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1014. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:06:12 PM Sorin was flushed and elated. "You're taking it all pretty seriously, aren't you?" teased Alistair.
"Yes, isn't she wonderful!" he enthused.
"She? Oh you mean Dr Davidson! Well, she's... " a sidelong glance at Halima... "not my type of course but I can see where..."
"Do you think she has an ... involvement with Kronen?" Sorin queried.
Alistair paused a few seconds for reflection. "Involvement? I think not... That is, I'd say he had a go, and got knocked back, categorically. You can trust me on this. I'm a world authority on the subject."
Sorin grinned at him gratefully. "And do you think that..."
"Do you think that you would have a chance with her? Well, this is a subject on which I am an acknowledged non-expert. However, for what it's worth, I can assure you that you have an infinitely better chance than Kronen had. Because Kronen is a player; and Davidson, I think, is not. And nor are you."
Sorin thought about this for a moment, then thanked him gravely. 1015. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:28:16 PM That evening, while Dumitra was taking her HIV medication, Halima had another try at getting her to talk about Hank. She had been worrying about his disappearance all day, and furious with herself for trusting him too much.
"So, where do you think he's gone?"
"Skiing, of course. You saw the note he left me. He talked a lot about skiing, ever since we met", she lied. She was determined to cover for him, whether he was coming back or not.
Getting to the point, Halima challenged her : "Do you think he's gone back to the Organisation?"
Dumitra frowned, then smiled wryly. "I honestly don't know".
"And you honestly wouldn't tell me if you did. I understand. You're loyal to him. But where do his loyalties lie? If he tells them what we are doing here, they will come after us. They will kill us all if they can."
They stared at each other, neither flinching. Halima added : "So if you hear from him... " She paused. "Ask him to get in touch with me."
She thought of something else : "How's your meth craving? Bad taste to talk about it, I know, but..."
Dumitra frowned, and answered : "It's odd, I don't know where it's gone. But I could do with a cigarette." 1016. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:40:05 PM Hank was awakened near dawn, rather roughly, by Davidson, returned from his nocturnal prowlings.
"What are your instructions, Master Mirka?" he said, vacating the coffin.
"Oh, enjoy some free time, lad." said Davidson, taking his place in the portable sarcophagus. "I will tell you all the details of the plan at sunset, when I awake. Be here then, dressed and equipped for cat burglary. That is all."
Doesn't trust me, thought Hank. Fair enough.
He now had ten hours of daylight to fill, before the nocturnal mission. He was itching for action, he had no desire to think through the consequences. He knew full well that this was his last chance to flee, to put as much distance as possible between himself and a vengeful Organisation.
He decided to go skiing. 1017. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 12:24:39 AM The following morning, Milòs and Laslò met for breakfast at their habitual café.
"So, how did it go at the banquet?" asked Laslò.
"Well, I called in a few favours and managed to get put in charge of the sauces."
"You mean, you sucked a few cocks!"
"Don't be so crude, Laslò. That isn't how it works. As it happens, the principal sous-chef is in love with me. So anyway, it was quite easy to incorporate the blood into almost everything, barring desserts."
"Oh, so you worked out it was blood?"
"Well, it sure tastes like blood!" Milòs smacked his lips noisily. "What about you? How did your collecting go?"
"Well! During the banquet, while the guests were out, I did the rounds of my little helpers..."
"Getting your cock sucked?" suggested Milòs.
"Oh no, very businesslike, no time for funny business. Between them they got quite a haul : toenail clippings, lots of hair, stuff like that. We carefully labelled it all and I filed it in my collection. Last of all I called on Heidi."
"Surely that's not her real name?"
"Well, actually her name is Sophia. But she's a farmer's daughter from a high Alpine valley. She'll always be Heidi to me. Anyway, I had arranged to meet her in one of the presidential suites. She was leaning over the bath, cleaning it, and I thought : here's trouble. Then I saw her panties on the floor, and I knew it was a trap. Sure enough, she hitched up her dress and smiled at me from both ends, if you see what I mean. I tried to explain that there was no time, but before I managed to finish the sentence she had my cock in her mouth. Well, maybe I stammered a bit." 1018. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 1:05:10 AM "Well, you know how sometimes you just can't fight it? So anyway, we got naked on the master bed, and we were doing some sixty-nine. Warm up for the main event. And that's when the door opens, and it's Madame, home early from the banquet."
"Singer songwriter? Used to be a model?"
"That's the one... I guess she's in her forties, but if I could have my pick of all the Presidents' wives... So anyway, I'm thinking we're both going to get fired for this, but she's grinning like a Cheshire cat. So I smile at her and I'm about to offer her some dick, but that's not what she's interested in. She literally pounces on Heidi's pussy!"
Milòs whooped with delight.
"Keep it down!" said Laslò. "This is definitely very confidential. So, Heidi's not fighting her off, on the contrary, and here's me, holding my dick, as the saying goes. But she's interested in me too, and I help her get undressed, and I get to snuffle around her crotch too. She's obviously much better than me, because by the time I get her to come, Heidi's already come three times or so. So then she climbs on top of Heidi, missionary style, and she's kissing her and stuff, and she wants me to do her from behind."
"In the ass?" asked Milòs eagerly.
"No, no... Not many women actually like that. You'd be surprised. The little Turkish girl on the third floor being an exception." They both laughed.
Laslò continued : "So, I'm boning the Dame - she seems to like it pretty well - and she's doing Heidi with her fingers, and after a while I can tell they're both going to come. So I thought I might as well let rip too -- you know, get it over with. Work to do, and all. And that's when the door opens again..."
"And it's Monsieur, right? I saw him getting hustled out of the banquet early, by his minders. He looked like he'd had one too many."
"From what I hear, one drink is one too many for him. So anyway, here he is, with a glazed expression and a big goofy grin, and he takes a few steps towards us, then registers what's going on -- in case you've forgotten, I'm fucking his wife in a three-way with the chambermaid -- and his jaw drops and his eyes are like saucers. And I sort of half-turn towards him, and my cock slips out and I jizz on him."
Milòs was shaking so much with laughter he almost fell off his chair. "You were supposed to get a sample from him... not give him one!" he gasped.
"Good point..." Laslò frowned.
"So... how come you're here, and not being renditioned to some Middle East torture chamber or something?" gasped Milòs.
"Well, that was when the alarms went off. Security lockdown. So we all just got dressed, avoiding each other's eyes, and went our separate ways." 1019. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 1:05:57 AM "And so did you get a sample from him?"
"Well not from him... but I managed to find quite a few of her pubes, among mine, and in my mouth and stuff... I'm hoping that'll compensate a bit. Tell me, what do you know about the break-in? All the staff got interviewed by the cops, but they wouldn't even let us talk to each other."
"Well I think we can guess who did it", said Milòs. "But apparently it went badly wrong. Two Swiss soldiers got killed."
"Oh shit. Fuck. This is serious."
"Oh, so you've finally realised it's not all fun and games?" sais Milòs, sarcastically.
"So, what's it all about?" said Laslò.
"Fucked if I know. But I want out of it."
Their phones beeped, simultaneously. They both had a message from Hank, asking them to meet him urgently. 1020. webfeet - 8/22/2009 1:05:44 PM After a petit conge; I am in France, gorging myself on fresh goat cheese and mirabelles and working on my second novel.
AC, my unsolicited advice born from affection for you is that you have the ability to be a sexier David Lodge; ditch the vampire suit and go for what you know best, a vivid urbane world, rich in detail and knowledge. More on place, and detail: i know you have amassed enough material and have an eclectic cast of cosmopolitan characters that I think would be interesting, if more developed. keep the porno by all means, I think you have to be a bit of a gigolo in this business anyway. use plot devices as you wish, and I would go back to lodge and other writers of that ilk for inspiration. bises. 1021. alistairConnor - 8/23/2009 10:02:05 PM Well thank you for that, I am aware that I skimp on detail and on place, that can probably be improved.
The dialogue is patchy, I know. Are my characters any good? I rather like a couple of them, but I don't know if they have any objective existence.
Lodge eh? I suppose I'll have to read some. Amazon.co.uk here I come (the pound is cheap these days). 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. :-)
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