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!”

  2. But for more “modern” artists, I like R.C. Sproul and Jeff Lippencott’s songs, (has anyone heard of those?) Also Steve Bell, The psalms of Scotland or the Scottish Philharmonic Choir, The Leahy’s and I like a bit of Selah. Actually, my sister’s name is Selah, so for her birth slideshow at our church, we played, “You Raise Me Up” I also like some of the Getty’s songs. Anyone heard of them?

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  4. another group I love is “Casting Crowns” my favorite songs would be “praise you through this storm” “voice of truth” and “who am I”

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  5. So I was reading this quote. ” Anyone can overcome evil with good, and anyone can overcome good with evil. But it takes a extraordinary devoted soldier overcome evil with good.” And when I finished I was like that’s not half bad I wonder who said it. And then I was like oh wait a minute I did.LOL

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  7. I really like southern raised bluegrass songs and How great thou art. I also like I the Lord of sea and sky, and a lot of others you can find in mission praise songbooks

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  10. Ok, this is quite a big chunk, but here goes…
    Phil lay awake that night, thinking on the events of the past eight hours. Who was this person who was out go get his family? Ceannard Lachlan? Suro? Miss Verton? No, surely Miss Verton would not be heartless enough to try to kill her own brother. Would she? Did they have more of the bullets they used on Jigson? Would they use them on Him?

    “Phil,” asked Tom the next morning, “Why are you packing sun-cream again?” Phil smiled thinly, which only accentuated the bags under his eyes. “You remember what Mother taught you in home-school a while ago, about Ultra-violet Rays?” Tom nodded. “The purple rays that come from the sun, and react with some substances to make them glow. Also, with too much exposure, they can cause sun-burn and increase the risk of skin cancer. Is that why? Does that mean you can get cold and flu in the summer?” Phil thought. “Sometimes.” “Well, then, you might need these.” Tom handed Phil a pair of the X-ray glasses they had used in Catalonia, and left Phil to finish packing. “Thank-you, Tom.” Murmured Phil, as he slipped the glasses into a side pocket of his travel-bag. As Tom knew, he had far worse things to worry about than UV rays. What was he going to do in Sweden? It was a large, mountainous landscape, and without any clues, where would he even start looking? Could he call the hospital and ask if he could look at the bullet? Jigson should have had his operation by now, but he was doubtful the hospital staff would let him see it, as it was probably being tested in a laboratory somewhere. Maybe the detective could get him in, but there wasn’t really much time. If only… His thought pattern was interrupted by a quiet rapping on the door. “Come in.” said Phil. The door was pushed open and Andy entered, a backpack hanging from his shoulder and a determined look in his eyes. “Phil.” He said quietly, “I’m coming with you.” “What? No, Andy, you can’t. It’s going to be dangerous, and we don’t know what manner of evil people we are going to be up against.” Andy smiled. “Which is exactly why you will need me. Father agrees. And remember, Phil, “Two are better than one.” And, “Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him.” “Ecclesiastes 4, verses 9 and 12.” Added Phil. He was silent for a moment. “Okay, Andy, but we need to be careful. This is strictly a mission to help Mr Jigson, not a holiday.” “I understand.” Said Andy. And then he grinned. “But, Phil, most of our holidays turn into missions or adventures. You would think I’d be used to it by now.”
    Abby placed two pairs of hiking boots a supplies bag in Phil’s car. Briosa exited the shed where the camping supplies were kept, carrying some Pot-noodles and a first aid kit. She dropped them on the floor of the trunk, and began to help Abby to pack them into a box marked “Emergency supplies.” “Did you see any foil-blankets while you were in there, Briosa? They’re usually in the kitchen drawer in the case of a power cut, but they weren’t there this morning.” Asked Abby, closing the box and placing it between Phil and Andy’s travel bags. They weren’t sure what situation Phil and Andy would be in one they reached Sweden, so it was best to be prepared, and Mrs Baker said it would be helpful if she and Briosa began to pack the car while Phil and Andy finished up-stairs. “Yes, I think so, shall I go get them?” “No, I’ll go get them, then I’ll go and feed the horses and meet you at the house before Phil and Andy leave for the airport.” “Okay, Abby. Call me if you need any help.” Said Briosa, suspecting that Abby needed some time by herself. As Briosa walked away, Abby leant against the car and looked up at the sky. It was a warm, cloudless day, with a gentle breeze which rustled through the tall grass in the paddock and made a pleasant whispering sound as the birds sang their sweet, flutey songs. “Lord,” she prayed, “I’m worried about my brothers. Please protect them as they try to find whoever shot Mr Jigson. Give them your peace, and your armour, that they may do what is right. In your name, Amen.” As Abby turned back to the trunk, her foot brushed against something. It was one of the ready-meals from the supply bag, which was now buried under a pile of boots and bags. Abby was about to climb in to replace it, then remembered that Phil had told her that one of the struts that held the trunk-lid open was broken, and that if it was bumped it could swing shut without warning. She crouched down and picked up a stick that had fallen from an oak tree nearby, and propped it up in the notch where the strut was supposed to be. “That should hold it.” then she scramble into the trunk to return the ready-meal. But as she crawled in, she heard something snap, then the world went black.

    “Have you seen Abby?” asked Mrs Baker asked Briosa, “Phil and Andy are due to leave any moment.” She sounded worried. “She said that she was going to feed the horses. I left her to it, she seemed like she needed some time alone.” Answered Briosa, also sounding anxious. “We’ll wait as long as we can.” Said Phil, Tom’s “Sunglasses” pushed up on his head. They waited a while longer, until Mr Baker looked at his watch and said, “Phil, you had better leave now if you are going to catch your flight. We’ll give Abby your love.” “Thank-you, Father.” Said Phil, hugging first his father, then his mother. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her, “We’ll be fine.” He hugged Briosa then swept Tom up in his arms. Tom was getting a bit too big for it, but he enjoyed it all the same. “I’ll pray for you.” He said, as Phil placed him back down on the grass. “Thanks, Tom. We’ll need all the prayer we can get.”
    “Turn left. Your destination should be on your right.” Droned the GPS, in a monotone voice. “Can you turn it off, Andy?” asked Phil, as he drew in to the parking lot opposite the flight terminal. Andy pushed the off button and jumped out of the car. He walked round to the back of the car as Phil popped the trunk. Andy went to get his bag out then stopped. “Uh, Phil, I think I know why Abby didn’t come to say goodbye.” Phil ran round the car. “Oh, my goodness! Abby, Abby, wake up!” He shook her gently. Her eyelids flitted open. “Are you alright? Can you see straight? “Phil? What… Where…?” She put a hand to her forehead. “Ouch. Oh, I’m sorry, I went to put one of the packets back in the trunk, and I guess the twig holding the lid open snapped and knocked be out. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Phil calmed down a little. “Okay,” he said, “Andy, grab our bags and try to contact Mother. We had better get into the terminal, our flight leaves in,” he looked has his watch and gasped, “Oh, no, five minutes! And we don’t have time to take Abby back home, so I’ve got to get her a ticket, Hurry!” Phil grabbed his travel bag and dashed for the terminal. Andy slung his knapsack onto his shoulder and followed, while Abby brought the supply bag. Phil arrived on the front doormat first, and the automatic doors seemed to take an eternity to open. He ran through them and ran up to the front desk. “Excuse…me.” He said, between breaths, “Has the… 10 O’clock flight…left yet?” The receptionist looked at him down her nose. “Not yet. Have you booked a flight?” She said, slowly. “Yes, but I have to get another ticket.” The receptionist tapped first one long, beige fingernail, then the other, upon her keyboard. “I’m sorry, the flight is full. There is another flight leaving tomorrow?” Phil was getting desperate. Tomorrow might be too late. Just then, Andy and Abby burst in, and dumped their bags on the floor. “Andy, we had better tell mother I am safe.” Abby panted. “There, a phone booth.” They jogged over to a small blue box not far from the entrance. “Do you have a quarter?” Andy asked. “Here.” Abby tossed him one. He caught it, pushed it into the slot and dialled. “Hello, this is Mrs Baker.” Said a strained voice on the other end. “Mother, it’s me.” Andy replied. “Andy! What’s the matter? Did you miss your flight?” “Not yet, but to cut a long story short, we found Abby in the trunk and we don’t have time to bring her back, so Phil is haggling with the receptionist for a ticket.” Andy panted, still slightly out of breath. He turned in time to hear Phil say, “Please, isn’t there some emergency seat or something? You see,” He took a deep breath, “A man we know was in a car crash and we need to get to Switzerland because there is someone there who can help him and he is in a coma in the hospital so I came with my brother to try and catch the next flight but one of the struts on my trunk isn’t working and as my sister was packing the car the trunk-lid slammed shut and knocked her out and we just found her and we don’t have time to get her home before our flight leaves and I don’t want to leave her here by herself and we really have to go, this is a life and death situation!!” he finished. The receptionist didn’t look like she believed him, but all the same she slowly pressed a button on her printer and three tickets were slowly ejected from a slit in its lid. “Cash or card?” she asked, holding the tickets tantalizingly just out of reach. “Uh, can I pay online?” said Phil, anxiously. The woman slowly handed them to Phil. He jumped for them and managed a “Thank-you, Maam.” Before waving the tickets triumphantly at Andy. “Okay, Mother, he got them. We’d better go. I love you.” Said Andy “I love you too.” Replied Mrs Baker. “Bye!” Andy said, then replaced the phone on the receiver, snatched up the bags and dashed for the metal detectors, Phil and Abby in his wake. They threw their jackets and bags onto the conveyors, along with their watches and Abby’s locket, ran through the metal archway, snatched up their things again and raced out the doors to the runway. An airport worker was about to close the door and pull the steps up from the runway. “Wait!” The man looked at them in surprise and Phil ran up the steps and showed him their tickets. He opened the door for them and they flung their bags onto the ceiling shelf and collapsed into three seats near the front. Several people stared at them, incredulously. Abby had to sit on a fold-down seat against the wall of the cock-pit. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she was only too glad to rest there until her heart slowed little. She folded her arms and placed them onto the table in front of her. She laid her head on them and closed her eyes.
    By the time she opened them again, the plane was landing on a runway in Sweden, and Phil and Andy were already grabbing their luggage from the overhead space. Abby stood. Her legs felt wobbly from not moving for nearly ten hours. Her head throbbed. Phil looked at her, worriedly. “Abby, you don’t usually sleep that long. Are you sure you’re Okay?” Abby nodded, which only made her feel more dizzy. “Just a bit tired, I guess.” She steadied herself on one of the plane seats. “Alright, but you be sure to tell me if you feel any worse.” Cautioned Phil. They walked down the air-stairs, an across the runway into the Swedish terminal. Abby almost gasped. It was huge! The first thing that caught was the huge black sign hanging down from the roof in front of the ticket offices. It read, “Sanbbtag till Stockholm.” Then underneath, “Express train to Stockholm.” Looking up, Abby saw that the roof was made from tiles of glass stacked against each-other. It reminded her of dominoes. There were various large canopies, extending from the wall and held up. They walked slowly down the middle of the huge building, which was strangely quiet. The only people around were the airport workers. The other passengers had all boarded flights to other countries. She had also noticed that all other flights were cancelled. Apparently, the company they had used was the only one who flew in such snowy conditions, and she remembered that there was a moment on the plane when she seemed to awake for a minute. “Oh,” Abby said, spying a food-cart near one of the canopies. “Phil, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Could we maybe get something?” Phil nodded and they began to advance towards the cart. The vendor saw them coming and began to cry, “Kottbullar, Lingonberries!” Andy looked at the menu. “What are…” he stumbled over the name, “Chet-bull-are?” “Kottbullar are Swedish meatball, served with cream sauce and Lingonberry Jam. Is very tasty. Only two Krona!” the shop-keeper temped. Andy’s mouth began to water. Phil saw the look dreamy look in his eyes, and said, “Okay, I’ll take three small Kottbullar, please.” The vendor smiled and began to scoop what looked like mashed potato and some meatballs into polystyrene boxes. The scent made Abby’s stomach growl. Phil handed him the purple notes and took a few of the small containers of jam from the basket on the counter, while Abby and Andy grabbed the boxes of Kottbullar and headed for a bench by one of the large windows. They sat down, and Abby opened the lid of her box. She was ravenous. She grabbed her fork, plunged it into the nearest meatball, and popped it into her mouth. “Mmmmmh! Phil, you have got to try this!” Phil seemed to be poking about in his Kottbullar. “Has anyone got an extra fork? I can’t find one in my box.” Abby speared another meatball. “No, sorry, Phil.” She said. Andy shook his head. “The vendor must have made a mistake. I had better go ask for a fork before this gets cold.” Phil walked off in the direction of the food cart, and Abby went back to her Kottbullar. Suddenly she heard a muffled shout and looked up to Phil wrestling with a man dressed in black from head to foot. “Phil!” she dropped her meatballs and raced up to him. The man now had his hand around Phil’s throat, and he was thrashing about wildly. Abby jumped on the man from behind, and executed a well-aimed kick at his spine. Andy ran and hit the man in the stomach. He dropped Phil and kicked Abby against the wall. “Andy…” Phil grunted, struggling to keep the offender off his back, “Call the police!” The man lunged at Andy, and Phil pulled him back. He threw his cell to Andy. He caught it up and turned it on. It flickered, then died. “Oh No! It’s flat!” Not again! The man suddenly stopped. He reached hand into his jacket and pulled something out. It glinted, menacingly. He pointed it at Andy. “You, boy!” He growled, his accent thick, “Face down on the floor. You too!” He shouted to Abby. She lay on the cold marble floor, her heart pounding. Suddenly, she had a thought. She reached for her locket. It wasn’t there! She must have left it by the metal detector in the confusion. The attacker grabbed Phil by the collar and pulled him towards the doors to the parking lot. “You two stay until I am gone. Mr Baker, the van. Abby heard him click back them hammer. “Or else.” Phil walked through the sliding glass doors, the man hiding his Glock under his jacket. Phil remembered when his family had been held at gun-point at that restaurant in Iceland. He also remembered that Dr Roth and Jigson had been there to help him. Who was there now? Maybe this man was working for whoever Mr Jigson warned them about. Maybe he could help Mr Jigson more this way. Phil prayed, Heavenly father, please keep Andy and Abby safe. Please help me to know what to do now. The man saw his lips moving. “Stop that!” he hissed. The parking lot was empty apart from a few cars and a black van. Phil was bundled into it and another hand clamped something over his mouth from behind. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were pinned down. His eyelids began to close. Help me, he prayed, Help me!

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    • I did! Did you already post the “Jigson, Trevor hospital scene?” or does that come after. If not I am gonna drive people crazy!!!!

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  13. Lucia you are a great writer, but I do not like cliffhangers, I do not like them in movies, I do not like them in books, I do not like them in short stories, I do not like them in novels, I do not like in novelettes, I do not like them in series, I do not like them at all! Okay, I like them just fine, but I just thinking of Dr. Seuss’s I do not like Green Eggs and Ham book.

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  14. Thanks for the encouragement, I’ll post the next bit here (believe me, I’ve written LOADS! I have been to IKEA but the closest one to here is Reading,so I just had to google everything. I did know IKEA did meatballs, though.

    “Mother!” Tom called, “Someone’s at the door.” Mrs Baker dusted her hands off on her apron and walked into the hall. She undid the latch, and the door swung open. “Hello.” She said. She looked at the young man on the doorstep. He had sparkling green eyes, blonde hair, and a certain look about him that made him seem regal. “Good morning, Maam. I’m looking for Philip Baker. Is he here?” he replied, politely. Tom heard the voice and raced to the door. “Caraid Alistair!!!” he gasped. “Just Alistair now. Good to see you, Thomas.” Returned Alistair, a trace of a smile on his lips. Mrs Baker looked from Alistair to Tom and back again. “You are…you are the one who played the tape to all the children in the glen! And you got into the car with Abby!” “Aye, Maam. Glad to see you again.” Mrs Baker regained her composure. “Oh, you asked where Phil is? He, Abby and Andy are in Sweden at the moment. Why, what did you need from them?” Alistair’s face darkened. “I am afraid I must go, Maam. Thank-you for your time.” As he turned to go, Tom called after him, “Gang Warily!” Alistair hesitated. “Gang warily too, Thomas.”
    Phil opened his eyes, slowly. Ouch, my head. What happened? “Philip? Philip, wake up!” “Who is that?” Phil murmured, groggily. “It is me, Rolf.” Rolf? Phil sat bolt upright. He was found himself on a mattress on the floor of a small room, with white walls. There were no windows, and the room was about the size of a small storage room, although empty. He guessed they were in some kind of basement. But where? “What are you doing here? Were you kidnapped?” he asked. Rolf looked pained. Phil noticed that his sweater was ripped on his left shoulder, and his jeans were muddy. He shifted on his knees. “I was in the woods, setting a trap to…to stop my father’s car. It was trying to stall them until the reinforcements could arrive. Miss Verton shot at me, and I guess I blacked out. When I woke up, this,” he pointed to his shoulder, “Was cleaned and bandaged. I am guessing that we are Miss Verton’s…and my fathers…prisoners.” Phil noticed the hesitation in his voice. He could not even imagine how hard it was for Rolf, forced to try to put his own father in jail, someone who he loved deeply. “You haven’t seen or heard from either one of them?” Rolf shook his head. “I have seen no-one.” Phil looked a little panicked. “But then how do you get any food?” Rolf pointed to a small hole in the ceiling. “Bottled water, sandwiches and an apple every day.” He shrugged, “But I’ve had worse. They send it down in a bucket. I tried to ride it when it was pulled up, but they noticed the extra weight and cut the rope.” Phil stood up from the mattress and began to walk around, looking for any possible escape routes. “I have looked. The only way is through the hole in the ceiling, and it is too high. There is nothing to stand on reach it. The door is triple locked from the outside. A keypad, a swipe-card system and a retina scanner.” Phil sighed and began pacing. “Rolf, why am I here? I don’t come from a rich family. Do I know too much about them? Are they using me as bait? What do I have that they could want?” He stiffened. They heard heavy footsteps, and the sound of something clinking. It took about thirty seconds for the guard to pass security. As the door swung open Rolf muttered, “We’ll soon find out.”
    Jigson blinked. Morning sunlight was streaming through his window. Morning? I don’t remember going to sleep. He tried to sit up. Pain shot through the nerves in his arm and head, and caused him to grit his teeth as he gasped, “Ah, Ow!” A nurse pushed aside the curtains on his bed. “Ah, you’re awake. We were starting to get worried about you.” She unclipped her page from her pocket. “Florrie, tell the receptionist to call Mr Hadley, Jacob’s woken up.” Jigson was confused. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “Who’s Mr Hadley? And why is my arm in this?” He pointed to a sling over his right shoulder. “There now,” the nurse said soothingly. “You just rest. You were in a car-crash. If you hadn’t been found when you were, you could have had a lot more to worry about than having your arm in a sling.” Something in Jigson’s mind clicked, and his memory came flooding back. The sniper in the hedge, the ditch, Abigail. Then he remembered what he had said to her, “There’s trouble in Sweden. He’s out to get you. You have to stop him.” He sat bolt upright and tried to ignore the pain coursing through him. The nurse pushed him back down again. “Please Mr Hadley, you have to stay put. Your family will be here soon.” “I can’t. I have to…” She stopped him. “Sir, if you need to use the bathroom, you should ask and I will get you a male nurse. You had better stay still, or I’ll have to get the restraint straps. Travis?!” She left, and locked the door behind her. Jigson looked about him for possible escape routes. Let’s see, I could try picking the lock, or I may have to…What are you thinking? This is a hospital, not a maximum security prison. You’ve got to think. Jigson ran his hand along the wires running from his chest to the small machine by his bed. Now, how do I get this off without the nurses noticing? He looked up as the door swung open and “Travis” walked in. He was of average height and build, with a mop of red hair that almost covered his eyes. Jigson guessed him to be about twenty or so. Bingo! “Uh, Hi Mr Hadley. I was told you… Uh…” He looked a little nervous. Jigson nodded. Travis un-hooked the IV and helped Jigson to the bathroom door. “Sorry about this, but it’s an emergency.” He said. “Oh, umm, it’s no trouble at all.” Travis replied. Jigson smiled, grimly. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
    * * * * *
    Jigson hauled an unconscious Travis onto his bed and hooked him up to the IV. He checked the clipboard at the end of his bed. Jacob Hadley? He smiled. Clever Phil. He had changed into Travis’ clothes, and if he pulled on the surgical cap he had conveniently found in the pocket of his pants, he could quite possibly pass for a nurse. Cautiously, he opened the door a crack. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, so he slipped out, locked the door, and disappeared down the hall.
    Phil and Rolf stood as two burly guards, dressed in Swedish police uniform, entered the room. “The boss wants to see you two.” One of them said, while the other walked round to Phil and wrenched his arms behind his back, and clamped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. He kicked out at his shins, but the man just wouldn’t let go. Rolf moved into a karate stance, and lashed out at the rapidly advancing guard, but it was no use. The man leapt on him and pinned him to the floor, face first, and secured his hands. His feet were tied with a pair of make-shift shackles made from cord to, “Prevent any more karate-kicking.” The guard then yanked him up and shoved him towards to door, Phil following. They were pushed down a maze of cold stone passages, and up a steep winding staircase. The man signalled for them to wait and he lifted something off the ceiling. As square of yellow light appeared, Phil saw what was above. A white arched ceiling, gilded with gold roses, stretched high above him. Directly above was a huge painted scene of angels and humanity coming together in wispy clouds. Phil was in awe of the sheer scale of it all. The guard poked his head up out of the gap, and being sure that the coast was clear, slid the slab of marble off of the hole and clambered out. He grabbed the hood of Phil’s sweater and roughly hoisted him out of the hole. He dumped him on the smooth white floor, and while Phil sat gasping for breath, and, muscles bulging, he grabbed a handful of Rolf’s thermal t-shirt and lifted him in the same way. They were quickly hoisted to their feet and pushed down aisles the aisle, flanked by gold and blue chairs on each side. Suddenly, one of the guards turned at the end of the row of chairs and headed for a large oak door set into the wall. He opened it to let them through, then closed it behind them. He led them through what looked like a closet, with choir-boy’s uniforms hanging on a rack in one corner, and large Christmas wreaths and decorations piled in another. Another door was opened, and they all trooped out into a courtyard, with round terraces on either side. Phil squinted in the sunlight, but could still just make out a crowd of tourists under one of the arches. Now Phil realized why the men were wearing police uniforms. He and Rolf looked like the criminals, with the guilty party looking innocent. The tour looked up at them in amazement, shaking their heads and wondering what two young miscreants had done this time. One of the “policemen” paused and spoke to the guide, and the crowd soon parted to let them through. They were let through yet another large door, and led up through yet more rows of chairs to a covered dais at the end. On either side stood white marble statues, the cold afternoon light falling through two large windows above, beside yet more marble statues. Phil’s eyes focused on the throne. He stopped and gulped. “Hello Philip.” The red lips hitched in an evil smile. Miss Verton.

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  18. My brother and I just came up with another “Twelve Lemons” theory. Haelix – Corona 6 letters in each name. Together, it’s twelve. Don’t know what that has to do with lemons, just a thought. I’ll keep working one it:)

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  19. If anyone is interested in a Christian writing community, then you should look into Noble Novels. They have a great thing going on there. The new website is still being updated but you can still check it out.

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  22. Here is my next bit, they are going to Russia instead of Canada,

    Abby, Andy and Phil stood in the line to board the plane. Phil held the passports and boarding passes in his hand. He started 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 heeled 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 noughts and crosses as there was nothing to see out of the window. “I still can’t believe that 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.
    Abby was jolted violently awake with a bump of the aeroplane, air masks dropped from the roof. “Phil?” asked Abby nervously; passengers were screaming. The flight attendants rushed about trying to calm people down. “Put on your mask, Abby.” Phil commanded pulling on his own. Andy doing the same. Abby’s heart beat five times its normal speed. Oh God, what’s going on? Protect us dear Lord, she prayed silently. Phil held her hand tightly, his face white. Andy clutched his torch. Abby had no doubt he wished he could send her Mother a message. The Co-pilots voice blared out over the overhead speakers?, “Please keep calm, we are going in for landing.” Landing? Thought Abby wildly she looked out of the window. Light was dawning beneath them was ocean and one small Island. “We can’t land on that Island!” she cried in despair. “Please get your life jackets on.” came the flight attendants calm voices; passengers scrambled under the seats for their life jackets and put them on. “Brace, Brace!” The co-pilots voice was cut out suddenly by a gunshot. Cries of terror erupted from the passengers. Another voice came through. Was it the pilot? No, it was someone else talking to the pilot, then another gunshot. Abby’s heart missed a beat. Silence followed, then a sudden rush of air from the front of the plane. A second later flames burst out of the captain’s cabin. The passenger’s screams were muffled through their masks. People began to grab parachutes. Phil grabbed two and shoved them into Abby and Andy’s arms. “Put them on.” He commanded, his voice full of terror. He quickly helped a young mother get herself and her three children sorted as he explained what to do. The flames where getting hotter. “Jump!” Phil yelled as the doors of the plane flew open. Andy grabbed Abby’s hands and pulled her away towards the door, together they jumped, leaving Phil behind plunging towards the Island. Andy let go of her hand and shouted to pull the cord. She did franticly, but it wouldn’t open! Oh dear Lord! “Pull the cord!” Andy yelled. A rush of hot air reached her as the plane above exploded. The parachute wouldn’t open! Is this what it feels like to die? She wondered. Memories rushed through her head as the last few seconds before hitting the ground become fewer and fewer. What was most important? With a massive amount of force, she hit the ground—and everything went black.

    Reply

  23. Here is the first scene and the following one. I put Ewan in there too:) But, I also made him a villain:)

    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. And Ewan? Ever since the submarine had been neutralised, he had withdrawn into a cold, silent shell. He kept all his feelings bottled up inside, and Cassidy saw, day by day the emptiness in his eyes; as if, now that the Glen was gone, he did not know who to obey, who to follow, who to trust. 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 too 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 after 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 wall 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 had been 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 light. 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. Ewan has chosen his own path. It is useless for me to reason with him. 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. MG.

    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. What had the letter said about Ewan? “He has chosen his own path.” She covered her face with her hand. What was happening to her brother? She loved him yes, but she had often seen the darkness in his eyes, masked by a chilliness she could not place.

    3She looked at the last line again. Libertas Optimum Rerum. Freedom is the best possession. Repeating the words to herself silently, she mused on the meaning. 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. And Ewan has joined him.”

    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? And her brother? Her loving older brother who had held her as a child on his knee? 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 and technology we have not imagined possible. It would be no hard thing to transform you into a completely different person with a new memory.”

    Cassidy felt sick.

    “You must leave. Now. I have arranged a way for you and Wylie to travel to America. I wish I would help Ewan too, but even if I did, he would refuse it.”

    “But to leave Ewan here alone in the clutches of the RDC! And 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.” He lowers his gaze and a hint of sadness crept into his voice. “I am sorry about Ewan. But he has chosen his path and now, you must chose yourself. 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 truly 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.

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

    Cassidy looked around the almost empty airport. Except for the staff, they were virtually the only passengers still waiting. She checked her watch. 11:45. Walking over to the large window in the waiting area, she gazed out at the countless stars gleaming in brilliant radiance in the clear night sky. She sighed. Such a beautiful night! How calm and peaceful the world looked, in such contrast to her feelings and experiences of the past few days. The sorrow, the loneliness, and the separation were almost too much to bear. She felt the grief welling up inside her. Closing her eyes, she tried to restrain her emotions, but a tear slipped out inspire of herself and rolled down her cheek.

    Bushing it away almost harshly, she turned and looked at her brother sleeping peacefully on a light green chair, his head resting on his backpack, the moon gleaming on his hair. She smiled softly; her little Wylie. She marvelled at how grown up he seemed to be. The Glen had pushed it’s young students to become adults at a very young age. For the most part, they had succeeded with Wylie; he was capable, and clever and knew more about survival then most boys three times his age. But there were times when the mask slipped a little, and the little boy inside Wylie came out. Cassidy had at first scorned this as weakness. But now, she loved her brother for the boy he was, not for the man he had been trained to be.

    Beep! A text message appeared on her phone. Looking down, she saw a number she didn’t recognise.

    Hope you had a good flight. Walk out the airport building, and go to the park beside it. Find the large oak tree in the corner beside the bench. I will meet you there.

    Mellissa

    Mellisa? Cassidy wondered. That was Mrs. James’s first name, but it was not her number. Strange. Walking over to where Wylie was sleeping, she put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake. Sitting up, he slowly rubbed his eyes and yawned.

    “Cass? Are were there yet?”

    Cassidy smiled. “Not yet. We are going to go for a little walk. Come, is your backpack ready? Where are your waterproof trousers? And don’t forget your bivvy bag.”

    Wylie rolled his eyes and gave his sister a shove. Then his face sobered as her words brought back the memories. Slowly, he brought his hands together in the Glen salute. A tear rolled down his cheek.

    “Are we inside the fence or outside now Cairaid?” he asked.

    Cassidy looked at him silently. “I don’t know.” she said at last. Quickly, they strapped on their backpacks and headed for the door.

    “Thank you for flying with us.” said a flight attendant as they passed. “Have a nice vacation!”

    Vacation? Cassidy laughed softly to herself. Quite the vacation! Pulling out her phone again, she read the text from Mrs. James. Why could she not just come and pick them up at the airport? And did she get a new number? Cassidy frowned. Something was not right. Quietly, they walked to the wide rotating door and stepped into the chilly night air.

    As they moved away from the airport building, Cassidy heard something. Quickly, she laid a hand on Wylie’s arm. They both stopped without a sound. Cassidy strained to hear better. Nothing. She took a step forward, and, before she could cry out, a hand was placed firmly over her mouth.

    Reply

  25. My two favorite male characters are 1.Mr.Jigson 2.Probably Rolf,Detective Mortimor or Cervantes.
    My two favorite female characters 1.Abby 2.Briosa.
    As for my favourite villain I would say Rolf but he’s not a villain anymore so probably Dainn.
    Iceland Intrigue mainly because I’ve been there,so I didn’t really need the visuals.
    I’ve been picturing Abby and Rolf for a little while now.
    Times when I cried or got really teary-eyed(I can get really emotional):
    the end of Prisoner of the Pyrenees, when Detective Mortimer finds out Mr.Jigson is alive,
    the end of Iceland Intrigue, and almost cried when they’re listening to the message and reading the note
    in Hunting in the Highlands.
    Notice that every single one those moments has something to do with Mr.Jigson
    I loved Cervantes car and glasses!

    Reply

  26. A couple of questions:
    How old is Mr.Jigson/Haelix?
    Where did Haelix come up Jigson?
    What is twelve lemons?
    Abbey does seem to be pretty close to Mr.Jigson, but I’m not sure how i would feel with them getting married.

    Reply

  27. I’ve always pictured Mr.Jigson as being in between 30 and 45.
    I like to have mental pictures of characters in books but I just can’t come up with one for Mr.Jigson.
    Maybe because he’s in disguise so much.

    Reply

    • I always pictured him to be twenty-five. Though, Hunting in the Highlands gave me the impression that he’s middle-aged.

      Reply

  29. I just read the comments about y’alls ages, I’ll be fifteen in august to parker.
    One of my favorite scenes is when Detective Mortimer finds out Mr.Jigson is alive.
    When I found out Mortimer means “still water” I just laughed.
    For those wondering I am from IL USA and Homeschooled.

    Reply

  30. I loved that Tom recognized Mr.Jigsons ears.
    I like to think that Mr.Jigson has memorized stuff about each of the Bakers.
    One of my favorite Jigson quotes is “we will meet again, whether on this shore or the next” so sad.

    Reply

    • If you think back to my scene of Arnau Gorrion’s “death” I mentioned that he was the son of the Mr. James in the Riddle. Now his son, Len James, is looking for the ring. Len James is Arnau Gorrion, and Mellissa is his wife.

      Reply

  32. I think Abby and Andy are the same age since they’re twins, I don’t know if it is mentioned specifically which is older.

    Reply

  33. Oh yeah, I remember that. By the way, Heather, I’m from Oxford, England, and I’m home educated too! p.s I’ve written more scenes…

    Reply

  39. Here’s the second part to the scene I wrote about Fergus earlier.

    “Fergus, what exactly are you doing here,” asked Mrs. Baker as she passed him his plate loaded with food. “We didn’t expect to see you again so soon after Scotland.”

    Fergus smiled as he accepted the plate. “Thank you.” He paused as he flicked a glance around the table. “I didn’t expect to be here anytime soon. My parents were supposed to meet me in Edinburg, but they never arrived.” He took a deep breath and stabbed a peace of chicken with his fork. “Detective Mortimer contacted me and said that my parents were being held hostage by some of Lachlan’s men.”

    Abby froze and stared at Fergus. “But I thought—they were shut down….”

    He shook his head. “Someone got out. We don’t know who exactly yet, but Detective Mortimer thinks it has something to do with my father’s inventions.”

    Abby felt her brows tugging downwards. Andy nudged her and she looked up to see Phil gripping his fork so hard that his knuckles were white. His eyes were wide.

    “Your father’s inventions?” He asked the question that was on Abby’s lips.

    “Yes,” said Fergus slowly. “I don’t exactly know what, but I seem to remember him always working late at his office. I think it had something to do with Iceland. He was always getting long distance calls from there and—

    He got no further, for Abby had jerked out of her chair and Phil half rose, still clutching his fork. “Iceland.” Abby muttered.

    “Yes,” said Fergus, watching her closely. “Iceland. What is that to you?”

    “We’ve been to Iceland,” she began.

    “I know. I saw it all over the news.”

    Inventions. Iceland. Ira Predzel. It all seemed to fit together.

    “Fergus, our adventure there was—highly involved with inventions. Do you have any idea of what your father was doing?” Abby struggled to control her voice.

    He shook his head. “No, he never told me. And then I left for the Glen.”

    Mrs. Baker pursed her lips. “Abby….”

    “Wait,” Phil cut in. “Did you know Rolf Klaus? Or his father?”

    “Of course I did. Rolf was always an interesting person.”

    “Did you know that his father was in Iceland, working on an invention—I’m guessing about the same time your father was?” Phil sat back down in his chair, his gaze never leaving Fergus’ face.

    “No,” said Fergus, his tone rising. “My father had nothing to do with Herr Klaus’s schemes.”

    Mr. Baker and Phil exchanged a glance.

    “I was just wondering,” Abby whispered softly. “I’m sorry to offend you.”

    “No, no,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to what you were trying to say.”

    “I think what she’s getting at,” began Phil. “Is that Klaus had several other engineers working for him. Are you suggesting that Fergus’ father might have been one of those scientists, Abby?”

    “I don’t really know. But it made sense in my mind.”

    Fergus bit his lip. “You have me thinking…”

    “But why would they be hostages?” asked Andy. “If they were working for Klaus, then why would he turn against them?”

    “Lachlan,” Abby corrected. “You’re assuming that Klaus and Lachlan are working together.”

    “Aren’t they?” cried Fergus.

    “No—I mean—I didn’t think so…”

    “But they have to be. Why else would…” he stopped.

    “Why else would—what?” encouraged Mr. Baker.

    He shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ll have to talk to Detective Mortimer about it.”

    “But Ira,” said Abby. “He’s an inventor, and he’s been in Iceland. This can’t be a coincidence.”

    “Ira?” Gasped Tom. Phil echoed him with a loud, “What?”

    Fergus sighed. “I need to find him soon, before anything worse happens. Detective Mortimer thinks there isn’t much time.”

    “Much time till what?” prompted Phil.

    He sighed. “I don’t know. With the RDC, anything is possible.”

    Reply

  40. Ok here is part two.

    Cassidy, froze as the hand clamped over her mouth. What happened to Wylie? He had not made a sound.

    “Do not worry, I am not trying to harm you.” whispered a female voice in her ear. “If you do not run away, or scream, I will let you go.”

    Cassidy nodded, inwardly scoffing at the woman for having thought she would scream.

    Slowly, the woman removed her hand from Cassidy’s mouth. Immediately, Cassidy spun around and faced the stranger. She was a tall woman, in her mid forties, with a kind, yet calculating smile, dark brown hair, and sparkling eyes.

    “Who are you?” said Cassidy stiffly.

    “I’m Mellissa James. I am sorry for grabbing you, but I could see no other way to get your attention without startling you and having the risk of you screaming.” said the woman quietly.

    Cassidy ground her teeth. This woman had yet to learn what a student from the Glen was capable of. She forced a smile. “How do you do Mrs. James.” She half raised her hands to salute, then checked herself. She needed to get out of the habit. Someone moved from behind the woman. A girl? Cassidy saw her hand on Wylie’s shoulder. Her eyes hardened.

    “Who are you? Release my brother.”

    The girl raised her eyebrows, and removed her hand without a word. Wylie instinctively stepped closer to his sister.

    “Why did you grab me?” he asked.

    “Sorry about that.” replied the girl. As she stepped into the light, a flash of recognition suddenly flew through Cassidy’s mind.

    “Maria?” she asked questioningly.

    The girl laughed.”Well…not exactly, but I suppose you could say that. My name is Abby.”

    “I remember.” said Cassidy shortly.

    Wylie turned to Abby. “You are Tom’s sister right? You came to the Glen.”

    “That’s right.” replied Abby warmly. “Tom talks about you a lot. He’ll be so glad to see you again. Sorry if I startled you there.”

    Wylie shrugged.

    Cassidy turned to Mrs. James. “Why did you want me to meet you in the park?”

    “Shhhh.” said Mrs. James quietly. “Follow me. Let’s go to my car. I’ll explain there.”

    Wordlessly, Cassidy and Wylie walked to the green Ford parked close by. Once they were inside, Mrs. James turned to them. “How did your flight go?” she asked.

    “Fine.” replied Cassidy.

    “Welcome to America.” said Abby.

    “Thank you.” said Wylie. He turned to buckle up his seatbelt. “You drive on the wrong side of the road here.”

    “Wylie!” hissed his sister.

    Mrs. James laughed. “Yes I suppose we do! I’m sure you will get used to it.”

    “I thought the same thing when we went to Cornwall.” Abby joined in.

    “So why did you send me that message?” persisted Cassidy.

    Without answering, Mrs. James turned on her radio. Then, reaching quickly underneath to the little cellphone button for hands-free calls, she pulled off the cover, Slipping a fingernail inside, she flicked a switch and replaced the button cover. Then, she turned off the radio. Cassidy watched her narrowly.

    Mrs. James sighed. “To answer your question plainly, I wanted to throw off anyone who might be tracking or following you, and I wanted to see whether or not you would trust me. I used a different number, because I don’t want this one hacked into right now. I don’t know this yet, but I have a suspicion you two are being watched. Alistair told me the whole story about the Glen, your father and the RDC. Because of your past, you are a valuable person Cassidy. I wouldn’t want to risk having you kidnapped; the consequences would be extreme. So just incase someone had tapped into your phone, I invented a little diversion.”

    “Well done.”

    Mrs. James looked at Cassidy in surprise. Then, a small smile crept into the corner of her mouth.

    Cassidy looked out the window. “You are of course driving first to a different location?”

    “I think we understand each other.” said Mrs. James.

    The car pulled into a driveway.

    “Do you know who lives here?” asked Abby.

    “No.” replied Mrs. James. “That is the point.”

    After sitting in the driveway for about ten minuets, they pulled out and continued on their way.

    Cassidy looked back to see a light turn on in the house. She laughed quietly. “Those poor folk will be puzzled for quite awhile I am afraid.” She looked over at Wylie. He had fallen asleep again.

    “I live on the other side of town.” remarked Mrs. James. She drove into the parking lot of a shoe store. “I know the woman who owns this store. Come, we are changing cars.”

    Cassidy shook Wylie awake again and the four of them settled into another vehicle.

    “I own both cars.” continued Mrs. James when they were driving again. “The owner of the shoe store let’s me park here. Just a precaution of course.”

    Cassidy smiled. “Where did you train?” she asked.

    Mrs. James’s face took on a faraway look. “My husband was an undercover agent.”

    Reply

    • Oh wow! Great job! and Isabelle I loved yours too! It is slightly confusing! Reading so many stories at once. Abbys in Sweden trying with Jigson trying to rescue Phil with Andy. Oh, wait no she’s with Cassidy and Wylie oh wait she just fell out of a plane……

      Reply

  41. Haha! Here is yet another part of my story. I personally think this was better when I first wrote it, but I accidentally deleted it and had to go off of memory!

    Jigson slowly emerged from the large travel bag as a loud rumbling signalled that the plane was in the air. Cautiously, he stepped over suitcases and handbags on his way to the window. He peered out, and saw the Baker farm stretched out far below him, the horses peacefully grazing in the fields. If he had not had a head for heights, the view may have made him feel sick. He quickly sat down on the floor of the plane. His head throbbed. He had found his own clothes at the hospital, and was beginning to feel hot in his warm sweater, as the air in the cabin was close and stuffy. He un-zipped it and winced as he pulled it over his left arm. His dressing was still there, but soaked in blood. Jigson searched for a first aid kit, and found it in a compartment by the emergency hatch. He unwrapped the dressing and cleaned the wound with an anti-septic wipe, then wound another bandage around it. Jigson began to fold his sweater into a make-shift sling for his arm. As he did, something small and white fell from one of the pockets. He picked it up and turned it over. On it was one word, Corona. It was his parent’s last words to his sister. He always carried it with him on the off-chance he would see her. He was again filled with the desire to open it, to see his parents handwriting and to hear their voices, but he resisted the temptation. He thought about what she had done, and who she had grown to be. He thought how disappointed his parents would have been in her. Would his parents be proud of what he had done? The man he had grown to be? Those were his last thoughts before he fell into a deep sleep.

    Abby stared after the rapidly retreating van until it turned a corner and vanished. “Andy, what are we going to do? Should we tell one of the staff what happened?” she said, shakily. Andy nodded. “Then I’ll find a phone charging port so that we can call Mother.” Andy approached one of the staff, an engineer by the looks of his overalls. He was of average height and build, his hair streaked with dust and his face smudged with grease. “Excuse me sir, please may I use your phone? It’s an emergency!” He said, making vivid hand gestures in case the man didn’t understand English. The engineer’s eyes narrowed. “What for?” He said in a thick accent. “My brother was just kidnapped by a thug with a gun! What is the emergency services number here?” Abby tapped his shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll need that.” “Why not”? He glanced back at the engineer. His blue eyes sparkled. Andy gasped. “Mr…” “Not here, Andy.” Jigson said. “But…but…how can you be here?” “How come they let you out of hospital?” Abby added. Jigson’s face darkened. “I had to warn you. But it looks like someone else got here first. I’ve got to take you somewhere safe.” “But what about your arm? You might not get very far…” “Abby,” Jigson whispered, reproof in his tone, I’ve climbed a mountain, held three criminals prisoner and flown a helicopter with a hole in my side. I think I can make it in Stockholm with an injured arm.” He leaned closer, “If anyone asks, I’m taking you to the police station.” As he led them through the sliding glass doors and out to the parking lot, Abby’s mind whirled. Mr Jigson had was awful condition a two days ago. Are we being tricked again? Is this another imposter? She caught Andy’s eye. We have to find out.

    “Well, isn’t this fitting? The queen of crime facing her dejected and defeated enemies, just like old times.” Miss Verton crossed one leg over the other and relaxed in the plush velvet seat. The laughter that echoed around the chamber had confidence in it, as well as an element of pleasure. Defeated and dejected? Phil glanced at Rolf, who was standing up tall, staring straight at her with hatred in his eyes. No, not defeated. Phil scraped up the courage to say something, but no words would come. “Oh, come now, what do you have to say for yourselves, hmm?” “What then shall we say to these things?” Phil burst. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Miss Verton blinked. “Ah, how cute, one of your bible verses,” she said, scornfully. “But where is your oh so loving God now?” Phil jumped as Rolf replied, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Phil’s heart filled with joy as the sun began to stream through the windows. Could it really be Rolf saying these things? “So we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper, I shall not fear. What can man do to me?” Rolf finished. Miss Verton’s jaw went slack, and she shrank back. She clearly did not know how to deflect this kind of surprise attack. Phil could see something in her face. Could it be…fear? “Jesus said,” Phil continued, “Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” He gazed at her. Her face went pale. “But rather fear Him who can kill both soul and body in Hell.” There was silence. “You…you…Guards! Get these…these…maniacs out of my sight!” She gasped. Someone stepped out of the shadows and handed her a glass of water. She drained it and regained her composure. “What do you want us to do with them?” One of the guards asked, as another two pounced on Phil and Rolf, and shoved rifles into their backs. Miss Verton thought a moment. “Ah, take them to room 3.” She said, as she pushed one of her leather boots into a stone slab. It depressed and one of the statues slid away, revealing a hidden doorway. As Phil and Rolf were led into it and prodded down the stairs, they heard her voice calling after them, “Oh, and Sebastian,” she chuckled, grimly. “I want them alive, but only just.”
    p.s Really well done on the Cassidy scenes, Leah!

    Reply

  44. Well, to avoid confusion, let’s all list our storylines quickly.

    Arnau Gorrion, aka Len James, has been supposedly “killed” in the Fortress, but is rescued by Rodri. He is on the search for the ruby ring.

    Cassidy finds that his father is the leader of the RDC so Alistair convinces her to go to America

    Once Wylie and Cassidy are in America they find Mrs. James was the wife of an undercover agent.

    To be continued…..

    Reply

    • Thanks! Mine is:

      Bakers just back from Scotland. Jigson in hospital. Phil, Abby, Andy, go to Russia to find Jigson’s brother and the meaning of “twelve lemons”. The flight is hijacked and Abby falls out of the plane without a parachute and Phil is nowhere to be found.
      And is being continued….

      Reply

  45. Mine was the Bakers back from Scotland and they see the Sloanes in the grocery store and the other was a twelve lemons scene with Jigson and Detective Mortimer.

    Reply

  46. Here’s mine:

    The Bakers are home, safe after Scotland. But not for long.

    Fergus shows up suddenly. He’s trying to find Ira Predzel for Detective Mortimer, but he won’t say why, and Abby begins to wonder if he really is who they think he is.

    Fergus accidentally drops a hint at the table—Iceland. The Bakers start to wonder: Could Fergus’ missing father be one of Klaus’s engineers that Dainn hired to work on his machine. And if so, then why is he being held hostage?

    Something strange is happening. The Bakers thought they had seen the last of Iceland when they stepped off the plane in America, but maybe—just maybe….

    What is the connection between Lachlan and Klaus? How are Ira, Iceland, Fergus’ father, and a mysterious invention tied together? Can the Bakers solve the mystery before time runs out?

    To be (or not to be) continued….. (maybe)

    Reply

    • I kind of hope they do go back to Iceland. And meet Miss Verton. *Evil laughs* I can be very cruel to the characters for a thrilling story.

      Reply

  50. My scenes once again.

    The Sloanes:

    The door to the grocery stoor slid open with a smooth sliding 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. 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. 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 specially made,” she breathed. She almost ran down the aisle knowing she probably looked kind of funny 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:

    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.”

    P.S. These aren’t updated so I’m not sure how good they are.

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