MARK GRIFFITHS
home
shop
about
press
contact
PRINTED WORD
features
travel writing
classic fm quiz
AUDIO & VIDEO
tv & video
radio clips
travel reports
CREATIVE
poetry
stories
music
MARK'S CV/RESUMÉ
CLASSIC FM - UK
presenter
travel reporter
C.FM MAGAZINE features writer
WSRZ FM - USA
voice overs
CLASSIC FM - NL
presenter
OCI FM - SPAIN
presenter
RADIO GIBRALTAR
presenter
govt. reporter
GIBRALTAR TV
presenter
RNE RADIO SPAIN
producer
EMAP
reporter
RESOURCES
convert money
stock markets
travel money
convert units
the big story
public novel
horoscopes
good news
translator
thesaurus
calculator
dictionary
e-cards
games
stuff
links
© mark griffiths 2005
|
|
Public Novel
 |
Write the next few lines of the Public Novel. It's already off to a gripping start. What happens next is up to you... |
The link to the Public Novel can be found near the bottom of the menu on the left of every page. Please use the Contact page to suggest a title or how the story might end.
Suggested Titles
[No entries yet]
Chapter One
How many times had he driven this freeway,
but this time his mind was racing, thinking of all the possibilities
that could come from a brief e-mail he had received only 10 minutes
ago.
"Be at the marina by 10:30 or you will never see Nicole again". The
sentence was burned into his brain. Why now? [1]
When Nicole was already dead, with cremation
scheduled for later in the day? Who or what steals a corpse from the
city morgue? Who or what then rings to bargain over the body? [2]
It couldn't be those bloody loan sharks, they
dont work that way. They would want her alive. [3]
Then he asked himself the question - should
he call the police? They could lay a trap at the marina.
[4]
He looked at his watch. It was already
9.45, and it would take him a good half hour to reach the marina. The
idiots must have mixed up the twin sisters, Nicole and Nicola. They
were supposed to have been travelling together. The fireman had
pulled out Nicole's limp body from the burning house.
[5]
|
Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed the Subaru Forester 2.5XT to coast down from the insane 155mph to a more sedate 77, stroking her cruise control as lightly as a lover's nipple. For about fifteen seconds... until those same tortures returned, and he booted her back to her absolute 177 speed. Madness! [6] Madness that he'd agreed to her marrying into 'The Mob' - his darling sister joining la Costra Nosta... |  |
His heart
bled at the thought. Still she'd always been strong willed, no one
ever said 'No' to Nicole - otherwise known by her trade name of Mariah - as
she was the original black beauty.
[7]
In a typical twist of contorted logic he
simultaneously acknowledged that this was the only reason the engine
management map had been altered to defeat the programmed limiter. He
knew the beast had lots in reserve. The only question was for how
long, until the jewel-like 4-cylinder Boxer called TIME!
[8]
and shattered into hurtling red-hot
fragments. What was left of the pistons punched clean through the
camshafts, locking the transmission and blowing both front tyres.
Robbed of grasp on the tarmac, the chassis became a projectile,
leaping into the air and travelling for a half-mile before slamming
[9]
on to the Northbound carriageway of the M1.
But the engine was merely a high powered starter motor for the real
engine, a 6000HP Spitfire engine which used to belong to his late
fathers uncle. The Boxer now cruised along the M1 a sauntering 250mph
fultilely pursued by 17 patrol cars full of clampers.
[10]
Fearing for their lives and those of
others, not to mention the front wheels whose titanium rims were now
gouging grooves in the roadway, he smoothed his way onto the hard
shoulder, shut down and waited for reality to bite.
[11]
In a short while,the patrol cars sped past
him as if he were invisible-obviously he wasnt as important as he
thought!
[12]
And since the Noble was basically a fast FIAT, with the
reliability of a roulette wheel, one spade terminal had come
loose and there was no ABS. The suicide bomber who had killed the teacher
to get the car didnt know what a red light meant because his mind was
full with black rage against his target.
[13]
The teacher was dead of course, lying in a
pool of his own blood beside the BMW he used as everyday transport.
The Noble was merely a decoy driven by a minor terrorist while the
assassin guided the Ferrari towards his target. He was not using
brakes but the car was using TRACKER to report its locus. He did not hear the coded call from
Whitehall telling the police to abandon the pursuit.Unaware of the
JSTARS and AWACS 6 miles above, the Jaguar taxiing out to a runway 200
miles away, its combat systems already locked to his snail-like
progress towards the Eurocrat meeting, he was ready to die. But not quite as planned. Faceless men in the
TRACKER control room had seen to that. The police were now directing
traffic off the M1 to give room. And the Jaguar was green to go,
striated purple flames streaming from the twin tailpipes,airframe
begging for brakes-off. Lethal as only man and machine can be. As the pilot gave in to its need for speed
and the tremendous acceleration pressed his body into the seat, he
reflected on the oddity of his mission. Destroy one car. Minimum damage
to infrastructure. Thankfully. His beloved girl Nicola might be down
there for all he knew. No mail during the emergency.
[14]
All this was just fancy, his mind raced
nearly as fast as his car No sooner was he already at the Marina
never having exceeded 120-km/hr and with his car fully intact as it
had always been in its fairly well kept manner. Unfortunately,
through traffic and all it took him over the half hour expected, and
worse, not a policeman in site, not even the imaginary ones who
followed Jake in his troubled mind.
It was a misty day and the Marina was ominous. No one stirred about
and the boats creaked with the approach of each wave. The only
audible sound now was fear. 10:30 was around the corner as he counted
the seconds confusingly but incessantly. Who were these thugs? How
many were there? Where are they hiding? Is this some kind of a trick?
Did they have Nicola? Was she here at the Marina? Is this a sick
joke? Or where they really actually speaking of Nicole who was
already dead? But why would they threaten a dead body?
Panic struck, fearful of his own life he ran down the dock and
jumped into the fastest torpedo boat he could see started the engine
and raced out of the Marina at full throttle. Little did he know he
was not alone. A stowaway, the daughter of the owner of the torpedo
boat was sleeping under a blanket hidden under the rear seats.
.
[15]
His mind raced ahead of the surf, what to do ? Where to go?.. Then from somewhere below him a voice, the voice of
a woman,"Where are we going, Dad? I thought we were waiting for Mum".
He froze; who the hell was that? He had to get away before she saw
him, but where could he go? Only one place; the sea.
[16]
As he prepared to dive overboard, not even
his wildest flights of imagination could have prepared him for what
he saw just ahead. A vortex was opening and there was no time to
avoid it. As the boat passed through it, he had the sinking feeling
that things were about to get very interesting indeed.
[17]
Instinctively,he chopped the throttles and
looked back. This was no vortex.It was a surfacing submarine whose
ugly black snout now broke the surface.An Upholder.Silent.Lying dead
500 yards behind him.Suddenly the afterdeck was lit,a dinghy inflated
and a black-clad individual climbed aboard carrying a long black case. As he
climbed in, the Upholder snorted air and sank, leaving the dinghy all
but invisible. Moments later, it seemed to Jake, the wetsuit-clad member
of the Special Boat Service climbed onto his deck, the 0.5" calibre
sniper rifle naked now, slung over his shoulder.
[18]
Chapter Two
Mrs Joyce Brown was standing by her car in
an agitated mood. The police had pulled her over for speeding and
were about to give her a breathalyser - she knew she would never make
her appointment to meet her husband and daughter on board the torpedo
boat at the marina. The police were of little help,
[19]
programmed by their training and her sex to
assume, wrongly,that booze lay behind her recent speed and present
agitation. She knew that the reading would be zero because ethanol
was not her drug and she relied on the hypnotic effect of her
proudly-displayed cleavage to get her off the speeding rap. Knowing that her last drink
had been twelve weeks ago, at the wedding, she wasnt worried, just
impatient to see her daughter and ex as arranged.
[20]
What made matters worse was that the officers were even indifferent to her
vexation at missing the Classic fM Quiz, which the presenter had said
would be on in 5 minutes. Luckily it was 20 minutes, so she just caught it!- and won!!
Meanwhile, her poor husband and daughter
[21]
were facing a brutal police cross-examination. They always seem to speak to you in that
quasi polite patronising way. Yet they both looked about twelve years
old, a sign of age she thought ruefully. She would have to think fast
to pacify both the officer speaking to her and her family when she
met them later at the marina.
[22]
Suddenly the mood changed to apology. "We
had to be sure Madam, "the burly one said, "that all three of you are the
right people." His face had a kindly look now. "You and yours are at
risk from your ex-husbands associates. So is he and your eldest. They
are guarded now and so are you. The question is, will you just accept that, or are you willing to help
us bring these bastards to justice, plug another hole in our defences
against their kind or what?" Joyce couldnt answer immediately. Her mind filled with images from
her first marriage. Gold everywhere. Midnight calls. Guns, drugs and
infinite cash. For what? "Are you going to help or not? Your ex has a lot of
unfortunate associates. Hard drugs. One of our lads is risking his life
to protect him right now. And your firstborn. Are you with us or
not? And, before you decide, think. Say "yes" and every resource of the
Government is with you. Say "no" and you are on your own. So is your mother. These people stop at
nothing. Joyce was momentarily stunned. She managed to wring out
"Theres a policeman on the boat?" The officer raised an eyebrow and
simply said "No love, he isnt a policeman any more than we are. We are
different. Altogether more effective. We kill vermin,efficiently."
[23]
The shot that followed came so fast the
body dropped before a sound was heard. "Sorry love, but vermins
vermin" he said, picking up the rat that fell from the
[24]
bridge above.Suddenly all the bottled frustration,fears and hatreds of her past fifteen years exploded and
she flew at him, puny fists flailing the Kevlar vest."Bastards", she
screamerd, "why cant you leave me alone?" He didnt move an inch."We
will", he said,"they will not. Good luck."
[25]
The gun vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Joyce disintegrated at that moment. It was too much to comprehend. Vision blurring, she sank to the unyielding ground and heard the beat of an approaching rotorcraft. Before she completely passed out, her last thought was "What now and why me?"
[26]
The yacht was 20 metres long and worth
millions. That was small change to Danniele de Carvalho. What interested her now was its radar. Jake's boat was there as planned but the brief appearance of a second object nearby puzzled her. It had been there for 2 minutes, far too long to be a sea echo.
[27]
Danniele left the warmth and dry of the
wheelhouse and, leaning into the biting squall, searched the heaving
gray water for it. Her way out. Find it and Jakes gone. No more dodging
customs boats, no more deals in manky keyside pubs. Find it. Sell it to
Allesandro. Wait for Jakes body to wash up.
[28]
But the container she sought was not in the
water... Because of strong headwinds it was still in the air. Just 75
feet above the swells, strapped in the rear seats of the Cessna
Caravan floatplane. Its pilot knew it didn't contain sugar, but with
$10 million in the bank he didn't care. He cared about the rendezvous.
[29]
Danniele, however was astonished by what she did see in the water. This could not be real, it had to be an illusion. Dragons simply do
not exist! At least only in myths and legends. Sure she had lost her mind
after all that had happened to her, Danniele jumped.
[30]
It was the most exciting thing that ever
happened in her life! However, she just had to get that container.
So, she focused her mind elsewhere.
[31]
Eduardo was after her in an instant, neither
knowing nor caring what new dread had driven her. He knew her trade
and recognised her addiction but love drove him into the chill sea to
save her. As he reached her there was a light and the sound of a
turbine as the Cessna swept overhead, turning, slowing.
[32]
As the pilot saw what was below him, he
lost control of the Cessna, in shock, he stared at the scene below
him, but rapidly getting closer, his last thought, as the Cessna hit
the water was of $10 million. The crashing Cessna, sent a huge wave
over the stealth boat projecting the hologramatic dragon.
[33]
The fireball that followed came from fuel
in the ripped-off left wing and the impact tore off the entire
nose. But the 208 was built tough and the trusses and floats held
on, leaving it afloat and Eduardo with a choice. Danielle or the
container? Lives were cheap and his now hung on the container.
[34]
Seven hundred kilos of cocaine. The biggest shipment
the organisation had ever attempted. Worth close to £100
million. Carlos would not be sympathetic if it sank. So he swam for the
mangled aircraft, not as if his life depended on it, but because it did.
[35]
Perhaps he could do resuce both afterall. Reaching
Danielle, he put his own lifejacket over her head and swam for the
Cessna. Ensuring the girl had a good grip on the float he heaved
himself up and wrenched open the door to get at the
container. Designed to mimic a yacht liferaft the white cylinder slid
easily out.
[36]
Joyce moved to the large locker and taking
a key from her cleavage, opened the lid to reveal a motorised
submersible and wet suit. Putting the suit on, she pressed the button
and released the submersible into the water. She looked at the
picture on the underside of the lid and remembered
[37]
how happy she had been with this present on
her first anniversary with Jake. Meanwhile her burly guard remained
silent as the helicopter lifted off the dockside and disappeared into
the night with his colleagues. Joyce was going to search under the
mooring of Jakes boat where often riches lay.
[38]
As she slid beneath the surface, he pulled
out a radio and made contact with the twig of an aerial that was all
of the submarine that was above surface. After a brief exchange, the
stealth boat was ordered away and the remaining question was who was
going to try to kill who first?
[39]
Eduardo knew. As he winched the container
aboard his next step was to get to the marina, kill Jake as Carlos had
ordered and sail south with his cargo to Suffolk, where an alternative
distributor was waiting for it. With Dannielle safely below and his
Glock automatic leaded, he was almost ready to go
[40]
Jake meanwhile was slowly motoring back to
the marina and was deep in conversation with his SBS guardian, Nigel. He
seemed to know little except that he had to protect Jake, who filled
him in a bit about the drugs trade, his part in it and the death
sentence passed on him by Carlos. All he got was a grunt.
[41]
Jake assumed it was one of approval as he
was now on the side of the government. Meanwhile Joyce was returning
empty-handed to her boat. "Nothing there yet", she reported. "Well", said
her guardian, "either it got lost in the crash or it is on that yacht.
If it is, will they bring it here or not?"
[42]
Not, she said. All they want here is to shoot
Jake. At that moment an outboard became audible, slowly entering the
marina. Eduardo. Sadly for him Nigel was already prone on the quayside
with his rifle and night vision scope and as Eduardo drew his Glock
there was a bang and his head was gone.
[43]
to be continued...
Suggested Endings
He meets a beautiful girl called Marie, and
pardon the pun, they get married, have children, and live happily
ever after in a cottage by the sea, with an obedient dog called Moy.
[1]
[1] Nov 28 2005 - Peter McIntyre, Sydney, Australia
[2] Nov 28 2005 - Amanda Love, Stockport, UK
[3] Nov 29 2005 - Laurence, Winnipeg, Canada
[4] Dec 5th 2005 - John, Bedale, UK
[5] Dec 5th 2005 - Peter Tan, Singapore
[6] Dec 6th 2005 - Mus, Schreveningen, Netherlands
[7] Dec 7th 2005 - Amanda Love, Stockport, UK
[8] Dec 8th 2005 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[9] Dec 13th 2005 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[10] Dec 13th 2005 - Eugene, Dublin, Ireland
[11] Dec 13th 2005 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[12] Dec 15th 2005 - Sandra Mason, Glenrothes, Scotland, UK
[13] Dec 21st 2005 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[14] Jan 7th 2006 - Bob, Feasterville, USA
[15] Jan 10th 2006 - Paul, New York, USA
[16] Jan 11th 2006 - Sue White, Thetford, Norfolk, UK
[17] Jan 13th 2006 - Dave, Federal Way, USA
[18] Jan 23rd 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[19] Feb 1st 2006 - John, Bedale, UK
[20] Feb 2nd 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[21] Feb 3rd 2006 - Simon Bates, Christchurch, Dorset, UK
[22] Feb 13th 2006 - Rufus McFee, Crewe, UK
[23] Feb 17th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[24] Apr 26th 2006 - Pickles, Peterborough, UK
[25] May 30th 2006 - Dorothy, Sheffield, UK
[26] May 31st 2006 - Duckie, Trevose, USA
[27] June 28th 2006 - Liz, Philadelphia, USA
[28] June 29th 2006 - Pete, Glasgow, Scotland, UK
[29] July 10th 2006 - Annette, Stockholm, Sweden
[30] July 12th 2006 - Lynn Jessett, Llanelli, Wales, UK
[31] July 12th 2006 - Will Rhodes, Churchville, PA, USA
[32] July 12th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[33] July 14th 2006 - Lynn Jessett, Llanelli, Wales, UK
[34] July 16th 2006 - Huizen, Knolraapje, Netherlands
[35] July 17th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[36] July 18th 2006 - Dorothy, Sheffield, UK
[37] Sept 6th 2006 - Jet Ink, Singapore
[38] Sept 10th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[39] Sept 12th 2006 - Duckie, Trevose, USA
[40] Sept 13th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[41] Sept 14th 2006 - Dorothy, Sheffield, UK
[42] Sept 21st 2006 - Bob, Feasterville, USA
[43] Nov 20th 2006 - Bob, Middlewich, UK
[1] Dec 7th 2005 - Lord Byron, Cragellachie, Scotland
Mark Griffiths classic fm
Mark Griffiths
|