Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

/ C. R. Hedgcock

Hello everyone! 🙂

It’s been a while since I did a Q&A post here (sorry about that). Many of you were intrigued by the idea of a reverse Q&A, where I ask you things I’m curious about. So after tackling a few of your questions, I’ll ask you some of my own!

 

1) Will the Predzels be in any future books?

I’m not sure yet. I haven’t planned to include them, but they may appear in a future story if they could help the main characters.

 

2) Did Sigurd get Gleym back?

Yes, definitely. 🙂 I love the fact that you remembered to ask about her!

 

3) Do we know what happened to Jigson’s parents?

Oh, I can’t wait for you to read Hunting in the Highlands! The answer is yes!

 

4) How much of the Hrein Orka in Iceland Intrigue is based on real science, and how much is fiction?

It’s mainly fiction … but who knows? Maybe there are principles of it that someone has yet to discover 😉

 

5) What is the significance of ‘Twelve Lemons’?

It’s a phrase with quite a personal meaning for Jigson and Detective Mortimer – otherwise it wouldn’t have guaranteed Jigson’s identity in Iceland Intrigue.

Is it part of a big mystery? Or is it something more innocuous? Will they spill the beans in Book 8? … Maybe!

 

6) When you wrote Hunting the Highlands did you plan out the whole book before you started writing?

Yes. I did make a careful plan so that the book would progress with logical structure and so I would know where the story was going – it had the potential to be quite confusing with characters splitting up and traipsing all over Scotland.

But the need to be flexible arose when I reached the end and realized that the climax was not right for the story … so a whole new ending had to be written!

Do you have burning questions for a future post? Send them via the contact page!

Now … here are my questions for you! 🙂

1. Who are your top 2 favourite male characters?

2. Who are your top 2 female characters?

3. Who is your favourite villain? (Miss Verton, Lewis Nickel, Bud Larone, Rolf/escaped convicts, Dainn, Herr Klaus, or someone else?)

4. Which is your favourite title in the series, and why?

5. Should one of the characters be in a relationship/courtship? Who and why? (I’m not promising anything by asking this 😉 I’m genuinely curious! 🙂 )

I look forward to finding out what you think! 🙂

4,874 thoughts on “Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!”

  3. When the surgeons make a small hole and try to remove or fix a problem.
    I can’t tell you what happens to Jigson. I only have a bit more so I will have to continue working on it. If I follow my story-plan, it’s going to get VERY exciting.

    Reply

  5. This is the next part in my story, I just had this idea and wrote in literally ten minutes, it is just the basic idea, I didn’t have time to put much thought into it!

    Phil paced the whitewashed waiting room anxiously and glanced at his watch “12:05…pm” he muttered to himself sitting down on the hard bench. A young nurse stepped into the room “Philip?” she asked glancing over the top of her clipboard, Phil jumped up from his seat “that’s me” he breathed “is there any news on my friend?” “Mr. Jigson you mean,” The nurse said “when we brought him in he seemed very elusive, he has a bad concussion” Phil let out a groan “may I see him?” he asked quickly, the nurse shifted awkwardly “I can’t really allow that you see only family members…” her voice trailed off. Phil’s mind raced he needed to see Mr. Jigson, this car crash couldn’t just be Mr. Jigson driving badly, the agency trained their agents well in driving. “Brother!” he blurted out “sorry?” the nurse said confused “umm, sorry I meant to say I am his brother” in Christ at least he added to himself. The nurse seemed to scrutinize him for a minute “well…. I probably shouldn’t do this but… Come with me”. Phil’s heart leaped for joy “thank you Ana” he whispered under his breath.
    The nurse took him through a couple of corridors, “in here” she said, “I’ll wait outside, but mind you only a few minutes” she warned him. Phil nodded and opened the door quietly.
    Jigson lay on the hospital bed, his head and arm bandaged, a large black and blue bruise over his left eye, and eyes closed “Mr. Jigson?” Phil asked cautiously, Jigson’s right eye cracked open “Phil” his voice cracked in a bare whisper “I knew you’d come” Phil licked his dry lips and fumbled for words “what happened to your arm?” he managed to ask, dumb question he was in a car crash, he thought to himself “shot” he heard Jigson say, or not so dumb, “Phil listen to me, the car crash wasn’t an accident someone ran me over on purpose, you need to go…” Jigson’s voice cut off as a spasm of pain crossed his face. “You need to go to Canada,” another wave of pain shot through him “Mortimer will help. Tell him… Twelve lemons” Jigson’s body relaxed as he fell into unconsciousness, Phil let out a breath as he realized he had been holding it in. The nurse stepped in the door, I am afraid you will have to leave now Mr. Jigson the doctors need to check on the patient” Phil brow furrowed, oh, right I’m his brother, he remembered just in time.
    “Well I am not sure what to make of it son, maybe he is delirious.” Phil shook his head, Mr. Baker sighed “go home and get some rest, I’ll take over here.” “I’ll go home,” Phil said “and call detective Mortimer” “why?” Mr. Baker asked “I need to talk to him about… Twelve lemons”

    “So detective can you tell me what twelve lemons mean?” Phil asked over the phone, the house was quite Mr. Baker was at the hospital and everyone else was in bed, there was an eerie silence “detective?” Phil asked wondering if the line had gone dead. He heard a sigh “no. I cannot tell what it means. But I can tell you what to do” the detective paused and Phil didn’t say anything “you must go to Canada… to meet… Jigson’s little brother.”

    Abby, Andy, and Phil stood in the line to board the plane. Phil held the passports and boarding passes in his hand. He stared absently out the window, Andy fiddled with the straps of his backpack, Abby prayed earnestly and silently to her heavenly father.
    “Phil” Andy prodded his brother to move in the line, it was their turn. The high healed lady stamped their passports mechanically and turned to the next in line.
    Phil and the twins boarded the plane and found their seats, Andy took the window seat Abby sat in the middle and Phil sat at the side.
    The plane took off and Phil leaned back in his seat his eyes closed, Andy and Abby played knots and crosses as there was nothing to see out of the window “I still can’t believe, mother and father actually let us go with Phil!” Andy exclaimed in a whisper, Abby nodded a little less enthusiastically. If only this was a trip for fun, she sighed.

    What do you think? And yes I have thought up a better idea for twelve lemons!

    Reply

  9. Why doesn’t everyone take all the scenes they have written and put them in one comment. Then we can read them again easier! I’ve so loved everyones scenes but I’ve been trying to scroll through 2000 comments looking for them!

    Reply

    • I’ll try! I think these are all of them,

      This is the story I have been doing, I wanted to edit more but I don’t have time right now!!

      Abby Baker gazed out the car window watching the familiar houses and streets of her hometown, “almost home guys!” Mr Baker called from the front of the car. Abby leaned back into her seat and breathed a sigh of relief. “Home” she murmured to herself yes it would be good to be home, she felt tired and worn out she wanted a break from adventure time to just relax, ride Arrow, get back to giving Cello and Horse riding lessons, and just get back to her life. The car pulled to a stop outside their home. Tom was out in a second followed by Andy and Phil. Abby took her time climbing out slowly she inhaled the fresh country air, “home” she said to herself “ yes it is good to be home.”

      ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

      Jigson walked away back to his car. He had just waved the Baker Family of from the airport. Of course, they had asked him to come back with them, but he felt like he needed some time to sort things out in his mind. His thoughts wandered back to his days in the Glen, how different would he have been if he hadn’t been sent there? He sighed inwardly as he sat in the car. His parents, he couldn’t remember much of them, his dad, he remembered how he used to play with him and answered any questions ‘Haelix’ had. His mother could always make him laugh how she would make him laugh. He buried his head in his hands as the memories came flooding back.
      ………………………………………………………………….

      “It’ been two weeks!” Abby said to Mrs. Baker “shouldn’t things have gotten back to normal?”.
      Mrs. Baker smiled at her second eldest through the car’s front mirror “I suppose” she began “I suppose it depends on what is normal, what’s the matter Tom?” she stopped talking to Abby as she noticed Tom staring out the window “Mother” he said “Mother…. isn’t that… Mr. Jigson’s car?”
      Abby glanced out of the window and gasped “yes it is, Mother stop the car! It’s crashed!”
      Phil paced the whitewashed waiting room anxiously and glanced at his watch “12:05 pm” he muttered to himself sitting down on the hard bench. A young red-haired doctor stepped into the room “Are you Philip?” he asked glancing over the top of his clipboard, Phil jumped up from his seat “that’s me” he breathed “is there any news on my friend?” “do you mean Mr. Jigson? He has been asking for you,” The doctor said “when we brought him in he seemed very elusive talking about lemons and numbers something about Canada, he has a bad concussion though that could have been the cause of that… You know this is actually my first big job if you know what I mean” he chuckled. Phil let out a groan, not again, he thought “may I see him?” he asked hurriedly, the doctor shifted awkwardly “I can’t really allow that you see only family members… Though I have time to talk?” His voice trailed off. Phil’s mind raced he needed to see Mr. Jigson, this car crash couldn’t just be Mr. Jigson driving badly, the agency trained their agents well in driving. “Brother!” he blurted out “sorry?” the doctor said confused “you want to talk about your brother?” “umm, sorry I meant to say I am his brother” in Christ at least he added to himself. The doctor seemed to scrutinize him for a minute “well…. I probably shouldn’t do this but… Come with me”. Phil’s heart leaped for joy “thank you Anna” he whispered under his breath.
      The doctor took him through a couple of corridors, “in here” he said, “I’ll wait outside, but mind you only a few minutes” he warned him “then we can talk” his face brightened. Phil nodded absently and opened the door quietly.
      Jigson lay on the hospital bed, his head and arm bandaged, a large black and blue bruise over his left eye, and eyes closed “Mr. Jigson?” Phil asked cautiously, Jigson’s right eye cracked open “Phil” his voice cracked in a bare whisper “I knew you’d come” Phil licked his dry lips and fumbled for words “what happened to your arm?” he managed to ask dumb question he was in a car crash, he thought to himself “shot” he heard Jigson say, or not so dumb, “Phil listen to me, the car crash wasn’t an accident someone ran me over on purpose, you need to go…” Jigson’s voice cut off as a spasm of pain crossed his face. “You need to go to Canada,” another wave of pain shot through him “Mortimer will help. Tell him… Twelve lemons” Jigson’s body relaxed as he fell into unconsciousness, Phil let out a breath as he realized he had been holding it in. The talkative red hair stepped in the door, I am afraid you will have to leave now Mr. Jigson the doctors need to check on the patient” Phil brow furrowed, oh, right I’m his brother, he remembered just in time.

      “Well I am not sure what to make of it son, maybe he is delirious.” Mr. Baker suggested, Phil shook his head and glanced over his shoulder, “what’s the matter” his father asked, “just checking if I lost that annoyingly persistent red hair doctor.” He muttered, Mr. Baker raised an eyebrow then sighed “go home Phil and get some rest, I’ll take over here I’ll call you if anything changes.” “I’ll go home,” Phil said decisively “and call detective Mortimer” “why?” Mr. Baker asked “I need to talk to him about… Twelve lemons”

      “So detective can you tell me what twelve lemons mean?” Phil asked over the phone, the house was quite Mr. Baker was at the hospital and everyone else was in bed, there was an eerie silence “detective?” Phil asked wondering if the line had gone dead. He heard a sigh “no. I cannot tell what it means. But I can tell you what to do” the detective paused and Phil didn’t say anything “you must go to Canada… to meet… Jigson’s little brother.”

      Abby, Andy, and Phil stood in the line to board the plane. Phil held the passports and boarding passes in his hand. He stared absently out the window, Andy fiddled with the straps of his backpack, Abby prayed earnestly and silently to her heavenly father.
      “Phil” Andy prodded his brother to move in the line, it was their turn. The high healed lady stamped their passports mechanically and turned to the next in line.
      Phil and the twins boarded the plane and found their seats, Andy took the window seat Abby sat in the middle and Phil sat at the side.
      The plane took off and Phil leaned back in his seat his eyes closed, Andy and Abby played knots and crosses as there was nothing to see out of the window “I still can’t believe, mother and father actually let us go with Phil!” Andy exclaimed in a whisper, Abby nodded a little less enthusiastically. If only this was a trip for fun, she sighed.

      So I did change it a bit, now here are the two last scenes that have nothing to do with that. But I am not really happy about these.

      a lightning bolt struck across the sky illuminating the dark deserted docks for a fraction of a second, a thunder roll soon followed.The young boy crouched behind a pile of crates waiting to be loaded onto the ship, the rain poured down soaking his dark hair. His breaths came in short gasps, he looked around, the coast was clear, he moved silently towards the ship staying in the shadows.
      He reached cover at another crate, he couldn’t see his pursuers. He lifted his watch close to his mouth and pressed a button “I’ve lost them.” he whispered “good, make your way onto the ship look for a man holding twelve lemons.” the voice paused “your name is now Jigson”.

      Jigson boarded the ship and glanced around nervously, the deck was deserted. He moved forward and caught sight of a red-haired man around twenty years old. He turned towards Jigson, and he held twelve lemons in a plastic see-through bag ” I am meant to work with you?” He asked scrutinizing the boy
      “I believe so” Jigson returned critically surveying the man.

      A few years later.

      Jigson and Mortimer strolled along the street together.
      “Would you believe that a few years ago we wanted nothing to do with each other” Jigson smiled “yes I remember, I suppose twelve lemons will always be a significant milestone in our lives.”

      Jigson and Mortimer stood at the counter at the Danish shop, Jigson fumbled in his back pocket for his Danish dictionary. Then gave a frustrated groan “I forgot my translation book!” he exclaimed, though Jigson could speak many languages danish was not one of them. “Just do your best,” Mortimer said, “I forgot mine too”. Jigson turned to the confused Dane behind the counter and plastered a smile on his face, “umm I would like tolv citron’s please,” Jigson said slightly uncertain if he was asking for two pastries. The lady smiled widely and nodded pleased to hear the American speaking Danish. She turned and started packing lemons into a bag, “Uhh Jigson, those must be for someone else… Right?” Jigson scratched his head, “yes… I think” the lady turned to him with the bag, “Tak,” she said happily, “umm, thanks,” Jigson said a little confused, he opened the bag, Mortimer appeared over his shoulder and counted under his breath, “1…4…9…12… Twelve lemons! Jigson what are we going to do with Twelve lemons!” he cried. Jigson scratched his beard “I suppose I need to work on my Danish?!”

      Reply

    • …you get the edited versions that I emailed to myself and worked on (a little) after I posted since I’m not wanting to scroll back either. 😛

      Reply

  10. These are mine.

    Rolf glanced over his shoulder to see his pursuer close behind. He dashed around a corner, his breath coming in short gasps. He looked around, desperately trying to find cover. Up ahead, he saw a low stone building. Mustering all his energy, he sprinted through the door. Pushing over some crates, he made a barrier for himself and tried to control his breathing. Slowly, he leaned his head against the cool wall and gave a sigh of relief. Suddenly, a shadow in the corner opposite moved. Rolf stiffened, not daring to move a muscle. The shadow advanced towards him. As it came into the light, Rolf could see it was a man. The man; his pursuer. Rolf clenched his fists in frustration. He had come so close! Without warning, the man grabbed him and dragged him into the light. Astonishment spread over his face.

    “What! You! Rolf?”

    Rolf looked up. “Mr. Jigson?” he breathed.

    The man gave the smallest hint of a smile.

    “No Rolf. I’m not Jigson. Es ist eine Weile her!”

    The sun was just setting over the city, casting it’s rays of purple and gold and surrounding the landscape in a beautiful display. Jigson drove his car into the parkade and turned off the engine. Walking slowly up to the apartment buildings he stopped for a moment to look at the sunset. He breathed deeply, letting his body relax. The shadows fell over the parking lot and Jigson started to make his way inside.

    Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Casually, he turned around, as if he was taking another look at the view. But his eyes were not on the sky. He was examining the corner of the apartment building. “What was it?” he thought to himself. As he stared at the corner, a plastic bag blew across the sidewalk. Jigson sighed. What was wrong with him?

    Wearily, he entered the apartment. As he climbed the stairs, he ran a hand through his hair. He needed to calm down. The events of the past few months flew through his mind. The Glen, the Scottish highlands, the tape, the submarine. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. His job was finished; why couldn’t he just relax?

    Rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans, he unlocked his door. Sinking into an easy chair, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Then he heard a sound. No, it was hardly a sound. Had he just imagined it? His eyes flew open. Nothing had changed. “Calm down.” he told himself. It had never taken him this long to recuperate after a mission. He tried to think of something else besides his work. There is was again. A slight scraping. Jigson froze. He felt air whoosh against his face. Slowly, he looked up. His door was open and a man was standing in his living room with a gun in his hand. Without turning around, the intruder shut the door behind him. Then he looked at Jigson levelly.

    “So. I have found you.” he said in a low tone.

    “Who are you?” said Jigson stiffly. Then he realised that his hand was in his pocket. Very slowly, he felt his fingers close around his pocket-knife. Hmmmm, it had been awhile since he had been practicing his knife throwing. Maybe if he just… He saw the man looking at his hand. Jigson met the intruders gaze. This man, whoever he was, was no fool. He thought he saw a hint of a smile playing around the stranger’s mouth.

    “You do not recognise me do you?” he said.

    “I suppose that would imply that we have met before.” replied Jigson. He looked at the man closely. Something did seem familiar about him. The firm mouth, the close-cropped hair, the faintest hint of an accent. That was it! The accent. Where was the man from?

    “Keep going.” continued the intruder, as if reading Jigson’s thoughts.

    Suddenly, Jigson knew. “Gummi.” he said with a slight grin in his voice.

    Guòmundur gave an exasperated sigh. “Look.” he said shortly. “I did not come here for you to bring that up again. That is not the issue. The issue is, you have only recognised one side of me.”

    “Oh, I see.” said Jigson. “Well let me think. You don’t look like an old man anymore for one.”

    “I did not come to play court jester Haelix.” said Guòmunder stiffly.

    “Fine. Then why did you come?” asked Jigson.

    “First, I want you to try to remember where you have seen me before.”

    “Iceland.” said Jigson instantly.

    “No.” Guòmundur shook his head.

    Jigson looked at Guòmundur silently. Memories ran through his mind. Where? Where had he seen him before? He gazed scrutinisingly at Guòmundur’s face. In a flash, a shock ran through Jigson’s body. Everything came back. The Verton Headquarters. Driving his Mini Cooper out of the building. The small surveillance hut. The sunset! He stared at Guòmundur.

    “You! You were one of the guards in the surveillance hut at the Verton Jewlery Headquarters!” he gasped out.

    “Correct. Fortunately for you, it was my shift that day. Otherwise, you would never have completed your mission so easily. While you were sabotaging the wires in the back, I kept the other guard “busy.” And if you remember, I was the one that believed you when you said that the jewels were coming in a police van. Weren’t you surprised that the guards were so easily convinced? Well, that was my doing.”

    “But why were you there?” asked Jigson in astonishment.

    “I have my reasons. But that is not important. Something has happened. The Verton Headquarters may have been shut down, but some of the members were not. You do not know the half of it. I have been following this situation for years now. The time is ripe.” said Guòmundur quietly.

    “The time is ripe for what?” questioned Jigson.

    “You will see. But I will need your help.”

    Jigson frowned thoughtfully. Another mission? So soon? He did not work for Guòmundur! What was the man up to? But perhaps he would discover something important. He recalled the words of Cervantes. “Thou hast seen nothing yet.” He looked squarely at Guòmunder. “Fine.” he said, and held out his hand.

    Jigson wiped the sweat from his face and ran a grimy hand through his hair. He sighed as he looked around the market place. The Brazilian sun beat down on his head and be began to feel dizzy. Wearily, he sat down and closed his eyes. This job had not been easy.

    He well remembered the day The Agency had approached him with this mission almost a year ago. A large amount of rough diamonds had disappeared from a mine in Brazil. No one had any leads on the robbery, they had simply disappeared. The next month, they were missing twice as many. Jigson had flown down to Brazil and had taken a job in the mine as a labourer. The work had been backbreaking, but within two months, he had discovered the source of the theft. It had been an inside job.

    This information had led him to a large lemon orchard. What he discovered there was even beyond his wildest imagination. Dimond robberies of different scales had occurred all over the globe for the past five and they all lead back to this one farm. Jigson had to admit that the system was brilliant. After the diamonds had been stolen, they were sent to a hidden plant, deep in the Sahara desert, where they were polished and cut into beautiful gems. The diamonds remained at the plant for about a year. Then, they were sent to the orchard in Brazil.

    Once at the orchard, the tiny diamonds were wrapped in a specialised micro packaging and injected into young lemons in a separate part of the orchard. The young lemon was permitted to grow around the diamond until the fruit was ripe. The injected lemons were then picked and shipped along with the regular lemons to a big market close to Rio. Once there, customers who were in on the stolen diamond industry, would simply purchase a bag of diamond lemons and no one would be the wiser.

    So now, Jigson had transferred from working in the orchard to selling lemons in the market. Of course, only the regular lemons. The man in charge of the stall had innocently informed him that he was only to sell the lemons at a certain table. The others, his boss told him, were the best of the crop, reserved for “important” customers. It didn’t take Jigson long to figure out which customers were the “important” ones. Lemons were sold in netted bags of ten each. However, the injected lemons were sold in bags of eleven, and Jigson noticed that the label was slightly different. Moreover, as he had studied the labels, he could see that some of them had a small logo in the corner. A diamond shape with the letters VJH interwoven with each other.

    Jigson shook himself out of his reverie. The stall was getting busy. Slowly, he stood up and walked to his table. The sun had hidden behind the clouds, giving temporary relief. Suddenly, Jigson looked up to see a man studying him. Casually, he dropped his head and continued working. He looked up at the sky. The sun was coming out again. Reaching under the table, Jigson pulled out a wide brimmed hat and put it on. Then, still bending over the fruit table, he slid his sunglasses on his nose. Jigson looked at the man from the corner of his eye then frowned slightly. The man had a handgun hidden under his jacket. He made a mental note of the man’s features. Red hair, a prominent nose, piercing eyes, and high cheekbones. As Jigson watched, the man stuck his hand into his pocket and moved towards the fruit stall. He approached the Jigson’s table.

    “Good afternoon.” said the man in a clipped British accent.

    “What can I do for you?” asked Jigson politely.

    The man looked at Jigson for a moment before answering. “Yes, I would like twelve lemons.”

    “I’m sorry.” said Jigson. “We only sell them in bags of ten.” Or eleven, he said to himself.

    “I realise this,” continued the man, “But would there be any way I could get twelve?”

    Jigson did not answer. This was not a normal request. But if he complied to it, perhaps he could gain some information. Without a word, he opened a bag, took out two lemons, and slipped them in the bag he handed the man. The Brit thanked him and handed him the money. Then, without a backwards glance, he walked away. Jigson looked after him. Something was wrong. He studied the bills the man had given him. Two bills. He began to put them in the register when he realised that there was a thin piece of paper in between. Quickly, he slipped the bills into his pocket.

    “Can I take a break?” Jigson called to his boss.

    “Si, no problem.” replied the man.

    Jigson walked away from the stand. He made his way to a park and sat down on a bench. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the paper. Unfolding it, he could see it was a message. He read it carefully.

    “Many thanks for the kindness today. It had great effect. A greater effect next coming year. Do more.”

    Strange. He read it again. Then his eyes widened. A greater effect next coming year. A-G-E-N-C-Y. Do more. DM. A detective, he thought. He looked over the other sentences. No, there was nothing. Quickly, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. Then, he turned up the hem of his jeans and slid his finger along until he found the hidden zipper. Opening it, he reached inside the thin casing and drew out a small flat disc. An anti-hacking mechanism. Sliding the cover off the back of his phone he placed the disc on top of the battery. Then, going through the maze of passwords and identification, he logged into the secure Agency site. He typed in the words Detective M. Rapidly, he scanned over the pages of bios that came up. Ah, there he was. Detective Mortimer…has been with the agency…description…originally from Britain. Yes it had to be him. Or someone that was posing as him. Still, he had to find out.

    Sliding his AH back into the hem of his jeans, he took out a lighter and burned the note. He started walking back to the lemon stall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man walking towards him. He stopped and turned around. It was the detective. Slowly, Jigson reached into his pocket and felt his fingers close on his knife. He looked at the detective levelly, but the man appeared to not see him. He walked leisurely past, an seemed to simply continue on his way. But Jigson had heard him. As he walked he had whispered ever so slightly, “1258 north 5:00. Password is, twelve lemons.”

    Cassidy sat in her bedroom, her red hair glowing in the soft moonlight that streamed through her open window. So much had happened to her in the past few months! Her entire life had been changed in a matter of weeks. At first, she had felt some anger to those who had destroyed her Glen. It had been her home for years, and now, it never would again. But the more she thought about it, the more she began to realise what she had been saved from.
    It had taken time to recover from the shock and trauma but now, she felt only a deep emptiness. The sense of misplacement and the feeling of not belonging. Her home had been the Glen and the house she lived in was strange to her.

    She had not known her parents for most of her life, and now that she lived with them, she realised, as much as she wanted to push it aside, that she was not truly loved. Her mother was cold and distant, and was often seen staring out the window her thoughts scattered like heather on the brae. Her father was hardly ever at home. Quite regularly, he would take long trips and Cassidy never knew where he went. Since the day she had returned home, she had hardly spoken twenty words with him. No, the only one who really loved her was Wylie.

    She thought back to that day at the Glen. The day that changed her life forever. The day the strange girl Abby had escaped with Fergus. The day Monsieur Veneau had turned out to be an undercover agent. The day Alistair had spoken out for freedom. And while Glen Craig was in confusion, Cassidy had slipped out to the barn where she found Wylie crying. At first she had felt a feeling of revulsion; weeping was weakness. But then, it struck her that she had never seen her brother cry. She knew she would always remember what he had said when she asked him what was wrong. He had lifted his tear streaked face to hers and whispered, “Cassidy, our world is crumbling beneath us, but even though we are weak now, we will be strong again. And Cass, it will be the right kind of strength.”

    Cassidy sighed. That was so like Wylie. He would have these moments of great wisdom and insight. Wylie had never quite conformed to the Glen life. Outwardly, he had been a model student, just like she had been. But inwardly, they were different. While the Glen had shaped her mind, will and emotions to fit the mould, Wylie had not let his being be changed.

    Wearily, Cassidy lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. Would her life ever be normal again? Not that it had been normal before she thought. Pushing these disturbing thoughts from her mind, she tried to sleep. Suddenly, she heard the familiar wiz and thud of an arrow hitting it’s target. Her eyes flew open and she instinctively rolled to the floor, forehead pressed against her carpet, her body motionless and silent. She waited for a few minutes. Nothing happened. Slowly, she turned on her side and looked for the arrow. It was firmly imbedded in the very centre of her bookcase. A perfect shot. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the arrow. There was something attached to it. Silently, she slid on her stomach to her window and with a swift movement closed it firmly. That wouldn’t stop an arrow, but it would defiantly slow it down. And arrow, she mused, but what if the archer carried a gun?

    Slipping to her bookcase, she paused and mentally counted. Five minutes, that should throw the intruder off. Breathing slowly to level her heart rate and calm herself, she reached up with lighting speed and snatched the arrow from the shelf. Good thing it didn’t go in to deep, she thought. Quickly, she crawled to her closet and leaned against the wall, her breath coming quickly. Letting her body relax, she examined the arrow. A paper was attached to the shaft, rolled up tight, just before the fletching. Well balanced, she noted. She unrolled it, then sighed in frustration. Well of course she couldn’t read it in the dark. Making her way to the other end of her closet, she felt the was until her fingers touched the trim around the edge of the closet door. She slid her fingers along until she felt the quick spring and release of a secret catch. There was a slight scraping sound as a small section of the wall moved away. Cassidy smiled in satisfaction. No one knew about the invisible panels in her room. Survival was in her blood, and she always wanted to be prepared. Now, she was very glad she was so cautious.

    Reaching into the gap in the wall, she pulled out a tiny flashlight. Fiddling on the switches, she felt for the one that would turn on the regular flashlight. Flipping it, she shone the light on the note and began to read.

    Cairaid,
    I have something I must tell you. Your life is in danger. There are things I have learned that you have not even fathomed to be possible. I want to help you; and Wylie. If you choose to trust me, meet me in the forest as soon as you have read this. There is much at stake. I pray that I will be in time.

    Libertas Optimum Rerum,
    A. M.

    Alistair. Cassidy read the note again. Something quivered inside her. What was it? No it was not fear. She pushed the feeling aside. How could she, Cairaid Cassidy of Glen Craige be afraid? But try as she might, she could not stop it. What should she do? She knew that it could easily be a trap. It was quite possible that someone was out to silence her for good. One did not make many friends at the Glen. She looked at the last line again. Libertas Optimum Rerum. Freedom is the best possession. Was she free? Deep down, she knew the answer. The Glen might be destroyed, but her feeling of captivity was not. She knew she was not happy, why should she be concerned about risking her life? It was not a very great one, she decided. Reaching up into her closet, she pulled down her heavy, kaki jacket. Feeling again in her compartment in the wall, she pulled out a dagger and strapped it around her waist. Along with the dagger, she grabbed a pocketknife, paracord, and lighter. Shoving them into her back pocket, she picked up her flashlight and quietly slipped out of her room. Her feet made no sound as she walked in the shadows. As she passed Wylie’s room, she paused for a moment to look at his sleeping face. “May you be strong again Wylie.” she said very softly. Running down the stairs, she opened the front door and disappeared into the night.

    The stars gleamed in the sky and the autumn air was crisp and fresh, but Cassidy didn’t notice the wild beauty around her. She frowned as she walked along the forest path. Fall was defiantly not the best time for sneaking around trying to be silent. Dry leaves crackled under her feet, making her heart beat faster. She stopped for a moment and looked around. Where was Alistair? Something moved behind a tree. Cassidy, put her hand one her dagger. She gazed intently at the evergreen. Where was he?

    “Cairaid Cassidy.”

    Cassidy spun around. There stood Alistair, his bow slung around his shoulder and a quiver strapped to his back.

    “Alistair.” she breathed a sigh of relief.

    “I startled you.” he said, the smallest hint of a smile playing around the corners of him mouth. “Cairaid Cassidy, of Glen Craig, startled by someone who she was looking for herself.”

    Cassidy put her hands on her hips. “I have not been walking around in a forest in the middle of the night for quite awhile, thank you. Now, what have you to say?”

    Alistair’s face turned grave. “You will not believe me.” he said.

    Cassidy gave an exasperated sigh. “You called me out here to tell me something I won’t even believe?” she started to walk away.

    “Cassidy wait.” called Alistair, his voice ringing with authority.

    Cassidy turned back.

    Alistair took a step closer. His face was firm and he did not smile. “I must tell you something about your parents.”

    “What?” said Cassidy, her voice strained.

    Alistair sighed. “Let me start at the beginning. Perhaps you do not know that Glen Craig was part of another organisation. I suppose you could say that the Glen was the product of this organisation.”

    “Go on.”

    “This group is called the RDC and though the world thinks they have been put out of operation, they have grown even more powerful under ground. The RDC was run by man named Dainn, and was based in Iceland. A few months ago there was an undercover investigation of the RDC and two associate leaders Trina Verton and Herr Klause were arrested. This Miss Verton was the same woman who was the daughter of the people recorded on the tape the day the Glen was shut down and the sister of Monsieur Veneau or Mr. Jigson. Her real name is Corona. And you already know that Herr Klause is the father of Rolf Klause, who was one of the top students at the Glen. But although these two leaders have been arrested, Dainn escaped and has since disappeared. No one knows where he is. When the RDC was investigated, it was discovered that they were in control of a machine that could cause natural disasters. The machine has been destroyed, but the design has not. The RDC, although crippled severally, has no been crushed. This is something that even most of those who conducted the investigation and arrests wo not know.”

    “Then how do you know all this?” asked Cassidy levelly.

    “I cannot tell you.” replied Alistair. “But there is something that I can tell you. When the RDC lost their leaders, the few people that were left elected the top member of the group. He had children enrolled in the Glen.”

    Cassidy stiffened.

    “Yes,” continued Alistair, “Glen Craig was designed as a training school for future members of the RDC. The students as you know, are educated in all manner of disciplines that will prepare them to be world leaders. And since the top member of the RDC had children being educated there, this was one aspect that made him the best candidate. Cassidy.” he took a step closer. “The new leader of the RDC is…your father.”

    Cassidy felt the world spinning around her. No, it wasn’t true; it couldn’t be true. Her own father, was using her to accomplish his own ambitious mission? But now it was clear to her. The Glen had been terrible, but the RDC was a monster. Nothing would stand in their way.

    “What should I do?” she asked hoarsely.

    Alistair looked down. “Cassidy, do you realise that your father would harm you of he thought you stood in his way? He very well could silence you; neutralise you so that you would no longer be a threat. The RDC had many inventions. It would be no hard thing to transform you into a completely different person.”

    Cassidy felt sick.

    “You must leave. Now. I have arranged a way for you and Wylie to travel to America.”

    “America? What will we do in America?” Cassidy gasped.

    “There is a place for you to stay.” replied Alistair. “A woman named Mrs. James has agreed to adopt you for awhile in a sense. At least until this whole matter is cleared up. Actually, Mrs. James used to be the wife of an undercover agent. But he was recently killed during a mission in Catalonia. She would love to have you. Cassidy, there is not a moment to loose. You must decide now.”

    Cassidy swayed unsteadily and leaned against a tree to steady herself. She raised her eyes to Alistair’s. “I will go Cairaid.”

    Alistair nodded. “Go wake Wylie. And Cassidy,”

    “Yes?”

    “Do you realise what you have been saved from?”

    “Yes.” replied Cassidy.

    “Perhaps you have not yet learned what you really have been saved from.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Something that Mr. Jigson told me. Something I have been beginning to understand. Something I would be honoured to tell you.” answered Alistair.

    The steady blows rained down on Arnau Gorrion’s body. He groaned as each stroke hit it’s mark. Blackness began closing over his consciousness. “Lord!” he prayed inwardly, “I don’t want to die. My wife will grieve terribly. And who will continue my work? The search for the ring and Matthew James? But if it is Your will Lord, I will go.” Faintly, in the blackness surrounding him, Gorrion heard a voice far, far away. A cold, smooth voice.

    “Come Arnau, You have resisted nobly. There is nothing else you can do. I have kept you alive for so long because I do not wish to kill people. But you have been stubborn. Once more I demand that you tell me, where is my granddaughter, and where is my chip. This is your final chance.”

    Gorrion opened his eyes slightly to see the firm, slightly smiling face of Del Quira. He groaned again as he tried to move and then fell, gasping back to the hard floor. Why had he accepted this mission? He shut his eyes. This, he knew, would be the worst part of his death. Not the pain, not the worry, but the fighting against the will to live as he signed his own death warrant. He raised his head slightly, and met Del Quira’s gaze.

    Setting his jaw, Gorrion said clearly, “I cannot tell you. What is more, I will not tell you. You may do to me whatever you wish, and yes, though I would rather live, I don’t not fear you. For I may boldly say the Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man may do unto me. Goodbye, Albert Del Quira.”

    It was then, that Gorrion saw in his enemy’s face, the acutest from of rage. He had never seen Del Quira angry. He had never even seen him disturbed. But now, though his face was a mask of perfect control and determination, his eyes seemed to burn with a fury that Gorrion had never seen in any man. Without a word, Del Quira strode to Gorrion’s prostrate form. Drawing back his fist, he struck Gorrion with the full force of his strength, right on his temple. Gorrion lay on the concert floor, motionless.

    One of the guards walked up to Del Quira. “I think you killed him Senoir.”

    “We will make certain.” said Del Quira. “Manel!” he barked.

    A giant of a man moved towards him. “Senoir.” he said slowly.

    “Take this man out,” said Del Quira gesturing to Gorrion’s body, “And make sure he is dead. If he is not dead, you know what to do.”

    “Senoir.” answered the man with a bow. Walking up to the form of Gorrion, Manel stooped down and picked up the body in one arm as if it had been a rag doll. Bowing again, he left the room.

    **********

    Blood. Pain. Sunlight. These were the things that began to wake Gorrion from his unconscious state. He tried to move, but his arms would not do what he wanted them to. He looked down. His entire body had been washed, dressed and bandaged. “Who did this?” Gorrion wondered. “I suppose I’m not in heaven after all.” He gazed around him. He was lying in a tiny room made of earth, reinforced with timber. Under him, a mattress had been placed and there was a blanket thrown over his body. Where was the sunlight coming from? He looked up to see the roots of a tree entwined in the roof. The light came from a hollowed out log above him. He was literally underneath a tree. Questions flooded his mind. “How did I get here?” “Why didn’t Del Quira kill me?” “Where is Jigson?” Gorrion closed his eyes. He could not think of answers now.

    He did not know how long he lay there before a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Who are you?” Gorrion asked. “Where am I?” “How did you get in here?”

    “One question at a time Senoir.” replied the man. He approached Gorrion’s bed. As Gorrion studied him more closely, he decided that he had never seen anyone who resembled so closely the pictures of Moses that he had seen as a boy. The man had long white hair, and a beard that reached down to his waist. His face was tanned and had more wrinkles then Gorrion had ever thought possible. The man was dressed in leather pants, and wore a tattered, woollen vest over his stooped back. That was all.

    “I am a Hermit.” said the man as if he was telling Gorrion the time of day. “My name is Rodrigo Gol Donne. But you may call me Rodri. I came in through that door.” He pointed to a square wooden frame that supported a cut out patch of sod.”

    “I see.” said Gorrion.”Where am I Rodri?”

    “Is it not obvious?” said Rodri gesturing around the room. “You are under a tree trunk.”

    “Well how did I get here then?” persisted Gorrion.

    “Manel brought you.”

    “Who is Manel?” asked Gorrion, puzzled.

    “He is a guard in the Fortress. He works for Albert Del Quira in body, but not so in his heart. Manel has no love for the cruel ways of Del Quira.” said the hermit soberly.

    “Then why does he remain?” questioned Gorrion.

    “Do do what good he may in a den of evil. If he had not remained, you would not have remained either; on this earth. Manel is my son” ended Rodri offhandedly.

    A hermit with a son? thought Gorrion. “So he brought me here?” he said out loud.

    “Si.” replied the hermit. “Del Quira dealt you a blow on the head which very nearly killed you. You were unconscious and were as one dead. Del Quira told Manel to take you out and make sure you had passed. Manel saw that you had not and brought you here.”

    “How long have I been here?” said Gorrion, amazed at the risk his unknown friend had taken for his sake.

    “It had been one week since you were bought from the Fortress.”

    One week! He didn’t remember anything. “Do you know who I am?” he asked Rodri.

    Rodri looked at him for a moment before answering and a strange light came into his eyes. “Si. You are Arnau Gorrion of the Agency.”

    “That is true.” replied Gorrion. He decided to tell Rodri everything. He might not recover from last weeks adventures and if he didn’t he needed someone to know about his work. “But I am not only Arnau Gorrion. I am also, Len James. The son of Matthew James, who recently died in his home in America.”

    The hermit leaned forward and his hand began to shake. “Go on.” he said unsteadily.

    “All his life, my father’s great passion was to find a ruby ring that had been in his family’s history for generations. He dream was never realised. And now, the mission has passed to me. But while all who knew my father thought that he had simply been obsessed in the search for a family heirloom, the story is much deeper then that.”

    “Si, much deeper.” said the Rodri quietly.

    “My father, is not Matthew James.” continued Gorrion. “He has been bound by a strange promise. The real Matthew James went missing about fifty years ago.”

    “Mr. Grey, may I present, Miss Trina Verton.”

    “Thank you Richard, you may go.” replied Mr. Grey

    With a bow, Richard left the room and closed the door.

    “Well Trina, thank you for meeting me on such short notice.” said Mr. Grey, leaning back in his chair.

    “Oh Clement, we have had our little transactions before. This is no different. Do you have the ring?” asked Miss Verton.

    “Ah the ring. Yes, let me get it.” Mr. Grey turned to a hidden vault in the wall.

    “How long have you had it?” questioned Miss Verton.

    “Oh about a year. Coincidentally, I found it a few weeks before the Bakers had their little ruby ring adventure. Thankfully, I was given the assignment of “helping” them. I believe that was one of the easiest assignments I have ever had.” he chuckled slightly.

    “I see.” said Miss Verton thoughtfully. “And that was when you were a detective?”

    “In name only. ” answered Grey. “It was easy, really, to get a position there. I had been working behind the lines as a detective for Suro, so it was no hard thing to get transferred to the American devision for a few years. And quite a profitable transfer it was!”

    “Quite.” said Miss Verton with a laugh.

    “Here is the ring.” said Mr. Grey handing Miss Verton a velvet box.

    “Oh Clement.’” said Miss Verton as she opened it. “This is remarkable.”

    “Indeed it is.” said Grey, smiling. “To think I have been looking for it all these years and it was practically under my nose the whole time. I never thought to search in Spain.”

    “But how then did the Bakers learn about the fake one in the museum?” asked Miss Verton.

    “That was quite simple. After I had the fake manufactured, I simply had an “archaeologist” come and donate it to the museum. It was brilliant really. Matthew James was satisfied and would stop looking, the Bakers would be pleased and stop looking, and the whole town read the article I wrote and would stop looking. And thanks to Albany, the museum director, the Bakers conveniently donated all the artefacts that were found on their land, to me.” replied Mr. Grey

    “The fools. Did you hear that Albany was arrested in the Oakwood Reserve incident? After he left the museum, he took up a position there. Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong time to become a camp manager!” said Miss Verton.

    “True, but then, if it hadn’t been for him, you would never have got out of prison.” Grey pointed out. “Well what do you think of the ring?”

    “I believe it meets my expectations.” said Miss Verton looking at it under the magnifying glass. “But I believe that you will have a difficult time keeping it hidden.”

    “What do you mean?” demanded Mr. Grey.

    “Only that Matthew James has recently died, and his son is now looking for it.” answered Miss Verton innocently.

    “What?! How did he find out?” said Grey rising from his chair and pacing the room.

    “He is an undercover agent.” said Miss Verton, still examining the ring.

    “I will find a way to take care of him.” muttered Grey under his breath.

    “You had better move fast.” said Miss Verton suddenly studying the setting where the ruby was held. “I am sure you know that this is no ordinary ring?”

    Reply

  12. Seriously? Jigson thought as he stared at the people before him. Agency versus private detectives – in a lemon eating contest? These annual contests get worse each year. They can’t talk me into this again.

    He glanced at the other contestants. Tall and lean man to his left. Brown hair. Green eyes. Probably mid-forties. Private detective too – of course. Red hair, mustache to his right. The announcer had just called him Detective Mortimer, an English private detective. Jigson gave him a second glance, scrutinizing him as one who wouldn’t survive past the first lemon.

    “Jigson, of the Agency.”

    A few people laughed at his name – colleagues, of course. As if they didn’t tease him already. But’s that’s who he was – a puzzle, one he himself still hadn’t sorted out. Though maybe they hadn’t connected the dots to jigsaw yet. They didn’t need to in any matter. He preferred that no one knew.

    A plate was set before him containing a lemon cut in slices like an orange. He swallowed, already feeling the sourness in his mouth. Maybe I won’t survive past the first lemon.

    The whistle blew and he grabbed the lemon and took a bit. Tanginess shot through his mouth, but he took another bit. What was the point of this again? Charity – but also proving one better than the other. He was competitive, but not in that regard. Yes, he agreed with the first, but the second?

    He’d now finished his first lemon and took the second offered to him. It wasn’t until his third that he noticed the red haired detective was keeping about the same pace as him – the one he thought wouldn’t last past the first lemon. There’s more to him than meets the eye, I guess.

    Fourth, fifth, and sixth lemons. He had to pause. Already five of the eight contestants had left their places at the table.

    Seventh, eighth, ninth. Only he and the red haired detective remained. His eyebrows rose as he glanced at him again. Darting eyes settled on him, then moved, then settled, and continued.

    He couldn’t continue. His mouth was – no, there weren’t words to describe the awfulness of it all. Sourness wasn’t entirely bad, but eating the same fruit? He’d never eaten this many fruits straight before. And that stinging in his mouth…

    Tenth. He forced it down. No, he wasn’t going to quit. It wasn’t in his blood. This isn’t a mission, Jigson. It’s a lemon eating contest. His shoulders relaxed as he finished his eleventh. Jigson, this isn’t a mission! What are you doing? Are you really fighting to be the best? to prove yourself? to whom? this redheaded detective? A Scripture flashed through his mind. For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.

    He set down his twelfth lemon and shoved the plate away, having not even taken one bite. A smile touched his cheeks as he turned to the detective – and then he saw a sliced, but whole lemon on his plate, shoved away as well.

    Jigson cocked his head, but held out his hand. “I yield to my better.”

    The detective smiled, tapping his fingers together. “On the contrary, I believe you won.”

    “Why didn’t you continue?” Jigson whispered.

    “Christ determines my worth.” Here the detective smiled. “Not a lemon eating contest.”

    “I agree.”

    Jigson glanced at the judges as they asked, “Are both of you yielding? You’re tied at eleven lemons.”

    Jigson smiled, but shook his head. “No. Why try to prove the other below myself when we need each other in order to accomplish our missions?” He grinned wider, laughing a little, but winced. “Besides, I’ve have a canker sore.”

    **********

    Rain fell in torrents as he dragged Abby around the corner, then motioned for her to hunker against the wall. She did seconds before their pursuers halted a few feet away. They stood there as if pondering which way she’d gone. Then they ran the opposite direction.

    Abby looked at the man as he unfolded from the wall and scanned the area around them. “Mr. Jigson?”

    He glanced at her, then at the ground, seeming to fumble for words. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “We went through this before, Abby.” He meet her bewildered gaze with a sort of amused smile. “I’m not Jigson.”

    **********

    Six people gathered around the table, staring intently at the map that had been placed there. Three locations were marked, notes on terrain, potential hiding places, people who worked there, and the like deduced by the standing team and the man who now entered the room. Each stepped away from the table for him. He leaned over the map and marked one more place making the count four.

    “We’ll break up into teams of two and watch for any sign of the shipment. Once we find it, that team will contact the others via the radio and then retain their position until the rest arrive. Cevartes, Alastair; you are a team. Detective, you and Guomundur. Manel and I.” Jigson surveyed them. “Understand?”

    Rolf raised his hand. “Uh, am I to take the fourth location? Alone?”

    “There was one volunteer that I met today who was willing to take part.” Jigson smiled. “If it’s okay with you, I think you’ll be a great fit.”

    Rolf shrugged, his head bowed slightly. “Anyone is fine,” he muttered. “Just as long as my father doesn’t escape this area before we find him.”

    “Rolf, are you sure you want to do this?” Jigson whispered, noting Rolf’s body language.

    “Ja. I am not the only one hunting family.”

    Jigson swallowed – Corona – then nodded. “Right. Okay.”

    He strode to the door and swung it open. A man stepped into the room and surveyed its occupants. Then he froze.

    “Rolf?” He looked at Jigson then back at Rolf, mouth agape with disbelief. “Rolf Klaus?”

    The blond haired youth scrutinized the newcomer, searching for anything recognizable. Closely cropped brown hair on the sides, longer on the top. The man’s dark eyes seemed to smile as the shock wore off.

    “Hallo. Ja?” he said. “Have we met?”

    Jigson cut the awkwardness. “This is the eighth member of our team – Garth.”

    Rolf blinked, then smiled slightly, remembering the conversation they’d had before he was transferred to the prison ward. “You’re being let off the hook because you’re telling on the rest of us.” “Rolf, the criminals I’ve got to testify against were my friends – some are family. This has been the hardest decision I’ve ever made. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s easy.” No, Garth wasn’t a great fit. He was the perfect partner, one that could identify with the battle raging within him now. He reached for Garth’s hand. “Where has Jigson hid you all these years?”

    Someone cleared his throat as Garth opened his mouth to speak.

    All eyes turned to Guomundur.

    “Not to interrupt this reunion, but time is ticking. Herr Klaus and Trina Verton are certainly not wasting time catching up with their criminal friends. On with the butter!”

    ——

    Garth army-crawled up the hill only to halt and lay still once he reached the top. Rolf was right behind him. It was a perfect vantage point with a perfect view of the warehouse they’d be watching. Rolf wriggled slightly and produced a pair of binoculars from his bag.

    “Anything?” Garth asked when he finally lowered them after a few minutes.

    Rolf shook his head. “No. Only the swaying of trees and bushes of the forest behind it.”

    A sigh escaped from Garth, then he looked at his watch. “I guess we’ll be waiting for a message then.”

    “Why’s that?” Rolf asked, rolling slightly onto his side to look at Garth. “We’ve only just gotten here.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s because of ‘agent stuff.'”

    Garth grinned slightly, lapsing into the Australian accent he’d easily acquire. “Well, I may have vanished from society for two and a half years, but I haven’t allowed myself the complacency of growing unobservant.” The grin vanished and his eyes grew solemn. “No; I scanned the map Jigson had out and deduced, based on the details of significance and such, that the other three sites would be the more ideal locations for Herr Klaus and Trina Verton to hide. Sure, this is surrounded by woods, but the other places are more secluded and have more routes of escape: rivers, roads, paths through the forest both trails and one you can make on your own.”

    The youth turned back onto his stomach as the Australian Garth finished speaking. “So, that’s where you’ve been all this time? Jigson sent you to Australian?”

    “And nearly bored me out of my mind from inactivity.” Garth laughed drily. “Really, observance on people’s clothes, how they held their purses and where they tucked their wallets… Sure, someone would think I was a pickpocket if they knew what I was doing.” Then his voice shifted, quieter than the quiet he already spoke at. “No, but in the end, it was what I needed. To seek God and get to know Him in ways I didn’t think possible. I struggled at first because of the constant itch to get an undercover job. Jigson wouldn’t let me have a cell at all.” He sighed as if remember the stress-free life he’d lived these passed years. “I had to find out who I truly was.”

    At this, Rolf cocked his head. “Who you truly were? What do you mean by that?”

    Garth took the binoculars from Rolf and scanned the area again before handing them back and answering. “I lived my entire life basing my identity off of what others thought of me. But all that faded. The people, I mean. The job. The commendations. It’s taken me some to really see it, but I discovered what identity is truly determined by: God. Everything in this world changes and eventually fades, but God is ‘the same yesterday and today and forever.'”

    Rolf let out the breath he’d been holding while Garth spoke. “Ja? Truly? That has been-”

    Garth’s phone vibrated. “Hold on,” he said, glancing down at it. “Instant message?” He swiped at the screen, the his brows crinkled. “Already?”

    “Already what?”” Rolf asked.

    “There’s movement on Jigson’s end,” Garth said as he looked up. “He’s contacted the police and wants us to-”

    “To what?”

    Garth, who had frozen, broken from it and shoved Rolf’s shoulder, nearly rolling him over. “Rolf! Get into that tree!” he hissed.

    The youth paused, his eyes registering confusion. “What?”

    “Drone!”

    Already Garth was crawling to a tree in the opposite direction. The buzz he had heard countless times in Australia grew louder. He scrambled to his feet as he neared the tree’s base and swung up to the first branch. Steadily, but swiftly, he climbed until he reached a branch with a comfortable amount of foliage. Breathing softly, he held still. It was almost as if he could feel it coming closer. His heart pounded. Steady, Garth. Hold still. There two and a half years without missions will kill me. No, they were worth it.

    An eagle. That’s what we need right now. Just like what the police do in Australia. Take down the drone with an eagle. Unfortunately, we don’t have one right now.

    Carefully, Garth pulled out his phone and swiped at the screen to Messenger. “J,” he typed. “Chosen to retain positions here. Drone in area. Possibly searching. Will send updates.”

    Gradually, the buzzing drew away from where they hid and Garth risked climbing higher into the tree to see if he could catch a glimpse of it. As he did, he saw it drop steadily from the sky and carefully land outside the front of the warehouse. A man hurried outside and picked it up before disappearing back in, but Garth recognized him immediately. Rake.

    Garth cautiously edged down the tree, careful not to rustle a branch or break any smaller limbs. He grabbed the lowest branch and swung down, neatly landing and rolling in the grass.

    “Rolf?” he whispered, crawling back to where they’d laid before. “Rolf?” This time louder.

    A tuft of blond hair appeared amidst the leaves of the tree Garth had shoved him toward and moments later the youth was crawling toward him.

    “Listen, Rolf. That drone was obviously scanning the area, but I don’t think they found us. Something’s happening and- What?”

    He was shaking his head. “Nein. That was one of my father’s drones. I could see the interwoven letters of the RDC through the binoculars.”

    “And?”

    “The RDC’s drones are equipped and programmed to scan for body heat. Rake retrieved it. They have to be here – and they know we are too.”

    Garth slowly nodded. “Okay, keep watch on the warehouse. I need to contact Jigson.”

    He whipped out his phone and slid his finger across the screen to form the words faster. “Rake collected the drone. An RDC drone with body heat scanners. Probably found out. Retain position or retreat? If retain, back up need NOW.”

    “There’s movement,” Rolf said, lowing the binoculars as Garth hit the arrow to send. “And they have guns.”

    ——

    “How many?” Garth asked as he slid his finger swiftly across the phone’s screen to type the two words.

    “Seven. No eight.” Rolf swallowed. “One, by the looks of it, has a machine gun. Is that legal to own?”

    Garth hit send and yanked his gun out of the holster. “Yes. As long as they were made before May 1968 and are registered with the Federal government – that is, in the States. Not sure about here.”

    “What did you say?” Rolf asked as Garth tucked his phone in his pocket then motioned for him to put the binoculars away.

    “Two words. ‘Retreating temporarily.’ Now move.”

    Garth rotated his body and began crawling rapidly down the hill. After a number of paces, he rose.

    “Rolf, listen carefully. There are only two ways out of this place – the gravel road and that trail back there unless they flee on foot, which I doubt. I’ll take the road since you have better bush-craft than I do. Don’t deny it. Besides, if we split, we split them too.”

    Rolf nodded slowly.

    “Don’t engage. Keep out of sight. Backup probably won’t get here since I think Jigson is chasing a decoy. We need to at least find out where they are going. Contact me if you have activity on your end.” He started to turn, but stopped. “Rolf, whatever happens remember: der richtige weg ist nie einfach. Godspeed.”

    ——

    Crackling bushes followed Garth as he raced along, trying as best he could in his hast to not leave a trail. They sure aren’t trying to be subtle, he thought drily. His foot caught a branch and he stumbled. He failed to recover and smashed into a tree trunk. His gun recoiled as his finger touched the trigger. How long has it been that I’ve forgotten to keep my finger off the trigger until I fire? He shoved forward again, hearing shouts behind him. As he ran, he cocked his gun again and reminded himself to keep his finger away from the trigger.

    They’d split, that much he could tell. They’d parted and were trying to circle around him. His eyes darted, scanning for a way out of this. Trees. No sign of the road yet, he mused. Trees will have to do. It will buy me time to do what I must.

    He chose the nearest, scrambling up its branches as stealthily as possible. Then he settled, carefully placing his gun in his holster, before taking out his phone. “Split up with Rolf. Back up needed now.” He swallowed a lump in his throat, then sent the message – and he deleted the thread.

    They were coming closer, tracking every step he’d made. “Twigs are broken in this direction. Leaves are turned over here.”

    By the time they’d determined what tree he was in, he’d deleted everything related to the mission and his contact with Jigson and the Detective. He only left the decoy messages Jigson had sent should something like this ever happen. Then he unstrapped his holster and gun and fastened it where they surely could not see it unless they climbed up where he was.

    A shot exploded through the air – thankfully, not at him – followed by a, “You best hurry down – slowly – or I’ll fire at you this time.”

    “Look, chap,” he said hurriedly, assuming his Australian accent while he tucked the phone into his pocket. “I don’t mean you any harm. I’m- All right. All right. I’m coming down. Just don’t fire again.”

    He hurried slowly – if there is such a thing, he thought – down the tree, rustling a couple branches and snapping twigs while he climbed just to let them know where he was. When the branches parted to reveal the ground, he gripped it and dropped clumsily down, faking a trip and falling to the leaf infested ground. He nearly smiled as he rose and brushed himself off. Not bad for the years I’ve been away. Instead, he chose to scowl.

    “Look what you made me do! Ripped my favorite jacket. Stupid American-” He forced a choke. Believable? Hopefully. “-roots.”

    All eight stood there. Perfect. My shot must have drawn them. That, or my failure in stealth. Better for Rolf in any matter.

    “Who are you?” the one who’d spoken before demanded. Rake.

    Stick to the alias. God, help me. “Jaxon Turner.”

    “From where?”

    Garth narrowed his eyes at Rake, feigning offense. “Do you think I sound American? I’m offended you’d even think such a thing.”

    “Don’t sass me, Australian. Give me your phone and identification.”

    Here he paused and allowed his scowl to deepen. “Why? What right do you have to demand that?”

    They leveled their guns – the machine gun included – at him.

    “Oh.” His scowl faded into a pleasant smile. “R-right away, chap.” He fished out his wallet with his Australian passport, complements of Jigson, and handed it to them. Then he passed over his phone.

    Rake glanced at the passport then back up at Garth. Finally, he nodded and handed it back. Then he swiped at the phone screen and scrolled through the messages.

    “Heh, chap,” Garth objected. “Some of those are personal.”

    “From your sweetheart, I’m sure. Sorry about that.” Rake handed the phone back. “This is private property though and we don’t take kindly to trespassers. I ask you to leave immediately.”

    “Oh, sure. Right away, chap. But could you point me in the direction of the road? I got mixed up back there.”

    Rake scowled then nodded off to his right. “Half a mile that way.”

    He nodded his thanks then turned in the direction Rake had directed. “Much obliged. G’day.”

    Garth walked casually – tried to, at least – reminiscing when he’d told Abby and Andy to relax. Breathing deeply, he fixed his gaze straight ahead. The road appeared soon after and he increased his rate until he’d thought he’d carried far enough. Then he broke into a run and raced to where he and Rolf had stowed the car. Grabbing the keys from where he’d hidden them on the front tire, he jumped in and started the ignition. Shifting the gear into reverse, he backed out, then put it in drive.

    Yanking his phone out, he typed in Jigson’s number and called. It rang twice before Jigson picked up.

    “Hello?”

    “Jigson, it’s Garth.”

    He heard a sigh of relief, then, “Are you okay?”

    “Fine, but Rolf’s still out there. We split up and I ended up drawing Rake and the seven others after me.” Garth swerved around a corner. “Look, I managed to convince them I was a dumb Australian, but had to leave my gun in a tree so they would buy it. I’m positive that Herr Klaus and Trina Verton are here and there’s a great chance that Rolf will run into them.” He paused, realizing he hadn’t allowed Jigson to speak.

    “Okay, we’re coming your way. It was a decoy on our end.”

    “Figured, but was hoping it wasn’t. Where should I meet you?”

    “Rendezvous at McDonalds.”

    Garth laughed slightly as he pulled into the parking lot. “Shall I order you a Big Mac while I wait?

    ——

    Rolf slipped silently through the trees, pausing every now and then to listen. Nothing. He was alone.

    Thoughts muddled in his brain, making it difficult for him to think. Garth must have drawn them off. God, protect him! And if I have to face him? Them? Please, God. Don’t let it come to that. He exhaled. All these minutes ticking by, these days that had passed, these months he’d hidden from it… He’d hoped that it would never come to this. Yet it had. He stood here now. Even though Jigson had tried to shield him from it, it had found him anyway. And justice pleaded for him to act.

    A shot exploded through the air, causing Rolf to jump.

    A split second later, Rolf was lying prone on the ground, his gun cocked and ready in his hand. He could feel the hairs on his neck rising. Sweat trickled down his face, and he licked his dry lips. After a few moments, he raised his head, realizing the shot had come from a ways off. Garth. Rolf rolled to his feet and ducked behind a tree, scanning the area, then resting his head against the trunk. God, keep him safe – please. I-I trust you can.

    Stillness. No second shot. Nothing.

    Rolf’s chest tightened at the thought racing through his mind, but shoved them back as he started walking again. I trust you, God. I choose to trust you. I must trust you. I will trust you, he thought.

    The leaf covered path appeared between the trees and he halted mid-stride. He knew what he had to do, what he must do. Checking the area around him, he then proceeded to sprint up the path a number of meters. Then he knelt alongside of it. His hands touched the bag in his pouch and he pulled it out, dumping itself contents in his palm. Long nails glinted up at him. He hesitated, knowing what this would mean.

    “I-I…” He shook his head. “Can’t.” He smashed the nails into the ground and sank alongside the path. Der richtige weg ist nie einfach, Garth’s voice echoed through his mind. He looked at the nails, then at the path. “The right way is never easy.”

    He knew he probably didn’t have much time. Whatever he did now would be his decision. Whether it was right or wrong. Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, searching through his mind for the quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer he’d once heard. Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. Rolf’s eyes opened.

    “God, I’m weak. I can’t do this, not in my strength. Help me, please, to do the right thing.”

    Rolf scooped up the nails, then rose. Locating a solid branch, he quickly carved a shallow crevasse spanning the width of the path and stood each nail in it with the sharp end up. Then he filled it with dirt, sticks, and rocks before packing it in. Lastly, he scattered a few leaves over them. Just as he finished, his phone vibrated. Fishing it out of his pocket, he unlocked it and tapped on the message. From Garth. He expelled a breath of air. He was safe. He scanned the rest of the message.

    “Are you all right? Any movement? Backup on its way.”

    Rolf started to type, but the roar of an engine touched his ears – and grew louder. He ducked into the trees, swiftly moving ahead of his nail trap. Then he swiped, “Movement. Hurry.” After sending it, he hastily tucked his phone away and waited with pistol in hand.

    It grew louder still as did the pounding of his heart. Pops caused by the nails exploded through the air seconds later. Angry conversation reached his ears as the vehicle rolled to a stop only a few feet from his hiding place. A door opened and he heard guns click.

    “Check the tires.” His father.

    I have to face him, Rolf thought. I have to stall them until Jigson and the rest of them get here. The right way is never easy. Never easy.

    Inhaling a deep breath, Rolf spun around the tree and leveled his gun at the man he loved deeply. Two pistols flew up at him.

    “Rolf?” Shock filtered through Herr Klaus’s voice.

    Miss Trina Verton stood next to him, her eyes narrow and her Glock glinting menacingly. “You’re not on our side, are you, Rolf?”

    Rolf swallowed. His hand was shaking. He had to stall them, but how? He looked at his father. “If only you knew how much I loved you,” he whispered, “and how hard this is for me.”

    Herr Klaus remained silent, but Miss Verton filled in for it. “You can’t hide your true loyalty, Rolf. But tell me, would you shoot the one who is going to be your mother?”

    Rolf gritted his teeth, then glanced at his father and then back at her. “You’re-not-my-mother,” he said. His hand sweated, but he steadied it. “And to answer your other question, Miss Verton, I am on the side…” He paused. “Of justice.”

    She smirked at him with her bright red lips. “That’s all I needed to know.” She pulled the trigger as Rolf dove to the side.

    The sickening bang rushed through the air and hot fire tore into Rolf’s shoulder – the same shoulder as before. He gasped as he fell to the ground, his head swirling against the pain. Shouting. Someone rushed to his side. His father?

    More shouting. Running feet. The hand, his father’s, was torn away from him and another replaced it.

    “Rolf? Rolf! Can you hear me?”

    His eyes rolled back and darkness enveloped him.

    ——

    Pain.

    He swallowed, then slowly opened his eyes. Blinding light poured through the white curtains – Were they white? He winced. The hospital – again. His chest heaved a sigh. Well, I’m not chained to the bed and my room isn’t guarded by an officer. A smile touched his lips. An upgrade.

    Flowers rose from a vase on the table, brightening the dull room with their plethora of colors. Yet, as he saw them, tears welled up in his eyes and he shifted upon his bed – only to receive shock waves of pain through his shoulder. He clenched his teeth until it as it reluctantly faded. Beauty in a world wrecked with sin, he thought. Yet the beauty is seen even amidst it.

    “How are you feeling?”

    Rolf jerked at the voice – and pain flashed through his shoulder again. Nausea swept over him and his head swirled, the darkness threatening to return.

    A hand touched his shoulder, steadying him.

    “Rolf, are you all right?”

    Rolf breathed as his vision began to clear. Then he rotated his head slowly until he could see the speaker. Yes; it was him. His head was adorned with tousled brown hair, red marks lined his tanned arms, and his face was now marked by dark bags beneath his eyes. And he wasn’t dead.

    “What happened?” Rolf asked, nodding toward Garth’s arms.

    “Hmm?” Garth glanced down at them. “Oh, those. A bit hurried the other day getting…places. Forget about me though. How are you feeling?”

    A grin flashed across Rolf’s face, then he tossed his eyes and frowned. “Like I’ve been shot.”

    “No kidding!” Garth laughed slightly as he sank into a chair beside the bed, but it was stifled by a yawn.

    “Did they escape?” Rolf asked, suddenly growing serious as his mind flashed back to those last moments before he was rendered unconscious.

    “No, no.” Garth shook his head. “We have them. Jigson has spent much time talking to Miss Verton – when he hasn’t been here.”

    “And what of my father?”

    Garth hesitated, then licked his lips. He shifted in his chair. Still, he said nothing.

    “Garth?”

    He sighed and glanced away. “I’m not supposed to disclose that to you until you’ve recovered more.”

    A knot formed in Rolf’s throat and his chest tightened. “Garth, please. Tell me.”

    Steps sounded at the door. Someone tapped lightly on it.

    Carefully, Rolf turned his head toward them. The blue eyes that met his glimmered as if with tears, yet the tears weren’t there, only sadness.

    “Jigson, tell me what has become of my father.” Tears – actual ones – broke into Rolf’s eyes. “I must know. Please.”

    Jigson halted in his step, surveying him. A sad frown flickered across his face. “Are you sure you are ready for such news?”

    “You make it sound as if he’s dead. Please, don’t torture me.”

    Time crawl by until Jigson finally nodded. Even then, his words didn’t come as quickly as Rolf wished.

    “You’re father stepped in front of a bullet…to save you…” Here he trailed off as his voice cracked. “From my sister.”

    Rolf’s chest tightened and he flinched. Another wave of pain. “To save me?” he whispered. His heart pounded as he fought to force the question from his dry mouth. “Is he dead?”

    “No, not at all.” Garth broke in, his voice rushed. “He’s here – in the hospital. In stable condition though and should recover fine.”

    A sigh escaped Rolf’s lips as he trembled. “He’s okay then. Truly? Ja?”

    Garth nodded. “Ja.”

    “He stepped in front of her bullet?” Tears formed in Rolf’s eyes. “For me?”

    “He was practically laying on top of you when we arrived, acting as a human shield.” Garth swallowed and averted his eyes. “I didn’t realize that’s what he was doing or that he’d been shot until I’d thrown him off of you.”

    Rolf’s eyes bulged. “You threw him after he’d been shot?”

    “Like Garth said, he didn’t realize it then,” Jigson said, cutting in. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “And, Rolf, you have to understand where Garth was coming from. He wanted to save you from a confrontation with your father and anything else that could have possibly occurred. I followed him as flew through thorn bushes and thickets in his attempt to reach you sooner.”

    Rolf swallowed and looked at Garth. “I did not intend to minimize what you did. I am deeply grateful for it all. I’m just…worried.”

    “Understandably so,” Garth said.

    Rolf turned to Jigson. “And…how is your sister?”

    Jigson sighed, the sad glimmer returning to his eye. “Confused and broken though she won’t admit it. Devastated that she shot her fiance though she won’t admit that either.” Another sigh. “I’ve talked with her, listened to the few words she said, and mainly sat in silence with her. I gave her the letter from-” His voice caught. “From our parents.” He swallowed. “I can only pray now.”

    Rolf opened his mouth to ask another question, but Jigson shook his head.

    “Rest. You need it.” He smiled slightly. “And the nurses will kick us out if we don’t let you have it. We can talk later.”

    Reply

  13. Here is a scene I came up with out of the blue about Garth returning.

    Abby looked up from browsing the shelves of books, “all right, Tom, it’s time to go. Mother will be waiting for us.”
    “Thanks for letting me come with you to the book store while Mother went grocery shopping,” said Tom.
    “You’re welcome,” Abby replied.
    She walked towards the front counter with a stack of old leather bound volumes, Tom following behind. The man behind the counter nodded at them. he had thick wire framed glasses around his green eyes, his grey beard streaked with dark brown was short, his hair was a burnt brown and cut to the nape of his neck. He wore a black vest with a white shirt and seemed to be in his mid-fifties. Clipped to the man’s vest was a name tag that read: Mr. Theodore Walton.
    “I would like to buy these,” said Abby, setting down her books.
    The man quickly calculated numbers in his head, “that will be nine dollars and seventy five cents, Miss.”
    Abby opened her purse and reached for her wallet. As she took out a ten dollar bill she frowned slightly; for some reason the man reminded her of someone. She tried to get a better look at him without being rude.
    “Here’s your change, Miss,” Mr. Walton handed her a quarter along with a receipt.
    “Thank you,” she murmured, stuffing it into her wallet. His voice had a slight accent in it. What was it? German? No, Russian, Abby decided. She shrugged inwardly; I probably haven’t ever seen him before. These adventures we keep getting caught up in make me over think things.
    “Goodbye sir,” she said aloud, turning away from the counter as she picked up the bag of books and took Tom by the hand.
    “I can carry the bag if you want, Abby,” Tom offered.
    “Thank you, Tom. That is very kind of you,” Abby smiled placing the handles of the plastic bag into his outstretched hand. “But be careful, the books are heavy.”
    As the two walked toward the door, a man who had been flipping through a book in the corner of the shop suddenly stepped forward. Abby tried to step past him, but was startled to see the smooth barrel of a gun pointing at her. She gasped and clenched Tom’s free hand tightly.
    “Just walk out the door,” the man whispered fiercely. “Do as I say and everything will be fine.”
    Abby reached out to grab the door handle when she heard a faint click farther behind her. Mr. Walton rushed forward from behind the counter, his wig slipping off as he did so. He leveled his gun at the intruder, “stop right there!” he cried in a perfect American accent.

    Reply

  15. The 3 Caraid’s sat down at the table. “If we are going to help stop this we are going to need help.” Cassidy said “We need to get in touch with Detective Mortimer. ” Alistair replied. “He has not been responding. ” Rolf said. “How are you trying to contact him? ” Cassidy queried. “With these.” Rolf said taking a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. “How do they work? ” Cassidy questioned. “Like the newest smartphone with every imaginable app, but they don’t need a WIFI single. ” Rolf responsed. “Were did you get them? ” Cassidy quickly asked. “From the girl spy who got them from her uncle. ” Rolf said. “So they are Abby’s? ” Cassidy mused. “No, I said the girl spy.” He said. “Isn’t that who Abby is? ” Cassidy replied. “No Abby was there by accident, the other girl meant to be there. ” Rolf replied. “Ohh.”Cassidy mused . “So why did she give them to you?” Cassidy asked. “When she heard we needed a secure way to communicate with the Detective she let us use them. ” Rolf said. “What is the other girl’s name?” Cassidy asked. ” I’m not sure what her real name is but her undercover name is Briosa.” Alistair replied. “And anyways down to the business at hand. ” He continued.

    *********************************************
    After the trio had talked, strategisted and made plans, they stood up to go.
    “What shound I tell the Bakers?” Cassidy asked. “What do you mean? ” Alistair asked in surprise. “You aren’t going back you can’t now, you are coming with us now. ” He quickly countined. “Ohh, we’re are we going?” Cassidy asked. “To Alaska! ” Rolf replied. “Why Alaska?” Cassidy asked as the three made their way to the trap door. “I will explain later.” Alistair said. “Wait before you lift the door and we all go in to silence mode.” Cassidy said. “Do the Bakers know about this secret place?” She countined. “No,they do not.” Alistair replied. “Alright, Gang warily.” Cassidy said turning to go.

    Sorry I’m so late.

    Reply

  16. Here is the beginning of a young Jigson sence. Let me know if it is worth continuing.
    *********************************************
    “Corrie!” “Jigson” cried calling his sister by his pet name as he ran to catch up with her. “Go away I’m busy.” She said with annoyance. “We’re are you going?” He questioned. “To class. ” She stated quickly hoping that would be enough to satisfy him. “But classes are over for the day.” He said. “Not for me.” She snapped before quickly hurrying away. He sighed. Ever since that meeting of a few elect sudents she had acted so differently. As he thought about it he relized many others had been acting strangely. Something mysterious was going on at the Glenn.

    Reply

  17. “Well”….. The Detective said “If you are sure then there is only one thing left to do.” “And what might that be?” The young spy asked “Due to all the danger you will be in and that fact that Miss Verton might discover you.” The Detective paused before continuing. “If you ever have to come out from being undercover or get caught we need a way to positively identify you as you.” Jigson( for that of course was who he was) thought for a moment. Then replied ” Like a code you mean ?” The British Detective (whose name was Mortimer ) quickly replied. “Yes, exactly! ” Jigson glanced around the lightly light room his eyes falling on a basket of edibles. “What are these?” He asked. Picking up a a medium sized fruit that was greenish yellowish. “I am not sure.”the Detactive replied. “Hmm they look like lemons.” Jigson replied. “There are about 12 of them” the Detective replied. “But back to the business at hand.” He continued. “I have a code.” Jigson replied quickly . “What is it ?” Mortimer asked. ” 12 lemons. ” the spy said. “12 lemons” the Detective said with a chuckle. ” Perfect! ”

    Cassidy frowned “No” she said “That is not how you stand” Abby smiled . Ever since Cassidy and Wylie had come to America she had been so quiet, it was good to hear her talk. Not that I blame her Abby thought , I can only imagine what she has been thro I would be quite and bashful as well. “Turn your hips like this.” Cassidy command Tom ” Oh, ok” he said at the Glenn they taught us differently. “Well you can’t trust everything the Glenn says.” Replied Cassidy “Really!” Andy said “You sure seemed pretty much all for it a few weeks ago.” He continued. Phil elbowed him and then sighed, Andy was just going to have to learn tak the hard way. Cassidy flew around. Andy inwardly groaned, When will I learn what I find humorous and what other people humorous? Oh no Wylie thought I’ve seen that look in her eyes! “Bow” she said holding out her arm to Tom. Tom handed it over wondering what he had done wong. Wylie knew what was going to happen… He was torn get the parents or stay and watch he decided on the later. Phil opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Andy getting up from under the tree he was sitting under and beginning to talk he decided to wait.
    “Cass” He began “Andrew ” Cassidy interpreted stenly. She looked at him for a moment before quickly turning away . Taking up a position and carefully aiming at the target Cassidy prepered to let her arrow fly. Andy relived that he had gotten out with only one stern word recalling to mind Abby’s story about “Cassidy happening ” to the gaurds. Begin to sit back down when he noticed something odd. Strange Abby thought. What is she doing mused Phil. Wylie bit back a smile. Tom who along with his siblings who had just watched Cassidy and Wylie shoot for the last half hour, looked on in horror as Cassidy who he much admired as a excellent archer, purposely aimed much to high above the target…. At the last minute she turned and flew to the left put the finished putting herself in aim and let the arrow fly…….. It happened so fast no one but Wylie even understood what had happened at first, slowly they relized what had happened. Andy’s mouth fell open and he mad a mental note to always remain on Cassidy’s good side. Abby to shocked and amazed to do anything simply thought how handy she would be on all their adventures. Phil muttered a low “unbelievable ” and vowed to become a better marksman. Tom cried in jubilee “She shot right over Andy’s head and tro his hair!” And Wylie laughed jubilantly.
    “Andy” Cassidy said “You are right the Glenn can not be trusted to what level I’m not sure yet ” But they did teach us, some bad but also some good.” “Do not underestimate us there is much you don’t know much.” “Right. ” Andy managed to sputter out, before being saved by the adults making a sudden apperince over the top of the hill…….
    “Sounds fine dear, I’ll pick them up soon.” Mr. Baker said to Mrs. Baker Mrs. Baker who had finished explainingher idea went to call Mrs. James. Her idea was simply that Cassidy *provided she no longer shoot arrows at people without good reason. * and Wylie could be picked up from the James’s this morning broght back to the farm and then be allowed to stay the night. Although the Bakers normally did not proticeapet in sleepovers, the allowance was made in this case as it would be a very good way for all the children to get to know each other better, and a welcome break for the James’s who were not yet used to having two children running about and could use the small break.

    ***********************************

    Later that night after all the kid’s and their sleeping bags had been set up in the hay loft. Cassidy surprised everyone by her sudden announcement of ” Were is Rolf ?” “Rolf?!” Phil asked in surprise Mr. Baker answered carefully “Well that would depend on who wanted to know.” He said. “If I wanted to know?” She queried . “I am afraid we can’t answer that at this time . ” that is all right .” Cassidy replied.” I have my answer now.” “But we didn’t tell you anything, how could you know!” Tom cried. “You don’t know I can see that plainly. ” She said. “Oh well.” “When is bed time?” She countined.

    ****************

    Later Mrs. Baker ,Mr. Baker and Phil were talking well the rest of the kids got ready for bed. “What do you think of Cassidy?” He asked. “I’m not sure .” Mrs. Baker replied ” She seems like she knows something we don’t.” She countined. “She reminds me of Briosa. ” Phil said. ” “Counfussed, Unsure of things, Needing help, Looking for something to fill her empty soul and….. she knows something we don’t know. ” “Hmm” Mr. Baker said I’ve never thought of it like that before but you are right.” “Well” Mrs. Baker said “Let us pray she chooses Jesus to fill her soul which in time will leave her uncounfussed and sure of things, and I believe will lead her tell us her sacret.”

    *********************************************

    It was 21:13 Alistair waited quitly in the bushes waiting…. a moment later Cassidy appered “Cassidy!” “Your late! ” He said ” By one minute!” She exclaimed. “Phil took for ever to go to sleep, he suspects something so dose his parents. ” “The others ?” Questioned Alistair. “The twins think I was just curious about a old friend, and Tom has no idea.” Cassidy said. “What” Alistair started to say “Shh!” Cassidy interpreted . “Someone’s coming!” ” We can’t risk finding out who it is! ” ” Come with me! ”
    Alistair motioned with his hand “Follow me.” He said. He turned ran 5 paces jumped and disappeared……
    Cassidy did the same, a moment later she found herself in a small dugout. Alistair replaced the trap door cover, walked over to a small table in the middle of the room and light a lamp. “Rolf?! “Cassidy exclaimed as light flooded the room reviling a figure sitting in the corner of the room. Rolf grinned. “So you found him.” Cassidy said turning to Alistair . “Never lost him.” Alistair replied “So why did you have me ask the Bakers about him?” Questioned Cassidy. “Because I wanted to know how much they know , which you never actually got to. ” What was their response? ” “They have no idea what is going on, my guess is for their own safety their Detective hasn’t told them anything. ” ” Any idea who followed you? ” Alistair asked. “You were followed! ?” Rolf exclaimed. “If it was a Baker it would probably be Phil, but if it wasn’t a Baker I have no idea. ” Cassidy responsed . “Well if it was Phil I would let him in but…. we can’t take the risk.” Alistair concluded ” Now to business.” “We are some of the best the Glenn produced , we know the ins and outs if anyone can take them out its us!” “Are you with me?” Alistair said. “I am!” Rolf said quickly. Cassidy hasitated a moment then said “I am too.” Alistair clenched his fist in to a ball and raised it in the air “For freedom!” He explained. “For freedom!” Rolf and Cassidy echoed. Joining their fists to his.
    The 3 Caraid’s sat down at the table. “If we are going to help stop this we are going to need help.” Cassidy said “We need to get in touch with Detective Mortimer. ” Alistair replied. “He has not been responding. ” Rolf said. “How are you trying to contact him? ” Cassidy queried. “With these.” Rolf said taking a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. “How do they work? ” Cassidy questioned. “Like the newest smartphone with every imaginable app, but they don’t need a WIFI single. ” Rolf responsed. “Were did you get them? ” Cassidy quickly asked. “From the girl spy who got them from her uncle. ” Rolf said. “So they are Abby’s? ” Cassidy mused. “No, I said the girl spy.” He said. “Isn’t that who Abby is? ” Cassidy replied. “No Abby was there by accident, the other girl meant to be there. ” Rolf replied. “Ohh.”Cassidy mused . “So why did she give them to you?” Cassidy asked. “When she heard we needed a secure way to communicate with the Detective she let us use them. ” Rolf said. “What is the other girl’s name?” Cassidy asked. ” I’m not sure what her real name is but her undercover name is Briosa.” Alistair replied. “And anyways down to the business at hand. ” He continued.

    *********************************************
    After the trio had talked, strategisted and made plans, they stood up to go.
    “What shound I tell the Bakers?” Cassidy asked. “What do you mean? ” Alistair asked in surprise. “You aren’t going back you can’t now, you are coming with us now. ” He quickly countined. “Ohh, we’re are we going?” Cassidy asked. “To Alaska! ” Rolf replied. “Why Alaska?” Cassidy asked as the three made their way to the trap door. “I will explain later.” Alistair said. “Wait before you lift the door and we all go in to silence mode.” Cassidy said. “Do the Bakers know about this secret place?” She countined. “No,they do not.” Alistair replied. “Alright, Gang warily.” Cassidy said turning to go.
    “Corrie!” “Jigson” cried calling his sister by his pet name as he ran to catch up with her. “Go away I’m busy.” She said with annoyance. “We’re are you going?” He questioned. “To class. ” She stated quickly hoping that would be enough to satisfy him. “But classes are over for the day.” He said. “Not for me.” She snapped before quickly hurrying away. He sighed. Ever since that meeting of a few elect sudents she had acted so differently. As he thought about it he relized many others had been acting strangely. Something mysterious was going on at the Glenn.

    Reply

  18. BAKER FAMILY ADVENTURES: UNPLEASANT SHOPPING

    The door to the grocery stoor slid open with a smooth scraping sound and greeted the Bakers with a rush of warm air. It was a pleasant change to the cool air outside, though it did have the slight smell of bleach from a recent moping of the gray tile floor.

    Mrs. Baker stepped forward to grab a cart while the others waited for her. Tom glanced around at the different people mingling through the aisles and check out lines, pushing metal shopping carts or carrying various items. He was glad to be back in America and see other Americans. Being in other countries and seeing new sights could be fun but it was refreshing to be back home.

    He moved closer to Mr. Baker as a man strode by, the smell of his woodsy cologne wafting behind him.

    Mrs. Baker set her beige purse into the cart and announced, “We can go now.”

    Mr. Baker nodded. “Alright, Alice, You can lead the way.” Tom clutched his hand as they began walking.

    Abby sighed contentedly, shouldering her small black purse to a more comfortable position. “It’s nice to be back home.”

    “I totally agree,” Andy said. “I love adventure but it is nice to be away from it for a little while.” He grinned. “Notice I said little.”

    Abby smiled and poked her twin playfully. “You’ve loved adventure since before the time I was kidnapped by Miss Verton. Mother told me about you wishing you could help out somehow with Phil and Detective Mortimer.” Thinking about this caused her to look down at her locket. How helpful those devices were supposed to be. They had been helpful but somehow, almost every time they needed the tracking devices they were taken or destroyed. She guessed God just wanted to show he could save them without help from people.

    Phil shook his head in agreeance at Abby’s first remark. “Yes, it is nice to be home. I’m thankful we get to enjoy some peace for a little while.” He let his fingers slip into his jean pockets with his thumbs on the outside as he always did when walking in a casual manner. “You know, I’m glad for the adventures we’ve gone through.” Abby watched his bright blue eyes as he talked. “They have taught me a lot. You’ve probably heard me say it multiple times but it’s still true.”

    She shook her head. “Yes, they have.” She, Phil, and Andy picked up their pace as they were falling behind. Mrs. Baker had gone around an aisle so they hurried to catch up.

    “Oh,” Mrs. Baker said suddenly, trying to turn the cart around. “I forgot to get canned green beans. It’s in the other aisle.”

    “I’ll get them, Mother,” Abby immediately offered. “How many?”

    “Two cans, please.”

    “Okay.” Abby turned around and murmured, “Two.” She walked around the corner and spied the shelf with colorful cans arranged neatly. She stepped back and scanned the shelves carefully. There. On the left side. She stopped suddenly. A voice that voice sounded strangely familiar came from a tall, olive-skinned woman a few paces away from her.

    “Oh, where is the corn?” she exclaimed in her thick accent. Her tiny, glittering, black eyes searched the shelves. She tucked a loose strand of her greasy, shoulder length, black hair that had come loose as she leaned down.

    Fear struck Abby’s heart rate up and she felt like melting into a puddle. The woman’s lips were still upturned in the same grin Abby recognized years ago. A large man was with her. Abby’s mouth went dry and her jaw hung loosely. The woman from the candy stall? Miss Verton’s kidnappers? What were they doing out of prison?

    The woman let her eyes rest on Abby.

    Abby shrank back, hoping she wouldn’t recognize her.

    The woman asked, “Do you know where the-” She stopped and frowned as if wondering if she had seen her before. Then her eyes widened. “Never mind.” She turned quickly and told the large man something that ended with, “Let’s get out of here.”

    Abby had to tell her parents immediately. She tried to rush out of the aisle but as she did someone blocked her way accidentally. “Excuse me,” Abby said, fear shaking her voice. The man didn’t hear her because he had a phone pressed tightly to his ear, carrying a loud conversation with a friend.

    Abby looked over her shoulder to see where the Sloanes had gone. They were trapped also by someone at the other end. ‘No. This can’t be! Lord, please help me,’ she cried inwardly.

    The man on the phone finally moved and Abby raced to get back to her family on the other side. Her breathing was hard and she felt as if she had just run a mile. She looked down the aisle in vain. They had moved to a different aisle.

    A plump woman pushing a cart full of groceries stopped Abby. “I love your necklace! Where did you get it?”

    Abby didn’t have time to be stopped by people interested in her locket. “Thank you. It was custom made,” she breathed.

    She almost ran down the aisle knowing she probably looked amusing to the customers around her but she didn’t care. She needed to get to her family. There! She spotted them going down the produce section. She tried to go faster.

    When she was in hearing range, Andy exclaimed, “Abby you’re in a rush!” Then he noticed her shaken expression. “What happened?”

    This caused the family to glance at her. “I saw the Sloanes!” she gasped. “They were going down an aisle with me!”

    Tom had a puzzled look on his youthful face. “The Sloanes?”

    Mrs. Baker was just as confused. “Who are they?”

    Phil snapped his fingers with his eyebrows up high in shock. “So much for the peace! What are they doing?”

    Mr. Baker shook his head. “What is going on?”

    “The Sloanes are my kidnappers for Miss Verton!” Abby informed frantically. “Call the police! They are supposed to be in prison!”

    Mrs. Baker took in a sharp breath. “Oh, my! Charles, call the police!”

    Mr. Baker already was and had the phone to his left ear.

    “Abby, what were they doing?” Tom inquired.

    “Just looking for corn on the shelves.”

    “I wonder if this means another adventure,” Andy mused.

    Abby shook her head. “No. I don’t want another adventure,” she pleaded desperately. “We just got home. Lord, please, no!”

    Mrs. Baker shifted uncomfortably. “I think everything we do is going to turn into something. Let’s make sure to stay together and not leave each other for a few seconds,” she suggested. “That might help us not be captured as easily.”

    “Mother, why do we keep getting into dangerous situations?” Tom questioned.

    Mrs. Baker hesitated. “I’m not sure, son. I only know God helps us through them.”

    “Yeah, that’s why I escaped with Mr. Jig-” Tom covered his mouth quickly. “with that man.”

    “Mother, let’s pray,” Phil advised.

    Mr. Baker put his phone in his pocket. “Yes, we’ll pray and finish grocery shopping carefully.”

    The Bakers bowed their heads, each fervently praying for their safety and others who might be involved.

    TWELVE LEMONS THEORY

    Jigson slipped behind a wooden crate filled with lemons about to be shipped to other countries and sank down to his knees slowly to prevent noisy movement. He covered his mouth with his t-shirt to keep the puffing of his heavy breathing from sounding out loud. His heart was beating rapidly and adrenaline rushed through him, making him ready for almost anything.

    It was dark inside the wooden barn he was in and each miniature sound echoed loudly and distinctly across the building. The roof loomed high above the eighteen-year-old teen and the door was barred by another crate.

    He nervously ran a hand through his dark hair. If only he could get out of the trap he was in. He peered around the crate, scanning the room for the man who had been pursuing him. He drew his head back around. The man must be hiding for he didn’t see anyone.

    He cupped his thumb and fingers around the back of his ear and leaned forward, listening for any noise or movement. A slight shuffling, as if someone was crawling on the concrete floor, seized his attention. The man was coming nearer.

    He looked around the crate again. He could see the man slithering slowly on his hands and knees making his way towards him.

    Jigson had to move or the man would get him. He started slipping towards the end of the crate on the opposite side the man was coming. He stood up behind a stack of crates and took a deep breath. After counting mentally to three, he strode quietly stopping at each crate to listen and watch the man.

    The man attacked the floor with force where Jigson had been behind the crate. He let out a painful cry when he slammed his fists into the concrete. He lifted his fists from the ground and massaged them, his lips moving in silent syllables as he muttered to himself. He stood up. “Jigson!”

    The word reverberated so loudly Jigson took another step closer to the door.

    The man’s chest rose as he filled his lungs with another yell. “Jigson!” he cried angrily. “Where are you?”

    Jigson advanced as quickly as he could to the door being as silent as a mouse with his footsteps and action. Just a few more paces and he would be at the door. His heart rate moved up as the anticipation built.

    The man began walking ahead.

    Jigson moved another step closer to the door. He was making progress.

    The man kicked a crate out of his way. “Jigson, I know you are still in here.”

    Jigson made another step.

    The man wore a frustrated frown. “I will find you and-”

    Jigson didn’t hear his words. He made a triumphant step to the door. Now he had to move the crate that blocked it somehow. A cold sweat rushed over his back. How would he do it quietly?

    The man was getting to close for comfort. Jigson would just have to be quick and get out. He gripped the crate’s edge with shaking hands and pushed with all his might. It moved slowly with the sound of thunder it felt to him.

    The man heard the noise and broke into a run.

    Jigson fumbled with the door handle and finally twisted it.

    The man came around the crate Jigson had pushed.

    Jigson opened the door, stepped outside, and banged the door shut behind him. The sunlight hurt his electric-blue eyes because he had been in the dark barn for a while. He didn’t pay much attention to it though because the only thing on his mind was ‘Run’.

    He heard the man toying with the door handle. He decided to run around the building and hide back there somewhere. He pressed his feet into the ground and began running.

    The sun now shown with a horrible glare not letting him see where he was going. This would be an advantage to his pursuer because he would block the sun from the man’s eyes.

    Jigson covered his eyes as he raced to get to the back. When he reached the corner he collapsed around it.

    A man with reddish-brown hair and darting brown eyes instructed, “Jigson, follow me.” His accent was real or acted out very good. It was definitely British. “If we meet again after I help you escape what should be a code kept only between you and me so that we know each other?”

    Jigson frowned as they rushed to a black Mercedes Benz. “Who are you?”

    “I’m Mortimer Jones.”

    Jigson definitely knew that name. He was a very well known detective amongst Jigson’s Agency peers. If it had been on a better circumstance he would have been quite pleased.

    “A code,” Mortimer reminded.

    “Oh, uh, yeah. A code.” Jigson thought for only a second as they climbed into the detective’s car. “Twelve lemons.” Lemons were on his mind since he had been in that room with crates full of them.

    The detective looked incredulous as he backed the car up. “Twelve lemons?”

    “Yeah,”

    Mortimer thought for a moment and a smile appeared under his mustache. “I like that. No one will find that out.”

    Reply

  19. “Why Alaska? ” Cassidy asked as they walked to the car they would be renting. Rolf sat down in the front seat and put on the sunglasses. “I’ll answer that in a minute. ” Alistair replied turning to Rolf. “All clear.” Rolf said as he finished scanning the car with the sunglasses. “Have you ever thought about why the RDC’s headquarters was in Iceland?” Alistair asked. “No, why?” Cassidy said. “Because the machine which I told you about nicknamed Destiny works best in colder earthquake prone areas. Can you think of a better place?” Alistair replied. “So we’re are we going?” Cassidy asked. “To temporary headquarters.” Rolf said with a grin.
    *********************************************
    It was 00:00 o’clock when they pulled in to the driveway of a green roofed house off the highway, just outside of the little town of Sutton. Rolf pulled the car up to a small barn. Alistair got out and opened the door so Rolf could drive through in to a stall. Once they had finished hiding the car they walked to the backside of the house going up to the door Alistair knocked on the door loud enough to hear but not to loud after a moment the door was opened and they were ushered inside.

    Reply

    • “Wake up everyone!” Wylie cried “Cassidy is gone!” “What!” Tom cried in alarm. “Tom, go and get Mom and Dad.” Abby said.
      ****
      “Mom,Dad come quick Cassidy is missing!” Tom yelled as he ran inside. “What!” cried Mrs. Baker in shock. Both parents ran outside. Mr. Baker quickly organizationed the frantic children in to search party’s. Abby and Andy together, Phil and Wylie, and himself with Tom. He sent Mrs. Baker back to the house to call Mrs. James and if they hadn’t found her in a hour Detective Mortimer……

      Reply

  21. Wow! I just love reading them all together! I was all jumbled up in my mind. Ok, Rolf is dead, wait no he isn’t, Jigson was hit bay a car, but then how can he be with Rolf? Um wait jigson is still at the Glen! Ah, no, Cassidy is in Alaska. Klause is shot? Hmm and Miss Verton? But wait! She is looking at the ruby ring!

    Reply

  22. Everyone did an amazing job! I was just thinking how good of a writing exercise this is! Copying someone else’s style and characters. I was also thinking, I am sure that by now Miss Hedgecock is getting slightly tired of us. But at least she knows we REALLY love her books! Did I mention REALLY? And I don’t know about the rest of you, or Miss Hedgecock, but I think, as a writer, encouragement and support is huge.

    Reply

  23. What are some things y’all struggle with in your writing? One of mine is that (as you might have noticed) I put to many -ing or -ly words in one paragraph. I just don’t know how to describe it very well. Ie:

    “Quickly, Briosa tore open the package. Looking inside she saw a single sheet of blank paper. Running to her room, she locked the door and opened her closet. Taking out her black light, she hastily read the letter.”

    That’s not the best example, because as I was writing this paragraph, I already had several alternative ways to avoid -ing words. But when I write my books and short stories, this is a real problem. Also using the word “Suddenly” Does anyone struggle with using that word too much?

    Reply

    • Detective Mortimer quickly ushered them inside
      “I’m glad to see you all!” He said. “When will the others arrive?” Alistair asked as they sat down at the table in the living room. “Jigson is already here as is someone else. The Freylads will be here soon.” Mortimer responded. “Who is the other person?” Rolf asked. “The very first person ever to be administered in to the Glenn….” “Grath.” Mortimer said with a glance in Rolf’s direction.
      ********************************************
      “So Detective Mortimer has Cassidy?” Andy asked. “Yes, he has her and said not to worry about her.” Mr. Baker answered. “Well that is certainly a relief I’m glad God answered our prayers of protection for her.” Phil responded. “I will go call Mrs. James and let her know Cassidy is safe.” Mrs. Baker said walking in to the kitchen. “Father, dose this mean another adventure?” Aby asked thoughtfully. “I’m not sure.” Mr. Baker answered slowly. “Detective Mortimer is going to try and keep us out of it since he knows we don’t want to get involved unless we have too.” He said. “Wylie Mrs. James was already on her way so you will be going home with her in a minute.” Mrs. Baker said coming back in to the living room. “Ohh, ok I’ll ho get my stuff from the barn.” Wylie said. “I’ll go with him.” Tom said going outside.
      *********************************************

      Reply

  27. Here is another part of my scene about 1000 post back with Goumunder and Jigson.

    The sky was dark and cloudy. The stars were hidden behind a thick fog, casting eerie shadows around the deserted building. Jigson walked towards the door. As he put his hand out to turn the doorknob, he felt something grainy and cold on his fingers. Rust. Jigson shook his head in disbelief. This is where the agent had wanted to meet? So much for keeping silence. Slowly, he tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Jigson gave an exasperated sigh. Now what? Maybe this was a bad idea. Suddenly, Jigson heard a sound. He listened closely. “A nightingale.” he thought. He knew that call well. When he had begun to learn various bird calls as a boy, the nightingale had always been his favourite. And one of the hardest to learn. He looked around. There were no trees. “That wasn’t a smart move on his part.” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked around the building. The old cement blocks were crumbling after years of disrepair. He studied the walls. Where had the call come from? Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the wall. Without warning, there was a scraping noise and Jigson felt himself falling into the darkness. With a dull thud, he hit the ground. Jigson groaned. Every bone in his body must be bruised. He tried to sit up.

    “You could have used the ladder.”

    Jigson looked up to see Goumunder standing above him, the same infuriating smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

    “Well you could have told me where the entrance was.” retorted Jigson, wincing as he stood up.

    “I thought you would have known that it wouldn’t be a rusted out door.” said Goumunder shortly. “Didn’t you hear me call?”

    “Of course. I suppose I had just assumed that nightingales live in tree’s instead of under the ground. replied Jigson with a hint of sarcasm. Then he laughed. “Look at us. Two well trained undercover agents arguing with each other like children.”

    Goumunder grunted. “Look. I have asked you to meet me here for a specific purpose. Do you know a man named Hamlyn Toole?”

    “The trustee of Braken Estate. He was searching for the treasure on Providence Island with Lewis Nickel before he was arrested.” said Jigson.

    “Right. Well he is not arrested anymore.” said Goumunder dryly.

    “What? How did he get out?”

    “That is a completely different story.” answered Goumunder. “But he has recently joined Miss Verton in a very dangerous enterprise.”

    “And that might be?” questioned Jigson.

    “They have reason to believe that there is a large amount of gold available to those who wish to look for it.” replied Goumunder.

    “And why haven’t people found it yet?” asked Jigson sceptically.

    “People have been looking for it for hundreds of years. But Miss Verton has had a significant lead.” said Goumunder quietly.

    “And what is this hidden wealth?” enquired Jigson.

    “The lost treasure of the Incas.”

    Reply

  28. Jigson sighed. He wondered how long it would be until his sister would come by. She had to go by the Bush he was hiding behind to go to her tent. He desperately wanted to ask her what was going on. Here she came now. “Corrie!” He said jumping up in stepping into the path. “What is going on?” He questioned her. She stopped put her hands on her hips and started to walk away from him. “Stop! Please you must tell me.” Jigson begged looking up at her with his pure blue eyes. She did stop and looking down at him almost yielded but her pride wouldn’t let her. Yet her brother’s eyes wouldn’t leave her alone. She couldn’twalk away without saying something. But what she mused. Slowly she said. “Everything you have ever known is about to change.”
    ***************************************
    Jigson sighed it had been 17 years since she said those words that changed his whole life. Now he was a under cover agent working in a underground jewelry theft organization and he haldent seen his sister for years. He wondered were she was now the last time he saw her. No he wasn’t going to think about it was to painful. He spun around in his chair to look at a different screen was that trunk lid opening……

    Reply

  29. Ok… so I’m on a roll and can’t stop now that I finally have people to listen to my ideas and a reason to write verses just not liking to write having nothing to write about and no one to listen . …. I’m kinda starting to like it and it is starting to get easier. So my question is should I write a sence about Phil and Briosa or Rolf and Abby?

    Reply

  30. “What!” “Grath!” “How on earth is Grath here?” Rolf asked looking around the house. ” You sure didn’t see me coming did you?” Laghed Grath coming out of the kitchen and sitting down at the table. I surely didn’t.” “How are you?” Rolf replied. “I am doing well. Did you read the book?” Grath asked. “Not at first but after Iceland I read it for real and I believe it.” Rolf responsed. “You belive it?” Questioned Grath. ” I read it, believe it, repented, and I’m living to my utmost to obey it.”said Rolf. “Well, that is a amazingly answered prayer.” “You two already know each other?” A counfussed Alistair asked. “Yes it’s a long story.” Rolf said grinning. “I can tell.” Cassidy muttered. “By the way how did you get here? I thought you were in hiding.” Rolf asked. “I was but Jigson asked me to help on this project and I couldn’t say no.” “So were were you hiding.” “Right here what better place then a remote little town with one general store and about 3 other people living here.” “Alistair.” Rolf said turning to him. “You didn’t tell me we were going to Grath’s house.” “I didn’t know the name of the man the Detective didn’t tell me. And I certainly had no idea you knew him.” Alistair said. “So Jigson asked you to help? Were is he?” Rolf asked Grath. “Jigson is downstairs making sure the tunnel is ready.” Mortimer replied. “The tunnel?” Cassidy questioned. “Yes as a extra percotion we build a tunnel to the barn were the car is.” “Ah here comes Jigson now .” Mortimer said. Jigson sat down at the table he smiled at them all but their trained eyes could see the hint of sadness in his eyes and the tiredness in his step. “Hello again Alistair and Rolf.” Jigson said nodding at them ” And Cassidy it is nice to properly meet you.” He said holding out his hand. “It is nice to meet you as well.” Cassidy responsed shaking hands with Jigson. “Has the full plan been discussed yet? Jigson asked. “No we were waiting for…” Mortimer was interpreted by a knock on the door. He rose opened it and quickly ushered the group inside. The Freylads quickly sat down. “Sorry we are late coming back from the river.” Fergus said after greetings to the three canraids had been extended. “Not to worry.” Mortimer said. “We were just about to explain the full plan to these three.” “We are anxious to hear the plan.” Alistair said. “What is it?” “Well…” the Detective said beginning to tap his fingers on the table. “It goes lile this….”

    Reply

  32. I love all your scenes Jac! And your’s Leah. Jac I personly find it very funny you said we would get NO scenes from you as you said you were NOT a writer. We might even make this post to 3000 by accident!

    Reply

  34. What state do you think the bakers might live in? I’m not sure, I know Miss Hedgcock doesn’t mention it, but we could guess?

    Reply

  37. Dear, Ms.Hedgcock
    I (we) would like to know your honest opinion of what is going on on your blog. We love your books and don’t want to stop talking about them however these are you books and we don’t want to cross any boundaries. Some things that have been mentioned are.
    1. A fan page.
    2. Countineing fan stories.
    3. A fan book.
    4. Stories about courtship with some chacters.
    5. Getting to 3,000 comments.
    And quite possibly driving you crazy!😉
    Thank you so much for all you do! Putting up with us. And writing amazing stories!
    Your devoted fans , Jac, Leah, Parker, Mandalynn, Jubilee, Kenleaf, Sandrina, Isabelle and many many others.

    Reply

  38. 1-Favorite male characters= Jigson and Rolf
    2-Favorite female characters= Briosa and Abby
    3-Favorite villains= Rolf, Garth, Dainn
    4-Favorite title= Iceland Intrigue (because it has so many twists and turns in it)
    5-Relationships:
    1) Phil and Briosa- because Phil is very mature, gentle, wise, more-on-the-quiet-side kind of guy. He neads somebody to match his intelligence, yet be more outgoing and energetic. We think Briosa would be the perfect spark in his life. (plus, they got along very well).
    2) Rolf and Abby- we just think they’re the perfect match. Abby is sweet, bright, sensible, and adventurous. Rolf is mischievous, brilliant, unruffled, good-humored, clever and astute. Rolf seemed to always have a soft spot for Abby. They always made a wonderful team.
    Other options:
    3) Alistair and Millie- Alistair is a very serious, calm, level-headed, steady, calculated strategist. He needs someone lively, talkative, bold, dramatic, straight-foreward, and attractive like Millie. 4) Fergus and Cassidy- Cassidy is very resourceful, effective, precise, alert, slightly uptight, and will follow the rule to the letter. She needs someone more laid-back, amenable, easy-going, and calm/cool in tough situations and someone gentle and kind.
    5) Dr. Roth and Anna- Dr. Roth is very balanced, imperturbable, spontaneous, and relaxed. Anna is witty, practical, smart, and keen. Which makes them a good pair!
    6) Andy and Emily- Andy is daring, friendly, amusing, brave, jovial, good-natured, and slightly cocky. Who would go for him best is someone who is more thoughtful, affectionate, considerate, careful, and gracious like Emily.
    7) Detective Mortimer Jones- He is very intellectual, quick, sharp-witted, collected, and does mostly brainy work. He wouldn’t have too much of a problem marrying and still doing his job.
    8) Haelix/Jigson- is composed, cool-headed, stoical, and more of an action hero (the one who would suit him best would be a calm, intelligent, funny, and energetic woman).

    Reply

  43. Everyone, tell a little about yourself. I’m a normal boy who loves books, piano by Erin Bates (She is AWESOME!!!!), singing (I’m not the best), and writing. I write Christian fiction, mystery novels, and thrillers the most. I like reading dictionaries (I may seem weird) and thesauruses. I like music of all kind (especially by the Southern Raised band). I play the piano and write every day all through my free time.

    Reply

  45. Well I am a person of many hobbies.

    I am a homeschool (almost) graduate, but I am graduating a year early. I LOVE history, literature, poetry and art. I like studying science, Mostly physical science and biology. I love filmmaking, drama, music, writing, singing, designing, sewing, culinary art, painting, drawing, horticulture, and basically, any kind of creative art. I love reading, mostly historical fiction, or action/adventure. My favourite historical authors are:

    E.D.E.N Southworth
    G.A. Henty
    Florence M. Kinsley
    Jane Austen
    Louisa May Alcott

    I also like reading good classics (as long as they have a redeeming factor and are clean)

    Such as:

    Dickens
    Defoe
    Twain

    I like several different genre’s of music. My favourite composers are;
    Mozart
    Bach
    Handel
    Vivaldi
    Mendelssohn

    I also like listening to bluegrass and modern classical. I like to watch historical films and dramas, and listen to audio dramas.

    That just about covers it!

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  47. I am a crazy girl, who loves to make people laugh and cringe in a good way.😉 I enjoy school sometimes mostly History and reading. In my limited spare time…. My favorite things to do are, win horse races, sword fight, shoot, playing with photos, taking photos, acting, and last but not least getting dirty outside. Some things a
    I want to do/ improve this summer are, my arcrey skills, bull whipping skills,hunting skills and maybe throw some swimming in there too. I’ll also add a few favorites. Outside of the Bible my favorite book is umm I’m torturing myself hmm probably Light of the last it’s really hard to say. My favorite movie is Alone yet not alone.
    My favorite state is Alaska. My favorite past time outside of my personal bible studies and quite time with the Lord is to be with Church family having fun together. And my favorite memory is probably when I scared someone so bad I watched them age 10 years right in front of me. I know I am evil since this is my favorite memory but it was so funny.

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  48. I love the movie 2Prince of Egypt” and all the songs in it, I also like “patterns of evidence” and “a case for Christ”. my favorite authors are CR Hedgcock (you might happen to of heard of her), John J Horn, Douglas Bond, Chuck Black, CS Lewis and Robert Elmer. I like sword fighting, most sports including football, tennis, rounders, cricket and tag rugby. I also like sketching, writing, doing things in my church, and being with people n the church.

    Oh and Happy Easter everyone! He has Risen!

    Reply

  49. Well, there isn’t much to tell about me…

    –I’m almost fifteen and a homeschooler
    –I love music, especially that by Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Strauss, and Handel
    –Biology is my favorite subject besides History and I plan to go into Nursing
    –Writing is my passion and I’m currently in the middle of writing two historical fiction novels that I’m hoping to finish this Summer
    –I have six younger siblings
    –My sisters and I play in our own string quartet
    –I love winter and everything involved in it (skiing, skating, sledding, snow)
    –The woods is my natural habitat
    –I can be found singing songs from The Sound of Music at pretty much all hours of the day

    That’s pretty much all!

    Reply

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