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1022. alistairconnor - 9/30/2009 10:42:16 PM The approach to the hotel was fairly easy, much easier than Hank had anticipated. Davidson had plotted it out well, he realised; it was physically challenging, with fences to vault and walls to climb, but not very risky for someone of his calibre. He had to be very careful with the timing; Davidson had determined the pattern of military patrols precisely, and his safety margins were slim.
The real danger was the random patrols which supplemented the regular ones. But Davidson was lurking in the shadows, ready to cover him in that event.
Likewise, entering the hotel wasn't all that hard. Laslò had given him some useful clues about how to work around the alarm system. Once inside, he took off his grey overall, and headed for the Russians' suite in his bellhop uniform.
There, he had a stroke of luck. He had all the necessary material and skill to pick the lock of the suite, or to force it if necessary; but it would have taken time, and might have attracted attention. But the door was ajar, and he glided through. The suite was big, and apparently empty. He found the legendary potty, and collected the precious sample with distaste. He had almost reached the suite's exit door again when a door opened, and a young woman emerged from a small office.
Startled, she addressed him in Russian, then in English : "What are you doing here? It's off limits, surely you know that." She's probably feeling guilty about leaving the door open, thought Hank. Good looking : perhaps she's waiting for a lover? Do I have to take her down? A quick decision was required : he knew he could do it without fuss, and would do her no lasting harm. He would get away OK, but there would be an investigation, and who knew the consequences? Better try to bluff his way out.
"I'm sorry. I saw the open door and ... I thought you might be waiting for someone. Why not me?"
She grinned at this, and seemed to weigh his proposition. Oh Christ, he thought : what if she says yes?
"Run away, little boy. The important people will be back soon. Another time perhaps." Hank winked at her, and made a graceful exit. 1023. alistairconnor - 9/30/2009 11:23:11 PM Back outside in the snow, he knew the job was almost over. And he realised that the time for decisions was near.
He had never thought much about politics. His loyalty to his vampire kin was automatic, unquestioning. Being asked to kill for them had been a true test, a borderline moral dilemma which circumstances had allowed him to sidestep. Mere burglary he had no moral qualms with. World domination? Most of the directors seemed to be decent enough people. On balance, they would likely do a better job than the incumbents.
But his brief contact with this other crowd, the vampirologists of the WHO, had perturbed him more than he cared to admit. Ordinary enough people, but they were making their own decisions; like fish swimming freely in a sea of possibilities, weighing freedom and responsibility, making moral choices. He realised that he had been an ant all his life, marching in a column, never straying from the path determined for him, never imagining that he might take initiatives on his own account.
Checking his watch, he waited before crossing the last open space before the security perimeter fence. Once the scheduled patrol had disappeared, he set out across it, walking fast but noiselessly in the snow. He spotted Davidson a hundred yards off on the other side of the fence, at the arranged meeting point. Suddenly Davidson waved him back, but it was too late.
"Halt! Hands in the air!" First in German then in English, a two-man security patrol intercepted him, close to the security fence but still on the wrong side. Still in the closed security zone.
Play dumb again, though Hank. What am I doing here. Nothing much. The gear I'm carrying is a giveaway, though. It's not looking good.
He waited patiently, hands held high, as the Swiss soldiers closed on him, automatic weapons at the ready but not actually pointing at him. Nice touch, he thought.
As they came to a halt facing him, a couple of yards away, one of them made a quiet choking sound, then slumped. Garotted by Davidson, who had approached soundlessly, invisibly behind him.
The second soldier brought his gun to bear and opened fire as Davidson sprang at him. He was almost stopped in mid air by the impact of four or five powerful bullets, but landed on his target, his knife plunging downward in an arc, over the soldier's body armour, through his throat into his heart.
As they sprawled in the snow, Davidson face down on top of his victim, Hank suddenly saw things more clearly.
All this for a hunk of shit, he thought wonderingly. A doggy bag of Putin pooh. He slipped the ziplock bag out of his pocket, and threw it away as far as he could into the snow. 1024. alistairconnor - 9/30/2009 11:23:35 PM Did he consider, perhaps just for a split second, abandoning Davidson? Probably not. One doesn't leave a fallen comrade in the field, not if one can help it. He was already moving toward him when he heard Davidson's voice, rather muffled : "Master Iancu. I shall require assistance. One of the bullets seems to have sectioned my spine, so I am not currently able to walk. You will kindly carry me."
And Hank realised that he didn't have a choice. It wasn't a mere moral question. Davidson was using the Imperative effect, so his opinion really didn't matter. He picked Davidson up and slung him on his back, and started to run. 1025. webfeet - 10/9/2009 5:44:53 PM Alistair,
Honestly I don't have the time to critique your work and give you a more explicit account of character, etc as you can see by my infrequent posts--much as I'd like to. What I would suggest is to participate in something like NaNoWriMo.org. --or National Writer's Month, I've already forgotten what the No stands for. It's the same way I screw up names like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The idea is you bang out a novel for the month of November. You have to reach 50,000 words; agents and publishers look at it, and a few manuscripts later go on to be published. It would do more good, at any rate, than to post your work here.
I would also suggest going to Writer's Digest online, or subscribing. They post excellent advice, literary and otherwise, and give you ways of striking up your mojo from a wet match. I went to their conference in September and I was impressed with panelists, agents and just being in the swim of the literary community. Though writing is a solitary activity, I do find it vital to have the connection with the community--something I eschewed in the past much to my regret.
If you are serious you must do yourself the justice of going about it seriously. Perhaps you've already reached this conclusion. I don't know. But it's a start. 1026. alistairConnor - 11/22/2009 1:39:02 AM That same morning, Alistair suggested to Halima that they should invite Sorin Cascu for dinner. He didn't even have time to smirk or wiggle his eyebrows before Halima had suggested that they also invite Errin Davidson. In a few minutes she had arranged everything, and seemed extremely pleased with her idea.
Errin was delighted by the invitation, and relieved to escape the company of the group of CERN scientists, dominated as it was by the charismatic Dr Kronen.
Sorin struggled to contain his excitement and nerves, but managed to be both natural and charming. There was little need for small talk, as dramatic events of the day provided ample subject matter; but one way or another, they seemed to spend most of the evening talking about sex. This was perhaps unseemly, considering that Errin and Sorin were, at best, in the very early stages of courtship; but it may have been for the best in the end.
"The Hungarian lad." said Alistair. "Did you see the way he was looking at Courtney? I didn't like that a bit."
"Yes I did see the way he was looking at her. And I rather liked it." said Halima provocatively. "And I saw the way she was looking at him..." She smiled.
"She's only seventeen! And he's much older surely..." "He's twenty-five." Halima noted. "And she's nearly eighteen, and quite able to look after herself!"
"So you think we should just let him have his wicked way with her?" said Alistair. "And break her heart? This guy is an artist, anyone can see that."
"I called her mother this afternoon", said Halima, one jump ahead as usual. "Courtney had already talked to her about him. His name is Laslo, by the way. She's rather excited about him, but she's going to keep him at arm's length for a while. Her mother trusts her judgement, in any case." "I think she's a sensible girl", Errin offered. "And Laslo certainly is rather dishy. I met him this afternoon." "Did he make a pass at you?" suggested Alistair. "No, as soon as we were introduced he started talking to me about Courtney. He seems smitten." 1027. alistairConnor - 11/22/2009 3:32:07 AM Alistair and Courtney had been with Dr Albu that morning, discussing the program of experiments for the week, when the three young vampires had arrived from Davos. Albu had immediately summoned Halima, to assess the security situation -- which was dramatically dangerous, as soon became apparent as Hank's account unfolded. She and Albu had then conducted a more detailed debriefing with each of the young men separately.
Sorin had turned up later, accompanying Dumitra who had been undergoing a battery of tests at WHO's AIDS research centre.
"But did you notice the way the Czech boy was looking at Alistair?" said Sorin to Halima. "Milos?" she said. "Yes I did, and I didn't like it much..."
Sorin added, "You can see he has an eye for the older man."
Alistair reddened, and blustered: "I'm a man in his prime! If this Milos fancies me, it's clearly because of my youthful, dynamic style." He felt obliged to join the uproar of laughter that followed this declaration.
Errin, who had heard only vague rumours of the events of Davos, was avidly curious to hear the full story. Sorin and Alistair deferred to Halima on this; she had already decided that Errin was worthy of trust, but felt obliged to impress on her the importance of absolute secretly.
"Oh, cross my heart and hope to die! Let's prick our thumbs and become blood sisters!"
Alistair winced. "No more blood, please. It makes me feel all funny. I wasn't really cut out to be a vampire's victim."
"Oh, sorry", said Errin. "I know it's a serious business. It's the wine going to my head, I'm afraid."
Halima began by announcing that, in light of the day's events, she had decided to accept Albu's pressing invitation to join the WHO team. "To deal with security, in the short term, and organisational matters if things ever calm down enough."
"Ah, so I'm the last to know, of course!" Alistair protested
Halima recounted what they had pieced together about the conspiracy for world domination, in which the three young men had played a more or less unwitting role. "So, did the Organisation get away with the samples?" asked Sorin. "It seems so", said Halima. "This guy they call Master Petru apparently collected everything. He seems to be the mastermind."
"What about the other one, the one who got shot?" asked Alistair. "I made discreet inquiries", said Halima. "It seems the Swiss police found him." 1028. alistairConnor - 12/6/2009 12:19:38 AM "Well, that's a relief!" said Alistair. "If I understood correctly, Iancu was expecting the killer to come after him and kill him too. They'll keep him locked up for decades for the murder of the two soldiers."
"Appararently Milos wanted to bring him back here with them", Halima said.
"Three men and a coffin in a Ford friggin' Fiesta! That would have made quite a road movie!", suggested Alistair. "Still, I'm glad the justice system is dealing with him, and not us."
"You forget", said Sorin, "that he can teleport at dawn to wherever Iancu is."
"Um. Yeah. I have trouble taking account of little technical details like that. But what about the bullet holes? Won't they slow him down?"
"Dr Albu estimates that it may be a couple of days before he's able to walk. That gives us a breathing space", said Halima.
"So, how can we protect Iancu?" Errin wondered.
"It's not just a matter of protecting him", Halima pointed out. "Once this guy shows up, Iancu will be completely in his power. Rather than killing him at once, I would expect him to use him as a weapon against us. So we also have to protect ourselves against him."
"I reckon Dumitra can keep Iancu under control", affirmed Alistair. "I think she'll give this other guy a run for his money. She barks, he jumps."
"Well it's mutual", Halima remarked acidly. "She would do anything, absolutely anything, for him. But actually we have concluded that she's our best bet for keeping him under control."
"That, of course, means trusting her!" said Alistair. "Do you think that's wise?"
"No, it certainly isn't", Halima conceded. "But we don't have much choice. It's no use trying to separate them. The bond between them is too strong. I rather envy them."
"Why?" said Alistair. "Our relationship is like that too!"
"Of course dear", said Halima, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, when they were reunited this afternoon, you could tell that nothing else existed for them. Impossible to get any sense out of them, so we left them alone together. Dumitra confided to me later that they had unprotected sex -- I'm sorry, Sorin."
"They both seem to cultivate this aura of doom", said Errin. "Nothing really matters, they expect to die young. Rather a punk ethic. I have no truck with such nonsense, myself. Everyone can be saved if they want to be."
And it was on this voluntarily optimistic vein that the evening drew to a close. Both Halima and Alistair were watching the other two for signs of bonding, but the doctors Davidson and Cascu were too reserved and demure to be scrutable in that respect. While clearing up the dinner things, the hosts were doing their best to keep their hands off each other, and not entirely succeeding. Errin announced that she must go, and Sorin leapt to his feet and offered to accompany her. It was logical enough -- he had a car, she didn't -- and she didn't seem much inclined to object, anyway. 1029. webfeet - 5/14/2010 4:38:58 PM Dr. Kronen, I hope you are rewriting and polishing your work to submit to agents. It's good! I will definetely not pooh pooh the vampire/suspense genre. I was working myself into a jealous zeal when I heard about the writer who got a huge contract for writing a Y/A novel that worked in zombies during the French resistance!
Have you attended any conferences? made pitches to agents? If you haven't, I wish you the best and hope that you succeed. I went to a conference in New York in december and an editor requested my manuscript, and, three months later, I'm still waiting to hear from her. It's a maddening, agonizing process--but ont he other hand, for some people it's easy. That is definetely not my case. I felt like the Alex Rodriguez of fiction when I started, and now I am still waiting to hit a home run. In the meantime, i'm improving my swing and working hard at practice. And then other times, I just say fuck it, and don't write at all.
You could also write I am sure a killer "in the merde" series--like what Stephen Clarke did. I am working on a female version of that right now! I feel a little like Lucille Ball when I write it or Charlie Chaplin. I think of the relentless way he edited his films, and try to take heart. Writing comedy is all about timing and pitch and worst of all, it has to look easy! But it's so gratifying to make people laugh.
Hope the girls are well--they are such beauties, and that you are too.
1030. alistairConnor - 5/15/2010 9:24:20 AM Yes I'm a beauty too, thank you Bibiche!
My younger girl officially became a teenager yesterday. She takes "precocious" to a new level, by eliminating all traces of brattishness and retaining a genuine childish naivety. She'll go far, if the pigs don't eat her.
I'm barely on speaking terms with her elder sister. I'm resigned to being a very peripheral figure in her life for a couple of years, I hope not more than that.
I hope your progeniture are well in every sense, devouring all that life offers.
Thank you for the encouragement, I've taken a break from writing, perhaps I'm waiting for my other half to go away on a long mission or something.
I take offence at your suggestion of prostitution -- writing books about how ridiculous the French are, I'm afraid I'm too French to do that. I'm afraid I haven't read Stephen Clarke, perhaps I'm wrong in categorising him as a hipper Peter Mayle, I'll have a look and see what the possibilities might be. Looking at the vampire story, I note that there are no French characters -- I didn't do that on purpose, it just came out that way, but subconsciously I think I was scrubbing around that particular problem. 1031. alistairconnor - 5/15/2010 4:52:16 PM I haven't abandoned the vampire story, I have several chapters and some sort of climax running around in my head. Perhaps I should go back to the beginning, restructure, rewrite, before I finish. But I think the structure isn't too bad as it is.
With respect to timing, I'm not sure whether to wrap it up quickly, in a total span of a few weeks in winter, or spin it out to the summer of 2009.
Possible chapters :
* Defending Hank
* Kronen's serum
* Dr Ayotunde's daughter
* Courtney and Laslo
* Sophie and the Changers
* Cross country ski pursuit vs. the French police
* Showdown at CERN 1032. alistairConnor - 6/30/2010 8:03:04 PM Well, well, well. My better half bought me a couple of books. Quite independently of your recommendation, Bibiche, but clearly thinking along the same lines, she got me "Merde, actually", by the aforementioned Stephen Clarke. I find myself squirming with embarassment, reading it. Well yeah, it all happened like that, but it was all so long ago, 25 years, can't we just forget it? Horny young anglo discovers France and vice versa. One could write it in one's sleep. I would definitely need to find a fresh angle (being a stale anglo).
The other book she gave me was a Tom Clancy. I thought, WTF... you kidding me??? I'd never read one. I'm not enjoying it -- I'm too much of a snob for that -- but I can see where she's coming from : how hard can it be?
Food for holiday musings, if I can get my head clear. 1033. Jenerator - 7/6/2010 11:53:59 PM webfeet,
If you are ever around, please email me at bratdogsadie@live.com
I need to ask you a question. :-) 1034. alistairconnor - 12/19/2010 7:25:22 PM New novel. Popped into my head this morning while we were walking about the artists' market by the Saône in the bright cold sun.
Unashamedly inspired by the Wikileaks/Leakywicks business. Sex, politics and danger.
As a starting point, I retain the universe from the vampire story, and "Alistair" as a central character (perhaps other characters too). Redrafting will iron out the superfluous autobiographical elements, but I think it's a useful device to get the juices flowing.
The plot : As the international financial clusterfuck has emerged over the past couple of years, a group of international economists/philosophers/left wing political activists has been analyzing it on a blog site. Alistair, though no financial wiz, is pals with these people, by virtue of the fact that he's been hanging around the internet for twenty years. The inner circle/secret cabal of the site become depositaries of a whistleblower's document dump : an insider gives graphic details of financial skulduggery that involves (laundry list of everything that's wrong with the international financial system). It's politically explosive stuff, and they decide to publish.
But they need to cover their tracks. They need a front man who's squeaky clean, and who can be relied on not to reveal their sources. They choose Alistair.
They come to Lyon to brief him. "They" are : let's see.
1) Pierrick, a brilliant young French banker, who has worked in the City and in Wall Street. Somewhat autistic (Asperger syndrome, if you will. Gets nasty if you disagree with him.)
2) Frank, cantankerous old New York Jew, former functionary of the Fed, retired in Madrid.
3) Jens, a Swedish rocker/hacker/drug abuser. Staunch but dangerous.
Alistair is delighted to be their pawn in this game, it'll be his fifteen minutes of fame, and in a good cause. He will hold press conferences and go on a world tour to meet whistleblowing activists. The timing is good, his beloved Halima has been sent on an overseas mission for three months.
They worry that Alistair is a loose cannon, he has a taste for off-the-wall provocation that may cause extra trouble. But they reason that he can't cause any real damage, he can only reveal things they brief him on, and any extra controversy he creates will serve as cover. 1035. alistairconnor - 12/19/2010 7:25:35 PM
I need to think about the specifics of the scandal. It has to be generic enough to be not linked to any real person or organisation (other than governments), yet plausible, and politically correct (from my point of view. This is not a story with a message, but the message is a necessary part of the background to the story). In any case, the finance/economics is recounted from Alistair's point of view, and he only half understands it, forgets names frequently, and is capable of getting vital points exactly backwards if he hasn't got a briefing paper in front of him.
The publication of the first batch of information causes a huge media kerfuffle, and also a run on the dollar and the rouble. Alistair enjoys the fuss, and being the centre of attention. Everyone wants to be his friend, but he has trouble distinguishing who his real friends are. The US government targets his organisation - but in reality, there is no organisation to target. Cyberwar against the web sites publishing the information - but every time a site is taken down, a dozen mirrors spring up, it's like fighting a hydra.
Lots of sex - some of it good clean fun, but there is bad behaviour. And a honey trap. How about this : Alistair has several sexual encounters, then learns that one of them was a honeytrap, and he has to find out which one...
At some point, someone tries to pop him (Americans? Russians? There are numerous possibilities), and he has to go underground. He scuttles around in several countries, having narrow escapes, visiting with friends of friends, being tracked relentlessly.
In the end, his beloved Halima rescues him. The proximate bad guys, the ones hunting him, are brought to justice. The real bad guys, the insiders, are not. But perhaps the affaire has advances the prospects of real reform of international finance... Whatever. 1036. judithathome - 12/19/2010 7:43:08 PM Sounds great...better hurry with it, though...tempting scenario that may occur to a few more aspiring scribes.
I suggest one attempt on his life be made through doctored wine...Alistair being an enthusiastic oenophile and all.
1037. vonKreedon - 6/23/2011 11:30:02 PM So, I've been back working at Microsoft for about 6 years now. I'm a Help writer for Office, Publisher in specific, and as part of that I've been writing an official Publisher blog for a little over six months now. As part of that I'm writing a series of Help topic parodies based on "What if famous authors wrote Help?"
Ok, I'm going to out RL self here, so I trust the Moties to not spread this farther than here, but I so love these blog posts.
Tom Clancy
Raymond Chandler
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
William Shakespeare 1038. arkymalarky - 6/24/2011 3:25:58 AM How cool! 1039. wabbit - 6/24/2011 4:52:29 PM Those are very cool! 1040. vonKreedon - 9/2/2011 11:09:53 PM Jane Austen - Publisher Help Writer 1041. alistairconnor - 10/29/2012 11:39:45 PM Dr Albu called the assembled participants to order. "I hope you have all had an enjoyable weekend..." As he said that, Sorin and Errin slipped into the room, late and trying to be unobrusive, which caused a stir of amusement.
"The subject of today's seminar will be 'How to kill a vampire'" -- a ripple of alarm went through his audience. "But before we begin I think it would be in order to formally introduce all those present, as we have some newcomers. You have probably all met individually, but it may be useful for me to outline succinctly the role of each of us.
"I am Dr Albu, formerly Professor at the faculty of medicine of Bucharest, Romania, now Director of the Institute of Vampirology at the World Health Organisation, here in Geneva.
"To my left we have Halima, from Morocco, our security specialist -- and a very important role it is, as you many of you know. I ask you all to obey her advice and instructions without discussion, particularly in any emergency situation that may arise.
"Beside her is Courtney, from New Zealand. Courtney is a vampire, specifically a Changer -- meaning that her cycle of wakefulness and, er, near-death state are desynchronised from the day/night cycle.
"Then we have Alistair -- also from New Zealand, but resident in France. Alistair is Halima's companion, and Courtney's slave. Make him stand up, Courtney."
Alistair jerked to his feet with a squawk. "Hey, I'm not a circus act! Let me go!" he said, and fell heavily into his seat. "Ow!"
Albu waited for the laughter to die down, and explained : "Courtney and Alistair's co-operation allow us to conduct a scientific study of the Imperative effect, by which vampires may control every act of their... subjects, or victims, by an act of will.
"Next to Alistair we have Dr Vassiliu, from Greece, currently leading a research team at CERN, the international nuclear physics facility. Beside Dr Vassiliu are our newest recruits : Milòs, from the Czech Republic, and Laslò, from Hungary, both vampires and Changers like Courtney. And here is Iancu, from California, also a Changer. And Dr Dumitra Nicolu, a medical doctor from Rumania, in fact a former student of mine, also a Changer.
"Then we have Dr Kronen, the world's leading specialist of the theoretical underpinnings and scientific basis of the... special powers of vampires, at the intersection of cellular biology and nuclear physics.
"And our latecomers : Dr Sorin Cascu, of Rumania, resident in France, also a former student of mine but nevertheless not a vampire" -- he paused for the laugh -- "and Dr Errin Davidson, future physics Nobel prize -- I say this confidently!" Drs Kronen and Vassiliu murmured approval.
"To complete the introductions : Sitting in on our seminar today is Dr Ayotunde, head of the 'Unorthodox Practices and Pathologies' section of the WHO which hosts our Institute, and, to be clear, my boss."
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