Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

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! 🙂

4,798 thoughts on “Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

  1. Because I’m impatient… XD
    Cameron stretched in the passenger seat. He hadn’t slept well – again. No surprise there though.

    He glanced subtly at Mortimer driving. No, he didn’t want to engage in conversation – yet it was almost like the old days after Cameron’s mom had died. His father, still fighting grief, had permitted him to train under Mortimer – and Mortimer had become like a father since then.

    Up until a year ago when the events in Spain left them all spinning out of control. Spain had caused the communication lost with Garth, but it had also cost Cameron a friend and mentor. He and Jigson had never reconnected again after that. Cameron sighed. If only Jigson were here now.

    “I was thinking about our last case together.”

    Cameron hissed through his teeth as he stared out his window. “Do we have to discuss that nightmare?”

    “No.” Mortimer sighed. “Where did you and Garth carve your crevasse?”

    “Have you been to Trafalgar Square before?”


    Cameron folded his arms. “Do you know where Nelson’s Column is?”

    Mortimer nodded.

    “It’s at the base of one of the four lions surrounding the column.”

    “I see.” Mortimer tapped the steering wheel. “Which one?”

    Cameron closed his eyes, recalling the day he and Garth had done the act. “If you walk off the balcony – the one facing the two pools and fountains – it’s the lion on the right.”

    Mortimer spun the wheel, turning them into the parking lot. “We’re here.”
    Don’t you love what Google can tell you? 😀

  2. Heather, considering Mortimer didn’t mention Phil’s death in his most recent communication with Abby and Andy (because I was falsely hoping Phil didn’t actually die), in the whole timeline of things, could we assume Phil’s death happened after that conversation?

      • Annie, I think I’ve already told you if you don’t like this community here, that you can leave. We want to keep this atmosphere good and happy. And biblical! Not full of arguments and discouraging comments! We don’t want people coming in and destroying the fun we have here. Thanks!

      • I agree. But I also think that you shouldn’t be around here trying to cause division. It’s not right, and it’s unbiblical. If you keep this up, I’m going to contact C. R. Hedgcock.

      • Annie and Parker,
        I think I speak for everyone when I say it’s hard to watch you two fight.
        Parker, don’t get me wrong. I understand where you’re coming from and what your intent is. I appreciate your motive.
        Annie, please don’t think that I approve of the hurtful comments. HOWEVER, I also see where you’re coming from, in that it hurts to watch characters we’ve grown to love suffer – and die. (The great part is that this is only fanfiction, and I don’t think Miss Hedgcock is going to kill any of the Bakers any time soon.)
        I also understand that some of what I’ve written could lead Annie to infer that characters (and a lot of them) are going to die in this fanfiction. Please know that the triumph of evil ISN’T my intent. I apologize if anything I’ve written has sparked these comments.
        Annie, if you don’t like character deaths, would you like to toss around some ideas we could put in this fanfiction? What conspiracy theories do you have about future Baker Family Adventure books? I’d love to hear your thoughts (and, as said before, they may wind up in what is written later)!
        Please, both of you, all of us, can we call a truce on this matter and agree to comment (and write) only what is edifying to each other and glorifying to God? Can we seek to build each other up and loving correctly if and when necessary?
        Moving forward, why don’t all of us (myself especially included) double check each comment we’re about to post? Why don’t we ask ourselves the following questions before we click the ‘post’ button? What is the tone (and what is the worst way this could be taken)? Will this encourage others or tear them down? How would I feel if someone said this to me? Most importantly, would God say, “Well done, good and faithful servant” if I posted this?
        Let’s all remember that words tend to be taken WORSE online than in person because you don’t know the expression or tone the person intends.
        In Christ,

      • Proverbs 17:14-16 reads “The beginning of strife is like releasing water; Therefore stop contention before a quarrel starts.”
        I appreciate all of you very much, and have enjoyed seeing a culture of consideration and encouragement flower among you. Of course, situations come up in life where not everyone agrees; it’s fine to put forward our differing views, so long as we are careful that our words don’t tend toward strife or become personal. I think Kenleaf gives some excellent suggestions of things to consider before posting anything, anywhere. Let’s remember Romans 12:10, “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.” One version renders this as “Outdo one another in showing honor.” There has been a lot of this attitude showing in the comments section of the blog, which is wonderful to see. Let’s keep it this way.
        Thank you!

  3. Here’s my next part. Hope you enjoy!
    Cameron and Mortimer got out of the car and headed towards Nelson’s Column, where Cameron immediately knelt down and starting searching for the crevice, he didn’t appear to be concerned about people staring, but Mortimer was. He glanced around and nudged Cameron whenever someone started to look their way. “Mr. Jones!” The voice came from behind them and to the left. Mortimer turned to see who it was.

    A girl with blonde hair was coming towards them and Mortimer nudged Cameron, who quickly got up. “Detective, how are you?” Millie smiled as she shook hands with the detective.

    Mortimer smiled and replied, “I am fine. Cam, this is a friend of mine Millie Drake. What are you doing here?”

    “I’ve been here all day practicing my photography.” She glanced at Cameron, who had resumed his search, and asked, “What is he doing?”

    Mortimer said carefully, “Someone left a note for us, he told us it would be in a crevice underneath Nelson’s Column.”

    Cameron got up with a frustrated look on his face. “Well, I found the crevice but there’s no note.”

    Millie looked tense, “There were some men poking around here earlier, they spent some time right here!

    Mortimer quickly looked at Cameron, who had started to look worried, then looked back at Millie, “Thank you Millie, say hello to your parents for me.”


    Millie watched Detective Mortimer and the other man walk away, then she turned and walked toward her car. She reached her car and starting fumbling in her purse for her keys, but just as her hand closed around them, something hit her head, and she fell to the ground.


    Mortimer and Cameron were sitting in their hotel room when Mortimer’s cell rang, he checked the caller ID then answered it. “Hello Charles.” “What?!” “But I saw her a couple hours ago in Trafalgar square!” “Her car is still there?” “Alright, bye Charles.” He turned to look at Cameron and said, in a tense voice, “Millie is missing.”

  4. “Look, Cameron, this is something I need to do!” Mortimer cried.
    Cameron looked frustrated, “I don’t have time to look for a lost girl Mortimer! I need to find Garth.”
    “Oh and this girl isn’t important?” Mortimer raged.
    Cameron gave an exasperated sigh, “that’s not what I’m saying. But there are plenty of detectives out there, to deal with this! You need to help me get Garth back.” He bit his lip then added in a low turn, “it was your fault.”
    Mortimer’s face blackened “don’t turn this into a guilt trip now, Cam,”
    Cameron fell silent, “I’m sorry.” He hissed.
    Mortimer ran his hand through his hair. “Cam, Mr. Drake…”
    “yes, yes, I know,” Cameron said impatiently, “you told me”
    “Seems like we are at a dead end then,” Mortimer said quietly, “no note at Nelson’s column.”
    Cameron looked deep in thought, “those men you saw must have taken it. I know Garth.”
    The phone sitting next to Cameron buzzed,
    “Message from Garth.”

  5. This doesn’t have anything to do with current Cts. I just want to know more about Jigson’s parents. And this is before ‘Phil’s Death’.


    Jigson turned to Abby and asked “When are you going to show me my memorial? I need a hammer and chisel before we go.”

    Andy got the hammer and chisel for Mr. Jigson, then they set out. Once they got there Abby glanced at Jigson and was surprised to see that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, he quietly said “May I please be alone?” Abby nodded and walked away. Jigson took a deep breath, he had a lot of work to do.


    It wasn’t until after supper that Mr. Jigson returned to the house, and when he did he went straight to the guest bedroom. The next morning Abby went out to the memorial to have her devotions like usual, but there was something different about it. It no longer said: A Dear Friend ~ Safe In The Everlasting Arms, the last part was still the same but the first part……Abby’s eyes suddenly got bleary, something else had been chiseled in above it. It now read:

    Dear Parents &
    A Dear Friend ~ Safe In The Everlasting Arms


    I hope you enjoyed this short piece!

  6. So, this turned out a LITTLE longer than I thought… Yikes!


    “Just like old times,” it read.

    Cameron’s lips turned up in a smile. Dead end indeed. He turned to show Mortimer, then hesitated. “Never mind.” He tugged on a jacket. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

    “Cam.” Mortimer stared at him until Cameron paused. “What did Garth say?”

    “It doesn’t matter to you, does it?” Cameron zipped his phone into a pocket. “Go find the Drake girl. I’m sure she’s worth a million dollars for your time. Garth needs me.”

    “You’re not going solo.”

    “So, you expect me to tag along with you? I’m not a kid anymore, Mortimer!”

    Mortimer’s brows folded. “Cam, I need to do the right thing.”

    “And Garth isn’t this ‘right thing’?”

    Silence, then, “I’ll be monitoring you. Don’t argue.” Mortimer handed Cameron a pair of glasses and an earpiece. “You know how to use these.”

    Cameron nodded. He took them. “You won’t even consider the Drake girl could be at the same location as Garth? You don’t have any other leads currently.”

    “What location did Garth give you?”

    “‘Just like old times,’” Cameron recited.


    “Every time we vacationed in London, we rented a home on the outskirts.” Cameron ran a hand through his hair. “That’s my best guess.”

    Mortimer studied him. “Is that all it means?”

    Cameron calmly gazed back into his eyes, but his heart was pounding. If he told Mortimer, Mortimer wouldn’t let him go. “Yes.”

    Mortimer nodded. “Promise me you will stay in contact.”

    Cameron swallowed. “I promise.”


    Cameron fiddled with the glasses after having spent an hour of painful maneuvering to get close to the house unnoticed.

    Mortimer’s voice trickled through them. “Status report?”

    Cameron peered around the dumpster into darkness. Now was not the time for the night vision settings to glitch.

    “Great,” he muttered.

    Switching the glasses into silent mode, Cameron edged around the dumpster and scanned the area. Clear – that is, as far as he could see. He sprinted to a cluster of bushes against the iron fence and tucked himself against the bars.

    Light filtered into the yard through the window blinds allowing some sight. The yard was clear.

    Cameron pulled the earpiece from his pocket, activated the sync button, then fitted it in his ear.


    He jerked. “Would you stop it?” he hissed.

    A static sigh cut into his ear. “You’re all right.”

    Cameron clenched his teeth. “And I’d stay that way if you’d quit checking on me every minute. I can’t afford a mistake like last time.” He tapped the glasses. “The night vision setting isn’t working. How do I fix it?”

    “The readings show they’re working fine. Wait a moment. I’m picking up a slight interference.”

    “And that means what?”

    Cameron stiffened as a gun cocked behind him.

    “Come out slowly.”

    Cameron felt for the pistol strapped to his leg as Mortimer’s voice filtered through the earpiece. “Our conversation is being monitored. Abandon position.”

    “Thanks for the heads up,” Cameron muttered.

    He jerked as a shot exploded.

    “I can see your gun. Leave it behind the bush and come out now. I won’t miss a second time.”

    The guy must have night vision and heat scanners. Unfair advantage.

    “Cameron? Status report. Was that a gunshot?”

    Cameron unbuckled the holster and rose from the bush as he whispered, “Yeah, situation’s not good.”

    “Let me see your hands.”

    Cameron lifted them.

    “Now remove the glasses and earpiece.”

    Cameron hesitated as he stared at the shadow of a man.

    “Now! And give them to me.”

    Very slowly, Cameron removed them. As he did though, he flipped his com to silent and turned Mortimer’s to max. They couldn’t hear Mortimer, but Mortimer would be able to hear them. Then he held them out toward the shadow.

    He watched as the gun lowered and the man stepped closer. The hand reached for them – and Cameron struck. He smacked the gun from the man’s hand, then grabbed the arm and flipped the guy over his shoulder.

    A groan rose as the man connected with the ground.

    Cameron pounced for the gun as the man rolled to retrieve it. Something tripped him and he sprawled – but his hand had connected with the gun. He rolled onto a knee only to hear more guns cock behind him. He spun to face them as a light flashed in his eyes. He recoiled, tightening his grip on the gun.

    “Agent Gray, I presume.”

    Cameron flinched. How did this man know about–

    “I’ve been waiting to meet you – so has your father.”

    Barely, Cameron could discern the speaker turning to one of the gun wielders.

    “Clement? Get the gun out of your son’s hand.”

    Cameron swallowed, his gun-hand wavering. His gaze dropped to the unconscious man lying before him. He froze. Garth? No, no! It couldn’t be. Garth had gone undercover again, not–

    The gun fell from Cameron’s hand.

    All the years Mortimer had concealed both of their locations from Cameron’s dad… Wasted.

    “You won’t greet me, Cam?”

    Cameron stared numbly at his dad. “Is this all Mom’s death did? Encouraged you to become a member of the RDC?”

    “Cam, the Agency’s gone. What do you have left?”

    Cameron shook his head.

    “Move him inside.”

    Arms lifted then shoved him forward. His last glance behind him caught his father smashing the glasses and earpiece beneath his foot.


    For the second time in Mortimer’s life, he watched as the tracking dot blinked and then disappeared. Mortimer tried to reconnect the unit. Nothing.

    Fear tore at every recess of his mind. He never should have split up with Cameron. It was his fault – again.

    Mortimer grabbed his phone, typing in a number, but froze before he dialed it.

    He was doing just what he told Cameron they couldn’t do, but he had no other opinion. He dialed.

    The phone rang three times before a sleepy voice answered.

    “Jigson,” Mortimer said. “I need help.”


    The men guided Cameron through the door and down a hall. A key turned in a lock and he was shoved through another door. A disheveled bed and paper-strewn desk caught his eye as he toppled to the floor.

    His dad entered a moment later followed by two others assisting Garth. After helping Garth to the bed, the two exited and closed the door.

    Cameron’s dad remained.

    Propping himself up on an elbow, Cameron listened as the footsteps moved down the hall. Then he looked at his dad, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth. “So, we’re in?”

    His dad rolled his eyes. “Once we convince them you’ve joined the RDC.” He paused and smiled, his gaze traveling up and down Cameron’s face. “Cam, it’s been too long.”

    “Yeah,” Cameron said. “I know. Cases together are few and far between. And I’m sorry for what I said about Mom out there. I couldn’t…” He swallowed. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”


    Forgiven? Just like that? For bringing up that hurt?

    Cameron cleared his throat and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. “But where’s the Drake girl and what’s up with the guys taking Garth’s note?”

    Cameron’s dad frowned. “I’ve yet to hear anything about the Drake girl, but, as for the note…” He tipped his head toward the bed.

    Cameron turned to face Garth, eyes gleaming with tears. “I was worried you wouldn’t be in one piece once I got here.”

    Garth pretended to scowl. “The only bruises I have are from you, Cam. You really overdid it that time.” Then he allowed a grin to slip before crushing Cameron in a hug.

    Cameron smiled as he returned the hug. “Sorry, but, for the record, you should have announced it was you.”

    Garth straightened, then winced. “Anyway, the note wasn’t meant for you to find. It’s a map of London identifying key locations of the RDC. We were supposed to pass it on to them.”

    “And you led Mortimer and I there for what purpose?”

    Cameron’s dad interjected. “For Mortimer to know something was wrong.”

    Cameron clenched his teeth. “I have two problems this: the Drake girl is missing now and you’ve destroyed my communication with Mortimer.”

    Cameron’s dad scowled at Mortimer’s name. “We’ll find the Drake girl. I promise. But do we really need Mortimer? I managed to infiltrate the RDC without him.”

    Cameron sighed. He hated how touchy his dad and Mortimer’s relationship had become. “Yes. We do, but let’s discuss that in a moment. What’s the update? Communication has been few and far between especially since Mortimer discovered you tracking him, Dad.”

    “Tracking you, to be more accurate.”

    “Searching for Garth, to be even more accurate,” Cameron interjected. “You know you needed both of us to root out the last of the RDC.”

    “Should we debate discrepancies or discuss the RDC’s current plans?”

    Cameron glanced at Garth. “Yeah. The RDC’s plans. What’s the Gray trio up against?”

  7. Switching to Mortimer now…

    Mortimer scanned the screen for the quickest and soonest flight to London. He dialed the airport’s number,
    “Hello, how can I help you?”
    “Yes hello, I want to book a last minute flight to London City Airport, within the hour preferably.”
    The voice on the other end sounded surprised, “well, we have one leaving from Newark’s Liberty Airport in two hours but it won’t be cheap.”
    “you bet it won’t” Mortimer muttered under his breath. Then out loud “I’ll take it.”

    As soon as he hung up with the airport he dialed Jigson’s number, “Jigson? You need to get to New Jersey… within an hour.

    sORRY, my bits are super short!

  8. Things to think about…

    I just finished skimming through TTT and realized that Garth said his cousin was the closest family he had. Wondering if, to fit in with our conspiracy theory, something separated Garth and Cameron before that time…

    Also, Garth has people out to get him…

      • I was assuming Heather since Sandrina and I did the last two, but if Sandrina wants to take it, I’m all for it. 🙂 (By the way, it’s really fun writing with you two and off what you come up with. 🙂 ) Also, if anyone else wants to jump in, they’re welcome to!

        I’ve got a few ideas if no one else jumps, but I don’t want steal from anyone else either.

      • Thanks, Kenleaf, its super fun writing with you too, your bits are awesome! I’m loving the ideas you are coming up with. I guess I could do the next one today if I have time, but I might not so anyone else take that slot if I forget!

  9. Okay, I’m not so good with the whole big plot thing, (I’m leaving that to Kenleaf as he seems to have it covered. I’m going to focus on this scene how Cam is feeling.

    Cameron lay in the soft bed, he could hear his fathers and Garth’s heavy breathing nearby.
    He may actually be able to sleep that night. The relief, Garth was alive! His heart sung. His best friend was back.
    His thoughts turned to Mortimer, his only way of contact had been destroyed. Mortimer would probably come after him. His father wouldn’t be happy.
    Cameron bit his lip, should he forgive Mortimer for what he had done? His own words came back at him. “Forgiveness just allows people to step all over you again.” Did he really believe that? Cameron wondered. His mind searched for an answer. A sermon came to his mind, it had been a few years ago, he remembered. Mortimer had persuaded him to go to his church with him. What was it the pastor had said?
    “Forgiveness is a gift.”
    A gift. Cameron pondered. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small new testament, his mother had given it to him. He always kept it with him, though hardly he hardly ever read it. But something compelled him too. He had a great memory. One of the reasons Mortimer had readily agreed to take him on as a mentee all those years ago. That pastor’s sermon, he could remember it was in Mathew. He flicked the pages to the first book. Was it chapter five/ No, he skimmed the chapter, maybe six. Ah, here it was, Mathew 6:14, he remembered the pastor reading it. “If you forgive others the wrongs they have done to you, your Father in heaven will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, then your Father will not forgive the wrongs you have done.” He stopped at verse fifteen. He shut the book and slipped it back into his pocket. Again, half of him wanted to forgive Mortimer but… he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t.

    Well, I don’t know how good it is but there you have it, folks!

  10. Del Quera’s tracking virus had failed. Sigurd’s machine had failed. Robbed of its main leadership, the RDC was desperate.

    Cameron’s ran a hand through his ruffled hair. He stared at the map with fifty major locations marked. Seriously? Bombs?

    He tapped a finger on the table. Great, now I’m turning into Mortimer, he thought.

    Then he sobered. Something didn’t add up. The bombs the RDC planned to use would wreck significant havoc. If his calculations were correct based on the marked locations, the bombs would blow up major RDC headquarters all over the globe.


    He blinked, then shook his head. “No; please, no,” he whispered.

    “What is it?”

    Cameron spun to face the figure advancing with bold strides. “Garth, you can contact Mortimer, right?”

    Garth hesitated, a frown playing on his lips. “I ‘borrowed’ the blocking device, Cam. It’s too dangerous to keep something like that on me.”

    “Can we get it again?”

    “It’s almost a cinch to sneak into the office. When do you want it?”

    “Right now.” Cameron hesitated, then tapped the map. “Wait a minute, Garth. This is a duplicate of the one you put at Nelson’s column, right?”

    Garth nodded, his brows pinched. “Yeah.”

    “Who gave it to you?”

    “One of the top guys. Fletch, I think. He said it was a token for proving my loyalty to the RDC after dropping the other one off at Nelson’s column.”

    “Like fletching which guides an arrow? Weird,” Cameron shook his head. “Anyway, I want to send this to Mortimer.” The last word trailed off Cameron’s lips. He grabbed Garth’s arm. “Despite what you think, we were supposed to find that map.”


    “Garth, why would they give you a map with their top secret plans knowing that the new arrival who hasn’t proved his loyalty – me – to see? Their plan to get this map into Mortimer’s hands failed because, I don’t know, there must have been miscommunication at Nelson’s column. They know you’ve contacted Mortimer, and they’re counting on us to contact him again to give him this information.”

    Garth froze, then shook his head. “They couldn’t have thought it that far. And how would they have known you’d be at Nelson’s column? That you’d come here?”

    “And getting into the office was a cinch? All this tells me something’s up.”

    Garth nodded slowly. “Assuming you’re right – I’m not saying you aren’t – what good will it do the RDC to have their plans foiled?”

    “Did you read through the notes on here?” Cameron slid the map so Garth could see. “Each place where the bombs are stored has top security. Don’t you see what that means? Since no date is given for the placement and detonation, governments will send their agents to steal or disable the bombs.”

    “Fletch couldn’t have thought that far.”

    “As Jigson says, ‘Never underestimate an opponent’s strength.’” Cameron squeezed Garth’s arm. “If I’m right, they’ll never set the bombs off. They’re only meant to draw agents in – and those agents will never come back out. Neither will you, Dad, or I once this plan is set into motion. Garth, believe me, they know you’re in contact with Mortimer.” Cameron clenched his teeth. “They knew Dad’s relation to us. That’s why it was easy for him to ‘infiltrate’ the RDC. They gained his trust while he was trying to gain theirs – and they used him to find us.”

    Garth smiled weakly. “They haven’t counted on Jigson being retired now.”

    Cameron’s shoulders drooped, and he shook his head. “Yes, they have. They kidnapped Millie.”

  11. “Let bitterness take root in your heart and grow really bad fruit” (Hebrews).
    Anyone else think that’s sort of what Cameron’s doing?

  12. I know that people were getting mad at me for PD. XD So I did good news.
    Abby came into the house after feeding the horses, and was summoned to the living room by her mother. She walked into the living room and saw that Andy and Tom were sitting on the couch, evidently waiting for something.

    “There you are Abby, I have something to tell all of you.” Mrs. Baker cleared her throat and then continued, “Millie has been kidnapped.”


    “How?” Abby asked after the boys had exclaimed.

    “She was at Trafalgar Square in London, doing research I think, but her car is still there and she isn’t answering her phone.”


    Abby was in the garden when she felt her locket buzzing, she quickly opened it and looked at the screen.


    Abby frowned, then tapped the button. WHO IS THIS?


    Abby frowned again, was the Detective trying to contact them and the devices were messing up? DETECTIVE?

    NO. MIL.

    Abby’s eyebrows shot up. MILLIE?







    Abby ran inside to tell Mrs. Baker.

  13. Ok, this is kinda short and rushed…but I wanted to contribute at least once 😉

    Millie closed her locket shakily and gently let it rest on it’s chain. She ran her trembling fingers through her blond hair and let out a ragged sigh. It was comforting to have established contact, and a warm glimmer of hope settled in her mind. But she was still at risk, she’d be a fool to kid herself. Oh, if only Jigson were still alive! She thought. It seemed that every time she was in destress he would step in and save the day. But now he was dead and she didn’t know what to do.

    She looked around the room once more. It was bare, save the chair she was sitting on. And it was dark. The only light she had was her keychain flashlight. But the thing that scared her the most, was the complete lack of an entrance. There was no door and no windows, absolutely no way of getting in or out. Even if she were to somehow make a lock pick, there was not lock to be picked. Any escape knowledge she’d ever learned was completely useless here.

    It seemed like forever since her kidnappers had left—and for all she knew it was. There was no way of telling how much time had passed. Until just a few minute earlier—when Abby told her the day—she could only make assumptions about the time.

    Faintly, her locket began to buzz again. CLG MIL

    Her heart beat a little faster. DM?


    Huh. That was strange. Who was this mysterious person? ABY?


    Millie remembered him. Mortimer had introduced them back in Scotland. If Mortimer believed he could be trusted, than she did too. For a time she didn’t know what to say, then the buzzing continued.

    WERE R U?

    IDK. ROOM, BASMNT? She didn’t know quite what to tell him, since she didn’t really know much anyways. Suddenly she did remember another detail. KDNPR SD “WEMBLEY” IS THT A NAME?


    Again, the steady rhythm of morse code stopped and she was left virtually alone once again. WHIG—We Hope In God. It was a useful acronym, one her and her cousins used to give each other hope, and one, she realized, Haelix wouldn’t know. Strange.

  14. Well, heres my part! It is really short though.

    Millie opened her eyes, she felt as if hours had passed by. After a couple of minutes, she felt her locket buzz. CLG MIL

    Millie thought for a minute, who could it be this time? WHO CLG?




    “Amen” the word slipped past Jigson’s lips as he sat in the seat next to Mortimer.

  15. “Wembley.”

    Cameron jerked his head up as Garth entered the room. “What?”

    Garth pulled out dark thermal gear and threw a pair to Cameron. “The Drake girl. She’s at an RDC location in Wembley.”

    “We’re…leaving? Without dad? Now?”

    “Dad said it was the only way. We still need a bug in the RDC.” Garth strapped a holster to his leg, then tossed one to Cameron.

    “Leaving dad isn’t right, Garth.” Cameron ran a hand through his hair. “The Drake girl-”

    “Is bait. Just like you said.” Garth handed Cameron a handgun. “And it’s wrong to let the innocent suffer. Dad knows the risks. He’s known them all along.” Garth opened the door. “We need to hurry. Time is against us right now.”

    Cameron followed. “You know something else.”

    “Yeah.” Garth sighed. “If we don’t act, the RDC is going to get the first point. I’d much rather the point belonged to us.”

  16. “She’s not here.”

    The words came true and clear through Mortimer’s com. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Cam, are you sure?”

    “Sure as day,” Though the speaker’s voice was steady, he could detect the slightest tremor in it. “we’ve checked everywhere.”

    “We’ve nearly torn the place apart Mortimer,” Garth was speaking now, and the radio crackled slightly as it was passed to him by his brother. “I’m telling you, she’s not here.”

    Mortimer’s knuckles were turning white now as he half strangled the steering wheel. “We have no other option boys,” he struggled to keep his voice calm, “keep looking.”

    “Rodger,” came the reply, “Out.” The crackling stopped, and the radio went dead.

    Jigson let out a long shaky sigh and closed his eyes. “What do we do now Mortimer?”

    Mortimer glanced sidelong at his old friend, “I don’t know, Jigson, I just don’t know.” He shook his head, “I was sure she would be there, sure enough to base the whole operation on it. I don’t understand, where could she be?”

    Absently, Jigson fiddled with his gold watch, running his fingers over the intricately designed face. It wasn’t buzzing. Millie wasn’t sending them anymore clues—not that she knew much more than they did.


    Millie froze as she heard an ominous thunk. Another one preceded it, and with each progressive thump, the sound became louder. She soon realized that it was footsteps *above* her! As they got closer, she could discern the sound of two sets of feet crossing back and forth on the ceiling.

    At first she was afraid the footsteps belonged to her captors. But then, she realized, they already knew she was here, and there was a fare chance that anyone searching for her was probably on the same side as she.

    Decided, she drew in a breath to call for help.

  17. Cameron cocked his head. It sounded like a girl. “You hear that?”

    Garth nodded, then jerked Cameron’s arm. “I also hear a car pulling in the drive.”

    “Should we evacuate and come back later?”

    “No.” Garth tilted his head toward the living room. “We’ll wait in there. Follow my lead.” He paused. “Turn your receiver on silent, but leave it on. Mortimer and Jigson may need a warning.”

    The pair settled opposite each other on the couches and stretched out. Garth started cleaning his gun as the door creaked.

    Voice filtered into the house. Cameron listened. The girl had stopped calling. Smart.

    Garth gave his gun a last polishing stroke, then rose from the couch. Cameron almost choked as he caught sight of the hardness etching his brother’s face.

    The conversation died as Garth strode confidently into view. Cameron followed.

    Four men stood there.

    “Fletch told me you had the girl. Where is she?”

    A tall, thin man stared at them. “He didn’t tell me you were coming.”

    Garth scowled. “You’re wasting my time, Bane. I’m supposed to transport her to headquarters. We received a tip that Jigson’s coming.” Garth smiled. “Fletch didn’t quite trust your ability to handle him.”

    “I haven’t received any such orders. And I’ll remember that insult.”

    Cameron slid to Garth’s shoulder, forcing a menacing look onto his face. He loosed a dry laugh “Fletch is tired of you botching orders.” He lowered his voice. “Like keeping me from giving that map to Mortimer? Now Fletch has to figure out another way to set the plan into motion.”

    “Ha. I’m supposed to take orders from the new kid?”

    Garth frowned, and his voice grew menacing. “Insulting my little brother, Bane? I’ll have you know the only reason you’re able to monitor Mortimer’s movement is because of my brother’s genius.” Garth jabbed a finger into Bane’s chest. “Your techy little brother couldn’t figure that one out.”

    “I don’t care if I’m wasting your time, and I don’t care if your little brother is offended.” Bane slapped Garth’s hand. “We came to pick up some tools.” His eyes shifted to his companions. “For a job.”

    “Oh.” Garth raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Then I suppose you won’t mind Cameron and I accompanying you to ensure it’s done correctly.”

    “We don’t need your help.”

    Cameron smiled. “Oh, did Garth imply that? We know you don’t. It’ll buy time for us while we wait for you to actually fulfill Fletch’s orders.”

    Bane muttered something and turned away.

    “Bane.” Garth folded his arms. “Your job wouldn’t have to do anything with Mortimer, would it?” Garth grinned as Bane faced him with a scowl. “So I thought. In that case, you’ll be grateful for our assistance.”

  18. Hello people!!
    I know I haven’t commented on here in awhile. but I have been following along. Your story is very interesting! I love all the different mysteries being woven into one!
    Anyway, I came on here to ask you all if you will do a little favor for me. It would take to long to explain so if you could just follow this link and read the post on my blog about it I would be grateful.
    The thing its self will only take like 60 seconds to do and will help me win a contest. I am trying to get as many people as I can to do it. So if you have an email address press the link!

  19. Nothing to do with ‘Cameron’. I often have lots of thoughts flying around in that wonderful thing called a brain.

    Mortimer picked up two tomatoes, and put them into his basket, then turned and stood in front of the bin of lemons, he chuckled and picked up five. He turned and bumped into a woman, making her drop her basket. He knelt and helped her pick up her groceries. “I’m so sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to bum….” Mortimer turned pale, “Shari?”

    She looked up quickly, “Mortimer!” She gave him a quick hug, “I’m not Shari, I’m her twin, Lizzie. Do you remember me?”

    “Yes, you look so much like her. How’s Chris?”

    “He’s well. He misses you. Why don’t you come by sometime and see him.”

    Mortimer wasn’t ready for that. “Maybe in a couple of weeks.” He turned to walk away.

    “Wait, did you find your parents?”

    “Yes, several years ago. Goodbye Lizzie.”


    Mortimer got into his car and turned it on. Lizzie was a painful reminder of the woman he had loved. He backed out the parking spot and left the parking lot. He had to find a field somewhere. He found himself driving in the direction of Shari’s parents house. A field seemed to be the only place he could ever get peace when thinking about how Shari had been ripped away from him in an instant. Out in the open, where cars were a good distance away. He looked up and slammed on the brakes at a red light. He had made a vow to never touch alcohol, it was a guy that was drunk that had ended their life together. He lost Shari and had almost lost Chris too. He looked up to see a truck careening towards him, a loud crunch, and then all was black.

  20. Next part!
    Lizzie was driving down the highway when she noticed a truck on its side in a ditch, it had obviously gotten there in the last few minutes. She decided to see if she could help, after all she used to be a paramedic. She pulled over and walked to the ditch, oh this was bigger than she thought, there were three vehicles in the ditch. The truck, a car that looked like it had swerved to avoid it, and another car that was upside down.

    She could hear sirens in the distance, she went to the car that was upside down, to see if she could ascertain the injuries. She knelt down to see through the window and gasped, “Mortimer?” He didn’t look good. His forehead was bleeding badly, and it looked like his left leg was broken. The paramedics came up behind her and she moved out their way. She followed them to the hospital after calling her parents, to tell them to pickup Chris and bring him to the hospital. She was able to guess what Mortimer’s password was, to see who the last person he had talked to was. Philip Baker. She pressed on it and put the phone to her ear. “Hello Detective, what’s up?”


    His tone became guarded, “Who is this?”

    “My name is Lizzie, Mortimer was in a car crash and you were the most recent person he had talked to, so I thought you might want to know.”

    “What! Thank you, I’ll come as soon as possible.”

  21. Not to downplay your new fanfic Heather, I’m really loving it and I want to read more ;), but is anyone going to finish “Cameron”? I hate to leave a story hanging like that!

  22. Cameron watched as the three disappeared up the stairs. He clenched his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me they can track Mortimer? And I’m the reason they can?”

    Garth handed Cameron two guns. “Tasers. You’re going to need them.” Garth flipped his com on. “Jigson, the house will be all yours. We heard the Drake girl before Bane came in. She’s underneath us. Not sure where. Mortimer, think the three of us can take them out?”

    “Why not wait until later?” Cameron hissed. “Three against four isn’t an even match.”

    Jigson’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “Copy that, Garth. Anything else?”

    “Just make sure Mortimer isn’t in the car when we arrive. Over.”

    Cameron glared at Garth. “You better talk fast. This makes no sense.”

    Garth motioned for Cameron to conceal the tasers. “Our absence at headquarters will be missed any time now.”

    “If Bane calls Fletch-”

    “Pray that he doesn’t. Nelson’s Column wasn’t the first assignment Bane botched. Besides…” Garth’s features hardened, and he scowled. “Bane doesn’t realize Mortimer alerting the government is all part of Fletch’s plan.”

    Cameron side-glanced to the stairs where Bane and his three companions were descending. “Talking about whom.”

    Bane tugged a duffel bag over his shoulder, then tipped his head toward the car. “If you’re coming, then move.”


    Jigson watched as the car rolled out of the drive then darted to the door. Locked. Fishing for a skeleton key, he proceeded to open the door and step inside.

    Beneath him. That’s what Garth had said. Yet Garth and Cameron had searched everywhere.

    Jigson withdrew the communication device the Detective had given him.

    CLG MIL.


    IN HOUSE. Jigson stomped on the floorboards. U DOWN THERE?


    Jigson started tapping the walls. NEED U 2 TALK.


    The voice wasn’t coming from this room.

    CAN U WALK AROUND ROOM? Jigson moved to the parlor. KEEP TALKING.

    It was traveling, though not very far. Jigson paused and listened. Was it…coming from the kitchen?

    He raced into the kitchen, his eyes flicking between the cupboards and different appliances. Opening one of the floor level cupboards, he tapped the back. Nothing. Quickly, he repeated the method with the other cupboards. Still nothing.

    How much time had elapsed? He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes, maybe?

    Jigson bowed his head. “Lord, please show me where she is.”

    When he glanced up, his eyes landed on the dishwasher. It couldn’t…but could it? He sprang forward and pulled down the door. It wasn’t even a dishwasher at all! There weren’t any racks and the back looked like-

    Jigson’s eyes landed on a crevasse. He fitted the skeleton key into it and twisted. Something clicked, then the back slid to the side.

    “Thank you, Lord.”

    Jigson crawled forward, then pulled the dishwasher door shut behind him. His boot struck a step as his earpiece crackled.

    Garth’s voice trickled through. “Fletch, I can explain.”

    “About your disappearance from headquarters or where Haelix is?”

    Jigson hurried down the steps only for them to end at a stone wall. He pounded on it.

    Arguments were flying through the earpiece now.

    MIL. R U HERE?

    Something knocked on the other side. YES.

    There had to be a keyhole. Somewhere. His fingers something cold. Pulling out a penlight, he shone it on a keypad.

    “Garth,” Jigson whispered. “Is there a password?”

    Silence, then crackling. “After all I’ve done, Fletch. After all my father’s done, you’re going to ditch us for the likes of Bane? Without us, you know The Last Stand won’t happen.”

    Jigson typed in “TheLastStand,” then pressed the Enter key. The stone wall moved.


    “Haelix! I thought-” Her eyes grew wide and she stumbled backwards into a chair. “But-but…” She mouthed his name, then shook her head in disbelief.

    “Millie, we need to leave. Something’s gone wrong on the Detective’s end.”

    “But you’re…” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she whispered, “Jigson? But I thought… Detective Mortimer said…”

    Jigson laid his hands on her shoulders. “I know it’s a lot to process, but this present moment isn’t the proper time. If we don’t leave now, chances are we won’t have another opportunity.”

    “What’s going on?”

    Jigson motioned toward the stairs. “Something really bad.”

  23. Hello Kenleaf, Jubilee, Heather, and all the other long time authors, you are invited to join a club of young writers to learn, laugh, pray and write together! this club has been going for several months and we are now looking for new members. If any of you are interested in joining, please post your request below! We would all love to have you!

    The Young Writer’s Forum Team,

    Lieya, Jac, Parker, Mandalynn, Amie, Maddie

  24. Sorry, for everyone who know me as Lieya, (yea it’s still me!!!) I am currently doing a project for The Young Writer’s Forum where we change our profiles to a certain character from one of our books. It’s still me!!!

    • Oh, yeah! If you see a Jennifer, it’ll be me. I’m just being a woman which is crazily annoying. (And fun. Acting out characters is awesome!) It’s just embarrassing to be a girl online when you are a guy. (Lieya, I’m going to do it. It’ll be super fun!)

  25. I hope no one minds that I took the next one.
    Jigson and Millie stepped out of the room, Jigson started to step forward, but Millie put her arm out in front of him, and stopped him. She pointed to their left, at a door that Jigson hadn’t noticed before. “Sometimes I could hear through the walls. It was always someone shouting at someone else. I never heard the other person answer though. Once the man said the other man’s name, it sounded like Oz. The only other time I could understand what was being said the first man said “You think you’re being strong for your friends. But it’s not going to help them. The trap is already set. The information that you took is nothing.” Oz mumbled something in return, but I couldn’t understand it.”

    Jigson turned and looked at the door, then spoke into his com-link, “Garth is there a second code for the other door?” He waited a while then tried again, but with no response. Jigson reached for the keyboard and typed The Last Stand. The door unlocked and Jigson slowly opened it. He looked inside, then turned to Millie “Wait out here.”

    He walked into the room, there was a table in the middle of the room with some chairs, one chair had something red all over it. Dried blood. Someone had definitely been doing some interrogating. Jigson heard someone groan, he turned to the corner of the room that was darker than the rest. There was a bed, with someone on it. Jigson walked over and knelt next to it, there was a man on the bed. The man shifted his head slightly and looked at him. The man gasped, “Jigson? H-How did you find me?” The man coughed violently. “Never mind. You have to get out of here.”

    Jigson stilled, this man knew who he was. Jigson looked harder at the man’s face, but it was almost completely bruised. He sounded young. “Who are you?”

    The man smiled a little, “Iceland? My shoulder still hurts.” He grimaced, “You have to go, it’s a trap.” Jigson started to pick him up. “No! Leave me here. You’ll never make it with me.” Jigson picked him up in a fireman carry, and walked to the door.

    Millie looked up from her locket, “There you are, I was just about to com…Oh my.”

    Jigson smiled encouragingly at her, “He fell unconscious when I picked him up. We have to get out of here.”


    Jigson stood up as Mortimer came into the waiting room, “How are they?”

    “Millie’s alright, just a few bruises and a nice goose egg on her head.” Mortimer was silent for a little while.

    Jigson cleared his throat, “What about Oz?”

    “I think he’ll make it, on his face his nose is broken and one of his eyes is a little damaged, but other than that it’s just bruises. He has two broken ribs, though the breaks look like they’ve already started to heal. Which means they’re already at least a week old. He’s still unconscious. They’ve moved him into a room. You can go sit with him if you want, while I try to figure out what happened to Garth and Cameron.”

    Jigson nodded, “I’d like to do that.” Mortimer showed him to Oz’s room, he sat down and decided to read his bible while he waited. About an hour later Oz thrashed in his bed and Jigson jumped up to hold him down, lest he hurt himself further.

    Oz looked wild-eyed around the room, “Where am I?”

    “You’re in the hospital, Oz. Don’t you remember?”

    Oz looked up at him and recognition filled his face, “Jigson? I thought I told you to leave me.”

    “You did. But I don’t listen to foolish orders. Whoever took punches at your face sure had a hard fist.”

    Oz grimaced at the memory, “Not they’re knuckles, brass knuckles.” He was silent for a little while, “What’s up with my side?”

    “Two broken ribs.”

    Oz moaned, “It happened when they caught me. Did you call me Oz a little while ago?” Jigson nodded. “Do you really not know who I am?”

    “All I know is Iceland and you’re shoulder still hurts.”

    Oz laughed, then winced, “I landed on the shoulder that Phil shot.”

    Jigson’s eyes opened wide with surprise, “Rolf? Rolf Klaus?”

  26. Here we go!
    Jigson and Millie stepped out of the room, Jigson started to step forward, but Millie put her arm out in front of him, and stopped him. She pointed to their left, at a door that Jigson hadn’t noticed before. “Sometimes I could hear through the walls. It was always someone shouting at someone else. I never heard the other person answer though. Once the man said the other man’s name, it sounded like ‘Oz’. The only other time I could understand what was being said, the first man said, “You think you’re being strong for your friends. But it’s not going to help them. The trap is already set. The information that you took is nothing.” Oz mumbled something in return, but I couldn’t understand it.”

    Jigson turned and looked at the door, then spoke into his com-link, “Garth is there a second code for the other door?” He waited a while then tried again, but with no response. Jigson reached for the keyboard and typed The Last Stand. The door unlocked and Jigson slowly opened it. He looked inside, then turned to Millie “Wait out here.”

    He walked into the room, there was table in the middle of the room with some chairs, one of them had something red all over it. Dried blood. Someone had been doing some interrogating. Jigson heard someone groan, he turned to the corner of the room that was darker than the rest of it. There was a bed, with someone on it. Jigson walked over and knelt next to it, there was a man on the bed. The man shifted his head slightly and looked at him. The man gasped, “Jigson? H-How did you find me?” The man coughed violently. “Never mind. You have to get out of here.”

    Jigson stilled, this man knew who he was. Jigson looked harder at the man’s face, but it was almost completely bruised. He sounded young. “Who are you?”

    The man smiled a little, “Iceland? My shoulder still hurts.” He grimaced, “You have to go, it’s a trap.” Jigson started to pick him up. “No! Leave me here. You’ll never make it with me.” Jigson picked him up in a fireman carry, and walked to the door.

    Millie looked up from her locket, “There you are, I was just about to com…Oh my.”

    Jigson smiled encouragingly at her, “He fell unconscious when I picked him up. We have to get out of here.”


    Jigson stood up as Mortimer came into the waiting room, “How are they?”

    “Millie’s alright, just a few bruises and nice goose egg on her head.” Mortimer was silent for a little while.

    Jigson cleared his throat, “What about Oz?”

    “I think he’ll make it, on his face his nose is broken and one of his eyes is a little damaged, but other than that it’s just bruises. He has two broken ribs, though the breaks have already started to heal. Which means that they’re at least a week old. He’s still unconscious. They’ve moved him into a normal room. You can go sit with him if you want, while I try to figure out what happened to Garth and Cameron.”

    Jigson nodded, “I’d like to do that” After Mortimer showed him to Oz’s room he decided to read his bible. About an hour later Oz thrashed in his bed and Jigson jumped up to hold him down, lest he hurt himself further.

    Oz looked wild-eyed around the room, “Where am I?”

    “You’re in the hospital, Oz. Don’t you remember?”

    Oz looked up at him and recognition filled his face, “Jigson?” I thought I told you to leave me.”

    “You did. But I don’t listen to foolish orders. Whoever took punches at your face sure had a hard fist.”

    Oz grimaced at the memory, “Not they’re fist, brass knuckles.” He was silent for a little while, “What’s up with my side?”

    “Two broken ribs.”

    Oz moaned, “It happened when they caught me. Did you call me Oz a little while ago?” Jigson nodded. “Do you really not know who I am?”

    “All I know is Iceland and your shoulder still hurts.”

    Oz laughed, then winced, “I landed on the shoulder that Phil shot.”

    Jigson’s eyes opened wide with surprise, “Rolf?! Rolf Klaus?!”

  27. Next part of ‘Shari’!
    Phil and Andy walked into the ER and walked to the receptionists desk. “We’re here for Mortimer Jones.” Phil said.

    “Oh, yes. The rest of your group is right over there.” The receptionist said, pointing to a corner of the room where an elderly couple sat.

    “Thank you.”

    “We have a group?” Andy asked.

    The elderly gentleman stood up as they walked over, “Is one of you Philip?” he asked.

    “I am.”

    “My daughter is Lizzie, she and my grandson are with Mortimer now, they should be back soon.”


    Mortimer slowly opened his eyes. Where was he? Everything was so blurry, it was hard to focus. It felt like he had been hit by a truck. Oh wait……….he remembered now. He blinked a few times, that was better. He looked around, then noticed the little boy sitting next to his bed reading. The boy looked up at the movement, then his face lit up with a big grin. “How are you feeling, Daddy?”

    “I’m fine” Mortimer looked at him in wonder, he was so big now. It had been about six years since he had seen him, which meant he was ten or eleven. “What are you reading?”

    “I’m studying todays verses for BibleBee.”

    BibleBee? What was…..oh, that was that memory verse competition. “How long have you done BibleBee?”

    “A couple years, I almost won the junior competition last year.” There was a moment of silence. The, “I’ve really missed you.”

    Mortimer put out his arms, “Give me a british hug.” Chris latched onto him and started crying, that had been they’re special thing years ago. Mortimer heard someone else sniffle, he looked over Chris’ shoulder just in time to see Lizzie leave the room.

    A couple minutes later two young men entered the room. Mortimer looked up, “Philip! Andrew! How did you two get here?”

    “By car.” Andy said.

    Philip smirked, then said, “Lizzie called us on your phone to tell us that you were in an accident.”

    “Oh, I’ll have to change my password. Do you know…?”

    Phil looked concerned, “Know what? Your condition?”

    “No, I don’t even know that yet. I assume Lizzie is speaking to the doctors about me. No, that’s not what I was talking about. Meet Chris,” Mortimer waited a little bit, then added, “My son.”

    “Hello Chris, nice to mee…wait, what? Your son?!”

    Mortimer looked sad, “Yes, I was once married you know. Oh wait, you don’t know.”

    Chris patted him, “Don’t think about that now daddy, it will only make you feel worse.”

    Mortimer smiled, “You’re quite right Chris. Now let me explain….”
    He didn’t finish because a nurse had just entered the room.

    “I’m sorry. But that’s all the visiting for now.”

    Mortimer smiled, “Now that you mention it, I’m starting to feel a bit tired. Boys, will take Chris back to the waiting room?”

    Phil nodded, “Yes, Detective. Come on Chris.” They left the room and Mortimer collapsed onto the pillows, that had been hard, it hurt a lot more than he had let show. He shifted position to find a spot that was comfortable.

  28. Favorite traditional and contempary hymns, anyone? My traditional is The Old Rugged Cross, then contempary is The Gospel by Ryan Stevenson. My favorite patriotic song is God Bless The U.S.A. by Lee Greenwood.

  29. Ok here it is along with the previous scenes to catch y’all up:)

    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.

    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,”


    “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.


    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.

    Cassidy woke up very early the next morning. Slipping out of bed, she opened her suitcase and rummaged around. She wasn’t used to wearing anything besides her usual kaki hiking pants, and heavy jacket. But now that she was in America, she didn’t want to attract any undue attention. And she was not about to wear the ripped jeans that were in the fashion. Who invented fashion anyway? The idea of wearing jeans with holes. Pulling out a long, flowing dress, she held it up and looked into the mirror. She frowned, dresses were not in her line. In fact, Cassidy couldn’t remember the last time she wore a dress. But, if anything would make her look different, a dress would. With a slight grimace, she slipped it on.

    Giving her hair a quick brush, she went to wake Wylie. His room was just across from hers. Mrs. James had thoughtfully given them rooms side by side. The carpet made no sound under Cassidy’s feet. She opened Wylie’s door silently, and knelt by his bed.

    “Wylie.” she whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. “It’s time to wake up.”

    She tried to speak softly, but it went against her nature. At the Glen, it had been orders all day long, and she had been the one giving them. Wylie opened his eyes and got up without a word. Cassidy gave a slight smile. At least he had not forgotten his training. Quietly, he started to pull on his thick canvas jacket.

    “No Wylie, you must not wear those cloths anymore. We need to fit in with everyone else.” said Cassidy firmly.

    Wylie sighed. Looking around in his backpack, he pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. As he turned to show his sister, his jaw dropped in amazement. “Cass,” he breathed.

    “What?” said Cassidy with a hint of impatience in her voice.

    “I…I’ve never seen…you.”

    “You have never seen me in a dress. Is that a problem?” she retorted.

    “No.” replied Wylie with a grin. “You look nice.”

    Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “Wheesht! It’s not my choice.”

    Wylie stepped into the bathroom to get dressed. “I don’t know if I’m fit to go down with such a bonnie lass.” he muttered.

    “I heard that Wylie Graham Drummond!” said Cassidy.

    Wylie tried to disguise a chuckle with a cough.

    “It’s not funny!” said Cassidy crossing her arms. “Now move quickly, we haven’t all day.”

    In a few seconds, Wylie reappeared in his casual outfit.

    “Now brush your hair.” commanded Cassidy.

    “Brush…my…hair?!” exclaimed Wylie in horror.

    “We need to fit in. You can’t go around looking wild and rugged. Forget how you looked like at Glen Creag. We live in America remember?”

    Wylie grumbled as he found a brush in the bathroom.

    “Now wet your hair, and comb it to the side.” instructed Cassidy.

    Wylie looked pained. “Fine.” he said. “But this is going a little too far.”

    Cassidy examined her brother critically. “It doesn’t look half bad.”

    “Don’t even think of saying that!” warned Wylie.

    “Come let’s go downstairs.” said Cassidy, ignoring the remark. As they walked across the hallway, Cassidy caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She raised an eyebrow. The green, calf-length summer dress contrasted admirably well with her copper hair, and the braided belt that gathered the waist gave it a slightly wild look. Not too terrible, she thought.

    They made their way downstairs. It was 6:30 in the morning and Cassidy hardly expected to see anyone. But she was greeted with a quiet good-morning by Abby, who was sitting in the living room reading her bible. Cassidy and Wylie sat down on a sofa across from her. Abby glanced up with a smile, and then a look of surprise spread over her face. Cassidy glared at her, but didn’t speak. Wylie gave Abby a knowing grin.

    “Uh…how did you sleep?” asked Abby, trying to break the ice. She noticed that Cassidy and Wylie both were sitting on the edge of the sofa, ramrod strait, hands clasped in their laps, gaze fixed ahead.

    “Well enough.” replied Cassidy.

    “It is strange how God works isn’t it?” continued Abby warmly. “Last time we saw each other, it was under slightly different circumstances.”

    Cassidy didn’t answer.

    “Can I get you anything?” Abby offered. “Tea perhaps? Or do you prefer coffee?”

    “I would like a cup of tea, if it’s no trouble.” replied Wylie.

    Abby turned to Cassidy, but she just shook her head.

    Abby walked to the kitchen and plugged in the electric kettle. “What kind do you like?” she called to Wylie.

    “Black please.” he replied.

    “Any milk or sugar?”

    “No thank you.” Wylie shook his head. He leaned back against the couch in a relaxed way, then nudged his sister. Cassidy frowned at him.

    “I thought we were supposed to fit in.” he pointed out. “These cushions don’t look like they are here just for pretty.”

    Slowly, Cassidy copied her brother’s posture.

    “Mrs. James thought we could take a drive to say hi to my family.” Abby continued. “She has to bring me back there anyway. Would you both like to come?”

    Wylie smiled. “I would like that! Will Tom be there?”

    “You bet.” said Abby. She poured out a cup of tea for Wylie and herself. If he can drink it black, I can drink it black, she thought. Maybe it tastes better. She returned to the living room and sat down. Passing Wylie his tea, she tried a sip of her own. Making a face, she set it down on the table. Ok, it didn’t taste better. She looked up quickly then sat back, relieved that they hadn’t noticed.

    “Good morning!”

    The trio looked up to see Mrs. James walk into the living room.

    Cassidy and Wylie both half-rose with their hands clasped, then caught themselves and quickly sat down.

    “You three are awake early.” Mrs. James remarked.

    Cassidy didn’t answer. Usually, she got up at 5:00 AM for morning drills. She had tried to force herself to sleep in. Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

    “I hope you are all hungry; I’m making a big breakfast. Did you sleep well?”

    There were two nods. Mrs. James didn’t comment. She disappeared into the kitchen and Abby followed her. Cassidy stood up uncertainly.

    “Oh Cassidy, would you mind giving me a hand?” called Abby. “I want to learn how to make porridge like they do in Scotland.”

    Cassidy was taken aback. “I…I have never really made porridge. At the Gle…that is to say…we…I wasn’t the one in charge of the cooking.”

    “Oh of course. How silly of me!” exclaimed Abby. “I had forgotten your position there. Sorry if I…offended you.”

    Cassidy looked at her narrowly to see if she was just being sarcastic, but Abby just seemed sincere. “No matter.” she replied stiffly.

    “I have an idea.” continued Abby. “Lets find a recipe for Scottish porridge online, and then you can tell me it if tastes right.”

    While Abby and Cassidy browsed for some instructions in porridge making, Wylie wandered around the house, exploring. Mrs. James lived on the edge of town, her house overlooking a large forest and Wylie was certain that he would spend most of his time there. The house was very quaint, almost like a cottage. The big fireplace in the living room, gave it a grand look, and there were many little rooms to see.
    At the top of the staircase, there was a small library. Wylie went in quietly, and looked around. There was another fireplace in the corner, and several bookshelves. But this was not what first caught his eye. In the corner of the room was a round table and on the table was a bust of Motzart. As Wylie looked closer, he saw a small crack in the side. Running his fingers along it, her felt a bump where the crack started. As his fingers touched it, there was suddenly a scraping noise, and the bookshelf slid to one side, revealing a secret room. Wylie’s eyes widened. He tried touching the button again, and the bookcase moved back. His curiosity now aroused, he felt the bust for any other buttons. He tried to press the eyes, and to his amazement, the fireplace swung open and revelled another secret room. Wylie now gazed over the entire library, looking for anything else that might open a secret chamber. Pulling back the rich, indian rug, he discovered a trap door underneath, a hidden panel behind the grandfather clock, a false bottom built into one of the bookshelves and a drawer in the wall. He was so occupied in his discoveries, that he did not see Mrs. James standing behind him.

    “So you found my secret rooms?” she said with a smile.

    He jumped and turned around.

    “You are a clever boy.” she remarked. “Make sure you do not speak to anyone about this.”

    Wylie was shocked that she would think that. “Of course not!” he replied indignantly.

    Mrs. James’s face softened. “Good. Now come downstairs, and have some breakfast.” she concluded.

    Wylie followed silently. But before leaving the library, he looked around one more time. And what he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

    The bookcase had moved and was standing partly open. And inside the room was a man, dressed in black and looking at him from the shadows.

    Mrs. James turned around. “Who are you?” she called out. “Stop!”

    The man didn’t even look at her. Pushing back the secret door, he ran towards the window in the corner.

    Mrs. James didn’t hesitate. She ran up the stairs and into the library. The man was standing on a sofa. Mrs. James ran two more steps and grabbed at him. The man dodged her hand. As Mrs. James recovered her balance, the intruder stepped back, and then ran at the window. Wylie watched in amazement. The man leaped off the sofa back and threw himself across the room. With a loud CRASH, the window shattered as his body made impact with the glass. Mrs. James ran to the opening, just in time to see the stranger hit the ground two stories down and make a neat roll. Jumping to his feet, he started to run, and in a few minuets, had disappeared into the forest.

    Mrs. James turned to Wylie. “This was not an ordinary break in. He wasn’t after anything. He was after you.”

    “Me?” gasped Wylie.

    “You and Cassidy. I had been suspecting someone was following you two. I tried to throw him off, but this man was well trained. Now he knows you are here. What’s more, he found my hidden rooms.”

    “So now, we need to form a defence plan and an escape route.”

    Both turned to see Cassidy on the steps. She walked into the library and looked at the broken glass.

    “Also,” she said dryly. “I suggest that we update this window with a new tripple-pane unit. This glass looks like it is the original from the late 1800s.”

    “True. I hadn’t thought of that.” agreed Mrs. James. She turned to the little group on the steps. Abby had come from the kitchen and was watching to proceedings with interest.

    “Did any of you recognise the intruder?” Asked Mrs. James.

    Cassidy eyes took on an intense look. “No.” she said slowly. “But he seemed familiar. Very familiar.”

    “Who was it?” asked Mrs. James.

    Cassidy’s face hardened. “Tristan.” She almost spat out the word. “He knows we are here.:

    “Well,” said Mrs. James slowly, “We will just have to work around it.”

    “You don’t understand.” replied Cassidy. “Tristan was detained in a youth re-education prison for his criminal activities at the Glen. Both Alistair and I had no idea how involved he was with Lachland’s back handed deals. If he was here, that means he must have escaped and is now on a mission specifically to target us. You don’t realise what Tristan is capital of. True he never surpassed Alistair, but he was still one of the top three and that means he is capable of a great deal more than you might think.”

    “Actually,” said Mrs. James, “I do realize what he is capital of. I know quite a bit about the Glen, including Tristan.”

    Cassidy’s usually controlled face showed surprise.

    “That is beside the point,” continued Mrs. James noticing the look, “I am not unprepared for an intrusion like this. Tristan has made a big mistake. Please follow me.”

    Wylie, who had remained silent during this discussion now stepped forward and said in an urgent whisper.

    “Pardon me Cassidy, but the intruder wasn’t alone.”

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