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!”

  1. Jigson sat down at the table with a bowl of vanilla ice cream in his hand, “so Mortimer, what was that you were saying earlier about some kind of code?”
    “Yes,” the detective said, sitting down beside Jigson. “I’ve been thinking: you are often in disguise. What if, someday, I want to know it is really you without a doubt? We need some kind of code word for you. Mmm, this ice cream is good, by the way.”
    “Thanks, I made it myself in an ice cream machine.”
    “You make your food?” Detective Mortimer said, surprised.
    “Only sometimes,” Jigson replied. “Now, do you have an idea what the code should be?”
    “How about the number twelve? Your name, Haelix, is six letters as is Jigson. Together they make twelve. It would be a code inside of a code.”
    “It seems a little plain, don’t you think?” Jigson asked as he reached across the table for a bowl of fruit. From beneath the apples and oranges he took a lemon.
    “It could be twelve agents,” Mortimer suggested, his fingers tapping on the table as he thought. “Since you are an agent.”
    Jigson looked thoughtful as he rose from the table and went into the kitchen. He soon came back bearing a knife with which he cut the lemon into two halves.
    “What are you doing?’ Mortimer asked, his eyebrows raised.
    “What? This?” Jigson said, holding up the halves of the lemon that he had been squeezing over his bowl of ice-cream. “I sometimes like to put lemon juice on my ice-cream. Only vanilla of course because its flavor is a bit plain.” He looked up at Mortimer and broke into a laugh at the look on the detective’s face. Mortimer too began to laugh.
    “I’ve got it!” Jigson cried out abruptly.
    “What? Mortimer wondered.
    “Twelve lemons! The code will be twelve lemons!”
    The detective nodded his head slowly, “yes, I like that. Twelve lemons it is.”

    Reply

    • Yes I have heard of the Brinkman Adventures and listened to the part of one cd at a friends’ house.
      I have listened to the first cd of the first album of the new JP
      Did you listen to all the new ones Leah? Did you like them?

      Reply

      • Do I like the new ones? Let’s see, how should I word this? I CAN’T stand them!! Okay, first off we first started listening to JP when my 21 year old brother was 8. My siblings and I are all die hard JP fanatics! We have quizzes like, how many times have they been to the library? Or, how many times did they go to a restaurant? We were always so excited when a new on came out!
        The new JP is just so different: a new Jesse, a new Jonathan, a new Mr. park a new Akiva… I guess if you listened to those ones first you wouldn’t mind so much because you aren’t attached to the old characters like I am.
        One thing I really don’t like is that Jesse is so, so, umm not what you would want your daughter to be. She screams all the time and is always talking about how hungry she is. She is not the level headed, mature, but still spunky and energetic Jesse that she used to be. They also said several words that my family doesn’t approve of.
        my younger brother and sister call the new ones GP… which stands for Garbage Park.
        So there is my personal opinion on it. It has good sound effects and a interesting story line, but doesn’t measure up to the biblical soundness and family centeredness of the old ones
        it seems like it is catering more to the modern, silly, immature teenagers, of our day instead of putting good role models for us to follow.

      • I do NOT like the newest one. The acting was down the drain. I did really like the Whispering Sphinx and The Copper Scroll. Those were probably my favourite. I also grew up with JP. Listened to them ever since I was like 8. But yes the newest one was a let down. That’s why now I prefer the Brinkmans. But we still how have all the old JPs and we like to listen to them.

  5. So, just a thought: if we *did* write a BFA spinoff (*if* Miss Hedgcock agreed), we’d have to agree on a plot.
    OR
    We could write it sort of like the story game (not sure if any of you have played it?). Each person writes a scene and the next person picks up. (We’d have to compile a list of everyone interested and everyone would have to follow through. Again, everyone would have to understand and be writing according to the plot.)
    …I’m not saying I have time for this (between school, track, the book I’m writing, and everything else). 😛 😀

    Reply

    • Yeah, I’m busy myself, but…. suppose we each wrote several scenes based off of the scene with all the agents working together….. and then see if the plot develops as we go. I think if a new page was made, it would be easier. OR someone could create a Google doc and we all work on it…. I say let’s continue brainstorming.

      Reply

      • I’d be willing to do that – provided Miss Hedgcock is okay with the idea for us to borrow her characters and run off places with them. 😀

      • A good point. I think we should definitely request permission first. And if she would rather we didn’t, then we’ll just continue with our own individual ideas.

      • That sounds like a neat idea! We’re is our petition writer ahh Isabelle there you are. Isabelle I’m sure you understand what I am trying to say? LOL 😂😉

  6. Ok here is a scene I thought up. Sorry, it’s another really long one. Maybe I have the longest post. But anyway, here it is!

    Cassidy sat in her bedroom, her red hair glowing in the soft moonlight that streamed through her open window. So much had happened to her in the past few months! Her entire life had been changed in a matter of weeks. At first, she had felt some anger to those who had destroyed her Glen. It had been her home for years, and now, it never would again. But the more she thought about it, the more she began to realise what she had been saved from.

    It had taken time to recover from the shock and trauma but now, she felt only a deep emptiness. The sense of misplacement and the feeling of not belonging. Her home had been the Glen and the house she lived in was strange to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Libertas Optimum Rerum,
    A. M.

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

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

    “Cairaid Cassidy.”

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

    “Alistair.” she breathed a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

    Cassidy turned back.

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

    “What?” said Cassidy, her voice strained.

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

    “Go on.”

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

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

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

    Cassidy stiffened.

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

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

    “What should I do?” she asked hoarsely.

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

    Cassidy felt sick.

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

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

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

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

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

    “Yes?”

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

    “Yes.” replied Cassidy.

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

    “What do you mean?”

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

    Reply

    • Oh My Goodness! That is the best, Leah! So you’re saying that Mr. James is actually Arnau Gorrion?! And the RDC’s leader is Cassidy’s father. I LOVE IT!!!!!! I love how you connected it to the other books. So, what if this could tie in with my snippet about Fergus and Abby and Kenleaf’s about the agents working together? We could make an epic plot if everyone contributes! Oh and Parker’s about the Sloanes would be awesome too.
      What do y’all think?

      Reply

      • Oh thank you! That means a lot. I have only been writing in earnest for about year so it’s still a new skill to me! Thanks for the encouragement!

  7. Okay, so who would like to help write a baker book? If everyone agrees I can write to Miss Hedgcock.
    Maybe continuing with Kenleaf, Isabella, and Leah (who did wonderfully). And I agree with what Kenleaf said about taking turns to write a scene, then when we have enough scene’s (I am thinking 5,000 words) we should pick someone who has time, to put it all together. Who agrees on this? This could be so much fun!

    Reply

  8. I agree! I would love to write some scenes for a baker story. We should write more about Jigson’s past.
    I also LOVE adventures in odyssey. So does Sandrina.

    Reply

  11. I know y’all were talking about lemons in ice cream but I’m too lazy to go and find that comment so I’ll just pick it up from here. If y’all want to tast something amazing, take some ice cream, put it in a blender and mix it till it becomes the consistency of a DQ blizzard. (Wait is DQ in the states? I should know this but…I don’t) Well if you’ve had a blizzard, that consistency. Then pour in lemon juice (how much you want varies on your taste) and add some ice. Blend until the ice is in small chunks. Soooooooo good! If you really like creamy, add in some whipping cream. Amazing!

    Reply

  13. Oh, I live in the UK and I can tell you that the weather here is all over the place! I was sunny, then there was snow, then rain. You never know what’s going to happen!

    Reply

    • Sounds like Vancouver Island! We lived there for awhile and I always thought to myself, I wonder if this is how it’s like in England! It was raining and then sunny and then in the winter it always changed between rain and snow. And sometimes in summer the wind an the rain were warm and it would drizzle while the sun was shining!

      Reply

      • I guess a big reason why I love England so much is all the history that is there! I remember once the Magna Carta came to Alberta and I got to see it. It was amazing to think that this was a 800 year old manuscript was a copy of the one signed by King John in the 1200s! After the battle of Runnymede.

      • I and Lucia live in Wiltshire, (i am taking the liberty of answering for Lucia I hope you don’t mind Lulu
        )

      • Yes close to Bristol, so you are spot on! Sorry just realized, I live in Wiltshire, Lucia lives somewhere else, I got confused. Sorry!

      • Ha ha! No problem:) That’s so neat! So did you know that George Muller started his orphanages and ran his children’s programs in Bristol? He lived their for most of his married life. He built his orphanage on Ashely Down. Wow what a neat place to live!

      • Stonehenge is close to here we have been there. And I have read about George Muller so yes it is fun. Though right now I am longing to be in America to meet Cr Hedgcock and Chuck Black at the conference!

      • That is really cool! I’ve always wanted to see Ashley Down. I’ll bet Stonehenge is pretty cool too!

  16. Cassidy frowned “No” she said “That is not how you stand” Abby smiled . Ever since Cassidy and Wylie had come to America she had been so quiet, it was good to hear her talk. Not that I blame her Abby thought , I can only imagine what she has been thro I would be quite and bashful as well. “Turn your hips like this.” Cassidy command Tom ” Oh, ok” he said at the Glenn they taught us differently. “Well you can’t trust everything the Glenn says.” Replied Cassidy “Really!” Andy said “You sure seemed pretty much all for it a few weeks ago.” He continued. Phil elbowed him and then sighed, Andy was just going to have to learn tak the hard way. Cassidy flew around. Andy inwardly groaned, When will I learn what I find humorous and what other people humorous? Oh no Wylie thought I’ve seen that look in her eyes! “Bow” she said holding out her arm to Tom. Tom handed it over wondering what he had done wong. Wylie knew what was going to happen… He was torn get the parents or stay and watch he decided on the later. Phil opened his mouth to say something, but seeing Andy getting up from under the tree he was sitting under and beginning to talk he decided to wait.
    “Cass” He began “Andrew ” Cassidy interpreted stenly. She looked at him for a moment before quickly turning away . Taking up a position and carefully aiming at the target Cassidy prepered to let her arrow fly. Andy relived that he had gotten out with only one stern word recalling to mind Abby’s story about “Cassidy happening ” to the gaurds. Begin to sit back down when he noticed something odd. Strange Abby thought. What is she doing mused Phil. Wylie bit back a smile. Tom who along with his siblings who had just watched Cassidy and Wylie shoot for the last half hour, looked on in horror as Cassidy who he much admired as a excellent archer, purposely aimed much to high above the target…. At the last minute she turned and flew to the left put the finished putting herself in aim and let the arrow fly…….. It happened so fast no one but Wylie even understood what had happened at first, slowly they relized what had happened. Andy’s mouth fell open and he mad a mental note to always remain on Cassidy’s good side. Abby to shocked and amazed to do anything simply thought how handy she would be on all their adventures. Phil muttered a low “unbelievable ” and vowed to become a better marksman. Tom cried in jubilee “She shot right over Andy’s head and tro his hair!” And Wylie laughed jubilantly.
    “Andy” Cassidy said “You are right the Glenn can not be trusted to what level I’m not sure yet ” But they did teach us, some bad but also some good.” “Do not underestimate us there is much you don’t know much.” “Right. ” Andy managed to sputter out, before being saved by the adults making a sudden apperince over the top of the hill…….

    Well there it is.. let me know if you would like to see part 2. Also please excuse the horrible grammar… I was having a allergie atack while I was writing.

    Reply

  18. I have an idea for a scene about Gorrion. It still ties into my Cassidy scene, but I changed Gorrion’s identity slightly. It’s just a short one but here it is:)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    **********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Manel brought you.”

    “Who is Manel?” asked Gorrion, puzzled.

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

    “Then why does he remain?” questioned Gorrion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Reply

  21. “Sounds fine dear, I’ll pick them up soon.” Mr. Baker said to Mrs. Baker Mrs. Baker who had finished explainingher idea went to call Mrs. James. Her idea was simply that Cassidy *provided she no longer shoot arrows at people without good reason. * and Wylie could be picked up from the James’s this morning broght back to the farm and then be allowed to stay the night. Although the Bakers normally did not proticeapet in sleepovers, the allowance was made in this case as it would be a very good way for all the children to get to know each other better, and a welcome break for the James’s who were not yet used to having two children running about and could use the small break.

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

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

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

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

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

    It was 21:13 Alistair waited quitly in the bushes waiting…. a moment later Cassidy appered “Cassidy!” “Your late! ” He said ” By one minute!” She exclaimed. “Phil took for ever to go to sleep, he suspects something so dose his parents. ” “The others ?” Questioned Alistair. “The twins think I was just curious about a old friend, and Tom has no idea.” Cassidy said. “What” Alistair started to say “Shh!” Cassidy interpreted . “Someone’s coming!” ” We can’t risk finding out who it is! ” ” Come with me! ”

    To be countined!

    Reply

  22. I had an idea. If Miss Hedgcock makes a fan hangout spot, we could (all of us who like writing) give a little scene from a book or story we did, or are doing as a little sample of our writing styles. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I learn a lot from reading other writer’s writing styles.

    Reply

  23. So, this scene messes a little with Jac’s because Alastair is supposed to be in… Oh, I hadn’t decided where they all were.

    ——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Already what?”” Rolf asked.

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

    “To what?”

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

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

    “Drone!”

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

    An eagle. The thought flashed through his mind. That’s what we need right now. Just like what the police do in Australia. Take down the drone with an eagle. Unfortunately, they didn’t have one right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “And?”

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

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

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

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

    Reply

      • We have some friends who eat what we call the “JP special” mac and cheese with hot dogs. if you remember the Journey Home album about snake island.
        I was thinking about that because vanilla ice-cream with lemon juice could be called the “BFA special” or “Twelve Lemons special”.
        I hope I can try it some time!

      • That is awesome Mandalynn! We have mac and cheese with hot dogs occasionally, I’ll have to start calling it the “JP special”

    • I might have to try it once.
      I don’t know if you have Chick-Fil-A’s in the UK, if you don’t I feel reeaaallllyyyyyy bad for you, Are there? I assume so, but assuming things isn’t a good idea. But anyway the CFA by my house has a frosted lemonade that is their ice cream and lemonade mixed together, it is DELICIOUS!!! Right now ours has a orange flavored one, that I want to try.

      Reply

  25. Alistair motioned with his hand “Follow me.” He said. He turned ran 5 paces jumped and disappeared……

    I know I’m mean but you can naw on this well I type up the rest.

    Reply

  26. You know, I was just thinking back to our first scenes and marvelling how much we have improved in just a few days. This is awesome! I think we are kind of getting into the groove of things.

    Reply

  27. Cassidy did the same, a moment later she found herself in a small dugout. Alistair replaced the trap door cover, walked over to a small table in the middle of the room and light a lamp. “Rolf?! “Cassidy exclaimed as light flooded the room reviling a figure sitting in the corner of the room. Rolf grinned. “So you found him.” Cassidy said turning to Alistair . “Never lost him.” Alistair replied “So why did you have me ask the Bakers about him?” Questioned Cassidy. “Because I wanted to know how much they know , which you never actually got to. ” What was their response? ” “They have no idea what is going on, my guess is for their own safety their Detective hasn’t told them anything. ” ” Any idea who followed you? ” Alistair asked. “You were followed! ?” Rolf exclaimed. “If it was a Baker it would probably be Phil, but if it wasn’t a Baker I have no idea. ” Cassidy responsed . “Well if it was Phil I would let him in but…. we can’t take the risk.” Alistair concluded ” Now to business.” “We are some of the best the Glenn produced , we know the ins and outs if anyone can take them out its us!” “Are you with me?” Alistair said. “I am!” Rolf said quickly. Cassidy hasitated a moment then said “I am too.” Alistair clenched his fist in to a ball and raised it in the air “For freedom!” He explained. “For freedom!” Rolf and Cassidy echoed. Joining their fists to his.

    Reply

  29. Leah, I really liked your Ruby Ring tie in but I have a question. Are you saying that the ring mentioned at the end of Riddle is not the real ring? Or are you simply saying they are trying to get it back?

    Reply

    • Ah! Good question. Let’s just say that frauds are made quite easily, false histories are no hard thing to accomplish, and directors of some facilities, (museums, specialised organisations and even some camping resorts) are not always to be trusted.

      Reply

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Quite.” said Miss Verton with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Reply

  32. Okay, technically part three.

    ——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Rolf nodded slowly.

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

    ——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “From where?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Hello?”

    “Jigson, it’s Garth.”

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

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

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

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

    “Rendezvous at McDonalds.”

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

    Reply

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