Tag: Reading

It all started in Venice – Episode 16

A change in plans

…

I couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t the fact that Cecilia was asleep in the next bed, though it was a little unsettling, more it was the series of events that got me to this point.

Something didn’t add up.

I had one of those sixth sense moments, one of the times when I did close my eyes, and in looking down on myself, tied to a chair, with Larry holding a gun to my head screaming it was all my fault.

In that scenario, it had been far too easy for him to take me.  And in the final moments of that reverie, before I opened my eyes, there was a blurred face in the background, the face of the traitor.

Only I could not get a clear view of who it was.

The bottom line, it was a trap.  Everything pointed to it, and while I wanted to believe what I had decided was the right option, Cecilia was right.  I had been out of the game too long’ and Rodby was right to send a set of fresh eyes.

Juliet was a pawn, coerced to do Larry’s will because of her brother, and her note was a story no doubt conceived out of careful planning on Larry’s part.  He was hoping I would treat him like a moron.

And the irrefutable truth of the matter was that Larry was not going to stop, not unless he had a compelling reason to.

It was about 2 in the morning when I got out of bed and shut myself in the bathroom, and sat on the floor seemingly staring into space, but running scenarios, like I used to. 

An hour later, I had a plan.

The first call was to Alfie who was, by a quirk of fate, still awake.

“This had better be good.”

Awake, but in a cranky mood.

“Larry’s in Sorrento with his family isn’t he?”

“Wife and eldest daughter.  The son is in Milan at the moment visiting another relative.  Why?”

“You’re going to have them picked up and taken to a place where we can talk.”

“Are you mad?”

“Quite sane, I assure you.”

“Rodby warned me this might happen.  Taking them is nigh on impossible given their security.”

“Not where I’m intending you pick them up.  Just assemble a team and wait for my text on where and when.”

“Rodby will never OK this.”

“Tell him it’s an opportunity not to be missed and to send his best interrogator.”

Without another word, he hung up. 

Rodby might think I was a little radical, and at times I was, but my successes outweighed the failures, and he had always wanted to get Larry into a one-on-one to answer some questions.  If he tried not to overthink it, this could turn out to be a genuine opportunity.

The second call was to Larry’s mother.  She had always been a night owl and I suspected she might be at a party somewhere given the rowdy background noise on her phone when she answered.

I said, “It’s been a while.”

Silence.  I had the awful feeling for a moment that she might either dismiss me or simply hang up.

Then, with a lot less background noise, she said, “nnn, how lovely to hear from you again.  I was sorry to hear about Violetta.  I came to the funeral but thought it best not to intrude.”

I had not seen her but I knew she would have come.  And she was right, I was in no fit state of mind that day to address anyone.

“I appreciate that.  Thank you.”

“Now, I know this is not a social call because my son is here and I’ve been waiting for a call.”

“Sorry.  I should have called you sooner but it’s been difficult especially to talk to those who knew her, and yes, it’s about Larry.  For some reason he’s decided to come after me, blaming me for his brother’s death.”

“No surprise to me, though.  It’s become his latest obsession.  The reason is obvious, especially to family.  The provisions of his fathers will come due in three weeks’ time, and if it’s proved that one brother killed the other, then he forfeits his half of the inheritance, and we are talking a lot of money and property.”

“You know the truth about his bother as well as I do.”

She had asked me to try and convince Fabio, Larry’s younger brother, not to join the family business and I had convinced him that it was his mother’s wish for him to go back to Italy where her family lived. 

That was when Larry stepped in and forced him to do one last job.  Larry should have been at the delivery, not send his brother in his place, and it did occur to me that Larry knew it was going to go bad.

I followed Fabio there, and witnessed the deal fall apart, the buyers were expecting Larry, not his brother.  But that was not the worst of it.  An armed gang came out of the shadows and started shooting.  I tried my best to protect Fabio, taking out the armed gang, but Fabio had been hit, but not fatally and even I left him, before the paramedics arrived, he was alive or conscious.

What happened from the moment I left him and he arrived dead on arrival at the hospital was only something Larry could explain.  I had provided his mother with physical proof of Fabio being alive at the meeting, and she too had questions that Larry had never adequately answered. 

“He will not believe me, and because if who I am, he has turned the others against me.  He has become smarter in the last few years.”

“Who’s helping him, I can’t believe he’s capable of doing all this on his own.”

“He says it is, actually bragging about it.”

“I was surprised Brenda and Valentina came with him.  She hates you.”  Brenda was his American wife, the daughter of Mafia Don, Valentina the daughter.

“And, that’s the hell of it.  You know the saying misfortune makes strange bedfellows, well, she tells me he’s having an affair, but I got the boys to have a look into the matter and it’s not an affair.  She is the head of a rival gang that’s been incrementally taking over our turf and now I know why.  She’s got him dangling in a string.”

A lot can happen in a few years.  The only rival gang that I could think of was the DeBortino’s.  If this woman was a problem perhaps the seeds of my plan could be extended slightly to help her with her problem and get rid of mine

“I want to get Larry off my back, and you want to be a good mother-in-law so perhaps we can help each other.”

“What do you have in mind.”

I told her, and at least she didn’t snort at the idea.

Then, after thinking about what Larry’s mother had said I sent a text message to Alfie asking for a deep dive into her life and business, and if she had any dark secrets.

Another idea had come to mind.

© Charles Heath 2022

A photograph from the Inspirational bin – 28

Just what everyone needs in their backyard:  A Gazebo, or a small bandstand!

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Often when we go to different places, it gives us ideas, sometimes ideas beyond what is possible.

I have always wanted a gazebo, perhaps not on the same grand scale as the one above, but one where we can put a BBQ and a few seats, and relax on a sunny afternoon.

Shade, a cool breeze, a cold glass of wine or beer, and the aroma of meat cooking on an open flame.

But…

Reality sets in.  The backyard isn’t big enough, so my dream will stay just that.

But as an idea for a story, I suspect this might be the place where you first met the love of your life in circumstances that become the stuff of legends.

It can definitely be a meeting place, whether to carry on illegal activities, whether it’s after sneaking away to be with someone whom others will not approve, or whether it is many, many years later to reminisce, or to reconnect.

As usual, the possibilities are endless.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 22

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.

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

An unlikely ally?

 

When we were far enough away, not far from the bridge that crossed the Thames towards the Houses of Parliament, and with the London Eye in the foreground, I slackened my pace.  There were enough people around to afford us cover if Maury and his team realised quickly enough what we had done to escape.

“What now?” she asked.

“Go back to your people, tell them you’ve been compromised, but only on the basis that your flat was tossed, don’t mention Nobbin or Severin unless you feel compelled you have to, and make sure you don’t go back to the flat.  Both of them will have it staked out by now.”

“And what are you doing to do?”

“Try and play them off against each other, which probably won’t work.  I’m not nearly good enough at this caper yet.  Unfortunately, I’m going to have to talk to both of them and tell them I’m onto McConnell, though that will hardly be a surprise to either of them.  After that, find somewhere safe to figure out what to do next.”

“Who was that back at the station?”

“A chap called Maury, and I think he’s one of Severin’s hatchet men.  He was one of those who trained me and several others.”

“You do realise what you’re saying?”

“That my situation is so screwed up, yes, I know.”

It was when I stopped to think about it.  Trained by a rogue group no one knew about, or so they said, and transferred to another group, but not told about it, well, not officially, anyway.

“Maybe we should keep each other’s back.  I mean, if what you say is true, if I go back to my people and tell them about this, it’s likely I’ll be putting a target on my back too.”

True.  I had considered that, but not that we might team up.  It would introduce a third group to the game, and it might be one too many, or act as a catalyst leading to catastrophic consequences.

“What are you saying?”  I asked her, just in case I was misinterpreting what she was saying.

“I’m not safe, you’re not safe, together we might be.  I might have something useful about O’Connell, but I wouldn’t know if it was useful of not.  You at least know what to look for, and basically who to avoid.  Who knows, we might make a great team.”

We might.  But it would have to be predicated on trust, and, right now, I was not sure if I could trust her.  That pen thing, she might have precipitated it, and was working with Severin.  It seemed logical in the circumstances.

But what was that saying, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?  I’d soon find out.

“Ok.  What do you think we should do first?”

“Find a hotel, an obscure one, nearby, and you call your so-called friends, and see what happens, as you said.”

I nodded.  “Sounds like a plan.”

And, I thought to myself, ideal for her if she was insinuating herself into my world, much the same as she had in O’Connell’s case.  In was now in my nature to suspect everyone and everything, because a few words of one lesson came back to haunt me.  We trust people because we instinctively want to believe them, and in this line of work, the people we come across are good and sincere storytellers.

It was a question of how much truth they weaved into their story, that made it believable.  I wanted to believe her, but the facts, circumstantial or otherwise, pointed me in the other direction.

I would have to wait and see and make sure I was prepared for the worst.

It was Jan’s idea t stay near the Charing Cross station in a hotel that I would not normally stay in because of the cost.  I let Jan do the check-in and when we arrived at the room, I discovered she hadn’t booked two rooms, but a Studio Suite with two single beds and a sofa bed.

Apparently, we were brother and sister, which made sense after I had overheard some of the conversation with the check-in clerk.  I didn’t hear what her excuse was for lack of luggage.  Perhaps the airline had lost it, but I had to admit the girl could think on her feet.

Once inside the room, it felt cramped, but the beds looked comfortable, and it had a minibar.

“Before you make any calls, you need to disable the GPS in your phone.”

“They’ll still be able to track it.”

“Not if you are on it for a short period, and we are outside the hotel.”

Well, before that I need a drink.”

“So, do I.  Give me a minute to freshen up and we’ll go down to the bar.  It’ll be a lot cheaper than the minibar.  Then I think we both need to get some supplies.”

I wondered if this is what it was like to be married.

© Charles Heath 2019

Searching for locations: The Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

The sight of the Peninsula Hotel is very familiar to all who visit Hong Kong, if not to stay but certainly if you want to see the last vestiges of British influence in what was once a far eastern colony.

That is, we’re talking about the front building, not the new tower at the back.  In the older days there would have been a great view of the harbor from the Veranda (that area with the blue striped canopy) where today, breakfast is taken.

We had breakfast, lunch, and the famous afternoon tea in the ground floor cafe.

These days you would mostly see taxis, buses, and Teslas, if not a flurry of Mercedes and green Rolls Royces in the small car park below.  There is no clear view of the harbor anymore.

From our room, one facing the harbor we could see the space museum, and on the day we arrived, rain, at times, blotting out the harbor and Hong Kong Island barely discernable in the distance.

As for the room itself, it was excellent, a junior suite, I think, because it had two distinctive areas.  Everything was run from a tablet computer, blinds, lights, television, and most importantly, air conditioning.  This was the first hotel I’ve stayed in where it was neither too hot or too cold, but just rights.

The bed was very large and extremely comfortable, as were the pillows.  Pillows, I’m afraid, are a bugbear with me, as no hotel seems to be able to get it right.  They’re either too soft or too hard, too tall, or too shallow.  Here, they managed to get it right.

The windows were just the right size not to affect the air conditioning, ie. let too much heat in.

I’m not sure I could say the lounge chair was comfortable, but there was only one, which makes it difficult if there are two of you.  I wasn’t going to fight for it.

The desk had a surprise in the bottom drawer, a printer!

And the bathroom, though slightly smaller than expected, had some hint of what it may have been like in the early days.  It had both a shower and a bath.

It all started in Venice – Episode 15

A note and an opinion

…

On the way back to the hotel I thought about the idea of killing the Frenchman and dumping his body in one of the back canals.

Of course, that was the sort of unsanctioned act that quite often brought down a well-planned operation and it would not be the first time for me if that happened now.

I tried not to think about that moment in history and to this day still couldn’t say why I did it beyond the fact the person annoyed me.  Those were young and brash days, long since gone from the repertoire.

Still, if he got in the way, or was going to compromise my plan he would have to go, and those back canals were begging for new prey.

When I finally returned to the hotel, it seemed almost stuffy in the small reception area, and the woman behind the counter nodded cursorily in my direction as I passed her heading for the stairs.

She was the sort of person who would miss nothing that happened in that hotel in or out of sight.

The elevator was old and tired, and I didn’t like to advertise arriving back on the floor where my room was located. Again, another memory of a bad experience involving an elevator has made me more wary since.

The stairs, in this instance, were well maintained, without the usual squeaks and groans susceptible to any other hotel.  The fact it was only a few floors and not twenty was also a selling point.

If Juliet was waiting she’d have to be in my doorway for me to fall over her, and as I took those last few steps before the landing, I wondered if Cecilia was back in my room’ waiting for me.

If she was, and Juliet arrived that might throw that proverbial car among the pigeons.

Neither were either waiting or in my room which oddly enough seemed disappointing.  Nor was anyone else who also brought up a memory or two that I’d rather forget. 

Experience was a cruel master.

I looked out the windows over the canal, still able to be surprised by the amount of activity on the water even for that hour of the night.

In a few hours, a whole new group of people would be about those behind the scenes, delivering all manner of goods and services in those early hours before a new day began.

Behind me, there was a very light knock on the door and I swiftly crossed the room and looked in the peep-hole.

Cecilia.

I opened the door and she slipped in before I’d even got it partially open.  She was in what I would call stealth mode.

“You’re up and about late?  Nothing on for tomorrow?”

She shrugged.  “Just the usual, so it’s unlikely they’ll miss me if I’m not there’ or late.  Besides, there’s a producer I keep running into that’s beginning to be annoying.”

“I can deal with him if you want me to?”

“I can deal with him myself.  No.  It’s your girlfriend whose supposedly not your girlfriend.”

“Juliet?  She’s not…”

“Of course not, just ragging you.  She’s suddenly all apologetic, telling me how sorry she was about being catty. Then giving me a hug that was quite unsettling.  Until I realised what she was doing.”

“Not making a pass I hope.”

“It wouldn’t be the first in the last day or so.  I must have that look, whatever that look is.  No.  She gave me this.”

Cecilia held up a small folded piece of paper.

“Did you read it?”

“Do I look like the sort who would read other people’s love letters?”

I took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

It said, and reading it aloud, “I believe you know why I’m here and I can tell you it’s not what I want.  I can’t discuss this with you otherwise he’ll know, so we need another way, perhaps through Cecilia. I’m supposed to deliver you in Sorrento, so we will need a plan to keep us both safe.  Sorry for dragging your friend into this.”

“Not a love letter then.”  She sounded disappointed.  “How could she possibly know that?”

“In trying to get Larry to do something in haste which he has, it was not without its risks.  She’s smart enough, given what she knew of me then, and that Larry has me in his sights, to realise it was not coincidental when I brought his name into the conversation.”

“Forcing an issue sometimes can have unintended consequences.”

“I didn’t want to drag it out for any of us.”

“Have you considered the possibility that this might be part of Larry’s plan, after all, he did tell her to get closer by any means possible.  How much closer could she get pretending to work with you?”

A plan I considered more plausible given the hold he had over her.  Alfie would have told me if such a conversation had taken place between them, but he hadn’t which meant it may have been before she embarked for Venice. 

It made sense, from his perspective and the hold he had over her.  Doing something as reckless on her part without his knowledge defied that threat, making it very difficult for me to believe it was a legitimate offer to help.

“What would you have thought if we didn’t know what we know?”

“It’s difficult to say since I’ve never been in that situation but first thought would be to considered it’s with the customary suspicion we have to view everything with.”

“Good answer.  You’ll be coming with me and lucky for you, you will not have to play nice.”

She smiled.  “At last a role I can get my teeth into.”

“We’ll go tomorrow, so be ready to leave.  I’m sure you’ll devise a good excuse for leaving early.  And watch your back tonight they might have a little surprise in store for you.”

“Not if I stay here.  I came prepared,” showing me her pyjamas under the gym wear.

I shrugged.  The room had two beds.  “Fine.”

© Charles Heath 2022

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 21

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.

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

An unlikely ally?

 

“Wait.”

It seemed that I had managed to scare her.  Either that, or she had decided to be a little more forthcoming.  I stopped and waited until she caught up.  I was nearly at the top of the stairs.

“Look, I have to go back to my people, and I’ll get them to look into those two people you don’t seem to trust, who were they, Nobbin and Severin?”

“I don’t think you want to do that.  You start making waves, your people will send out feelers and they’ll get to hear about it, and they will know exactly where it came from, and it’ll come back and bite you.  For your own peace of mind, I’d let the sleeping dogs lie.”

She seemed over-eager to get ahead using this as a steppingstone.  I’d seen the type, in the training ranks, and in former jobs.  She was clearly assigned this job because of her looks, and she might be a good agent too, but she hadn’t thought this through.

“Are you telling me to back off?”

“I’m trying to save your life.  If I have no idea who to trust, then I have to assume both of them are theoretically the enemy.  I’m still counting the blessings I’m still alive, but I suspect that will only last until the USB is found.  The rest of my team are dead.”

Now that put the right amount of fear into her.

“If they’re willing to kill everybody that’s come in contact with this information, I doubt they’d stop at killing the both of us if we got in their way.”

“Then you have a plan?”

“At the moment that plan consists of one line.  Stay alive and find the USB before they do.  After that, I’ll see what happens.”

I caught sight of an incident, two people almost colliding, and one, I noticed, was more intent on his phone which is what caused the clash.  And, a second later, I thought I recognised one of the two.

Maury.  Severin’s offsider, and more likely cleanup man.  My guess, he was the one searching O’Connell’s flat, and Jan’.”

I think it was safe to say she was compromised.

“Ok,” I said quietly, “we have a problem, well two problems.”  And if I was wrong about her, and she was one of Severin’s people, which, seeing Maury just turned a probable into a likely, I had three.

If she was, I hadn’t seen that coming. 

“What now?”

Time to test the water.

“One of Severin’s men is downstairs, mingling, which means he knows I’m here, and maybe you two.”

I did a quick check of my scan of O’Connell’s, thinking I might have picked up a bug.  It was the only explanation why Maury was here.  And, it was likely he was not alone.

Not me.  Jan?

“Did you take anything from O’Connell’s?”

“No.  Why?”

“Are you sure.  Think”

While scanning the lower floor of the station looking, no doubt, for Maury, and anyone that might present a problem, she looked like she was recounting her steps.

“Damn.  A pen.  I left it there the last time I saw him.”  She pulled it out of her bag and went to toss it in the bin.

I snatched it, and as someone brushed past me, I dropped it into their pocket.

A flash of annoyance, then, “Hey, that cost a lot of money.”

“Then be grateful it didn’t cost you your life.  Yet.”

We waited, keeping far enough back from the stairs, but with still a good view of the station.  I kept an eye on the man whom I gave the pen as he made his way across the floor towards one of the platforms.  Luckily it was at the furthest end, and as he approached it, I saw three figures, and Maury slowly make their way towards him forming a blockade so he couldn’t escape.

“Time to go.”

She had noticed the movement too.

We went down the stairs and headed towards the first available exit.  As we were going out the door, we heard a commotion, the team obviously apprehending the wrong man, who would be wondering why four burly men were accosting him on his way home.

We didn’t wait to find out what happened to him.

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Searching for locations: Eating In, Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

Hotel dining can be a very expensive experience, but if you are there as one of those bucket list fulfillments like we were, then it’s not unusual to go the whole nine yards.

Since the stay coincided with my birthday, the first day was set aside to have dinner at the Chinese restaurant upstairs and was one of those sublime experiences.  Of course, it had to be Peking Duck, expensive champagne, and several cocktails.

Oddly enough, breakfast wasn’t included in the room rate, but that seems to be normal for a lot of hotels.  It can be if you want to pay upfront, but we don’t always have breakfast, particularly if we have dinner the night before.

Or can be bothered getting out of bed the next morning because quite often the breakfast hours do go with staying in bed.

During this stay, we decided to have breakfast one morning, cereal, bacon and eggs, coffee, toast, you know, the usual stuff.

No paper placemats here and the silverware was just that, silverware.  This was going to be full on old world charm.

Coffee served from a silver coffee pot, fine bone china from Staffordshire, not Thailand, tea service for milk and sugar, condiments all in a row.
The only disappointment, I don’t think the eggs were free-range.

And, when the conversation dries up, there’s always a steady stream of people coming and going through the front door, and the doorman is always at the ready to open the door.

WE went once for lunch, and yes, we had to go to the famous Afternoon Tea, for which you had to book or stand in a very long line.  We booked and discovered preference was given to those who were staying at the hotel.

Out came the silver tea service, and one could imagine that this was the same as what it had been a hundred years ago.  I had tea, after all, it was afternoon tea!

The cakes were interesting, there were quarter sandwiches rather than finger sandwiches, and though I’m not a fan of fruit scones, I’m always up for something different.
After it, it’s probably not a good idea to go out for dinner too.

Overall, the experience was worth it.

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 27

This is the staircase down to the bedroom level of a two-story holiday apartment at the Rosebud Country Club on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria Australia.

It was the first time we stayed there for a long time.

However…

Innocuous stairs leading downwards to a black hole suggest a great many other things, especially if you left your imagination run wild.

For instance:

What if you are an only child being dropped off by your parents at your creepy grandparent’s place in the middle of the woods. Imagine driving up on a cold, wintry, windy, cloudless dark night, and when you get there, this old rambling mansion looks like the coven for witches.

What if when you get to the door this creepy old man who looks more dead than alive answers the door, and when you step over the threshold you hear what seems to be a high-pitched scream coming from outside the house.

What if, when you are being taken up the staircase, every single wooden step creaks or groans, that at the top of the stairs, every painting you pass, the eyes seem to follow you.

What if, when you explore, against the express wishes of your grandfather, you come across a door that leads down into a basement. There has to be some interesting stuff down there, a torture chamber, a medical laboratory with a half-finished Frankenstein, a workshop with coffins stacked in a corner.

The possibilities are endless

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 77

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

Boggs is not a happy man

…

I could feel the waves of hate emanating from Boggs as he was staring at Nadia, who was doing her best to ignore him.

The previous evening when I made the suggestion to her that we should do whatever we could to aid in his search, on the Cossatino’s beach head without involving the Cossatinos, and in an attempt to have a backup plan if they caught up with us, met the same stony silence as it had when I told Boggs.

Her response was a stony, ‘don’t expect me to go up against my father and Vince, I’m not that brave.”

All Cossatino’s were tarred with the same brush, he said, just short of telling me he was convinced she was working with them, trying to find out what he knew via me.  He didn’t believe me when I told him she had done anything but interrogate me.

I wanted to believe she was not on their side, but just in case he might be right, my idea was to keep the enemy, if she was playing me, close.  Certainly, if the family turned up to thwart us, then I’d be convinced she was against us.

But, at least we’d then know, and it would make little difference in the end.  What Boggs was planning, with or without me, was basically suicide.

And she had voiced exactly the arguments that I’d already expected, although stopping short of saying she would not be part of it.

What had surprised me, Boggs had actually come, knowing Nadia would be there.

I let the silence reign for a minute or so, then dived in.

“Right.”

Both heads turned towards me, and I could feel the temperature rise about 10 degrees.

“I had imagined this would go so much better when I planned it in my head, but I can see quite plainly there are trust issues on either side.  The point is, Boggs, you can’t do this on your own.  You tried once and failed.  You might get lucky a second time, but I suspect the Cossatinos know now what you’re trying to do, and will be waiting.”

“They tried to kill me,” he muttered.

That might be putting it a bit strongly, because he had said as much to the sheriff, and the Cossatino’s denied it, as expected, but the evidence was quite clear, Boggs’s rope had been severed with a knife, located when the sheriff had visited the site and found the rope still attached to the top of the cliff.

The Cossatinos had been sloppy in covering their tracks, and the excuse they had been rock climbing hadn’t been taken seriously since no equipment had been found at the house, and none of them could provide any details of doing so elsewhere.

Evidence or not, no charges had been laid yet, nor had the Cossatinos proceeded with a trespass charge, perhaps fearing a more detailed investigation might be too intrusive or prove Boggs’s case.  In turn,  Boggs had been forced to agree not to go back, but simple words on the paper he signed, meant nothing.

“Deter you, I’d say,” Nadia said, “because killing you would bring unwanted attention to their activities.” 

Nadia was probably right because Boggs’s quest was too well known, as was the theory that the treasure was still on The Grove.  Already, the story was on the front page of the local paper, and Lenny was trying to get interviews.

And it was attracting attention from other media.  If anything, the Cossatinos would want to hose it down, not throw fuel on the fire.

“Well, you’re not dead,” I said, “fortuitously we found you, and now if you are going to persist with this quest, there has to be a plan, and Nadia has to be part of it.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“OK.  Then I’ll start my own quest, with Nadia’s help, and we’ll see who gets to the treasure first.  I told you I believe I know where it is, and I think you believe you know too.  Your problem will be getting back there, whereas, I have no such problem.  So,” I pointed to the door, “you can leave any time, but don’t call me again.  We’re done.”

I glared back at him, and while not exactly squirming in his seat, he appeared to be mulling over the ultimatum.  I hadn’t planned to give him one, but he was pushing all the wrong buttons.

It also elicited an interesting look from Nadia, because it was the first time she was hearing that I knew where the treasure was.  It was a calculated risk telling her, but I’d know soon enough whose side she was on.

“If you sign a document forfeiting any rights over the treasure you have a deal.  Both of you.”

So, it came down to the money, pure and simple.  I thought I’d made it clear long ago that I wasn’t interested in anything to do with the treasure because it was cursed.  “No problem.”

I looked at Nadia.

“God no, I want nothing to do with it.  I’ve seen what the obsession with wealth can do to people, and families, and it’s why I left.  I’m happy to sign anything you want.”

He pulled what looked to be sheets of folded paper from his pocket, unfolded them, and gave one to each of us.

“Call me when they’re notarized.”  With a final glare, he left.

That left Nadia looking at me with a curious expression.  “You know where the treasure is?”

“Maybe.  I just wanted to put the wind up him because I think he does.  There are clues that Boggs doesn’t know about, and I haven’t told him about.  I believe according to some of the information I’ve found, that he was in the right place when we found him.”

“I didn’t see any caves or tunnels, or any sort of hiding place, just rocks.”

“There are a few factors involved that make that area a likely spot and the reasons that spot was chosen.  One is that there doesn’t seem to be apparent access by land, other than the way we came, across the rocks, but at the time the pirates might not have had the time or the know-how to get there by anything other than the sea.”

“So, you’re saying they came by sea.  How did they get past the reefs?  And how the hell could they see a cave or tunnel in that rockface?”

“It’s been a couple of hundred years, and I think back then that shoreline would have been a lot different.  I’m not a geologist but that cliff face shows signs of rockfalls and slippage, so it’s possible it’s now concealed.  From what I’ve read, just in the newspaper archives alone, there’s been seismic activity occurring for the last seventy-odd years and maybe even during the last few centuries, just look at the fact there used to be a lake further inland.  Then, I suspect they came ashore by an abnormally high tide.  For an experienced seafarer, it has the pluses, and precise navigation through the reef, and it’s the hardest to get to spot on the Grove’s coastline.  An ideal spot that is to everyone other than a master mariner, an unlikely place to get to.

She looked like she was weighing up the pros and cons of what I’d told her.

“I’m surprised you’re telling me this.”

“The chances of the treasure still being there or that I’m right about the location is quite remote, so it doesn’t really matter.  Anyway, up to now, you haven’t given me a reason not to trust you, so if there’s anything you want to tell me, now would be the time.”

So, she had considered how it might look to me, the family name and reputation she had inherited.

“I’ve told you what my situation is.  To be honest, I don’t think there’s any treasure to be found either.  I once heard a discussion between family members, when I was very young and didn’t understand what they were talking about, involving putting a story out there that there was a treasure, and if they sold it well enough, people would pay plenty for maps.  In my opinion, the treasure story is a Cossatino special money-making scheme built off Ormiston’s and layer, Boggs’s obsession.  The myth has been perpetuated by articles in papers, and new maps surfacing from time to time.  I’d be surprised if you did find anything, but for Boggs’s sake, it’s better he learn the truth than hang on to false hope.”

“So you know it’s all a hoax?”

“On the face of it, you would think so, but Vince, not the sharpest of people, bought into it, especially when Boggs’s father came on board to draw the maps.  He was a cartographer you know, and worked for the county authorities in mapping the area.  I’m guessing that’s how he got started on this treasure thing.  That was another story my father liked to tell us, how Boggs had found a cave that was a pirates lair, only to see it destroyed not long after in one of the recent earthquakes.  That discovery turned him into a true believer and was happy to help the Cossatino’s so he could muddy the water while he searched for it.  There have always been rumors of treasure along this coastline.  It might be possible there was treasure somewhere, but don’t you think it’d be found by now?”

“Logic dictates that it would be, but anything’s possible.  Why did you take me on that coin-seeking exercise?”

“The truth Sam?  I heard Vince talking about Boggs snooping around, and I was hoping we’d find nothing.  Vince can be an ass most of the time, and I want to believe he wouldn’t do anything to seriously hurt Boggs, just put the wind up him.  Thankfully nothing happened, and it’s the best I could do in the circumstances.  I’m sorry.”

Was she by definition somewhere between a rock and a hard place?

“This time we were lucky.  Next time it might be a very different story.  I’ll understand if you want to quit now, because you may have to pick a side.”

“Let’s hope then it doesn’t come to that.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Writing about writing a book – Day 9

Blogging, Social  Media, and other stuff.

 

Aren’t there more important things to do like writing?

I think reading the 101 things to do to establish your author brand is finally getting to me.  I leave this to read the last thing before I go to bed and it’s beginning to give me nightmares.

So, for starters, I’ve created a twitter page but I’m not sure what to do with it.  Yet.

Then I created a Facebook page but there is one for authors and I think l have created the wrong one.  It’s very confusing.

And reading 10 things an author shouldn’t do, one of them was not to use Facebook.  Who to believe?

Now I’m lingering at WordPress after googling writer blogs and got a choice of so many, some free, others quite expensive, and I’m not sure what half the stuff is they’re offering.

There’s also Site blog, and there’s collaborative blogging.  Perhaps it’s time to get back to the easy stuff like plotting and writing my book!

That might have been easy if a little voice in my head wasn’t screaming ‘you need a website’.

Once again I’m googling my fingers to the bone trying to decide if I want a free one or pay.  At least if I pay there might not be ghastly ads for porn sites.  That’s one criticism I read that can be a problem.

I decided to pay a nominal amount but now I strike a new problem, I need to get a domain name such as ‘authorname.com’.

I put in my name and it is taken already so in order not to pay the person who snapped it up in the hope of making a million dollars, or perhaps because he has the same name as me and thought of it first, I have to accept one of the variations.

It then gives me the opportunity to buy right now that particular name because it is free, and I found myself working with a hyphen.  It could be worse, I suppose.

It also offers a few extra web domains with different endings such as .com,.info, etc.

What the hell it’s only a few extra dollars and I’ll worry about what to do with them in two years’ time except for the .com which I’ll use now.

The website started and a month paid for, got a .com to link it to, and now all I have to do something with it.  No, I’m not a web designer even after I picked a template that looked author like.

It can wait.

Social media investigated but looks like its going to suck up a lot of my time.

Better get back to the book and write my page, or 1000 words, or 2000 words for the day.

 

I look over at the rubbish bin and it is overflowing.  It looks like a scene out of a bad movie, where the writer pretends he’s a pro basketball player who can’t shoot.

It’s just not flowing.  I’m beginning to hate Bill as a name.  Perhaps I’ll change it to Tarquin.  No, that’s not quite a name that suits the character.  It leads to a mental debate about what is an appropriate name for a character and sends me off into Google land again to see what various names mean.

The name is Bill until I find something better.

I guess that leads to some introspection on how I see, or what I want, the character to be.  So far he’s been married, and divorced, not been much of a husband to his wife, or children, maybe because of what happened to him when he was in the army, something he knows about in a peripheral sense but is about to learn a whole lot more.

Being shot, ending up in a hospital, sparks a memory, in a dream, brought on by a particular type of painkiller, and he is about to remember who and what he was, stuff that he has previously not realized, or knew about.  Those last traumatic events in the war zone caused his memory to be wiped.

It’s not the sort of memories certain people want to be brought into the open.

OK, finally something to work with.

I need to work on the dream or nightmare sequence.

Pen in hand, I start writing…

 

© Charles Heath 2018-2020