Tag: Books

Swamped

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excerpt

“Sounds good, Eteo.”
“Okay George. How expensive is this going to be?”
“For you, Eteo,” George replied, smiling, “for you, you know …
I could do it for 16,500. I have to cover the prospector’s expenses,
that’s about 2,500, and 8,000 for my office expenses. That leaves a nice
chunk for the good guys.”
“Sounds good to me,” Eteo replied, smiling back. “Go ahead and
prepare the papers and send them to Rebecca.”
“I can have an agreement ready for your lawyer within a week.
Will that work for you?”
“A week sounds fine,” Eteo agreed, and the two men shook hands.
Alone in his office Eteo checked the prices of a few stocks. Platinum shares
were trading nicely, with good volumes and steady buying
slowly driving the price up a few cents a day. A classic case of
what they called “healthy” trading. Eteo hoped it would carry on like
this for a while longer, but he also knew that all good things come to
an end. The key was to know when to get out. As for Golden Veins
the price was stale. Eteo had had a couple of offers, which he was selling
through a different brokerage company so that no one would
know he was the seller, but he didn’t expect anyone to buy them anytime
soon.
At that moment Logan came in to his father’s office with a broad
smile on his face.
“Sam regrets selling some shares the other day,” he announced.
“It never fails, does it? Even when we sell something at a good profit,
if the stock goes up even a little bit after that, Sam regrets selling.
Now he wants to buy it back. What should I do, Dad?”
“Do what he wants. There’ll be some profit in it even at this level,
and he also has some of the cheaper stock, so his average won’t be
that bad. Go ahead and buy it back for him.”
A few minutes later Eteo noticed a buying order of 6,000 shares
bought by his house. Sam’s stock was in hand. On impulse, he dialed
Ariana’s phone and caught her doing her morning errands.
“Hello, sweet baby, want to hook up later?”
Ariana laughed and said, “What a question, but of course I want
to. Come and get me as soon as you’re done.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Water in the Wilderness

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excerpt

“I’m cold, and I’m hungry. I don’t want to go no more. Rachael, I can’t walk no more.” Pulling his hand from hers, he fell to the ground and sat in a shivering little heap, the toy truck clasped in both arms.
“Get up, Bobby, come on, we have to keep movin’.” She remembered the lunch bag that Ronnie had taken from her to carry. “We’ve got food; c’mon, get up and we’ll eat a sandwich while we’re walking.”
Ronald handed the bag over, and bent to lift the little boy to his feet. “Here, Bobby, I’ll carry you piggy-back. Get on my shoulders.”
With Bobby on his back, he set off again. Rachael clutched her doll under one arm as she opened the sack of food. She had started to pull the jam sandwiches out when she heard her cousin’s excited yell.
“We’re there, Rachael. See – there’s your neighbor’s house. And look, there’s your place just ahead.” He began to hurry, the weight of the child on his shoulders no hindrance to his renewed energy.
Rachael shoved the sandwich back into the bag, and ran to catch up to them. She strained her eyes in the murky light so that she could better see the house. And there it was – her home. She thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in all her life. Exhilarated, she ran ahead towards the front door. But, as her feet left the sidewalk to turn onto the path, she realized something didn’t feel right. She looked down. Where once a weed covered path led to the house, a concrete walkway clear of snow made an easy approach to the porch – a porch no longer in a state of disrepair, but standing straight with a coat of bright yellow paint. The steps leading up to it were new, and were also made of concrete. Rachael came to a stop, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide and staring.
She became aware that Ronnie had come up beside her. “Wow,” he breathed, as he lowered Bobby to the ground.
The little boy stared at the house, then glanced around. “Where are we? Rachael, this ain’t our house.”
Rachael wavered between excitement and confusion as panic seized her. She turned to Ronald, a question in her eyes. His look did not reassure her.
“D’ya think maybe your dad has moved away from here?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

The Circle

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excerpt

it’s best for their morale, for their belief in the rationality of what they do every
day, and for their steadfastness in moving ahead. He has been around these
people and this agency for a long time since leaving Baghdad, since the days he
thought he had a good future with the CIA. Time has passed along with his belief
in a good future. What went wrong? He has wondered many a time; Ibrahim is
right. Bevan knows deep in his heart that Ibrahim is right. The problem is what
the agency does and what his department does is often questionable. This has
troubled him for a while. He has a hard time understanding the reasoning
behind decisions taken that are based on a mounting fear in the psyche of the
American people. He has been abroad for many years in which he has come
across people of many different nationalities; Muslims and others and they are
seldom the way they have been portrayed by the administration and by the
Ameerican media at the best of times. Following the end of the term of the “war
president” the people elected a different party and the stand of the country
abroad softened a bit, but after a couple of terms they were back at the same old
doctrine of pre-emptive strikes whenever it felt right, and Bevan knows that’s
not the best approach. Sometimes it’s better to sit and talk to a person instead of
unleashing the power of the killing machine and later trying to find answers to
questions you never asked to begin with.
He knows something has to be done about all this. Yet there are times when
he doubts even himself, even the comments from Ibrahim, his good friend. Does
he doubt his friend? A number of times he has thought about that, as well. After a
while his mind gets stuck on the idea that something has to be done with this
department, something has to change; it cannot keep on going like this for ever,
it cannot keep on going on with the killings and the atrocities. Yes, he knows,
something has to change.
He has tried over the past five or six years to change the mentality of a
number of people whom he has talked to; but has found it difficult to convince
most of the people in higher positions that what they do and how they approach
things is wrong. Some seem to thrive on other peoples’ misery and cannot
suddenly change direction because Bevan Longhorn wants it. He knows the only
way something will ever change is when something dramatic happens. Bevan has
been thinking about that for quite a while.
Ibrahim is right; substantial change takes place only when dramatic events
precede, like the attack in New York in 2001. He takes a copy of the memo he has
issued to his personnel and puts it in his wallet. He closes the file and calls his
secretary to pick it up. Then he finishes eating his sandwich and asks Dorothy to
remove his cold coffee.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

The Unquiet Land

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excerpt

“In one way they were right,” Michael interrupted.
“Yes, that’s true enough,” Caitlin agreed. “The doctor tried to tell the people it was epilepsy, but they said that epilepsy was just a doctor’s big word for seizure by the Devil. Then a fishing boat went down in a storm with the loss of all hands. The people in the fishing village blamed Padraig. They dragged him from the doctor’s house, but on the way to the harbour, where they might have drowned him, he suffered another seizure. He was writhing on the ground and foaming at the mouth when my father rescued him. The doctor agreed with my father that the best thing for his own safety was to let Padraig go.”
“What a terrible life that poor man has had,” Michael observed.
“Only the first dozen years,” Caitlin said. “He was twelve when he came here.”
“So he lived with the doctor and his wife for three years?”
“About that, yes. But he was mostly confined to their house. Children stoned him one day when he went outside.”
“Imagine being stuck in a house for three years.”
“It was a lot better than the house he came from. The doctor continued his education.”
“Padraig’s education?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean, ‘continued’ it?”
“His mother, the school-teacher, educated him herself as best she could under the circumstances in her brother’s house. She did a good job of it too. Padraig is a clever man. A very quick learner.”
“You should know, shouldn’t you?” Michael said. “You spent a lot of time over his books too, as I’ve heard.”
“I learned as much from Padraig as he did from me,” Caitlin said modestly, but honestly. “Old Shaughnessy, the schoolmaster, didn’t know what to make of Padraig. I did. I taught him what I could. Except for theology.”
“Theology?” This was a new word for Michael.
“The study of religion.”
“I see.”
“Padraig was quite well versed in that. The doctor or his wife must have known a lot about it. Padraig actually taught himself, Michael, in between the odd jobs he did for my father. He did well enough to get to university. After that there was no stopping him.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Small Change

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excerpt

a sweet humming whisper and my fingers closed around the aluminium body shutting off the little air holes that made it sing. I stuffed it into my shirt pocket and my fingers brushed against the last Spud menthol I’d forgotten to smoke that afternoon after baseball. I pulled it out and straightened it carefully into a limp tube that dribbled dry tobacco from its open end. Scary stuff, lighting up in front of your own house, but what the hell. My scalp came alive with little electric maggots, wriggling. I found some matches in my pants. The end of the Spud flared and settled into a hot core that let sparks off in the breeze when I sucked on the cork tip. I put one foot up behind me against the fence, and the movie came on in my head. My eyes narrowed; my ears sifted the sounds of the city for clues.
Then suddenly they were there, the big boys.
Joey comes up to me, all excited and talking like he wants everybody on the block to hear.
“’ey, Georgie, Pasquale wants you to go to D’Amato’s an get im four cansa Ballantine ale.”
He presses a damp, crumpled bill into my palm and says it again.
“Your nonno, ‘ey, he wants you to get ‘im four Ballantine’s.”
He winks at me, and gives me an elbow. He laughs. His eyes are heavy lidded and his face is damp with sweat. He’s been talking loudly at me so the neighbours can hear, and now he makes a face that says to his buddies, it’s cool, don’t sweat it. I remember that look from dozens of Saturday matinees. I feel the damp currency in my hand. I know there’s something wrong with all this, but I can’t figure it out. Then he bends close to my ear and tells me to meet them in the park.
Sometimes Nonno Pasquale would come and stay with us. On a shelf in the pantry he kept this little tin pail with a lid he’d give me to go and get beer in. The guy behind the bar at D’Amato’s, Gioffo, an old guy, but not as old as Pasquale, always thought I was worth a smile, this little kid with a beer pail, and he knew my nonno from years ago, so he’d wink at me and fill it up and give me a Sarsparilla on the house, and I’d run back home so the foamy draft wouldn’t get warm in the sun, and my grandfather would laugh and give me a nickel, and pinch my cheek and tell my mother what a prize she had for a son.
But I never saw him drink from a beer can, ever. Or even a bottle. Still, it was tonight, and they were having a party in there, and what did I know. So I marched importantly into D’Amato’s Bar & Grill.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763157

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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Brother Rordan looked around for Svend or Ul, whichever his name was. Determined
he’d find him, he only wished to apologize for his earlier blunder and perhaps
be his friend. Maybe Ul was being ‘used’ by the captain and felt ashamed of his position.
The crew, apart from the captain, seemed to give him a wide berth. Perhaps
already on board, the Irish thrall was nowhere to be found.
When the feast wound down, the late summer sun had moved along the far horizon.
Songs and games became more boisterous. The Norsemen wrestled, stripped
to a narrow loincloth, their bodies glistening with lamb fat. Bjorn, strongest of them
all, won every bout. Bjorn was aptly and fondly named the Blonde Bear for his massive
bushy beard and hairy chest. No Norseman ever refused his challenge. Each
preferred to be thrown by the mighty Bear than be seen as any less than a brave son
of Odinn, god of war. Spectators circled the wrestlers, cheering on each challenger
in his turn. Sometimes, Bjorn allowed a man to hold him for a while, but never long
enough to claim a victory. As each challenger lay defeated, the great champion lifted
him up with the love of a Nordic brother. In all his show of strength, Bjorn was
almost gentle.
When the wrestling was done, other games of skill took place. Some competed in
feats of archery and knife throwing with targets set at greater and greater distances.
Prizes of bone-handled knives and silver jewellery were awarded to winners in each
category. Several men began a game with a leather ball. They used sticks to hit the
ball and one another’s legs. Competition grew loud and fierce. The ball, the size of a
man’s fist, flew hard and fast.
At last, the casks of beer were drained. One by one, the players left the game to
sit in small groups and talk about home and women and their dreams. Each man
speculated on his share of the profits, when they’d sell their catch of sheep and slaves
at the marketplace in Thulé.
By the dying embers of the fire, the captain filled his men’s cups with sweet mead.
He and his crew toasted further adventures and Valhöll, where all slain warriors
would live for all time, happily feasting with Odinn. All grew serious for a while.
Then Bjorn tossed the ball to Kyrri, the Quiet One. Kyrri tossed the ball to Captain
Hjálmar. This was a different game, played with a twist of humour. While Bjorn and
Kyrri covered their eyes, the other men began a song.
“Treasure hidden in the night, so safely out of view,
will not be gained without a fight. The search is up to you.”
Hjálmar tiptoed off to hide the ball. Much to the amusement of the onlookers,
he slipped it up the loudly snoring Finten’s tunic, then stood apart chuckling. On a
signal from the singing crew, Bjorn and Kyrri began the search from man to man, accompanied
by cheers and sighs of “koer, varmr, heitr, kaldr” and the Brothers joined
in with their own shouts of “close, warm, hot, cold.”
Finally, with whispered hints from various members, Bjorn snuck up on the apparently
sleeping monk. But as Bjorn reached under the priest’s tunic in search of
the hidden ball, Finten grabbed his wrist and bellowed, “Do you take me while I am
sleeping? You are desperate, my poor fellow, but I have a vow, and my vow applies to
women and to men. I cannot satisfy you asleep or awake. For shame.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

Savages and Beasts

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on to Father Jerome and having a smirk on her face she left.
Mary, who couldn’t stay longer either since her working hours
had started, gave Anton another deep kiss and left; but just before
she walked out of his door she turned and whispered to him, I
love you which made Anton’s day.
During the breakfast the children ate without any incident
and soon after Anton having shared his coffee with Mary,
left to go and check on Dylan. Anton by nature and internally
always recognized and related to the misery of the world in such
a strange way that he believed it was inescapable, therefore something
one has to survive by standing up to it and fighting and that
way he felt he could discover where his sense of justice was laid.
This was his feeling this morning driving to the hospital and a
stressful sensation overconsumed his mind. Truly, this was his
feeling when he arrived at the hospital and went to Dylan’s room,
though he didn’t find him there. The nurse supervising that section
informed him that most unfortunately Mr. Kelly had passed.
“When? What happened?” Anton questioned.
“The doctor will see you soon,” the nurse replied.
Soon, the doctor who was looking after Dylan appeared
and took Anton on the side. An aneurism, he said, an aortic aneurism,
something building inside Mr. Kelly for some time caused
a sudden rupture of his aorta. Cigarettes contributed to it, so did
unhealthy food habits and unhealthy lifestyle, the doctor opined.
They did all they could. He bled profusely, nothing could be
done; he bled to death in just five minutes.
Anton was stunned. He couldn’t utter a word. Didn’t know
what he could say. What one says in such situations? He left the
hospital. He drove to the Residential School not even paying attention
to anything as if dazed, absorbed in his thoughts. He walked
to Dylan’s room, his room now, and sat behind the small desk.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Jazz with Ella

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Elizabeth and the other a Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep. The two laughing women that accompanied Slava looked on with interest.
“Let me give you something in return.” A dignified Slava reciprocated with two artistically decorated stamps from his album, which he had brought along for this purpose. Lona, who was seated at the next table, apparently took her cue from Jennifer because she also rummaged in her purse for a gift, pulled out an American nickel, and began explaining the significance of the buffalo to a group of enraptured young men.
By the time the party broke up, some two hours later, the students and visitors had warmed to each other. Jennifer had learned something about their lives: their brothers and sisters, their schools, their music and their anxiety that they would somehow discredit themselves in front of their superiors on the day’s visit—this last concern added in a whisper. She glanced around. But their commissar was still engrossed in conversation with Chopyk and both Ivan Nikolaevich and Natasha had disappeared—presumably leaving the group in good hands. What a relief, Jennifer thought. Finally, Nadezdha brayed her goodbyes to Chopyk, while Lona exchanged addresses with at least four of the panting youths.
Just before he left the dining room, Slava turned to Jennifer. “Stay with us, Zhennifer, please. You can have a good life here. Stay with us.” She was stunned by the request and could only smile and shake her head. Good god, were any of the others asked to stay?
As she walked the trio down to the wharf and waved them goodbye, she did not notice that Paul had also walked his new friend, Vera, to the bus and was now standing behind a copse of rowan trees on the footpath. And if she had not been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she would have overheard Vera explain to Nadezhda that she would not take the bus back with the others, but instead walk to her father’s farm, only one kilometre down the road.
“On your way, then, Vera Fyodorovna,” the political commissar called out to her. “Get there before dark.”
“See you later, Nadezhda Ivanova,” she called out happily as she ran toward the rowan trees.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Water in the Wilderness

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excerpt

opened the door to the boys’ bedroom and crept across the floor to Bobby’s bed. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she whispered, “Bobby, get up.”
The boy came to, not with a start as she had feared, but slowly and calmly. Rachael couldn’t see his face well, but she could sense his smile as he yawned and stretched like a kitten.
“Bobby,” she said more urgently, “you have to get up. Hurry now.”
He stopped stretching, and peered at her in the dim light. “Why? I don’t want to get up.”
“Shh, be quiet. You have to get up ’cause we’re leaving.”
She sensed his bewilderment, and noted the beginning of a whine in his voice. “But it’s still night time; it’s still dark. Where we goin’, Rachael?”
She bent close to his ear, and whispered, “We’re going home – to find Daddy.”
Bobby needed no more coaxing. He reached out for his truck where it had been pushed aside during the night, then got out of bed and stood on wobbly legs.
Rachael groped in the darkness for his clothes, then gently but forcibly pushed him out the door into the hallway. In the kitchen she helped him dress, grabbed her doll and the bag of food, and ushered Bobby into the small utility room where she rummaged around until she found both of his high boots from amongst the pile on the floor. Finding her own boots, she pulled them on, then helped Bobby into his coat and shoved a woolen cap on his head. Next, she shrugged into her coat, stuffed the oranges into the pockets, and pulled a toque over her tousled hair.
She glanced around quickly. They were ready to go. Wait, they needed mittens. A few precious moments were spent sorting out two pairs from the mitten pile. Then she opened the door and pushed Bobby out ahead of her. The stinging cold hit Rachael in the face and she saw Bobby cringe and hunch his shoulders. She really should button his jacket up higher but she couldn’t take a chance on him making a sound until they had made it around the house and away from the bedroom windows. Lifting a finger to her lips when he looked up at …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

The Circle

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“I’ll remember that.”
“Even if you or Talal need something, you call Bevan. If he calls and wants to
meet you, find the time for him, find anything he needs. Don’t hesitate to do
what is right.”
“Yes, my uncle. I won’t forget.”
The time comes for Ibrahim and the two guards to get to their gate for
departure. Ibrahim hugs and kisses his nephew.
“You have a safe and pleasant trip, my uncle. My kisses to Mara.”
“Thank you, my dear son. See you in Iraq, soon.”

Emily Roberts has been busy making arrangements for Matthew’s funeral scheduled
for Friday. She calls relatives, friends, Bevan Longhorn, of course, who
assures her he’ll be there not only for the funeral but because he also has something
to give her. She sends e-mails to a few people. She calls Cathy and asks for
her help in preparing food for people who might like to go to the house after the
service. Cathy knows what is necessary and gives Emily a list of what things need
to be prepared or ordered from a caterer.
Talal has stayed with her three nights in a row, keeping her company, and
sharing with her the pleasure of talk, of kiss and of a hug, which she needsmore
than anything else these days. They have been in bed next to one another for
three days and nights and haven’t made love yet. They talk a lot, the
conversation going several times to the underwater photography idea of hers,
and Talal reminds her all the time how pretty the water is in the Persian Gulf
and how many different species of marine life one can see there.
Tuesday morning and they are having breakfast, fruit, coffee, two and brown
bread with strawberry jam.
Talal sips his coffee and smiles at her.
“Feeling a bit better today, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, my sweet Talal,” she smiles a brilliant smile.
“Well, a few more days and everything will be behind us.”
She smiles at him again, leans forward and kisses his lips, while wondering at
the same time if everything really will be behind them soon. Are they going to
become a memory? What happens if he decides to go away to his country? What
is she going to do? Will he ask her to go with him?
As if reading her thoughts, Talal says, “Next year, early next year better yet,
we’ll take a short trip.What about that, my sweet Emily?”
“Where do you want to go, Talal?” Emily asks, anticipating his answer.
“How about if we go to my country for a couple of weeks.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524