Tag: Serial

“Strangers We’ve Become” – Countdown to publishing in ??? Days

Here’s the thing…

It was down to the day before publishing.

Years of hard work were about to see the light of day…

Then the sky fell in.

Well, it wasn’t quite that dramatic but it came a close second.

My editor had been away and had forgotten to send an email to say that there were some last-minute changes that she wanted considered.

That email finally turned up in our inboxes the day before the book was about to be published.

Now I have a fortnight to read through the suggestions and then write the necessary changes, some of which have a more serious impact than just a localised rewrite.

The publication date is now moved back a month to a date in the first week of April, hopefully not April Fools Day.

I’ll let you know when the countdown restarts.

Searching for locations: Rome, Italy

We visited Rome in August

It was hot.

It was verrrry hot.

We flew into Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino airport after a rather bumpy flight from London.  Unlike most other airports the plane parked at a satellite terminal and after we disembarked we had to catch a train to the main terminal.

The most notable memory of this airport was my daughter’s discovery of a salami shop.

We had booked a transfer to take us to the hotel the Roma Corso Trieste Mercure in Via Gradisca from the airport.  It was a white air-conditioned van and so far we had avoided the heat.

One of the rooms had faulty air conditioning an absolute must as the rooms were very hot without it and necessitated a room change which was done quickly and efficiently.

The hotel was in the suburbs and without a car we were dependent on public transport.  According to the reception staff, there was a bus stop nearby, and a longer walk to the tram or light railway.  The bus seemed to be the best option as it would take us to the central terminal near the railway station, where all tour buses also operated from, and particularly the open-top buses that went to all the major tourist attractions.

That first day basically was given over to travelling, arriving by plane and settling into the hotel, thus we didn’t get to feel the force of the heat.  That came the next day.

After a walk around the hotel precinct to get our bearings and see what shops and restaurants were available, on returning to the hotel we were faced with limited choices of room service or to go out for dinner.

My daughter and l go for a long walk up Via Nomentana to find several shops and a restaurant.  We went into the restaurant and sat down.   We waited for 10 minutes and got no service nor did anyone come and ask us if we wanted to order food so instead we left somewhat disappointed and go next door to what seemed to be the Italian version of a delicatessen and ordered sandwiches and beer.   I bought a half dozen cans of Moretti beer two of which I drank on the way home.

It was still very hot even at eight at night and the sandwiches are delicious.  It just might be by that time we were starving and anything would have tasted great.

The next morning we are up and ready to chance the weather and some history.  Breakfast at the hotel is limited but very good.

We were going to use public transport and I’d studied up on the Internet.

Travelling on the bus required pre-purchase of tickets which could be bought in certain shops and locally when exploring the area near the hotel, l found a tobacconist.

Next, we needed to understand how to use the tickets. There was no one on the bus who could help so when l tried to scan the tickets and it failed, l gave up.  We had the same issue each day and in the end, the tickets never got used.

The trip to central Rome by bus took about 15 minutes.  In the morning it was reasonably cool and showed us a little of suburban Rome.  We also saw the trams but we would not be able to use them because our hotel not on a direct route.

That first full day we decided to go and see the Vatican.

Not understanding buses and which one we needed to get to the Vatican, we took a taxi.

Wow.  It was the metaphorical equivalent of driving over the edge of a cliff with a daredevil.  It was quite literally terrifying.

Or maybe we just didn’t know that this was probably the way people drove in Rome.

Shaken but delivered in one piece we found ourselves in the square opposite St Peters Basilica.

The square is impressive, with the statues atop a circular colonnaded walkway.  The church is incredible and took a few hours to take in and to top off the day we did a tour of the Vatican museum which took the rest of the afternoon.

Then it was back to the delicatessen for more sandwiches and beer, and an interesting discussion with several elderly Italian ladies, of which I did not understand one word.

On the second full day we decided to use one of the open-top bus tours and eventually decided on the hop-on hop-off tour simply because the bus was at the central transport terminal for trains and buses and it was getting hotter.

Our first stop was the Colosseum.  There were other monuments nearby, such as the Arch of Constantine, but as the heat factor increased we joined the queue to go into the Colosseum and gladly welcomed the shade once we got inside.

The queue was long and the wait equally so, but it was worth the wait.  It would be more interesting if they could restore part of it to its former glory so we could get a sense of the place as it once was.  But alas that may never happen, but even so, it is still magnificent as a ruin.

Outside in the heat, it was off to the ruins which were a longish walk from the Colosseum, taking Via Sacra, not far from the Arch of Constantine.  This day in the walkway there were a number of illegal vendors, selling knockoff goods such as handbags and watches, and who, at the first sight of the police, packed up their wares in a blanket and ran.

Included in these ruins were The Roman Forum, or just a few columns remaining, the Palatine Hill, Imperial Fori, including the Forum of Augustus, the Forum of Caesar, and more specifically the Forum of Trajan.  It was, unfortunately very hot and dusty in the ruins the day we visited.

We walked all the way to the Foro Romano and the Septimus Severo Arch at the other end of the ruins, past the Temple of Caesar.  I found it very difficult to picture what it was like when the buildings were intact, so I bought a guide to the ruins which showed the buildings as ruins and an overlay of how they would have looked.  The buildings, then, would be as amazing as the Colosseum, and it would have been interesting to have lived back then, though perhaps not as a Christian.

I lost count of the number of bottles of water we bought, but the word ‘frizzante’ was ringing in my ears by the end of the day.  Fortunately, the water did not cost a lot to buy.

At the end of the day, we caught the hop on hop off the bus at the Colosseum and decided not to get off and see any more monuments but observe them from the bus.  The only one I remember seeing was Circo Massimo.  Perhaps if we’d known it was going to be twice as hot on the bus, yes, there was no air-conditioning; we may have chosen another form of transport to get back to the hotel.

On the third and last day in Rome, we decided to go to the Trevi Fountain, see the pantheon and walk up the Spanish Steps.  We spent most of the morning in the cool of a café watching the tourists at the fountain.  By the time we reached the top of the Spanish Steps, we were finished.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 7

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 back on the treasure hunt.

My mother was happy that I’d been given a job, and when I relayed Benderby’s message, she said she would have to call and thank him.

It was in a tone that surprised me, and if I had not known better, I was left with the impression she might actually go out with him.  Aside from the fact Benderby was married, he also hit on every woman he could, especially those at work.

I shrugged.  My mother was old enough to look after herself.

Boggs came around, having realized I was not going to answer his calls and demanded to know what my problem was.

“Some of us have to work, Boggs.  It’s taken a while but I realize my mother cannot do it on her own.”

“But working for Benderby, that’s like selling out to Satan.”

“It’s one of the few places where there still is work.  Besides, I’m not shoveling the shit, just taking inventory of it.  Pencil pusher.  I have to make this work so anything we do will have to be outside working hours.”  Then, another thought came to me, one that might appease Boggs.  “In fact, you could think of me as your inside man.  Working there, I should be able to keep an eye on the Benderby’s and finds out what they know, and are doing, if anything.  Don’t you think?”

He looked both skeptical and reluctant, but, saying it out aloud made some sort of sense.

“I’m not putting the treasure hunt on hold, Sam,” he said, in that sulky tone he used when he didn’t get his way.

“Don’t expect you to, but I wouldn’t get to carried away with it.  I heard Rico trying to sell Alex Benderby the map this morning.”

“Where?”

“In the employee car park.  Alex reckons the map is a load a bunk.  You still got it?”

I saw his hand go over his back pocket.  “It’s safe.”

“And you reckon it’s real.  Maybe that was not the sort of thing you should be talking about in front of Rico.  He wants it, but peddling it to Alex wasn’t his best play.  You know what’ll happen if he gets his hands on it.”

“Rico will get cut out.

“So will you.”

“Not if I keep a copy and sell him the original.  We’re going to need money to carry out our own search.”

I shook my head.  “You will not come out ahead.  The Benderby’s of this world always win and the likes of us always lose.”

“That may or may not be the case, but we have to take control of this.  At least it will take Rico out of the equation.  I’ll work on a plan.  Thanks for the tip.  And, as you say, you can be my inside man.  That way we might be able to keep one step ahead of them.”

If they decided to be players.  But, would be no stopping him. 

I sighed.  This whole map thing was going to end badly.

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 4

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 back on the treasure hunt.

…

“Who the hell is that horrible man?” I asked, still staring after the car, long after it had gone.

I knew trouble when I saw it, and that man was serious trouble.

And the fact he believed there was a treasure map…

“My uncle Rico, he was the one my mother always credited leading my father astray.  Whatever they had been doing back then, it was never anything legal.”

So, he knows about the treasure map?”

“He knows nothing.  He thinks he knows something, he thinks I know something, but he’s not going to get it out of me.”

“What if he comes after me next?”

It was a daunting prospect, and just looking at Rico was enough to scare me.  If he had a machete to back up his insistence I tell the truth?  I shuddered.

“You tell him the truth.  We have a map, we bought it at the bar like everyone else.”

He was right.

“Boggs?”

His aunt yelled out his name in a manner that meant he was in trouble.

He motioned to keep quiet and follow him.

He took one step before she added, “You take one more step away from this house, and you’ll have more than Rico to worry about.”

A shrug, a wan smile, and then he turned back.  “Nothing more today.  See you at the Bar tomorrow, and we’ll start the search.

“Surely you don’t think that map is real?”

“Real enough, with missing pieces, we have to track down.  Tomorrow.”He turned and went back into the house, the wooden screen door slamming shut behind him.

Followed by the raised voice of an angry Aunt.  “What is all this malarkey about a treasure map, and what the hell were you doing in a bar?  I bet it was that Johnson kid leading you astray again.”

Never, according to her, Boggs’ fault, and always mine.

I guess it was time to take one for the team!

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

Searching for locations: Windsor Castle, London, England

A fine day, on this trip a rarity, we decided to take the train to Windsor and see the castle.

This is a real castle, and still in one piece, unlike a lot of castles.

Were we hoping to see the Queen, no, it was highly unlikely.

But there were a lot of planes flying overhead into Heathrow.  The wind must have been blowing the wrong day, and I’m sure, with one passing over every few minutes, it must annoy the Queen if she was looking for peace and quiet.

Good thing then, when it was built, it was an ideal spot, and not under the landing path.  I guess it was hard to predict what would happen 500 years in the future!

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I’m not sure if this was the front gate or back gate, but I was wary of any stray arrows coming out of those slits either side of the entrance.

You just never know!

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An excellent lawn for croquet.  This, I think, is the doorway, on the left, where dignitaries arrive by car.  The private apartments are across the back.

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The visitor’s apartments.  Not sure who that is on the horse.

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St George’s Chapel.  It’s a magnificent church for a private castle.  It’s been very busy the last few months with Royal weddings.

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The Round Tower, or the Keep.  It is the castle’s centerpiece.  Below it is the gardens.

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Those stairs are not for the faint-hearted, nor the Queen I suspect.  But I think quite a few royal children and their friends have been up and down them a few times.

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And well worth the effort to reach the bottom.

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Any faces peering out through the windows?

Writing about writing a book – Day 21 continues

I’m still working on Bill’s backstory, and how he got mixed up in the war, and as a general background to his situation, and life before Davenport.

This is still in his own words:

 

But whether we were stupid or naive, or completely mad, we were all eager to get into battle, filled with the sort of hate only Army propaganda films could fill you with.  They were our enemy, and they deserved to concede or die.

A fresh face in a hardened platoon, I was eager to get on with it.  They looked knowingly, having seen it all before.  No idea of the reality, and no time to tell us.  Have a few beers to celebrate, and then, the next morning, go out on patrol.  No problem.

There was camaraderie, but it was subdued.  We walked single file, the seasoned campaigners in front and at the rear, treading carefully, demanding quiet, and a general cautiousness.  In the middle of nowhere, where only the sound of rain, or the animals and birds for company, we were naive enough to think this was going to be a doddle.

Then it happened, six hours out, and just before we reached a small clearing.  I thought to myself it was odd there should be such a clear space with jungle all around it.  There must be a reason.

There was.

We had walked into an ambush, and everyone hit the ground.  I was bringing up the rear with another soldier, a veteran not much older than myself whose name was Scotty, a little farther back from the main group.  Bullets sprayed the undergrowth, pinging off trees and leaves.  I buried my face in the dirt, praying I would not die on my first patrol.

We became separated from the others, lying in a hollow, with no idea how far away help was.  He was muttering to himself.  “God, I hate this.  You can never see the bastards.  They’re out there, but you can never bloody well see them.”  Then he crawled up the embankment, gun first.

He let off a few rounds, causing a return of machine-gun fire, spattering the dirt at the top.  Next thing I knew he was sliding down the hill with half his face shot away.  Dead.  I threw up there and then.  What an initiation.

Then one of the enemy soldiers came over the hill to check on his ‘kill’.  I saw him at the same time he saw me and aimed my gun and shot.  It was instinct more than anything else, and I hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences.  He fell down, finishing up next to me, staring at me from black, lifeless eyes. 

Dead. 

I’ll never forget those lifeless eyes.  I just got up and ran, making it back to the rest of the group without getting hit.  No one could explain how I made it safely through the hail of gunfire, from our side and theirs.

Back in the camp later, the veterans remarked on how unlucky Scotty was and how lucky I was to shoot one of the enemies, and not be killed myself.  They all thought it was worth a celebration.

Before we went out the next day to do it all again.

I spent the night vomiting, unable to sleep, haunted look on his face, one I finally realized that reflected complete astonishment.

 

There will be more, as the story develops.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

Searching for Locations: The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Sorry, reminiscing again…

It was a cold but far from a miserable day.  We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eiffel Tower.

We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.

We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.

Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.

There they had the French version of chips.

It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.

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A view of the Seine

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Sacre Coeur church at Montmartre in the distance.

Another view along the river Seine

Overlooking the tightly packed apartment buildings

Looking along the opposite end of the river Seine

Plots ripped from newspaper headlines – 2

What if … (2)

…

So, today’s seeming straightforward news event that didn’t make the front page, nor the next three,  
is about the death of a man and a woman who had just begun dating, their bodies being found in an ordinary suburban house.

The police received a call regarding their welfare and upon visiting the house, found the man and woman lying side by side on the floor, deceased.

The police were not treating the deaths as suspicious.

So …

What if …

The first thing that leaps off the page is the fact the police are not treating the deaths as suspicious.

That’s exactly the moment that investigators should be looking at the situation a little more closely because, in our scenario, the scene has a staged look about it, and on the surface, it appears to be a simple case of a dual drug overdose.

Firstly, the friends of the two were not aware they were ‘doing drugs’ and if they were, lying on the floor at home was the last place it would happen.

No drugs were found in the house, and the sniffer dogs could find no trace of any except on the bodies.

Secondly, in the upstairs office, a laptop computer was missing, only the cable and mouse were still sitting on the table.  Curiously both their cell phones were missing, but nothing else.  Between them, they had about 500 pounds, which meant, if there was foul play, the perpetrator had very specific items to take.

Nothing else was disturbed.

Thirdly, a quick examination of the bodies showed the woman had bruising to her neck, a sign that someone had held her in a choke hold perhaps, but the coroner would have a closer look.

Fourthly, a simple check on the names comes back with an access denied flag on the male.

That, as far as Detective Chief Inspector Barnes was concerned, was enough to change the investigation from death by misadventure, to a suspicious, possible murder.

“Strangers We’ve Become” – Countdown to publishing in 12 Days

A hard slog

…

Surveillance wasn’t easy.  Some thought it was a doddle, just sitting around waiting for something to happen, and, in the meantime, filling up on takeaway and endless coffee.

Some thought it boring because in all likelihood little happened over a long time.

Quite often the funding ran out long before a result was available.

David had nothing else to do, so it was his only option, other than finding a way to annoy the new security.

He found premises near the Featherington London residence, then when the place was least populated, planted listening devices in various places, some to be found, others not.

He tracked the limousine, now driven by the head of security to see where it was going promptly every morning, with the mistress of the house.

Located other premises to be watched, a result no doubt of being able to go through documents at the main residence.

Got an accurate guide to how many men were in the security team, where they went and what times they performed basic duties.

And watched Susan as she slept in her room, making him feel almost like a stalker.

But it didn’t take long for several revelations to surface, the first, Susan had a new relative that he had known of before, but only by sight, and second, someone he thought he could trust was not what he appeared to be.

Time to throw the cat among the pigeons.

…

Writing about writing a book – Day 13 supplemental

I was going to say ‘Captain’s log supplemental’ and add a stardate, but the analogy might get lost because not everyone is a Star Trekker.

Needless to say, there’s always more to say about an event, especially when the mind is casting about for ideas to add or enhance a story.

It comes down to, does art imitate life, or does life imitate art?  It’s an interesting question because, in this instance, art will be imitating, to a certain extent, life.

Perhaps what is lost in the telling is the inability of newly divorced people in working out where the boundaries are, whether or not they are entitled to know about the other person’s private life, and how that will make them feel.

I’m guessing when a marriage breaks down, there’s always a cause, and while the word amicable gets bandied around a lot, it’s said, but quite often not meant.

Does mummy have a boyfriend?

Does daddy have a girlfriend?

What generally happens is the children are the only ones who know what’s really happening to each of the parents, because they get transported between the two, as neither parent would want to be seen stopping the other from seeing them/

Of course, where the children are grown up and leading their own lives, the situation should be a lot easier.

But, where does this fit in with the story I hear you asking.

 

Marriages fall apart for many reasons.  In the story, Bill acknowledges that it is largely his fault, and one suspects it’s probably an undiagnosed case of PTSD that back in the sixties and seventies was not really understood.

It led to both he and Ellen leading individual but separate lives whilst keeping up appearances for the sake of their children.  There’s no doubting who brought them up, Ellen, and who had the greater influence over them, although, for the sake of this story, both couldn’t wait to leave home and live somewhere else.

They do, and together.  They are not married and do not have children.  They were not the cause of the breakup, and fortunately, neither of the girls blame one or the other parent.

But that doesn’t mean, over the years, that either parent hasn’t tried to use them to glean information about the other.  It is how Bill discovered, some time ago, that Ellen had ‘a special friend’.

Yet, neither of the daughters have seen him, and not surprisingly, he had made sure that Bill has never seen him.  It’s for a particular reason, one that will become obvious later in the story.  It is, I think, a rather clever twist.

Also, Ellen is not a bad person and certainly wasn’t bad to Bill, perhaps more long-suffering.  She did stay with him for a long time, mainly for the children, but also because she genuinely cared for Bill.

And Bill had not had another woman friend, not until he discovers his feelings towards Jennifer and even then, he keeps that to himself, even when he really doesn’t have to.

Sigh.

Time to return to my fictional world.