Six Sentence Sunday

Andros, Greece

It's been awhile since I've done one of these, so I thought I'd run with one today. In the past, I've tended to select sentences at random from across my upcoming Heaven & Hell, but these six sentences come from the same place in the manuscript. They're the end of a late chapter in the book, featuring a conversation between my two main characters, Stryker and Devon, en route to Athens, and a final reckoning with my antagonists, the terrorist group called the Covenant...

“Preaching to the choir, Devon,” he told her, half smiling, setting his head back.

“You were never in a choir,” she remarked in mock annoyance.

He closed his eyes. “No, but I dated a choir girl years ago.”

She smirked. “I’m not interested in your tawdry social life.”

Endgame

Andros, Greece

I'm now closing in on the end of Heaven & Hell, at long last. Admittedly, it has taken me longer then I expected. First off, it's my first solo novel, so it took longer then I estimated. Second, not having a computer close at hand at all hours of the day meant that my writing time was curtailed. And lastly, well, there have been times in the last year that I haven't been up to writing. On a personal level, I've had a difficult year at times, and trust me... when you've got a proverbial black dog looming right in front of you, telling him to bugger off doesn't always do the trick. So the writing gets put to the side.

I've been writing lately what's basically a transitional pair of chapters. The Very Bad Thing (no, I'm not telling) has long since happened, and the truth has been exposed. Now everything is about the final act of the book, moving the action from Israel to Greece, where I have a final reckoning to come on the island of Andros between my protagonists and the terrorists they've been after. Incidentally, I'd like to apologize to the citizens of Andros in advance for setting a battle on their lovely island.  

Late in the book, I've introduced the final players in the book, members of the Greek counter-terrorism unit. The following is a passage introducing their commander. Tell me what you think.

The man sat in his office that day, a comfortable though utilitarian room in the Hellenic Police headquarters in Athens. He needed little more then what was already there: a desk, chair, shelves, and two chairs for visitors. There was also a safe for any sensitive documents, hidden behind a landscape charcoal sketch of the isle of Santorini on the wall behind him. The man was in his mid-fifties, and had a full head of neatly cropped black hair mixed with some grey, brown eyes, a moustache, and a typical Greek look. His eyes were constantly scanning when he was outdoors, tracking each face he saw, comparing them to faces in his memory. He wore khaki trousers and a tan dress shirt, open at the neck. At five feet eleven, he was tall and lean- that despite being in management these days- and in good shape, a holdover from his Army days.

            His name was Stavros Maras, and he was the director of E.K.A.M., the division known in English as the Special Suppressive Anti-Terrorist Unit. His officers all had backgrounds in the military and police, just like him, and trained and drilled constantly as counter-terrorism specialists. They were posted across the country, their drills taking place at a variety of locations, including ports, train lines, and airports. Their opposition remained far left revolutionaries, for the most part, and their duties also included rescue operations and hostage situations. They cross-trained regularly with various agencies, including the FBI, and they were the elite in the Hellenic Police.

            Maras had taken part in the dismantling of terrorist groups like November 17, the ruthless leftists who had waged their violent private war on his country. The groups that had followed in that path remained a thorn for his agency, as did the growing problem of Islamic radicals. Still, he had confidence in the abilities of the men and women under his command, and knew they were more than a formidable challenge for any of those who might launch an operation within his country.

            There was a television on in the room while he worked at his computer, on a low shelf on the other side of the room. One of the local television stations had been on the air since the explosion yesterday, reporting on the latest developments in the region. The statement from Nahas had been a surprise; the Covenant exposed as being behind the attack even more so. Maras was well acquainted with the group’s history, though they had never operated in Greece. He was half-listening as he typed, scanning reports on leftist groups in the country. Maras found himself surprised by the ringing of the phone. It was the secure phone, directly bypassing his secretary. There weren’t many people who had that number.  He reached over, pressing a button on the console, and picked up the receiver, answering in Greek. “Yes?”

            “Stavros, it’s Udi,” a familiar voice replied in the same language.

            Maras glanced at the screen, and saw a familiar Greek reporter speaking from Tel Aviv. Small world, he thought to himself. This wouldn’t be a social call, not with all that’s been happening. “Udi,” Maras said, changing over to English. He knew Zahavi’s grasp of Greek was limited, so it was polite. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”

            “Obviously you’ve been keeping up with the news,” Zahavi remarked.

            “I have. The Covenant is responsible, I understand.”

            “They are. And they’re in your area.”

            That surprised him. “Tell me, Udi.”

                                                         

And this is a brief snippet I thought you ought to get a look at. It's my Four Musketeers moment, with my protagonists about to head off into battle. It's a quiet moment for them, and I think it needed a dash of humour.

Zahavi lingered a moment, Eli coming up beside him. He looked at them, one by one, and nodded, as though confirming what he already thought of each of them. “Give them hell,” Zahavi told the foursome.

“We intend to,” Stryker replied.

Zahavi walked out, followed by Eli, the two men following Nahas and Singer. Devon and Stryker stepped out after them, turning to go another way, back towards the helipads. Sabra and Tarif joined them in the corridor. They walked in silence, and Tarif spoke, asking, “Is there some appropriate saying for a time like this?”

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” Stryker noted.

Sabra smiled despite herself. “You know your Shakespeare.”

“I always liked that one,” Tarif remarked. “Seems appropriate.”

“Fortune favours the bold comes to mind,” Devon suggested.

Stryker smirked, saying, “Or the slightly deranged.”

Now that I'm getting near the end, I've found myself in a bit of a quandary. The characters Sabra, Tarif, and Udi Zahavi were always meant to appear in just one book, and one book only. And yet here I am, getting towards the end, and I've gotten to really like them. So, the solution to the quandary? Bring them back. It can always be done down the line.

A couple of things left to keep in mind before I write the final words: I still haven't made up my mind just who will speak a certain bit of dialogue in regards to going to interesting places (it'll be whoever feels right for it as I'm writing it). And the final conversation of the book, I think, will only take shape when I get there. I know who has to speak... but the words will come when I get there. I've already experienced that in the writing, and I expect the same when I reach that point. Besides, I can't just impulsively bring in the police out of nowhere to arrest everyone for no reason. That's already been done before.

I can promise you, however, that the ending of the book will not turn out like this. Though I wouldn't mind borrowing one of those to use on my idiot ex-brother-in-laws' car....  

X Marks The Spot

"Forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the world. We do not follow maps to buried treasure, and X never, ever marks the spot." ~ Indiana Jones

"You call this archaeology?" ~ Henry Jones

Like pretty much everyone else who watched the Indiana Jones films as a kid, I entertained the notion of going into archaeology. Harrison Ford made it look cool. Mind you, real archaeology is about taking years to complete an excavation. It's about using tools that are far more likely to be fine brushes then shovels. It's about carefully cataloguing and surveying of an excavation, and methodical, meticulous documentation. And it's about knowing that you're very slowly putting together a puzzle. It usually doesn't involve a gun, whips, or a golden chest that melts people's faces.

To this day, I'm still fascinated by the field, by ancient history, particularly Egypt and Greece. I spent a good amount of time as a kid wrapped up in reading about expeditions and digs decades in the past, the discovery of tombs and lost worlds in places as far flung as the Valley of the Kings or Machu Picchu.

I've been fascinated by the mystery of Oak Island, which for a couple of centuries has been dug up repeatedly by treasure seekers convinced there's a cache of pirate treasure hidden away, but to no avail. My thought? The whole island is one gigantic decoy meant to confound treasure hunters, and the pirates themselves are still to this day laughing their asses off in their graves.

I've spent time in museums staring at mummies wondering if they ever thought they'd end up in a glass case being stared at by visitors. I've read the myths and legends of Greece, been fascinated by the artifacts and the stories, and been drawn to the notion of visiting that country (maybe when things settle down a wee bit... it's a bit tense at the moment). Santorini, which may have once inspired the legend of Atlantis, is a particular place that appeals to me.

So yes, it's fair to say that archaeology interests me. Even if it started with a film character whose unique methodology would frankly horrify every single curator and practicing archaeologist in the world today.

And so it is that archaeology has infiltrated its way into my writing, even though my area is the spy thriller. In Heaven & Hell, one of my lead characters, Tom Stryker, is a former archaeologist who, after an incident that will be written about in the next book, went to work as a spy. In doing so, he made a choice that's cost him the respect of his mentor, teacher, and father figure. Another character is an archaeologist whose life and work become caught up in the events of the book. Given that most of the book takes place in Israel, I touch on the history of the place, bringing my characters to various places in the country, from Masada to the Western Wall, and from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to the stark Golan Heights. History is embedded in this place. And ultimately, I've brought my characters into a place that's the very essence of history, a secret place where few have ever stepped. Writing that moment of discovery (and at two different places in the novel) brought up the thrilling sensation for me as a writer that I imagine an archaeologist must feel when they know they've just made an astonishing discovery.

Down the line, as I go along, this interest in the ancient and in discovery will return. The next book, of course, is a prequel that I'm thinking of calling Sword of the Faith. It'll be set primarily in Egypt, and it'll tell the tale of how my two main characters first meet, and the events that change their lives. Oh, and lots of people are going to meet a bad end.

On one level, I'm almost tempted to have a discovery made in that book, a cache of ancient treasures hidden by the pharoahs. If I were to do that, however... it would make Stryker famous. Not the sort of thing that would work for the life of a spy. Perhaps it's enough that the reader knows just how close the dig came... before events conspire to bring it to an end. Is that cryptic enough?

In that book, of course, I'd also really bring out his mentor as well. I've mentioned him already in passing during Heaven & Hell. Telling how the two men have a falling out is essential, and I can also see bringing that character back a few books down the line. Perhaps to finish making that discovery that his former student came so close to uncovering?

There are always other finds, hidden away in unexpected places, of course. Awhile back I happened to come across a mention of a sword. Crocea Mors, or Yellow Death, was lost during Julius Caesar's time in Britain. It may have been buried with a local prince, taken by him during battle against Caesar. It may have ended up in the Thames. It may have given rise to the legend of Excalibur itself. What sort of events could bring such an artifact into the hands of spies in the modern day?

Of course, the Indiana Jones influence would still have me write a sequence some day about putting my lead characters into an ancient death trap of a tomb or lost city. We can chalk that up to Spielberg, Lucas, Ford, and that thrilling Raiders march from John Williams. Come on, you've been humming it in your head since you saw that picture, haven't you?

On a related topic... what was Spielberg thinking when he cast Shia leDoofus in the last film? We're really supposed to believe this dimwitted moron is the offspring of Indy and Marian?

A Pleasant Evening In The Aegean

Earlier today I finished a chapter in the ongoing work in progress, with an appropriate cliffhanger point: a terrorist pressing the button on his laptop to set off the Very Bad Thing (no, I'm not telling you). I thought I'd jump ahead a bit now. The last act of the book is set on the island of Andros, in the Aegean. It's a lifelong fascination with Greece that probably made me set the action there, and I know someone in Athens who's been a source of good information on the island (thanks, Selene!). And so I thought I'd gather some images, show you what the place is like... just so you can see for yourselves.