Tag: Thrillers

What happens after an action-packed start – Part 13

It’s still a battle of wits, but 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 the enemy if it is the enemy, doesn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

If at first, you don’t succeed, try a few threats, or leverage.

Or just get rid of the problem

 

Back in my cell, delivered more forcibly than when they escorted me to the interrogation room, I had time to consider his words.

A tactic, I told myself.  Classic divide and conquer.

It was obvious that he wanted me to corroborate his suspicion that Breeman had sent the helicopter out to find his operation.  Did it sound like something she would do or any other commanding officer whose jurisdiction this operation fell under?

Why hadn’t they told her?  If t was military and being run by our side, why would they keep it secret from their own people, especially when something like what just happened, could happen?

It didn’t make sense.

Unless, of course, it was the CIA.  They seemed to be a law unto themselves, except in this case they needed something to incriminate her with in order to have her removed, and replaced with a more sympathetic commanding officer.

It was all too much for a gunnery sergeant like me to understand.

At least I didn’t know anything so I couldn’t tell them anything.  A little solace perhaps, but the trouble was, they’d never believe me.

I sighed.  Perhaps some sleep before they returned for the next round.

They came in the middle of the night.  Or day, I had no idea what it was outside because there were no windows in my cave cell.

They had no intention of being polite, I was dragged up by the scruff of the next and tossed in the direction of the door.  When I stumbled, still half asleep and unable to see properly, one of the guards kicked me and said he would do it again if I didn’t get up.

He did anyway because I took too long.

My ribs were hurting when I breathed, as I staggered in front of them, one behind me giving me a shove every two or three steps, perhaps hoping I’d stumble again so he could kick me.

At the interrogation room, a different one this time, he shoved me in and shut the door.  I didn’t hear a key in the lock, so perhaps they were hoping I’d try to escape.

There was only one chair in the room, and I sat in it.  I couldn’t sit up straight because it hurt, so I had to slump over.

A half hour later a man and a woman, both with white coats like a doctor would wear, came in.  Nothing was said.  The man took up a position behind me, then held me so I couldn’t move.

The woman then joined him, produced as a syringe, and jabbed it in my neck.

The man let me go, and a few seconds later I fell off the chair onto the floor hitting my head in the process, and a few more after that, it was lights out.

At least there was no more pain.

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Travel is part of the story – Italy, and Greve in Chianti

When we decided we were going to stay in Tuscany for a few days it was necessary to select a central place to stay.

What I researched first before selecting what would be a central location, was tours.  I considered doing a cooking tour but these turned out to be quite expensive so we decided to look at other types of tours.

Bus tours went out of Florence so our initial intention was to stay there.  We’d been there before and stayed at the Hotel Brunelleschi and loved it.  It is perfectly situated in Florence, especially for discovering the city by foot.

Then I found an interesting tour company, Very Tuscany Tours, run by Sara and Andrea, two people who specialize in showing visitors the Tuscany area and I thought; what could be better than tour guides with local knowledge?

So began an exchange of emails, the upshot being that it would cost less if we stayed in Greve.  On that basis, we booked two personalized tours so we could see notable landmarks, scenery, a number of wineries, and sample the real food of Italy.

The tours fulfilled our expectations, and then some.

But back to Greve in Chianti.

We booked an apartment at Antica Pastifico, an old converted pasta factory, a room in fact with a name.  Ours was called ‘Iris’ located on the first floor of the yellow pasta factory.

It was the middle of June and summer so the days were very hot and the evenings were cool and one night it rained.  It was beautiful to watch the raindrops on the terracotta tiles, and take in the aroma of the rain interacting with nature through open windows, and feel the gentle breeze in your face.

It was equally delightful in the morning, to look out over the garden and take in the early morning coolness and scent of the flowers whilst getting ready for the day.

There was a church, The Santa Croce church, at the top of the Piazza Matteotti which we could see from our apartment, and every morning at 8:00 am the bells would sound, making it a much more effective of being woken up than the usual conventional means.  Sadly we never got to visit the church.

Where the apartments were situated it was a five minute walk to the shops and a particular coffee shop where we went every morning for coffee and cake.

A walk on the other side of the square took us past a bakery where every morning the aroma of newly baked bread pulled you in.  There’s something about Italian bread …

Further around was a butcher shop, Antica Marcelleria Falorni, with an incredible collection of meat, small goods and cheese that made selection almost impossible.

Suffice to say our diet mostly consisted of wine, cheese, salami and bread.  It was also served at all the wineries we visited with their wine tastings.  One of the interesting facts is how good the inexpensive wine is and it was not difficult overindulge.

From our visits to several wineries we learned a great deal about the Sangiovese grape and the wine made from these grapes.  Apparently only a small group of wineries can market their wines as Chianti and to prove it is authentic the label has a distinctive cockerel motive on its label.  There is the Chianti Classico and the Chianti Classico Riserva that interested us the most.

There were several restaurants on the piazza and one in particular had my favorite version of pasta, wild boar.  Although the apartment had a full kitchen it was easier to go out and eat rather than cook for ourselves.  We did attempt to cook breakfast several mornings after finding a type of supermarket, Coops, tucked away several streets from the Piazza.

But as for the location of Greve in Chianti, it is very central to all the major tourist spots such as Siena, San Gimignano, and Arezzo.  We visited both Siena and San Gimignano a second time this trip having stayed for three days in San Gimignano as our central base the last time we were in Tuscany.

The only downside to the latest visit was that it was not long enough but isn’t that true of any holiday?

Check out PI Walthenson, a novel created page by page

How thrilled Harry Walthenson, Private Detective, had been to see his name painted on the translucent glass window in the door to his office.  Located in Gramercy Park, in an old building full of atmosphere, he had a space renovated to resemble that of Spade and Archer in a scene right out of the Maltese Falcon.  His desk had an antique phone like those used in the 1930s, and a lamp that cast eerie shadows at night.  Along one wall was a couch, his bed for more nights than he wanted to remember, and on the other a filing cabinet, waiting for the big case files.

Up till now it had been missing cats and dogs.

Then, everything changed…

Starts at episode 1 – The Wrong Place, The Wrong Time

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The latest episode:  Episode 47 – A Real Interrogation

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Enjoy

 

PS  Please leave a comment, make a suggestion, or join in the conversation

“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.

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What happens after an action-packed start – Part 10

It’s still a battle of wits, but 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 the enemy if it is the enemy, doesn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Nor does it help when his old mentor walks through the door.

 

I don’t like surprises.  This dislike had started with a surprise birthday party about 10 years ago and since then I’ve assiduously tried to avoid them.

Of course, there are also surprises you have no control over, and I liked them even less.

Bluff and bravado would only carry me so far.  These people whoever they were would not accept that I knew nothing about what had just happened.

Which I didn’t.

It was not the A interrogation team with a chest full of torture tools and dressed in hazmat suits, but when the harbinger of my fate walked into the room, it was something a lot scarier.

A man I knew well or thought I did until he walked in the door, I had the utmost respected for.

Colonel Bamfield.  My first Commanding Officer, the man who cut me some slack, and made me into a soldier.

Now, all I had was questions, but I was on the wrong side of the table.

The first, what the hell was going on here?

My first inclination was to stand and salute a superior officer, but he was not wearing the uniform, not the proper uniform I was used to seeing him in.  My second inclination was to ask him what he was doing in that room with me, but I didn’t.

Speak when spoken to, and don’t volunteer information.

He too tried the silent treatment, or maybe it was that he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

Then, still standing behind the table, looking down on me, he said, “That was some jump you made from a moving helicopter.”  Was there a touch of admiration in his tone?

“Life or death.  Anyone one else is that situation would do the same.”

“Less than you’d think.”

Establishing camaraderie.  Or trying to.  I waited for the next question.

It wasn’t a question but a statement, “We have a problem Alan, and it’s not just with you.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019

In the world of ebooks, there is a magic number

Five!

I have spent the last few years studying the art of marketing books, and whilst it seems that in most of the accounts I’ve read, tips, hinds, and everything in between, it seems it works for the writer, but very few if any, others.

And this advice doesn’t come cheap.

But one unequivocal fact seems to be, once an author has five reviews a whole new world opens up.

So…

Out of all this reading, and failing, and watching the slow, if any, sales of my books, one relevant fact remains undeniable.

Reviews sell books.  And five seems to be the number that starts the ball rolling.

And, I have no reviews.

Of course, there is a plethora of writer’s advisors out there that will tell you, for a price, where to look for people who will do reviews, free, if you’re willing to wait a few years (as I still am) or quickly if you are prepared to pay, sometimes upwards of $50 or more.

And it costs more to have these uploaded to Amazon as ‘authentic’ reviews.

So, the issue is, on Amazon you have to be a registered customer, buy a book, and then you can leave a review.  Once upon a time, you could have a review without this requirement, and people were using Fiverr to add reviews at $5 a pop.

I’m not sure how relevant these reviews were, but $5 seemed to equal 5 stars.

Amazon not only stopped that by aforementioned rules, but also took down all the reviews it seemed were written by Fiverr people, and it seems relatives or ghosts of the author (using the same IP address to post reviews of their own books under a different name) as well.

Glad I didn’t spend my money on that.

But there could be the answer to those authors out there with sluggish sales, imminent closure of their author page on Amazon, a means by which they can get authentic reviews and just a small boost to their sales.

REviews, as we all know, means sales.

None of us authors who have books on Amazon with sluggish sales are by any stretch of the imagination rich enough to buy reviews (some of which can be better depending on how much they’re willing to part with).

Me?

I’m willing to pay the price of your book, read it, and post an honest review.

An author who critiques a fellow author’s book carries a lot of weight, and like pushing a manual car with a dead battery, it only takes a small push to get things started.

To get those 5 or more reviews, it might only cost between $30 to $50, the price of one from a ‘professional’ reviewer.

But…

There is a catch.  If I buy your book, you have to buy mine, and leave an honest review.

This has probably been suggested a hundred times before, but I haven’t seen it recently.  It doesn’t mean it hasn’t been around for a while, and by no means is it meant to cut across any other means you may have of getting reviews.

For me, though, this seems a simple and elegant solution to an age-old problem in the indie authors world of marketing.

Nor am I saying that I’m a really good writer, that’s for my contemporaries to decide.

You can, of course, make your book free for a period on Amazon and try to get reviews that way.  I’m not saying that doesn’t work, but it seems to me you’ve put in a lot of effort to write the book, don’t you deserve something out of it?

From what I’ve read by a lot of authors who have gone down this route, it hasn’t exactly provided an adequate response.

I don’t price my books expensively, just $2.99.  I’m one of those ‘you sell more if it’s $3 than you would if it was $24.

Therefore…

This won’t work without others jumping in, even if only to add some comments on how this perhaps unoriginal idea might work for all of us.

By the way…

I write thrillers and mysteries, and have a large library of books in the genre, and will be willing to read your book.  My to be read list is rather lean at the moment, and new books cost more than I can afford at the moment.

Your book, if reasonably priced like mine, would be ideal for both of us.

Does it sound like we are ‘buying’ book reviews?  No.  I believe it is a valuable part of the publishing industry that authors review their fellow author’s books.  After all, so many of those reviews on Goodreads, are from people who have bought books.

And the best part…

We get to meet new authors who have a similar interest in a genre.  This could build into something else, but, of course, that sometimes means a lot of work.  Perhaps that might come later.

As you can see I’m excited about the prospect.

If you’re interested, send me an email at cwheath555@gmail.com.

 

 

A story inspired by Castello di Brolio – Episode 5

Another story inspired from 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…

 

I knelt down to Jack’s level and whispered in his ear, “Time to go, mate.  Things are about to get a little sticky here, and one of us should get away.”

I’m not sure he understood what I was saying.

I pointed towards the trees that ran along the wall.  “Go, now.”

He walked slowing in the pointed direction, then turned to look at me.

“Go.”

Another hesitation, then he headed towards and then disappeared into, the trees.

Behind me, I could hear the sound of boots on the rock floor of the tunnel.  The men had broken through and cut off my escape.  I didn’t believe for a minute that Jackerby was there to help me.

Well, out of the frying pan, I thought.

I walked through the gap between the trees, getting a scrape on the side of my face from a prickly branch, then burst into the open.  Jackerby had taken about twenty steps down from where he had called to me, and hearing the trees, turned and took a few steps back towards me.

Seconds later the two men from the tunnel came through the same gap and took up positions so I couldn’t escape.  Guns not drawn but ready in case they were needed.

“Where’s the dog?” Jackerby asked.

“Rats desert a sinking ship, why should dogs be any different.  Guess he knew I was for the high jump.”

“Didn’t have to be that way.”

I don’t remember getting an offer to betray my country and decline.  Significantly, he had made no more mention of his offer to help.  But, I had to ask, “Which side are you on?”

“The right side, of course.”

It was hard to tell what version of the truth that was.  He had one of those faces I associated with a professional poker player.

A nod of his head and we headed back towards the castle.  Jackerby walked beside me, the two guards about three yards behind.  Running wasn’t an option, I’d get two bullets in the back before I got ten yards.   There was very little cover to hide in, so that was out as well.

I wondered what fate awaited me back at the castle.

 

© 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’.

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A story inspired by Castello di Brolio – Episode 4

Another story inspired from 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…

 

Another fifty or so feet along, I stopped at an overhead grill.  The metal was showing on the tunnel side, but on the other, I could see bushes.

I think I knew where we were.  This was where the road crossed a small bridge and headed towards the castle entrance.  It was on the northeastern side of the old battlements, and going straight under the road would take us to the eastern wall.

Whether we could get out of the castle there remained to be seen.

I took a step and saw Jack stop and turn around to look back the way we had come.  A moment later a beam of light came from the break in the roof of the tunnel.  Perhaps the man had decided there might not be ghosts in the hole.

I heard the man’s voice travel up the tunnel.  “Looks like a cavern of something.”

That something he might guess to be a tunnel.

We had to go.

I moved quickly in the opposite direction, into the dark, the sound of more rocks falling from the roof following us.

Another hundred feet or so we reached a wall, a dead end to the tunnel.  It looked to me that it had been bricked in the recent past because it consisted of house bricks, not cobblestones.

The surface was wet, and there was the sound of dripping nearby.

Jack sat on the floor.  Nowhere to go, for him it was time to rest.

We couldn’t go back.

I pulled out a knife and poked it into the mortar, and the blade disappeared when I pushed it.  The mortar was soft.

I pushed hard on the wall midway up, and it moved.  I decided it might be easier to kick at the wall, making it easier if it collapsed.

It created a hole about a foot round.  Further kicking made it bigger so that I could stoop down and climb through.  Jack went first, and I followed.

It came out into a clearing surrounded by trees.  Through the branches, I could see the forest on the other side of a paddock.

Jack once again stopped.

Voices.

Jackerby and one of his men.

“I’m sure there used to be a drainage tunnel somewhere here.  Those men got into the tunnel yet?”

“Working on making a hole so they can jump down.  No long now.”

“Go back and help them.  I’ll keep an eye out here in case they find the exit.”

I heard the other man leave.

A minute passed, then two.  Then Jackerby said, “I know you’re there Sam.  I’m alone out here, and I’m on your side.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Are you keeping any secrets?

It’s a theme I have used in a number of stories because it fascinates me the propensity some people have for explaining the unexplainable, and actually, believe they have convinced the other person.

It works sometimes, but not everybody is prepared to accept their lies.  Especially when their alibi crumbles before their eyes.

Better not to have said anything in the first place.

Or, better still, don’t do anything that you have to cover up later on.

Or perhaps I’m turning a molehill into a mountain.

I’m suffering from indecision, one of those moments in a writer’s life where either you get on with it, take a holiday, start a new story, or finish another one.

I want to get on with it, finish it, sent it to the editor, and then move on, but I can’t.

I’ve written three different endings to this story and I’m not happy with any of them.

Over the last few days, I have taken a break away from it.  Every time I load it up and sit on the page where I want the end to start (a rather curious mix of opposites) it draws a blank.

Will I take it out with a ‘bang’?

Will I let a few of the secrets out of the bag?

Will I try to set it up for a sequel?

Wow!  So many possibilities.

The crux of the matter is relationships where people keep secrets from each other rarely survive, though sometimes it depends on how big the secret is.  In my mind, if I was the one who was thinking about keeping a secret (most likely impossible because I can’t keep a straight face) I would share it.

If it was my partner keeping the secret, I wonder how I would react.

It’s an interesting question and begs the question of how much of ourselves is woven into the fabric of our characters.

We can if we haven’t the experience of keeping secrets only guess at the outcome.  Or if we do, how much easier might it be?

Perhaps I’ll sleep on it one more night.