Tag: Thrillers

“One Last Look”, nothing is what it seems

A single event can have enormous consequences.

A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favorite restaurant with another man.

A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Who was this man?  Why was she having dinner with him?

A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required.  Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.

A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.

After a near death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.

From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.

http://amzn.to/2CqUBcz

onelastlookcoverfinal2

Yet another idea for a story…

Why is it ideas come at the least expected and most inconvenient time?

I thought I’d trained my thoughts to assemble when I was having a shower.  It seems that has not worked so well, and now the telephone rings instead.

Don’t you hate that?

I wasn’t considering a new idea for yet another book; I have so many on the go already.  But, the sad truth is, you have no control over it.

When I sit down, listening to Ravel, or some other classical music, I close my eyes and drift along to the music, waiting for the imagination to kick in.

Can’t force it, can you?

But, five minutes to three, after a frantic call announcing yet another storm in a teacup, I’m racing out the door, setting the alarm, locking the door, and …

… bing …

The idea is there, out of left field, in front of me.

 

Here’s the pitch:

Detroit, ghost town, a nightwatchman, formerly a high flyer on Wall Street, is doing the rounds.

Yep, different location, same story as a dozen others, you say.

Pitch on:

With him, his work partner, from Mexico, a woman with a checkered past, maybe an illegal, maybe not, but who would work for the kind of pay they got if there was not something they were either running or hiding from?

A man and a woman thrown together by fate.  Seriously?

Pitch on:

They’re guarding a large factory, looking exactly the same as it had the day the doors closed, only there are no people, no work, and no likelihood of it reopening.

It’s night.  It’s dark.  Only the security lighting casts a dim glow over everything, casting shadows.  The walls and roof creaks as the building moves, as all do in a wind.

From here it could go anywhere, ghosts, murder, mayhem, or …

Pitch on:

Every night is the same, go to point B, the extent of the guard’s run, and no further.  Punch a card to say you’ve done the check, then back to the office.

That’s it.

As for the rest of the factory, don’t worry.  They were told that beyond point B was taken care of by another team.  It was a large factory, and neither had questioned their orders.  A job was a job in a city where jobs were at a premium.

Six months, from the office to point B and back.

Of course, the story has to suddenly come alive, like when you’re sitting alone in a dark room watching a horror moving, and the music hypes the fear factor to 1000% and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Not so easy to do in writing, but we try.

Pitch on:

Six months and one day later, it was time to find out what was beyond point B.

What they found was to change the fabric and course of their lives.

 

Reads like blurb inside the cover of a bestseller, doesn’t it?

All it will take is somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 words, and the time to write them.

“Echoes From The Past”, buried, but not deep enough

What happens when your past finally catches up with you?

Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.

Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment Will’s life slowly starts to unravel and it’s obvious to him it’s time to move on.

This time, however, there is more at stake.

Will has broken his number one rule, don’t get involved.

With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.

But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved there is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.

http://amzn.to/2F7gqAL

newechocover5rs

 

I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Part 8

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.

 

I lasted the week in the warehouse, and, surprising myself, I actually liked it.

And, had I been like all the other workers employed there, keeping their heads down and getting on with the job, everything would have remained the same.

My problem, it seemed, was Alex Benderby.  He had been a bully at school, and he was a bully in the workplace, hiding behind his father’s name and reputation, not that his father was much better, just a little more discreet.

Day 2, Alex discovered I was working in the warehouse, his domain.  For some reason it amused him that I should be there, working for the Benderby’s, something I’d been very vocal about it not working for them, even if, he reminded me, they were the last people on earth.

He confronted me with two of his bully friends.  Alex was not someone to walk around alone.  He knew what would happen if he did.

“What changed, Smidge.”

The nickname he gave me, though I never quite understood why.  English and language had never been his strong point.

“The poverty line.  Sometimes people have to swallow their pride.  It’s not a big deal, Alex.”

“Is to me, to see how the mighty have fallen.  I’ve got my eye on you Smidge.  One wrong foot, and, well, we shall see.”

The salacious grin, as he walked away, was the key.  He could and no doubt would hold my job over me like he did with countless others.  At that moment I think I made a promise to myself, to help Boggs find the treasure, and bury Alex in a hoe so deep not even he, or his father’s money and influence could save him.

 

Hours later, still rankling over the confrontation, I nearly ran into Alex again, just managing to avoid him by slipping behind the shelving to wait until he passed by.

When he didn’t, I decided to wait till he walked past, and then head in the other direction.  But, after a few minutes and he hadn’t appeared, I peered around the corner of the shelving and saw him sitting on a half-emptied pallet of boxes.

Waiting.

Waiting for what, or more to the point, whom?

Five minutes later I found out.  A long, cool woman in a tall black dress, a woman I’d seen before but couldn’t quite place.

“Nadia.”

“Alex.  What do you want?”  Her tone was far from conciliatory, and if she was not happy about being there, why was she?

“A favor.”

“You’ve run out of favors Alex.”

“Then how about I tell your father exactly what you were doing when you were doing something else?”

A moment’s silence before the fury.  “We had an agreement.”

“I need a favor.  You’re the only one I can trust.  After this, I promise, we’re done.”

Another quick look around the corner of the shelves.  One person looking smug, the other looking very, very angry.

But, it appeared, Alex had the leverage.

“What is it?”

“Rico has a map.  I want it.  You bring it to me, you’re off the hook.”

She gave him a long hard stare.  “I deliver the map, and I see you again, you’re a dead man.  Your father might think he runs this part of town, but I can assure you there are far scarier people than him and his henchmen.  Remember that Alex.”

If she had a gun I think she might have shot him, but instead left him with a latent threat.  It was good to see that he was, for once, the one with the worried look.

 

© Charles Heath 2019

“The Devil You Don’t”, be careful what you wish for

John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums.  Looking for new opportunities, prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.

Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.

If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favor for him in Rome.

At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.

That ‘favor’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follows.

Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.

Purchase:

http://amzn.to/2o7ZtxZ

 

newdevilcvr3

Just another day, waiting to pick up the grandchildren

You know how it is, you’re sitting at the lights waiting for the green, and everything is calm around you.

It’s a warm day, the sun is out, the sky is blue, and because they’re taking so long to change, you’re almost drifting off, somewhere else than in traffic.

Bang!

That awful sound of two metal cars crashing, short, sharp, incisive, intruding.

Lights changed, driver next to me, in a lane that ends on the other side of the intersection, pushes his foot to the floor, trying to get in front.  Another driver running a red light hits him.

I sit in stunned silence before moments after the scene bursts into life, people getting out of cars to help.

My eyes are on the car than ran the red light.  The door slowly opens, and a person is getting out.  I look closer, it’s a woman, bright red hair, and blood running down her face.

She is standing, stunned, looking around, then sees a man coming towards her.

Is that panic.  She looks in my direction, our eyes meeting for a brief second, then she’s running.

Towards my car.

Seconds later the door opens, she gets in, and the door slams shut.

Two men are now running towards my car.

“Drive,” she yells.

“You’re injured, you should wait for …”

“Drive, now, or I’ll shoot you.”

I see the gun, now pointing at me.

“You’re joking.”

One of the men is pounding on her door, which I noticed she’d locked.

“Drive.”

I did, pushing the accelerator pedal to the floor.

The two men were now running towards another car, reaching it before I’d got more than 50 yards.  My car was tired, old, and not very quick in a standing 100.

I didn’t tell her she’d picked the wrong car and driver if she hoped to make a getaway.

Before I made a 100 yards, there was a large black 4×4 hurtling towards us.

“Turn left here,” she commanded, pushing the barrel of the gun into my side for emphasis.

I did, nearly losing the rear end of the car in a slide towards the curb, just touching it before moving forward.

My heart was now in my mouth and pounding.

Death by a bullet or an accident, both were high probabilities.

Who was this woman, now indistinguishable because her face was covered in blood.  She should be bleeding out.  Perhaps she might, and that would save me from an ignominious death.

I could see the 4×4 closing the distance between us quickly.

Perhaps there was another way to die.

“Right,”

Another swerving turn.

“Left,” she yelled almost instantly after the last order.

A few seconds later, “Right”.  Then another “left, then floor it.”

The wrong car, I muttered under my breath.

No sign of the 4×4.  Had we lost it?

At intersection coming up, one I recognized.  The railway station.

“Don’t slow down, straight across.”

“Are you mad?”

Prod.

Apparently so, and with a death wish.

The front of the car crunched on the driveway, as I hit it at speed, the slammed my foot on the brake.  A train was waiting at the platform.

She was out and gone before the car had stopped, and the doors of the carriage had closed, all just before the 4×4 pulled into the station carpark.

 

Tap, tap, tap.

I looked over at the passenger side and saw my granddaughter looking in.

“Have you been daydreaming again, Poppy?”

 

© Charles Heath 2018

 

A matter of life and … what’s worse than death? – Episode 3

This is a story inspired by a visit to an old castle in Italy. It was, of course, written while traveling on a plane, though I’m not sure if it was from Calgary to Toronto, or New York to Vancouver.

But, there’s more to come. Those were long flights…
And sadly when I read what I’d written, off the plane and in the cold hard light of dawn, there were problems, which now in the second draft, should provide the proper start.

 

There were eleven stormtroopers and Wallace, eighteen in Johansson and Jackerby’s group. One of those would be in the communications center, leaving, at worst, twenty-nine men out looking for me.

I also assumed that Jackerby would approach the search in much the same manner as I would, the men in pairs, as singly, he knew that I would have an advantage.

Eight pairs would be inside, doing a room to room search, from the top down.

Five pairs would be outside, one group in the center, one group at each of the corners, all working the perimeter, all in constant communication with each other.

In normal circumstances, I would be caught.

These were not normal circumstances.

 

Jack padded his way just ahead of me, stopping every few yards and both sniffing and listening.  At a junction he would stop, waiting, then make a decision which way to go.

I had to trust his instincts.

Just ahead of me there was a cracking sound followed by falling rocks and a shaft of light.

An opening in the roof where it was too close to the surface.

Jack went quite still.  Voices.

“Be careful.”  German.

Followed immediately by “Speak in English you fool.  You were saying,”

The man switched to careful English, “Be careful, or you’ll fall down that hole.  They should have told us the ground around here is on top of an old mineshaft.”

“Better, Corporal.  Remember. English at all times.”

“Could be where they buried the bodies hastily before they left.”

The man was referring to the story the previous custodians of the castle had killed about a hundred of the nearby villagers and buried them in a mass grave near the castle.  No one had been able to verify the account, nor had anyone found any skeletal evidence.

Yet.

“Let’s get out of here.  The last thing I want to see is a ghost.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019

I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Part 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

“What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

David is a man troubled by a past he is trying to forget.
Susan is rebelling against a life of privilege and an exasperated mother who holds a secret that will determine her daughter’s destiny.
They are two people brought together by chance. Or was it?
When Susan discovers her mother’s secret, she goes in search of the truth that has been hidden from her since the day she was born.
When David realizes her absence is more than the usual cooling off after another heated argument, he finds himself being slowly drawn back into his former world of deceit and lies.
Then, back with his former employers, David quickly discovers nothing is what it seems as he embarks on a dangerous mission to find Susan before he loses her forever.

http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

whatsetscover

What happens after the action-packed start – Part 16

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

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 he faces questions, not only his own but that of his commanding officer.

And the answers might not be what he wants to hear.

 

Breeman returned later that day, an agitated look on her face, the sort that reminded me she was having a bad day, and more often than not after a secure video conference with the powers that be at the Pentagon.

At least this time I was about to speak but had still not made the decision on whether I should tell her anything.  It depended on if she had any questions for me, and how specific they were.  I would tell her the truth.

She sat and head hunched forward in her hands, she rubbed her eyes and looked at the floor for a minute before looking back up at me.

“Your disappearance has set off a shit storm.”

“Because we were in the no-fly zone?”

“You knew where you were?”

“No.  One part of the sky over the desert is the same as any other.  I had no idea where we were when we were shot down, but I figured there are not many civilians armed with rocket launchers, particularly wandering around in the middle of the normal desert just waiting for a US military helicopter.”

“I would tend to agree with you.  Did Jerry tell you why he was there?”

“Jerry doesn’t talk to us enlisted me, nor deems it any of our business where he goes.  He did say, however, he was on a training run to supplement his flying hours.  But, whatever he was doing or where he was going, he needed your signoff.”

Did I just say that in an angry manner?  Not the way to speak to your commanding officer, friend or not.  I should apologize quickly, and did.  It didn’t change her expression, in fact, to me, it now looked more severe.

“There’s a flight plan with my signature on it, but it’s not my signature, but a very good counterfeit.”

“Any idea who the forger is?”

“No.  But they are on the base, here, what could possibly be a traitor.”

“Does it show whether the pilot intended to cross into the no-fly some?”

“No.  It was a usual path on our side, following the boundary.  It doesn’t explain the wreckage 60 miles inside the border.  Did you see anyone?”

Now it gets tricky.

“Just a rocket launcher out the side of a Toyota aimed at us followed quickly by a rocket coming straight at us.  There wasn’t much time to think.”

“You jumped.  It’s the sort of thing I’d expect from you.”

“Aside from hitting the sand, that’s about all I remember.”  It was a direct lie, but it could be modified or rescinded later.  This room was not secure.

“Did you see anything else?”

“Other than desert and sky?  No.”

She gave me a very long and considered look, and yes, I blinked first.  I had the awful feeling she knew I was lying to her.

“There’s a camp out there, somewhere, and what happened to you proves it.”

It was as far as she got with that statement, whether of fact or supposition, she didn’t tell me.

Colonel Bamfield just walked into my hospital room.

 

© Charles Heath 2019