Summer is an uplifting season. The canons are beautiful and the green scent is in the air. Spring is beginning in most of the country of the USA, but in Costa Rica it is Verano, Summer, where it rains less and you have more sun. It helps when writing has suddenly been scarcse. With the advent of the Corona virus 🦠 and the panic created by political parties and the lockdown of people in their homes,it is a wonder a person can write anything.
My fear Is I write a boring book or rehash an old subject. I like spontaneity and fun in writing. I like to cry in an episode I feel for the characters. Do you write with emotion? I like to write about military hero’s; those brave men and women who come home from a terrible place and thrive with a new scents of emotional freedom. They take a deep breath and smell freedom in their nostrils of life and thank God they can hug Mom, Dad, Brother or Sister.
Some stay hero’s In a new line of work; Maybe a detective, fireman, or a great individual who helps those in need. I like hero’s with character and emotion. Don’t you? Sometimes I get stuck in the same story line of previous adventures and find it difficult to adjust my themes. Right now I am struggling with my hero the Captain. I need to separate this individual and not confuse him with Lucky, The Man With a Limp or the transitional Chameleon, Charlie in the books The Chameleon Returns and Charlie. These three books or connected to the family of protectors against evil.
How about you my fellow writers, does this happen to you? My writing time has been selective lately. Coming off a serious home accident; I found the pain kept me from concentrating and my writing has been sporadic. No it is full speed ahead as I work to complete my novel the Captain. I hope everyone is well at this time of upheaval and sickness. It is hard for me to fathom the evil that was perpetrated in spreading this virus by accident or on purpose. I hope the world can come together to make sure this man-made virus never happens again. I pray for everyone! Pura Vida!
The Gaslight District
Our conference dinner ends late, and we head to the hotel. A plan for surveillance is in motion, cameras and breaker box inspections for intrusion devices. Hopefully, we can get a
goodnights rest. We met Carla discreetly at the Hilton bar, as a tourist in beautiful San Diego. We buy her a drink and discussed things to do in San Diego and called it a night. Back at the room, Lucky says,
“Carla is a beautiful woman. She is our eyes as we work at finding Retribution. She will follow us as we search for the bomb. How does a beautiful woman stay hidden?” Ask Lucky.
“So you think she is beautiful?”
“Yeah, and smart to boot!” Jack says,
“Keep your mind on the prize! It is midnight, and five in the
morning comes quickly.”
The alarm goes off, and Lucky is on the computer. The city is on
high alert. The newspapers have been great keeping the activities in a small profile. How long this will last is anyone’s guess. Lucky checks the Cryer for the next message and true to form it is another cipher.
Retribution is here:
Today is my evolution. This old blowhard lost offensive words under pressure. Too ordinary people can’t answer now. Only nifty
times have enough surplus, healthy effort lasting vary estimably. Jibber jabber eats some fish.
“What a bunch of noise! What is that? Does it make any sense? I think he is laughing at us.” A frustrated Lucky retorts.
“Lucky, was he drunk when he sent this mess? What time is the bomb going off? There is no indication at all.” Frustrated Lucky walks away from the computer.
Ring! Ring! Lucky’s phone is ringing, and he runs to his bed stand.
“Good Morning! Lunch is at noon,”
The phone hangs up.
“It will go off at noon; we have five hours to figure it out.”
Lucky calls the FBI and Phil answers;
“We decoded the message, and the bomb will be on a shelf in a
Fish Restaurant. Three restaurants in the Gaslight District serve only fish. My people are on their way to all three.”
“You are fast, we will go to the one I think he will have the bomb,” says Lucky.
“I believe it is the one near the ship museum with the most tourist. It is the largest of the three,” Lucky explains.
We get to Captain Cod’s Restaurant, and Lucky releases Max to find the bomb. Another dog Caesar is busy at work. Max is in the building only a minute and smells a box above a booth. It is on a shelf.
“Something is not right. That is too obvious,”
“You are right Lucky,”
Lucky sends Max into the back, and Jack is following him as
Lucky has the bomb squad check the box. Jack and Max head to the kitchen. Max is going crazy. He smells a multitude of boxes that may have bombs. Jack calls for Lucky. Lucky brings in Caesar, and extra bomb squad people and they go to work.
Two hours later they have not found the bomb. All the bombs were fakes with C4 residue in the boxes.
“We only have an hour left to locate the bomb. Where is it?” Lucky calls Phil and ask him about the message. Quickly they
discuss the significance of each word and come up with the old blowhard.
“Is there an old sailor in the building?” Lucky ask.
No one has an answer as Lucky turns around, and Jack says, “There is Captain Cod at the front door.”
We run outside, and Max sniffs the statue, nothing. Lucky kneels
down and sees a door with four screws. He calls over the bomb person and steps back. On the inside of the door, Retribution stuck horses dung. The dogs only smelled the horse manure, not the bomb. The Captain has his hand raised high with a harpoon, and his shirt cuff is flat like a shelf with a receiver on it. The bomb man reaches up and disconnects the receiver. Lucky kneels down and removes the horse dung and sees a bomb and removes the wires to the igniter.
“This bomb would have been devastating,” as Lucky’s phone rings;
“Damn you are good, my friend! “
“You are not my friend!” Lucky snaps back,
“Awful nasty considering I could have blown you up with another
phone call. I am having so much fun; I have to do it one more day.” With that, he changes the rules and says,
”Tomorrow I will tell you where the bomb is,” and hangs up.