This is what we saw driving along the Coquihalla Highway in Canada, a rather infamous stretch of road featured on the Discovery Channel, and yes, we saw a number of cars and trucks off the side of the road, and not in a good way
The road was iced over in place, and driving was difficult, but on the plus side the scenery was spectacular, and it was hard not to be distracted when driving.
But, inspiration for a story? It might go something like this:
…
Arty was adamant that he knew the best where man in the business.
That might gave been true if he was in the middle of the city where there were endless tests and turns that could be used to lost chasing police vehicles.
But that didn’t apply to the open road, and one that was think with ice and snow, even if it had recently been cleared.
But that wasn’t as bad as the fact that we had got free of the city, lost the pursuing cars, changed vehicles, and got away free.
All he had to fo was follow the road.
Except Arty had a temper, and getting stuck behind an old van going ever so slowly on the road, caused him to first blast them with horn, then start doing dangerous accelations up behind them, and then attempt to overtake on a bend in the road.
That might not have been so bad if there had not been an oncoming car, but there was.
Even that might not have been so bad if the car had not been a police vehicle.
But the real kicker: Arty lost control of the car and we went sailing off the edge of the road into a ravine, landing on soft ice which after a minute started cracking and then gave way.
The last place I wanted to be was to be sinking into a freezing cold river, but there we were, all frantically trying to get out.
Fortunately, I did, but not before I was soaking wet, and almost frozen. The rest didn’t make it.
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 instalment of an old feature, and back on the treasure hunt.
I’d kept out of Nadia’s way since then, and the few occasions our paths had crossed, she had studiously ignored me. After graduating she disappeared, and seeing here with Alex, just now, was the first time in years.
She had grown into the sort of woman you’d see in the social pages of the newspapers and magazines, sometimes for all the wrong reasons, and I wondered if that was how Alex had leveraged her co-operation.
But, there were bigger problems to overcome before I had a chance or find out her back-story.
Alex was going after Rico for the map, a map he didn’t have, a map that Rico was going to need and Boggs was going to suffer the consequences.
Or not, if I could do something about it.
I had a stroke of luck when I got back to the warehouse office where McDonald was waiting, not necessarily for me, but most likely Alex.
“Ah, Sam,” he said when he saw me walk through the door, “Come into the office. We need to have a chat.”
That sounded ominous. I wondered if it had anything to do with my absence for what seemed a long time when I’d been watching Alex and Nadia.
“We have a new opening on the afternoon shift, and I thought you might consider it because it pays a little more, with a shift allowance. The hours are 4pm to Midnight. What do you think?”
On the way back to the warehouse I’d been thinking about how I was going to help Boggs and keep the job because the hours I was working made it impossible to do anything during the day, other than spy on Alex.
Taking this afternoon job, I could work, and, in the mornings, help Boggs in his quest.
“When would this start?”
“Tomorrow. You would not have to come in till 4pm.
“Sounds good then, I’ll take it.”
He seemed more relieved that I had accepted. It made me think for a moment whether this was Alex’s idea, and he had an ulterior notice. If he did I guess I would soon find out.
An hour later I was on my way home.
I had a lot of items to talk about when I saw Boggs and a possible mission.
Did John get reunited with his mother in the hospital?
What of Rupert and Isobel? Did she get to meet the elusive and enigmatic Tsar?
These are all questions that will be answered in due course.
There is also the matter of what happens when John and Zoe/Irina finally meet up after he learns that she regarded him as expendable, and knowing her as he did, didn’t doubt for a minute she meant it.
Is it the folly of falling in love with an assassin?
Once again we end up at the grandmother’s residence in Sorrento, languishing sans Zoe, contemplating the future, a future that might not have Zoe in it.
His idea of setting up an investigation bureau is alive and well, run by Rupert, staffed by people who have the skills but not the confidence of others who had employed them. Rupert is the master of picking lame ducks and turning them into swans.
Isobel, on the other hand, does not improve with age or being in a somewhat iffy, long-range, possible romance, thing.
Does Zoe return, does she call, can she drag herself away from her recently rediscovered father?
Again, you’ll have to read the book.
…
There’s no word count at the moment because everything is in outline awaiting writing. That will happen, I hope, tomorrow.
This is one of those images that could be anywhere.
So, here’s the problem:
Ethan was reluctant to agree to go to the stag night, knowing firstly, that the others going were a bit too unruly when they had too many drinks, secondly, that they had to agree to not know where they were being taken by the bus, and thirdly, anything they saw or did had to remain completely confidential.
That was particularly the case when it came to the ‘stag’.
In that case, Ethan knew exactly what this night was going to be, hours of unrelenting debauchery.
And, since Ethan was the stag’s brother, and he was the best man, there was no way he could wriggle his way out of this one.
On top of that, Ethan had to promise the bride to be that he would not let her husband to be go too far. That statement, of course, was like a box full of hand grenades. He didn’t ask for a definition of too far.
So, seven sober, respectable, hard-working junior executives in suits that were worth more than Ethan’s annual salary boarded the bus.
What happened from that moment the bus drove off, until Ethan’s brother’s body was found floating face down in the river behind the resort, handcuffed to a naked girl in a rubber dinghy, barely alive from an overdose, was anyone’s guess, and Ethan’s worst nightmare.
Especially when he was the last one to see his brother, and the girl, alive.
And, no, this is not based on a real-life experience, though in recurring nightmares I’m the one floating fase down in the river.
It’s the story that was inspired by the Castello di Briolio, which had small aspirations when first conceived, but now it’s reached a point where we need to fill in a few blanks at the start.
Thus, a revised Episode One
“You have got the guards set up on the back wall,” I asked Jackerby, the officer in charge of the rearguards.
“Can you see them?” he said in a tone that dripped sarcasm.
I didn’t like Jackerby, he seemed far too sure of himself and his men, and so far, we hadn’t had to rely on them.
But I expected that time was coming, and sooner than both of us wanted to believe.
“No.”
“Then no one else will either. Trust me; no one will be coming over the back wall.”
That was a matter of opinion, and, in my assessment of the fortifications, and the security precautions, about the only way the enemy could attack us, was from the sky.
And that was, given the current situation the enemy were in, practically impossible. But, as my old commander used to say, ‘This is war, anything is possible, and when you least expect it.’
I’d survived four years of it, and didn’t want to be one of those who didn’t make it to the end. For that reason, I trusted no one, and particularly people who said ‘trust me’.
I glanced along the back wall again, just to make sure, but it didn’t make me feel any safer.
“I’ll be in the command post if you need me, and it has a clear view of anything coming.”
“Excellent,” I said, trying to sound more confident that I felt.
We were in an old castle, though not strictly speaking a real castle, built only a few hundred years ago. It was an enemy stronghold up until a month ago when, acting on advice from the local resistance that the enemy strength had dropped as they had begun to retreat, a strike force came and liberated it.
And, given its strategic position between the front line and the sea it became a gateway for anyone who wanted to escape the Germans and what was left of the Italians.
That also included departing boffins from the Reich, looking to bargain their way to a new home in England or the US.
To oversee that operation was a Colonel called Johansson, along with a dozen or so specialist soldiers, and the operation had been running smoothly.
Then came an attempted incursion, where a group of enemy soldiers who were fighting to the end, made a brave attempt to take the castle back., They failed, because of a twelfth-hour arrival of a Major called Jackerby, and a small motley crew of men.
When I read the report after the battle, it seemed odd.
As a result of his help, Jackerby was recruited by Johansson, in circumstances that seemed a little too coincidental for my liking. Johansson was too easy going for me, and although he had not made a mistake, yet, I felt sure one was going to happen on my watch.
I came later, sent by Command to ‘lend assistance where possible’ to the operation, assistance the good Colonel took no pains to tell command he didn’t need. But they didn’t give him a choice.
Except…
On my way there, my driver and I had almost reached the castle when we were caught in a roadside bomb. The driver was killed, and I’d been saved by a dog, one we had found on the side of the road, badly in need of water, and food.
I had brought him with me. The thought of doing so, at the time, had been on the end of a single idea, a dog could not betray me, men and women could. And the fact its name was Jack seemed to me to be rather poetic, if not somewhat ironic in the circumstances.
There was a communication in my pocket, one I’d received earlier in the afternoon, sent in a onetime code no one but I could decode.
A warning of a second attempt on the castle by the enemy, but for reasons unknown.
Tonight.
Jack and I were in the guard tower at the south-western corner of the castle. It overlooked the valley and gave a clear view of anyone or anything coming from that quadrant. If I was going to retake the castle, that’s where I’d launch an attack from.
Of course, if it came by air, you’d expect to hear it.
I didn’t, but Jack did. He suddenly stood and made a small moaning noise, as if he knew quiet communication was needed. The stiffness in his body told me it was danger.
Then I saw it, just as I came out of the guardhouse onto the gravel path, the moonlight shining of very large wings, and for a moment it didn’t make sense until I realized it was a glider.
Silent. It passed, and behind I could see parachutes, then the sound of boots on the gravel walkways just down from the tower. A precision flight and precision landing of a dozen stormtroopers.
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 instalment of an old feature, and back on the treasure hunt.
Nadia Cossatino was the one girl Alex Benderby couldn’t have for obvious reasons. The Cossatinos and the Benderby’s were sworn enemies, each running the more nefarious activities in their parts of the city.
Of the two, it was widely known if you crossed a Cossatino, then you were dead, or worse. Nadia’s older brother Vince was the most feared kid in school, and people like Boggs and I kept well out of his way.
That being said, there was one occasion when we had been caught in the crossfire, and present, accidentally, at a showdown between Alex and Vince, over Nadia. Alex, as he was wont to do, pushed his luck too far, and found himself on the end of an ultimatum.
Which usually meant a fight in one of the old wharf sheds.
Boggs and I just happened to be in the shed, looking for anything that might have been left behind, when the two warring parties turned up. Vince and four members of his gang, including Nadia, arrived and Alex with several of his shortly after.
As soon as he saw Vince, Boggs bolted, leaving me like a deer staring into headlights. I tried to hide in one of the old offices, but Nadia, not one to sit still, not probably interested in the beating Vince was going to hand Alex, came wandering in.
I prayed she wouldn’t see me.
Prayers: unanswered.
“Who is that?” She knew someone was in the room.
I poked my head above the dusty desk.
She seemed unsurprised to find me there. “Smidge. That’s what Alex calls you, isn’t it?”
I shook my head. Even she was calling me by that name.
“No, It’s Sam.”
“Smidge sounds better. What are you doing here? Come to see the fight?”
“No. Just looking around, plenty of history in this old building.”
“It’s just a dump.”
“Perhaps I should go. I doubt Vince will want any witnesses.”
“You a friend of Alex?”
I thought we went to the same school, but perhaps I was wrong. Maybe this was Nadia’s twin. I was going to set her straight but remembered Vince was just downstairs, and after he dealt with Alex, maybe he’d want another hapless soul to beat up.
But as usual, my mouth got the better of me.
“You know as well as I do, I avoid both Alex, Vince, and you like the plague. I’ve seen what happens to people who simply glance in your direction.”
“So Smidge has a backbone. And not a friend of Alex, obviously. Good to know. Keep your nose clean and out of matters that don’t concern you. Leave. You were never here.”
I didn’t get to meet her handler and that was not a surprise, she was very careful in how she managed her last days with me, at a remote site which, when she requested it, should have set off an alarm bell. If I was suffering from terminal cancer, I would want to be as near to medical help as I could, not as far away as possible.
OK, I have to admit, after she told me her sob story about having cancer, I was a little sneaky and made some ‘inquiries’. Yes, she did have a cancerous growth, but it had been removed and classified benign. It was, I discovered, not too dissimilar to a problem she had when she was fifteen, but the resolution back then basically sterilized her.
Not wanting to have children, and not being able to have children were two entirely different issues, and it was going to be one of our talking points at the cabin.
So, on the basis that this whole exercise was for some other reason than spending her last days with me, I decided to run with her story, and not be too demanding. Kyle was right about me when it came to Janine. My heart ruled my head, and common sense didn’t apply to any decisions I made about her. Perhaps she knew that.
The one interesting take was that assumption there was a credible threat against her. I’ve seen TV shows, where heading into the forest seems a good idea, but remote locations like the cabin only make for a better hunting ground for the hunters, not the prey.
I knew that only too well, because hunting was built into our DNA by my father who, if he had a choice would have preferred to live back in the early 1800s. It’s why we had this cabin and the 400 acres that surrounded it.
That she remembered we had it was interesting because she had only been to it once, and hated it. Too far away from the glitter and glamour of the city.
When I told Kyle of her visit, the reasons, and the request, he simply snorted. In the day I had to think about it, I had basically come to the same conclusion he had, that this was another of her games, only this time I was involved, and for him, that was unforgivable.
“I’m coming with, Dan. You won’t be doing this alone.”
“But…”
“I’ll set the place up, put in some perimeter security, as best we can, and make sure her bodyguard doesn’t get too close. If there is a credible threat, then it won’t get within a hundred yards of the cabin. You have my word. I’m about to send word to the hunting part. They’re going to meet me there. We’ll stay at the old Rogers place.”
“Haven’t you got a life?”
“Not when my little brother is in trouble. This girl, I’m not going to say I told you so, but they don’t change their spots, no matter how long she lived with you before reverting. You can’t even be sure she wasn’t playing around during those years, Dan. But I accept that you love her, but it’s really wasted on her, despite what she says. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t. Not anymore. But hopefully, she will trip up and I will find the reasons to finally step away.”
“You’re too forgiving, Dan, but one of us has to be. Your sister and I, well, we had to grow up before our time, and it’s not hard to become cynical about everyone and everything. Just stay the way you are. I’ll take care of everything else.”
…
The arrangement was I would collect Janine from the hotel where she was staying.
She had called earlier and asked if I would stay with her, have dinner, and see where it went. I was not sure how I felt about staying with her, after all this time, and what I knew about her, but it was not the time to make her suspicious.
I arrived late, and she was waiting at the bar in the dining room. She had an evening gown on that would turn heads, and as it always did when she looks so incredibly beautiful, my heart did somersaults. Perhaps she knew that too.
I tried to relax, but there were so many thoughts running through my head that it was like white noise, and I couldn’t hear anything else.
My distraction was not exactly annoying her, but she was not happy.
“It’s Kyle, isn’t it?”
“Actually, no. When I told him what we were planning, I expected him to go ballistic. He did not. He actually said that if it was true, then that gesture on your part, to try and give back a lot of what we lost, before it was too late, well, that moved him.”
I’d been practicing that speech in front of a mirror until I could deliver it without the cynicism, or condescension it deserved.
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“No. It doesn’t. But you have to remember, it was left to Kyle and my sister to look after me, and I wasn’t the best of children. He has a right to be overly protective, so from this point, you will not say anything disparaging about him. In fact, he doesn’t need to be one of our topics of conversation.”
“OK.”
Champagne arrived, and not the cheap stuff. She still had expensive tastes, and I had to wonder if this little sojourn was on my tab. I smiled and drank. It was nothing to me if it cost a hundred dollars or ten. I was a beer man, like my Dad.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“About what?”
“Being ill, dying. After all, I’ve offered no proof, and you’ve asked me for none.”
“Call me stupid, but I thought if we were going to make things work that a little trust, on both sides, wouldn’t go amiss.”
I knew she wasn’t stupid enough to think that I would fall for the death story, especially when I related it to Kyle. I suspect proof, of a sort, would be back in the room, in an envelope that I would not open.
“You can trust me.”
Entrée arrived, some sort of fish concoction she had ordered and told me was to die for. I was not a fine dining person, she was. I had to hope the next course was steak.
I let that ‘you can trust me’ statement pass without comment. Not until I finished the fish, or at least I think it was fish.
“The first time you came to London. You were talking about going to Tuscany, a villa to rebuild.”
“I meant what I said.”
“As you did, I’m guessing when you were talking about me to what I now know was your handler outside. Did you for one minute ask yourself why I would throw away the phone and ghost you? I was going Togo with you. You had me, again. Trust has to be earned, and once lost, is very hard to get back. You of all people should understand that. Don’t play me for a fool.”
“I thought Kyle had got to you. It was my handler’s idea, I had to get away again, an occupational hazard it seems, and I wanted to spend some time with you. It would have been just us, I promise.”
“But with an expiry date. It was always about the job, not us. It’s never been about us. In fact, if I spend too much time thinking about it, the idea of marrying me was yours, planned and executed with precision, always with a view of going back to work. In fact, I’m willing to bet it never stopped.”
“That was not how it was. I was everything you wanted me to be.”
“Yes. But was it all a grand performance?”
“No. I loved you. You know that. We both were destined for each other from that first day in Elementary school. with everything since, nothing had ever matched that feeling I have when I’m with you. And I miss it terribly.“
The girl in the red dress, the prom queen that had a line of boys beating the path to her door, and yet she chose me, the least likely boy in the school. There had to be some element of truth in her words, but right then, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe it.
The man who was her handler just tried to sneak in the front door.
Never trust anyone else to do the job you should have done yourself in the first place.
It’s an interesting premise, but somehow encapsulates the ethos of this story.
Who is Romanov? Zoe, Irina, whatever you want to call her, he’s her father.
But…
The notion that anonymously putting out a finder’s fee on his daughter’s head, coupled with the ire of Olga over the death of her son, sent everyone from the Minister in the Kremlin down into a tailspin.
The first effort, had the kidnappers just followed the rules, would have got an enormous payday, and everything would have been resolved there and then, in Marseilles.
No, people got greedy.
So did all the others, getting wind of what was at stake, enough to retire, or continue to retire in style.
Dominica, Yuri, and even Olga had she been smart.
She was not.
People didn’t have to die. Zoe could have been spared a killing spree, and John some maybe quality time with Olga. It’s a mistake Olga won’t make again.
And John, now with a father in law, well it’s just another surprise in a long list of surprises.
…
Today’s writing, with everyone, almost, getting their just desserts, 2,111 words, for a total of 65,265.
This is a residential tower down at the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, with every apartment on the beachside overlooking the ocean.
There could almost be a Die Gard scenarion going on here, but I like the idea of a drama unfolding in the penthouse, like
The husband comes home and finds the wife with her personal trainer, who is getting too personal, and he is about to thrown him over the balcony. That’s a long way down.
Uber eats arrive at the door, but it’s really two wannabe ransomers who take the daughter, tie her up, then start making absurd demands, and the daughter almost throws the two of them over the balcony.
But, not one to miss an opportunity, or get her stepmother, who is younger than her, into all sorts of trouble.
The brother of the owner, a single father is killed in a freak accident, and his son has to be taken in, brought back to the penthouse, and thinks he’s struck it rich. The conniving brat is about to be taught a lesson he’ll never forget when he discovers all is not what it seems.
Or my absolute favorite, I win the lottery, move into the apartment, and so do the other 27 layabout members of my family.
The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.
Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.
…
At least the helicopter pilot hadn’t hit the fuel tanks or any of the control wires.
Because of the holes in the fuselage, we couldn’t fly any higher than between two and five thousand feet or go as fast as Davies would like, but the plane settled into a routine and got us where we wanted to go.
Just a few miles from the base, fuel almost exhausted, we got a fighter escort.
At first, I thought the base commander thought we were an unidentified flying object, mainly because something else had been hit, our communications. We couldn’t tell the base we were coming, and they only had the Colonel’s transmission of an approximate arrival time, much earlier than the actual time we were supposed to arrive.
On the ground, we were met with fire trucks, and a military escort, with weapons that could take out a mouse at one thousand yards. Just in case we were terrorists, I suppose.
We were parked in a bay away from the main terminal area and had to wait for a half-hour before we were met by Lallo. Monroe’s comment, that he was probably finishing his lunch which would be more important than meeting us, had kept us waiting.
The two abductees were the first to leave the aircraft, then Shurl’s body was removed after the doctor certified he was dead.
Then the rest of us were allowed to leave the aircraft. A bus was waiting, and everyone bar Monroe and I had boarded and been taken away. Under guard. Perhaps their service had not mitigated their prison sentences. I didn’t ask Lallo why; I’d probably not get the truth anyway.
“Good job,” he said, after watching the bus depart. “Pity, it wasn’t done right the first time.”
A compliment followed by disparagement.
“Next time you can do the job yourself,” Monroe said. “And until you’ve been in the field and actually got shot at, you’d do well to keep that trap of yours shut.”
“May I …”
“…remind me you’re my superior officer? No. I’m sure that status won’t last much longer. I’m applying for a transfer.”
He looked at me. “What about you?”
“Nothing to say, except I don’t blame her. Now, since all you’ve done is prove to me you’re an idiot, I’ll take my leave.”
In the distance I could see a large American car, the sort that proliferated in the 1950s and 1960s before petrol prices were a problem, cutting across the runway at speed. Was it the owner of the DC3 coming to see the damage?
No. When it got closer I could see Bamfield, cigar in mouth, beaming. I suppose no one felt they had the authority to tell him not to.
The car stopped behind Lallo’s jeep and Bamfield got out, then leaned against the driver’s side door and looked at us over the roof.
“James, Monroe. Still alive I see. Pity about the plane; I know the chap who owns it. He’s going to be pissed when he sees the cannon holes. What happened?”
“Bad guys,” Monroe said.
“Of course. Get in, I’ll give you a ride back to the terminal. We can talk on the way.”
Neither of us moved. If Monroe wasn’t going to suffer fools gladly, neither was I.
“Well…”
“I’d rather walk,” I said.
“We’d rather walk, sir.” With a heavy emphasis on the ‘sir’.
“Look, you did a great job, minimal losses, and we got two assets back. Everyone is happy. But, we have a small problem down in South America…”
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 