Charles Heath's writing blog

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance: And, then, the words: Given the time we had from getting off the helicopter, and the pickup of Latanzio, Amy had managed to collect his wife Angelina and her two children, and Gianna and her son, Latanzio's mistress that very few knew about. It transpired Amy's people had only discovered the mistress by accident during a surveillance mix up.  It was, in Amy's opinion, pure gold if it came to needing leverage, though she didn't say what she might need leverage for. Both were kept in separate rooms in different parts of the underground complex, each with their own guards. And, what's more, the wife had no idea her husband had a mistress, and even though she doubted his fidelity, it was not something a woman in her position could talk to anyone about because there was no knowing who she could trust, or whether it would get back to her husband with disastrous consequences. Trust in

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, 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. I left the others out the front of the hut in Barnes charge, except for Williamson who stayed inside, feigning illness.  If everything went according to plan, a sketchy plan at best, Monroe would slip the diamonds to Williamson, and then melt back into the bush, heading back towards the fork in the road heading to the airstrip.  She would then report on what troops were between us and our objective. I signaled for Davies to join me. The commander and the man who’d reported to him earlier strode across the compound to a smaller building that m

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.   For instance: And, then, the words: Nothing ever good comes from eavesdropping. Or, so my mother said, once, with such feeling that I suspect she had some experience of having done so. It might explain the enmity between her and her older sister, the aunt we never saw. Except all that changed when I received an odd email from a woman who claimed to be that very aunt. We had all been warned about scams that came from dubious sources online, and this initially struck me as one. I would need more information before I answered. That meant poking the bear, that is, asking my mother about her sister. And coming right out with the words she hoped she'd never heard. "Aunt Guinevere sent me an email, asking if we could meet. It seems she wants to meet the nephew she hasn't seen since I was born. What happened to you two?" It brought a look of total hatred in return. "You would be wise

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 we’re back on the treasure hunt. The passage heading towards the marina was littered with fallen rocks, timber beams, and roofing material. Much of the damage was in this wing, where the marina had started falling apart. It was a problem with the foundations. A long and costly investigation had found that the marinas foundations had been inadequately built on a shifting base, made worse by the seasonal water flow. It was interesting to learn that the event that caused the start of the problems had not occurred in a hundred years, but had been noted in an early newspaper report, and only that it was a phenomenon,  No one at the time had any interest in building there, an

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.    For instance: And, then, the words: Nancy also had a ticket, but had complicated her situation with Corrigan, so it would be interesting to see if she could extricate herself without looking like she was going to follow me to the ferry terminal. But it was not a deal breaker if she couldn't get away. As I came out the front entrance, a short way down the road was a flurry of flashing lights and a bevy of policemen, and in amongst them was the man without glasses, gesturing and protesting his innocents.  One of the two Chinese that had been in the lobby watching him was there, on the side, observing. Good.  Keith the man without glasses or the Chinese would be following me.  That didn't rule out someone else I hadn't seen, so I still needed to be careful. At least I hadn't tried to conceal where I was going, letting the concierge know, and telling him that if anyone was looking for me

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 we’re back on the treasure hunt. A shiver went down my spine, and I took it for the omen it was. Nothing good came of being in a place where you were not supposed to be. I shook it off. “Does that look like someone we knew, once?” He looked at the mannequin, then shook his head.  “No, should it?” “Seems odd they didn’t come back to collect their stock.  I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as this when the cracks first appeared.” “Here it was.  Walls crumbled, and in places the roof collapsed.  Two shop staff got hit by a falling beam.  One later died.  There was a long court battle over that.” I did not remember much of what happened.  My mother said it was just another t

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.    For instance: And, then, the words: It was a small town that we had visited once, some years ago, that had enticed me back. Those had been happier times, times when the stench of money hadn't overtaken sensibility, and who we really were. Not that I had changed all that much, except for the upper west side apartment, and posh car to go with it, but what had disappointed me was the change in Liz, the woman I thought once as the love of my life. Without the trappings of wealth, she was the kindest, most thoughtful and generous person I knew, but that had changed when I became the recipient of an inheritance that beggared belief.  We both made a promise from the outset that it would not change us, but unfortunately, it did. And that was probably the main reason why I was standing outside an old fixer-upper house on several acres overlooking the ocean. I'd asked Liz to come, but she was havi