudes, and even children, all have an influence on who we become.  I personally have no idea where the 18-year-old version of me has gone, not that I remember much of him.

So it goes for our hero, David.  He has an inkling of who Susan is or was, but so much has changed for her.  Her mother is dead, she had been held captive by a madman, drugged and tortured, it would have to affect anyone.

But, then, there are different nuances, so un Susan-like.  Little changes he knows she might not partake in, and it is these that start him wondering, what if…

Firstly, she cuts short a planned reunion away in Italy, time for them to reconnect.  Yes, she is now head of the family business, yes, she is hanging out with new men in her life, and no, it seems he does not fit into her corporate persona.

Then there is the first assassination attempt.

On him.

And so the rollercoaster ride begins…

Am I glad it’s all over for another year?

Yes and no.

Yes, it was a lot of hard work, sustaining a word count moving forward, especially when the was nothing coming through from brain to fingers.

Writing to a deadline, with a required number of words to be done each day, every day, is daunting. Especially when you write a tract of words that you don’t like because they were written just to make up the numbers, then go to bed, sometimes four or five in the morning, with the thought that the next tract is going to be just as bad, or worse, you can’t think where the story is going to take you.

That method of writing that is known as being a ‘pantser’ can be a struggle or a boon.

But it’s not something I will give up on, even though the previous book last year was written to a plan, but like all plans, the course of the story veered off plan when the characters took over half way through.

The main thing is that it gave me a reason to get out of bed each morning.

Like has been, for some of us with immune system deficiencies, very isolated and at times difficult to deal with the lack of interaction with others. By nature, I am a loner who doesn’t like the idea of going out and mixing with others, and the life of writing suits me, but during the pandemic, I found myself having to live with others who were also forced into isolation.

I guess I made adjustments and got to like the idea of having people around.

Now, with the pandemic supposedly over, and back to being on my own, it doesn’t seem the same.

OK, enough about my problems.

The story can stew away in a corner somewhere, and I will revisit it, perhaps in another three months.

What to do next?

A few short stories, maybe, or continue with the projects I started before November.

Enough, at least, to keep my mind off everything else.

All’s well …

…

After an uneventful trip back home with some friendly Russians, it’s back to business for David and Alisha.

There’s the compound in rural England, the one with the fence that would normally be impenetrable.  David and the team, forced into action because of a basic mistake, take the fortress by storm, and discover … nothing.

The birds have flown the coop.

Well, they think they have.

Then there’s the castle, and discreet movements at night means something’s afoot, and there’s yet another fortress to be stormed.

And, in the process, David is reunited with an old acquaintance.

But, a search of the new buildings finds something David never expected to find.

Back in London, David goes to visit Prendergast, not so well protected these days, at his private residence.  After a meaningful chat, the association between them is over, and Prendergast has played his last game with David.

Then it’s simply a matter of going to pick up Susan from the airport, and Boris getting the word she can come home.

They, too, have a meaningful chat in the car back to the London residence, and then the Castle, where Boris has accepted an invitation from David for a short stay.

Skeet shooting is only one of the things David has lined up.

Then, after a few months, life returns to normal in an unusual place, far, far away on the other side of the world.

…

Words written today, 3,699, for a total of 76,418.

…

There will probably be more because I feel there are parts that were written too hastily, but that will be rectified in the first edit.

After Christmas.

Am I glad it’s all over for another year?

Yes and no.

Yes, it was a lot of hard work, sustaining a word count moving forward, especially when the was nothing coming through from brain to fingers.

Writing to a deadline, with a required number of words to be done each day, every day, is daunting. Especially when you write a tract of words that you don’t like because they were written just to make up the numbers, then go to bed, sometimes four or five in the morning, with the thought that the next tract is going to be just as bad, or worse, you can’t think where the story is going to take you.

That method of writing that is known as being a ‘pantser’ can be a struggle or a boon.

But it’s not something I will give up on, even though the previous book last year was written to a plan, but like all plans, the course of the story veered off plan when the characters took over half way through.

The main thing is that it gave me a reason to get out of bed each morning.

Like has been, for some of us with immune system deficiencies, very isolated and at times difficult to deal with the lack of interaction with others. By nature, I am a loner who doesn’t like the idea of going out and mixing with others, and the life of writing suits me, but during the pandemic, I found myself having to live with others who were also forced into isolation.

I guess I made adjustments and got to like the idea of having people around.

Now, with the pandemic supposedly over, and back to being on my own, it doesn’t seem the same.

OK, enough about my problems.

The story can stew away in a corner somewhere, and I will revisit it, perhaps in another three months.

What to do next?

A few short stories, maybe, or continue with the projects I started before November.

Enough, at least, to keep my mind off everything else.

I know what you know

…

When a façade cracks one of two things will happen.  First, it will stay in one piece long enough for the artisans to fix it before it falls down, or, the most likely scenario, it will all come tumbling down.

In Nigeria, David’s captor gives away several pieces of information which, in itself, might not mean very much, but when taken with a number of other unexplainable events and actions, gives David a lot of pause for thought.

And he will have plenty of time for that because the team have to leave the compound and get back home by a stealthier means, and this is where Boris can lend a hand.

If only Prendergast knew!

But, three events are set in motion, one monitoring Prendergast, the second, monitoring a compound in the English countryside, a recent Featherington acquisition, and thirdly, intensive surveillance of the castle.

Susan is back in Moscow, so no need to worry about her yet, but just in case, David has Boris keep her there on a minor pretext, and take away her means of communication until the situation becomes clearer.

Just what is going on at the country compound and who is residing there?

Just what are all the new buildings at the castle for; it seemed unlikely the stables really are stables even though from the outside they looked like stables?

And, what is Prendergast really up to? It’s time to ask some pertinent questions.

…

Words written today, 2,987, for a total of 72,719

All’s well …

…

After an uneventful trip back home with some friendly Russians, it’s back to business for David and Alisha.

There’s the compound in rural England, the one with the fence that would normally be impenetrable.  David and the team, forced into action because of a basic mistake, take the fortress by storm, and discover … nothing.

The birds have flown the coop.

Well, they think they have.

Then there’s the castle, and discreet movements at night means something’s afoot, and there’s yet another fortress to be stormed.

And, in the process, David is reunited with an old acquaintance.

But, a search of the new buildings finds something David never expected to find.

Back in London, David goes to visit Prendergast, not so well protected these days, at his private residence.  After a meaningful chat, the association between them is over, and Prendergast has played his last game with David.

Then it’s simply a matter of going to pick up Susan from the airport, and Boris getting the word she can come home.

They, too, have a meaningful chat in the car back to the London residence, and then the Castle, where Boris has accepted an invitation from David for a short stay.

Skeet shooting is only one of the things David has lined up.

Then, after a few months, life returns to normal in an unusual place, far, far away on the other side of the world.

…

Words written today, 3,699, for a total of 76,418.

…

There will probably be more because I feel there are parts that were written too hastily, but that will be rectified in the first edit.

After Christmas.

You’re a sight for sore eyes

…

Here’s the thing about stubborn people.

Whether right or wrong they eventually get what they want.

It’s clear to David by the time he reaches the compound, that firstly the girl who was supposedly a prisoner is not there, probably wasn’t there in the first place, but that’s no surprise, secondly had they caught Alisha, then she would be on display when they arrived, and thirdly, there was always the weasel type interrogator bristling with overconfidence waiting in the wings.

And if there was a fourthly, it would be that he would receive ‘the softening up’ process before the first interrogation.

He was not disappointed.  The second in so many weeks, or what felt like it, the bruises on the bruises were like a badge of honour.

But that’s the problem with weaselly interrogators who think they hold all the cards, when the tables are turned, they become cowered cowards.

He underestimated David’s resolve.  He underestimated Alisha’s determination to remain uncaptured, and he didn’t know about David’s secret weapon.

That is until they came knocking on the door.

His overconfident interrogator, thinking that he held all the cards and that David would be leaving in a body bag, spills the beans.

…

Words written today, 2,776, for a total of 69,732