Writing It: Recent Episodes
Ed Adams
Clare’s car had made its way back to Albuquerque. The driver had made good progress, and they were now close to the train station in Albuquerque.
“This is where we will make the switch into the taxi” said Jennifer.
Durango
“Jennifer has given me an address in a place called Durango” said Clare, “ It’s supposed to be like a safe house we can stay in, and there is another vehicle there for us to use. It’s only supposed to be around two hours from here, but I think it’s across part of the desert.”
Bigsy and Chuck were sitting in the diner. Bigsy was marvelling at the authentic 1950s look of the place. At least he imagined it was a 1950s look.
'Nothing could be finer' it said on the menu. And it featured blue plate specials, too.
Kirtland
Jennifer was driving herself back towards the Kirtland aerodrome airfield. The job she had just been on was not something she would typically do. They had asked her to step in because they needed somebody who could relate easily to a British woman, and they needed to make fast progress to make contact.
Bigsy exited the hotel first. He was carrying his backpack which now had a small extra content of tee shirts.
He made his way across the square through a garden area with a small bandstand and tourists who were taking photographs and sitting on the grass and various chairs surrounding the square. A guitarist was busking for small change from the passers-by.
Clare’s journey across town was sedate. On the way, there was a call from the radio in the front of the car. It was a call for Jennifer.
“Hi, this is Delta Seven. We have been following the Firefly. They have identified us and our starting to move out of our range. Damn, they just jumped a red light. We have had to stop. Now I can see them turning down another street. Don’t think we should put on any lights around here.
Get your kicks on Route 66.
"We're all okay again now” said Chuck, looking at Bigsy.
"Yes," said Bigsy, "I think we've had a chance to cool off and I feel a whole lot better now that I know that Clare is safe and, on her way, to meet us again."
"I suggest we go to this diner, check it out its location and then find somewhere else to wait," said Chuck.
"Good plan," said Bigsy.
Chuck led the vehicle back onto the I-25 out of Santa Fe. He was now heading south-west in the general direction of Albuquerque.
“Look” said Bigsy, “I don’t want to leave here without figuring out where Clare is. I know she left us that message in the hotel room about not worrying but: come on, we need to find out where she is.”
“My guess” said Chuck, “She has been picked up by someone from intelligence services.”
Jennifer accompanied Clare into a briefing room. It had frosted glass walls and a central table, complete with a telephone system. One wall had flip charts, and there was a full projection system built into the ceiling.
"Is this being recorded?” asked Clare.
"Yes," said Jennifer, "And filmed. The record stays here though. They won't be removed unless there is an emergency."
Chuck was alone in the breakfast area when Bigsy arrived.
“Hungry” asked Chuck.
“I’ve already had breakfast, thank you” said Bigsy. “I’ve been busy this morning. I think I have found the geocache and also decoded it.”
“I don’t think we should talk about this here” said Chuck.
Clare had woken early at the hotel in Santa Fe around 6:30 AM. She thought it was the time zone difference that had caused her to wake early but then realised that someone was knocking at the door. She went to look through the security keyhole and could see that it was someone delivering room service breakfast.
Using the security chain, she slightly opened the door.
“Good morning, room service” said the waitress, “with the compliments of Chuck Manners.”
After about 20 minutes, Clare's car pulled up outside an office block. It was a central hub and two wings diagonally at 90° to one another across a paved area.
Some flags were flying in front of the building, but Clare didn't recognise any of the logos.
"Welcome to our out-of-town office," said Jennifer.
"The problem with technology," thought Bigsy, "is that it's never as simple as it makes out."
Bigsy had got the photographs he took from his camera displayed in front of him. He looked on his camera for the software that reads quick codes and realised he didn't have it. He would now need to download it from the Internet.
Bigsy unpacked when he got to his room, he didn't have much by way clothes because they'd only expected to be in Arizona for a couple of days. He visited the small market to pick up a couple of tee-shirts to add to his available options for the next few days.
Bigsy returned to his room. He tried a few more ways to access the information about the geocache. There was nothing just the two references to the geocache in Santa Fe and the other one at Kirtland airfield near Albuquerque.
He decided he’d had enough for one evening and that it was time to get some sleep.
"Bigsy!" said Clare, "You were gone a long time. I thought you were getting a couple of tee-shirts”
"I did, said Bigsy, "but I also had a look at the geocache in the Loreto Chapel next door."
"Wow," said Clare, "was it easy to find”
Bigsy looked out of the front windscreen of the car. He'd moved forward when Chuck had left. Clare was seated next to him. They had been watching the time, wondering when the moment would be to go to the side of the Los Alamos establishment which Chuck had described.
Then, to Bigsy's surprise, he saw Chuck walking towards him. No-one following, no dramatic chases, just Chuck in the uniform.
La Fonda
It took around forty minutes to drive to Santa Fe. The route headed to the east and then in a curve around towards Santa Fe.
Both Clare and Bigsy were taking in the scenery while Chuck was driving. There was plenty to look at; this was a rugged country. A mix of mountains, valleys, and desert scenery. All baking under 35°C temperatures.
Bigsy looked out on the morning. It surprised him to see it had been raining overnight. There were still some puddles on the ground by the car park at the side of the hotel. There were early signs that this would be another sunny day. Bigsy wondered what it would be like to live in an area that was an arid desert.
Jake watched as two other people entered the room.
A blonde man, early thirties, well-tailored, carrying a slim computer. A woman, similar age, bright coloured outfit and Jake guessed she was of a Caribbean origin.
“Hello, my name is Richard, Richard Brookfield and this is my associate Harriett Delancey. We both work for the The National Counter Terrorism Security Office.”
There was a sudden noise as the office security phone bleeped. Jake flickered back from his reverie. A visitor to the office? He looked at the entry phone picture.
A dark-haired smart-looking woman dressed for business looked into the camera. Jake thought she had piercing eyes.
In London, Jake continued to review the various web sites and contact names they had given him. The work related to what he assumed was Project Esther was available. The technology had moved along and that the Esther project had been parked.
He had also tried further searches for Tony Capaldi and found him listed for both his work at the University but also some other work related to radiofrequency spectrum.
Jake recognised the route from Hoxton down towards the Embankment and then along to Vauxhall Bridge, where they turned left. He assumed they were heading for the SI6 building on the south side of the Thames and, sure enough, they took another left and then down a slope into an underground area.
Jake noticed that the route had been continuously moving which implied he had received some priority treatment based on being part of a cavalcade of police cars. He thought this was a new record to cross this area of London.
It was 7 pm, and they were all sitting together in one of the small booths in the hotel. This time the booth looked middle eastern.
"It's more like something out of Scheherazade or Aladdin than something that I'd expect to see in the middle east nowadays," said Chuck.
They arrived at the Los Alamos site and followed the plan with Chuck changing into the uniform and then using the access pass to gain entry to the building. It worked well, and it surprised both Bigsy and Clare that there had been so little effort required to gain access.
Chuck looked the part wearing the uniform and knew the best things to say at the entrance. He'd arrived by taxi and used the pretence of meeting a particular person to get through to the cafe area within the building. Because he had an access pass, there was no problem for him to do this and he was not treated as someone that needed to be escorted around the site.
Jake saw whether he could piece together anything from what he had been told. He started by checking out the names they had given him. He found the same contact in Columbus University. Also, some papers by him related to electronic surveillance systems.
He tried typing in 'Esther', but found nothing related to the project. Then he tried the leading Los Cabos site and soon found quite a range of topics related to shooting things at one another.
Chuck slowly drove them back towards the main road. It took about 30 minutes to get onto a normal road surface and then another 20 minutes before they were back on the highway.
“What’s just happened back there” said Bigsy, “One minute I was watching the flames around the fire and the next minute it was dawn.”
Chucking it down
Clare rang Jake again. This time it was from Chuck’s room and on the hotel phone system
“Hey Jake” said Clare
“Hey - I’ve been wondering, you know” replied Jake, “so what has been happening”
“Plenty - Bigsy ran into Chuck.
The next morning Bigsy could hardly contain himself. They had breakfast and then waited until after 9 o’clock when they will be sure that there would be people present in the administration block in the University in Columbus, Ohio.
They decided that it would be best if Clare made the call which she did with a straightforward message. It was to explain that Tony Capaldi was to receive an important legal document that had to be signed for personally. It would be delivered later that day, and could we be sure that Mr Capaldi would be available to receive it.
“Tonight, our ceremony is being one of protection for each of you” said Red
"We should link hands. Clare should sit opposite me."
Bigsy and Chuck looked at one another and then at Clare, but Bigsy noticed that Chuck had already linked hands with Tom.
Starting a fire
Red started to prepare a fire. He stacked logs in a pyramid shape and outside of this created further logs in a circle. Then he retreated into the hogan and brought out some smaller twigs.
“These are very dry. They will start the fire” he explained, “We need to light it but one of you should do this. He gestured towards Clare. “Clare, I think you should have the honour to start this fire.”
“Now it is time for your story” said Red. “But first, you must say goodbye to Tom.
Chuck has asked Tom to go back to the desert, to keep an eye on what is happening, and to tell you if there is anything strange.”
Homing in on the range
"I should probably tell you something about the ranges as well, "said Chuck. "I expect you have heard of Los Alamos”
"Yes," said Clare, "It was used for designing the original atomic bombs."
"It was," said Chuck," but it is still used as a major weapons development environment. The leading site is tucked away around a town, but there are several locations outside of Los Alamos in the desert where we used to run tests. We also used an area to the south-east of Albuquerque. There's a massive airbase in Albuquerque and it's also a big storage facility run by the DoD."
Clare watched the scenery as Chuck continued to drive north at a steady speed for two hours and then turned east onto the I-40. She could tell that both Chuck and Bigsy were tired and that this drive was their first chance to unwind, maybe since they had left the hotel back in Scottsdale.
"We will keep going along this road for about a couple of hours," Chuck said, "By then we will be around 250 miles from the Scottsdale hotel. It is far enough away for us to be harder to trace. And it's also in the right direction for us heading towards the ranges. It will be good to take a break then."
Bigsy remembered that Chuck had suggested they made an early start the next morning. He realised for Clare this was easy. She’d relaxed in the previous hotel with the added benefit of being pampered in a spa.
Bigsy considered his condition by comparison. He had been drugged, hauled around the countryside, slept rough, been in hiding plus the worry of finding Clare again. It had taken its toll, so the current bed felt soft and welcoming.
Chuck's plan to get a taxi from the shopping mall to the airport worked effortlessly. There was a full cab rank outside the mall, and the journey to the airport was only about 25 minutes.
The three of them, Chuck, Bigsy and Tom, had arrived with about two hours to the departure time for the British Airways flight to London and made their way to the area by the check-in desks. Bigsy looked for Clare while Chuck and Tom looked for anyone that may watch them.
The noise of them chatting woke Clare.
"Good morning, Clare," said Bigsy," I see you were up bright and early."
"Yes," replied Clare, "I set the alarm and then Chuck brought me a coffee."
"It didn't work too well," said Bigsy.
"I think yesterday's spa worked a bit too well," replied Clare.
Clare couldn’t believe it. She’d headed downstairs to check with the front desk in case Bigsy had left a message.
That was precisely when he called her room. She had missed him.
Mike had driven the blue car back onto the I-17.
They were heading south again, back along the road that Bigsy assumed was the same one they had driven in the other direction the day before. The road was busy with traffic, and Bigsy assumed this would this give them an element of cover.
Bigsy looked out of the car windows as they drove along the highway. It wasn't a fast road, but one with long curves and undulations. Both sides Bigsy could see prominent red rock outcrops. Quite striking.
"Many people say this area is mystical," said Chuck.
"I can see why," said Bigsy. "The scenery is most impressive."
Tom nodded, "Around this part of the desert there is much of four colours," he said.
Clare had visited the elemental spa. There was a willow stream that ran through the area which the brochure said was inspired by a place called Havasupai, an oasis deep in the Grand Canyon where energy unites and restores.
The spa had a mesa rooftop pool under the deep blue Arizona sky. Clare enjoyed a private cabana and could look out towards the McDowell Mountains.
Clare had slept through until what she thought was late. She had woken up once at around 7 am UK time, which was still only midnight in Scottsdale. Then she had slept for another 7 hours. Her watch was still on UK time and said 2 pm.
“Guys, I need to contact Clare” said Bigsy, “ Otherwise we don’t know what she will do. She knew we’d treat the first day as decompression and had already said she’d go to the spa in the hotel. She won’t be looking for Chuck or me until early evening. But we don’t want my apparent disappearance to alarm her.”
“So, what would be the reason?” asked Bigsy, “Why are they after you? What was ‘The Old Team’ doing”
“Okay,” said Chuck, “Let us check our logistics and then we can tell you more. I started to explain this last night, but I think both of us have a hazy recollection of what we said.”
"So, look," said Bigsy, "I still don't know how we got away from whatever was happening at the hotel”
Mike explained.
"There were several of us on the way to the meeting place at the hotel. I don't know who called us there. I wondered if it was Chuck, but he told me he hadn't requested the meeting. What I know is that it was one of the original team of us that worked together out here a few years ago. Anyway, I was the first to arrive. You and Chuck showed up soon after me, and I could tell you knew one another well."
“What I can’t understand,” said Bigsy, “Is how Chuck keeps coming back to us when there’s a problem? A year ago, we had trouble with the vaccines, and now again? Surely there are other people he could call on?”
Mike looked at Chuck, and they both smiled.
“Go on, tell him,” said Mike.
“Well, Bigsy, it’s like this. Have you heard of sleepers?”
Bigsy awoke. He could hear something around the camp. A crack of a twig. The merest hint of pebbles skittering down towards a gully.
Then he noticed a light. Within it he could see a shadow. A silhouette of someone. Slim, with a hair bun.
Bigsy awoke with a start. He still felt woozy. He noticed it was dark and that he appeared to still be in the car. Earlier the roof of the car had been open, but now he seemed to be more enclosed. He attempted to move his arm, and to his relief, it appeared to be obeying him.
"Hello," he ventured. "Is there anyone here?”
He looked around and could see that he was alone in the car, parked in a small enclosed area surrounded by rocks. He worked out that they were still in the desert. He remembered that they were in Arizona. Then he noticed the driver of the car standing a few metres away.
Bigsy awoke. He could hear something around the camp. A crack of a twig. The merest hint of pebbles skittering down towards a gully.
Then he noticed a light. Within it he could see a shadow. A silhouette of someone. Slim, with a hair bun.
Jake was away for the whole weekend. Family business and somewhat stressful. Not just the travelling, but some of the entertaining and conversations of the weekend proved difficult.
Since Jake and his two friends had set up their business called ‘The Triangle’ there were a lot of questions asked around the family about what they all did.
Jake, Bigsy and Clare produced a good front story, but behind it all, they sometimes mixed up into quite complicated situations.
Bigsy was bent into an unusual shape. He draped over the front seat of a car at a diagonal angle to the dashboard. Everything looked blurry, and he knew the car was moving fast. Intense heat as his head angled back towards the sky.
He tried to remember how he got here. His head pain and lack of limb control made it challenging to focus on anything. He made out a driver shape and the bumpiness of the route.
He heard a pulsing sound, like a deep bass note mixed with a metallic edge.
"The only people who can see the whole picture," he murmured, "are the ones who step out of the frame."— Salman Rushdie
Bigsy drove the van to Christina's private party gig. They'd brought their musical equipment but the whole sound system had been prepared by the venue. It was one of the concert halls around Birmingham. The kind that was re-purposed for trade events.
Back at the Al Akram industrial site in London, Mehdi Akram was shaking his head.
"Those delivery drivers Alan and Dave were duped by UK government forces. The last BioPen vial was handed over to the UK instead of to us."
Robert Alton was back at his SI6 office. Dorothy came through on the phone,
"There's a US Colonel on the phone for you... Colonel Carson."
Jake arrived first at the pub in London's Borough Market. He had grabbed a cab from outside the office and it had only taken about fifteen minutes to thread through the traffic to just south of the river.
"Tell me about Al Aktar," asked Clare to Chuck, "You must know more about their origins?"
"Yes, it's deeper than Al Aktar, and goes back to the Iraqi mindset," replied Chuck, "The Al Aktar people had thoughts which went back much further than the war driven by George Bush.
"Everyone, this is Elisa, or should I say Doctor Elisa Solomons. We have known one another for many years. When the recent situation that I've described to Jake came up, I thought I'd ask Elisa if she had any insights."
Ghali Yassim was thinking back to the first news of the destroyed truck. Most of the conversation was recorded and he was playing it back for the fifth time, trying to find any new meaning in it.
"Something has happened," said Ghali Yassim. "We have lost contact with the first truck
Chuck checked the flights to get to Cannes. He'd have to fly from New York to London, or Paris, and then take a flight to Nice. It was about 30 minutes by taxi from Nice to Cannes. He worked out he could be there by Wednesday afternoon.
James had not really slept since New York. He had fitful bursts in the economy section of the BA plane, and then while waiting in London. Now he was in Cannes. He knew he should sleep to be sharp for the next day, but a combination of adrenaline and anxiety had kept him awake.
After the horrific incidents in Egypt, James had a simple plan to create distance and to monitor his sources for any reports of what had happened. The helicopter strike on the truck in the desert and the cold-blooded gunning down of Karen Martin would make normal news feeds unless the authorities were trying to pull a security curtain over what had happened.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
Karen Martin was already waiting in Robert Alton's office. She had taken the call from Dorothy and, realising its importance, come straight across.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
Jake was just leaving the offices of ‘The Triangle' for the evening. It was in the trendy part of Hoxton, not far from the well-known Hoxton Square, which had its own bustle every evening.
When Jake had started the company with Clare and Bigsy, they had decided it needed a base in London. They had come into serious money as a result of a previous escapade and the advice they received made them think it wise to create a proper base for whatever they decided to do next.
They turned from the walk alongside the Thames back onto a busy main road.
"I wanted this to be away from normal recording because I think we may have a loose tongue somewhere inside the Department," said Robert Alton, "I need people I can trust on this."
NOW
Muhammad Mubarain was contacted by his team boss Doug. He was being asked to meet Robert Alton off-site, although close to the main SI6 headquarters building. This was unusual, even for Robert.
NOW
Robert Alton had been reading routine information feeds from his office in SI6. He'd just seen an unverified incident from Cairo. Some sort of shooting. He knew that SI6 had an operation in that area.
NOW
16:00 Eastern European Time (EET).
James expected this to be a short, sharp mission. He'd be paid and out of here in another couple of hours. He'd hand over the bag and be gone.
He sheltered on the edge of a dune. The vestigial grass had a razor-sharp edge, scratching his arm as he slithered into a comfortable position.
- mainly to keep going.
- Cough when there's an error. It'll make a huge blip on the recording line which makes it easy to find and edit
- Use a microphone and be reasonably close. Some people say a hand span away
- Talk off-axis to avoid pops and so on
- Set the level rather than using the auto level control.
- Fix misspeaks at the time to get the same audio profile.
Bigsy and Clare had been waiting for Jake to arrive at their meeting place. They had taken up residence in a Starbucks next door to Cannon Street railway station. It gave a good vantage across the road to McDonalds on the other side.
The events unfolding in Kensington were blissfully unknown to Fredriksson and Dillon, nor to Jake and his companions.
In London, Fredriksson had been patient with Dillon. There had been legal matters to resolve, and Dillon’s lawyers were good. He had expected fly-by-night legal support, but Dillon had chosen wisely.
They decided they would make contact with Dillon, but they needed to do this in a way that would ensure Dillon was reasonable.
They decided they would need to do this by intimidating him in some way and that the most natural way would be to imply that they were involved in the shadowy organizations themselves.
As Clare and Bigsy left Darren Collin’s Zurich apartment, they said to him that they thought he might not be safe staying there. If they could find the location, then so could others.
Amelia Brophy was still in London. She had decided that the chaos around Jake’s flat was Russian inspired. Amelia knew the modus-operandi of the Russians and their more basic level of training. She was normally very dispassionate about her work, but she knew for sure that the only reason the Russians would be handling the situation with Jake Lambers was because they thought they had killed him back in France.
Fredriksson had slept until late the next morning. Although only a few hours hop from Riyadh to London and with the time zone working in his favour, it was still disorienting. He had left Riyadh on a plane at around 0200. Then, arriving in London's early morning after not much sleep, on top of his already hectic schedule meant that he decided to take some downtime.
Bigsy and Clare had obtained a basic map of Zurich from the hotel concierge. They had found out where the apartment block was located and decided it was near enough to Central Zurich to take a taxi. The Zurich morning was crisply cold, but the sun shone. There was white frost in the shadows, but where the sun reached, it had melted and dried already.
Clare and Bigsy were enjoying the train experience. There was something ‘important’ about travelling to Paris on the Eurostar. Many of the passengers looked like suited businesspeople on their way to meetings, flashing laptops, mobiles phones and all types of communication device.
From Cannes, the two Russians had soon reached Nice airport and, travelling on their Belgian passports, had caught the last flight back to London’s Heathrow airport. They had arrived at around nine p.m. and decided to stay in a hotel close to the airport.
Jake, Bigsy and Clare took the taxi to Waterloo and walked back to the venue for the rendezvous with the American. They had devised a relatively simple plan designed to keep some initiative with themselves during the meeting.
At the Martinez, Amelia waited for the doorbell of room 731 to be answered. Apart from the entrance lobby, there was no particular clue to the type of place she was about to enter. As the door opened, she entered a huge apartment. This may be a hotel room, but it was achingly expensive. The person opening the door was a tall, dark-suited blond-haired woman.
The frontage of the Martinez was more understated than some of the other grand hotels along the front in Cannes. An original art deco confection, it had been substantially modernised over the last years, which meant it was well-equipped with the latest high-speed internet connections and extensive access to most of the world's cable TV.
Fredriksson’s plane from Riyadh was on time. The journey was about five and a half hours according to the schedule, but he also knew that early morning landings at London’s Heathrow could be delayed. In the event, his arrival was punctual, and because he had been seated at the front of the plane, he’d taken full advantage of the available bed.
Cannes was crowded with a trade event. The city famous for the film festival was used for much of the year for other less well-known events and had many ingredients for a good week away from the office for various types of commercial visitors. Whether it was TV soaps, physiology, retail technology or yachts, there was some show or convention and Cannes could provide lavish hotels and a great backdrop.
A few streets away, Jake’s apartment had been watched for around two hours. Two local petty criminals sourced by a mysterious American were looking for the best way into the flat. The two burglars had seen a few people leave during early morning and then and some routine delivery of milk and mail, but the property looked easy enough to enter.
At the Chelsea Police station, Trueman had been going through standard police procedures for this case. A cold-blooded killing, more like an execution than any random violence. No sign of theft and no real crime scene evidence leading towards the killer.
A noisy kitchen scene, Capital Radio burbling, coffee machine fizzing and an occasional bang from some bacon fried on too high heat. Bigsy, with a cooking spatula in one hand, was already on the telephone. "Thanks, mate- I owe you for this one".
Late afternoon near Deauville, Northern France and a little Cessna plane landed smoothly. It taxied towards an edge of the small but rather exclusive airport.
A dark Mercedes saloon waited while a woman climbed out of the flight. The driver shook hands with the woman who got into the back of the car which edged quietly away.
The Triangle
Londoners Clare, Bigsy and Jake stumble into an international mystery after one of their friends meets an unfortunate end.
I'm carrying on using Garageband - although I could break out Logic Pro.
At least now I've worked out how to get the voice to come out of the middle instead of the left hand channel. The ducking of the sound is maybe an imperfect science at the moment.
To fix the left hand channel, just record it as mono.
I'm using track automation for ducking at the moment. I'd prefer to find something that can autoduck.
Here we go!
Introducing me and testing that I can even make a podcast.
Testing:
1) Garageband
2) Manual ducking
3) a bit of background music
4) Splicing
Whilst introducing the idea of a novel series.