Writing around flies!

I decided that when I've got time I'm writing something about flies. My computer is currently surrounded by the things!

I'm proabably reading my new book as you read this, so I'm enjoying myself and not being irratated by flies.

More Soon

-Writer

Back in Covers

Back again-been working on a project (or more likely seven). Anyway I realised something, one word Plays!

That's right plays, all these theatres must need good plays! Origanial plays! I like historial storys so I thought I'd try a local subject! It's got to be a better job than a ''Game Designer' or a 'Website Template Designer'. Not that I'm saying I wouldn't like to be one of these, I'm saying I might like to do Playwriting part-time!

Another project I've been working on is a book of short stories! Unforrtunately my proof-reader hasn't got around to read it yet-due to watching a film for most of the day!

-Writer

Not to be publish by publisher but will be published here!!

Fake Class of Assassination

Enter a world changed by Global Warming, where the U.K is flooded and the English live above the water on platforms. A world where London isn’t the capital of Great Britain and the year is three thousand and twelve.

*

The bullet fired straight towards the window opposite, it smashed into the glass window of the converted apartment. The bullet travelled though space, quicker than the human eye could track. Time slowed down as the bullet hole emerged in the shattered glass. The target’s back was turned to face away from the bullet, like it was possible to turn away from death.
The assassin wore a black balaclava with eye holes, although you couldn’t see the eyes as one was pressed against the scope of the gun and the other was closed. He wore a full length black tracksuit with no distinguishing markings. He was tall at six point two feet but skinnier than a wicket stump in Cricket. He was obviously fit enough to reach the roof.
The assassin held his breath; this was the moment he’d been waiting for, his moment to show the world what he could do. He waited nervously for the target to take the bullet that he so richly deserved.
The target was an international gangster, in fact the head gangster of his gang; the gang were involved in slavery, drug dealing and weaponry smuggling. The gang were making a whopping one point one million pounds per year.
The target fell to the office floor which was that of a converted apartment, a pool of blood spreading across the back of his shirt. The job done, meant the target would die in the space of twenty minutes.
The assassin may have killed his target but his job wasn’t completed yet, now he had to escape the scene. The quickest way to achieve this was by boat as London was under water. In fact, this building and the apartment opposite were the only places in London on which you could stand without getting wet feet.
The U.K was entirely flooded due to the melting of almost all the polar ice caps, the English lived on raised platform cities, towns and villages. Travel between the platforms was possible by boat or plane. Ships and ferries carried people along the most popular routes to reduce congestion on the waterways. London,however, wasn’t a major route,in fact,most people tried their hardest to avoid the ex-capital city all together.
The assassin’s weapon of choice was the snipers rifle, which was also used by the army on missions. The rifle got packed into the hockey bag. Hockey was one of the United Kingdom’s best sports. Perversely, it had over taken football and cricket over twenty years. Now hockey and rugby were the most talked about sports and were shown every weekend. The logo on the bag was instantly recognisable as the company that sponsored the England hockey team. The assassin later code named ‘Mystery Carer’ legged it to the side of the building and climbed down a rickety ladder to his speed boat. The boat was only a year old so was quick to start.
The assassin sped away down the waterway as the police were alerted to the shot. The boat disappeared behind a wave as it accelerated past the old Houses of Parliament. The sound of the boat’s engine become fainter and fainter till it could no longer be picked up.
*
The Covert Investigator arrived at the scene an hour later. This Covert Investigator was also tall at six and a half feet, with blue eyes, a sad expression on his face and an apparent inability to walk in a straight line. His blond hair was cut short in the recommend style of “Crime Weekly - the magazine for Covert Investigator”. The CI’s name was Robert Turnwell.
The police had discovered the body of the dead crook in his office, a member of the gang had of- course, come across the body ten minutes after the death. However, the gang had to get rid of some illegal items stored in the general area. Human beings were the main problem,because they could yell out to a Covert Investigator or a police officer.
The Covert Investigator was about sixteen and this was his first case. The first thing the investigation focused on was the bullet hole in the window. The robotic that was there to assist Robert, measured the angle of entry to determine where the killer stood.
CICA was short for Covert Investigator of Criminal Activate. The robot was a new generation Robotic Analyser of Crime Scenes and Evidences. These robots looked alike with their steel coated shell that was in the shape of a rounded Pyramid. The robot had all sorts of technology inbuilt into it. Some of the technology was for: analysing the crime scene, some was for the covert operation and gathering evidence but by far the most useful bit of kit was the recording of interviews or any other case related evidence that may aid the prosecution in convicting the accused.
The robots inbuilt computer store most of data, but it was always remotely backed up on the CICA’s central computer in case of defects.
In fact the technology used to back-up the case files was sometimes useful to the case as the robot could access any computer as long as the link was accepted by the user. The only problem was that most suspects won’t allow access and provide evidence. The only way round this was to insert computer chips that the suspect computer or mobile phone didn’t recognise, so the robot could remotely monitor any communications the suspects makes on these devices.
The main function of these robots were to assist in cases, however they offered more to most CICA’s. They became almost friends and also provided advice on legal procedures.
They found the bullet and the robot analysed it, the markings were similar to those fired from a long barrelled gun- like a snipers rifle. There was also a microscopic fibre from a black glove. The robot’s results were given in the tone a robot was trained to use at a crime scene, sombre and factual.
The results of the angle measurements were completed by the robot’s computer a minute later, the finds suggested the bullet had been fired on the roof of the building across the waterway. The pair took a boat across the waterway to the old office block opposite the apartment to find out. They reached the spot where the assassin had stood to fire the deadly lump of curved metal. There was residue of gun powder all over the concrete flat roof. The access ladder to the side of the building had loads of finger prints on the rungs, which were discounted from the investigation. Only one piece of tread from a black glove, which was similar to the tread found earlier, was deemed important to the case.
Over the next hour Turnwell, CICA in charge of the murder case examined the body more closely. The time of death was recorded as half past four and the man was identified as Marvolow Carter. By the time these things were discovered, it was seven o’clock at night. The investigation looked into Carter’s background and made a break though, a possible motive. They of-course found out that the man was suspected to be a
big time crook: in slavery, drug dealing and even selling weaponry.
The motive could be any number of things from this, but because CI Robert Turner had a lot to work on rather than very little, which was normally the situation in the early stages of a murder investigation, he went to his hotel happy.
That night, the speculation started in the hotel room, as the post mortem results reach the CICA. The decision to return to the office block, where the bullet was fired, was taken. So the next morning, Robert and his robot Diana reviewed the rooftop. The CI spotted the small CCTV camera on the edge of the roof. The camera had been fitted by CICA head quarters to monitor the build opposite. Unfortunately, the camera angled away from the roof. It hadn’t managed to pickup the assassin; however, it had picked up the boats number plate just before it disappeared behind a wave.
Diana searched the Database of U.K Registered Boats for a matching set of numbers to the one on the killer’s number plate.
The upshot of that was in the afternoon, the team where chasing a boat hire owner, who had made a run for it when the approached. They had run though genetically engineered crops on a passing ship to the left of the hirer boat owner’s jetty and almost caught the runaway as he’d jumped from his jetty to a rope ladder hanging down the side of the huge converted battle ship. They had easily found out who the boat belonged to because it been registered to the hirer company owner. The new advantage to a CI was that the boats made after the fourth of October, three thousand and twelve were also fitted with a chip, which stored the destination chosen by the passengers onboard for up to three weeks after the visitor had gone to the destination. The boat, in which Robert was interested, was only a month old and therefore had the new chip. The only down side to this was that the users didn’t have to give their name.
The man gave up the chase as he splashed into a field of rice in a water tray the size of the deck and turned to reveal his identity to the shattered CI.
The CI asked the standard questions like ‘Name?’, ‘Why did you run away?’ plus his favourite question, ‘Did you kill anyone yesterday?’ this question was really thrown in for the fun of it. Receiving the expected answers, this was more annoying for CI Turner because he know the owner was probably innocent, but had to prove it, before ruling him out of the investigation.
As they walked away, the CI asked Diana if there was anything interesting on the suspect’s clothes or footwear. The answer was “Yes” - this appeared to surprise him, as his eyebrows raised above their normal level.
The robot expanded on the answer automatically by saying “The suspect has a speck of gun powder over his left hand. Also the boat belongs to him, he admitted to it just now in the middle of the interview” the robot finished in a flat unrealistic imitation of a human voice, the voice all robots used. The Covert Investigator said “In that case I thinks its time to request permission to set up a Covert operation here, oh and don’t forget I like the small tent because it’s easier to carry around and hide” the investigators voice was soft but clear.
CICA Head Quarters had granted the request and provided the required tent and food. The operations objective was to collect evidence of any illegal activity conducted in conjunction with the case, for example, the throwing away clothes or the murder weapon. The CI could, of course, walk to the front door and demand to search the property, but didn’t because the weapon and any other incriminating evidence would be well hidden or maybe non-existent. It could be that the killer had hired the boat and wasn’t actually the owner.
It was, however, a well-known fact that a killer gets nervous a few days after a killing. This being the case the sixteen year old was willing to bet that if the killer wasn’t the owner of the boating hirer company, he or she would return to destroy the boat.
The night was spent watching for any movement within the grounds of the hirer area. The boats were all tied to the floating wooden jetty. The owner of the company lived on a house boat next to the jetty.
The wooden raft the CICA and his companion were floating on was about ten feet away from the jetty. It was secured by an anchor to the bottom of London, possible lodged in someone’s old garden. The tent was there to provide shelter for the CI. But was easy to take down in the morning when the risk of being spotted would be higher.
There was movement to the left side of the jetty at midnight, by this time it was pitch black, so the tent and raft were not visible from the jetty. The CI was using advanced night-visions goggles to see the figure. The NVG had been made for CICA Head Quarters a year ago and issued only to CICA’s in that time.
The target was basically working in the dark, the suspect stopped when he reached a boat. The speed boat the killer had used to get away from the scene. The suspect placed a hockey bag into the boat and started the engine, the boat roared into life waking the owner of the hirer boat yard up.
The CI had leaped into action and head first into the police boat beside the raft. The engine came to a shuddering start after six attempts luckily for the CI Turner; the prime suspect was still struggling to untie his getaway vehicle from the jetty. He managed, just as the CICA’s engine stayed on longer than a second and both boats pulled away at exactly the same moment. The CICA’s boat generated the sound of a police siren and flashing blue lights. The police boat had been commandeered for the operation. Cursing the engine, the CI was closing in on the getaway boat, when they rounded the corner into traffic.
For the first time in recent history, a popular band was playing in London. The floating stage of the band, thousands of private boats surrounding, it like stands at the hockey stadium in the Lake District and the lighting didn’t make it easier. Losing sight of the assassin, the CI moved towards the stage, knowing there was no way he’d find the answer to his case otherwise.
The stage was bigger then he’d thought from a distance, the crowd and band stared at the CI as he climbed onto the stage. The music stopped as the CI grabbed the microphone and spoke to the audience. His words were a bit muffled but he said “There is a killer in your midst and I’m hunting him or her down” as he said this, an engine started, the assassin had made a mistake.
The sixteen year old CI had got it right, before coming onstage he’d told Diana to follow any boat that started after he’d made his speech. He’d predicted correctly that the crowed would think him too young to be a CICA but, of course, the prime suspect knew. The suspect realised the CI had out smarted him and aimed at the stage with the gun. Diana was committed to protecting CI Turner when he was in danger, so rose to a height of forty feet above the suspect and plummeted downwards. The robot had disarmed the killer before he had a chance to fire.
The assassin ran to the controls again and sped away. By this time, the robot had glided back towards CICA Turner who was being escorted off the stage by two suited bodyguards.
Diana, having followed the command given by Robert to leave bugs on the boat, assassin who the CI now referred to as ‘Mystery Carer’ and weapon, in case they became separated. Mystery Carer was going to be tracked down in the morning, after some breakfast as Robert was hungry.
Day three of the investigation lead to Norfolk, which had been flooded along with the rest of the UK. Norwich city centre was a nightmare to get though as the miniature platforms, on which Norwich was built, were connected by slender waterways. This meant you could travel around by boat unlike most cities, towns or villages, but manoeuvring was pretty difficult. It also meant it was ideal for the prime suspect, because the boat would be concealed in a boat house, rather than community parking areas, which were commonly used for platform only areas.
This made Robert’s life difficult as a community parking area would be easy to access without raising the suspicion of the prime suspect. They knew where the boat was though the tracking chips Diana had left the day before, it was getting to it that was the problem. They arrived outside the modern two bedroom house which they noted had a flat roof. The front door was a sheet of thick metal making it look like a police cell and the barred windows reinforced this view. There was also a boat house to the side of the property.
As a CICA, Robert could enter any property while working on a case; he could also monitor all communication to and from the location. Well, he could if he fitted the devices needed. That was what the team intended to do.
The door was easily unlocked by Diana with the inbuilt lock-gun. The only really difficult thing about this was not leaving a trace. Of course, they had both been trained for this situation; Robert remembered that his lecturer at college had said the most difficult thing was not setting off the burglar alarm. They fitted the first device on the back of the computer, Diana recording it as always. The second device was inserted into the back of the mobile phone on the coffee table. Their job in the house completed, they exited, Robert would have liked to look for evidence and wrap the case up, but they didn’t know how long the suspect would be out.
That evening, the prime suspect received a call from the boat hire yard owner. The boat yard owner said “Well done, I’ll pay you twenty thousand pounds, if and only if you’ve got rid of the evidence.” The prime suspects voice was wavering with nervousness said “I got chased by a CICA the other night; you said it would be easy. I want out. I never volunteered to go to jail for you. Your paying me to get rid of the evidences not get sent down.” The pretend assassin continued by saying, “I’ve got rid of the gun and bag today, the boat’s hidden for now, but will be sold later when the heat’s died down a bit” there was a pause then the pretend assassin in a half jokey tone asked “Who did you kill this time?” the answer came shortly after another pause. “Marvolow Carter, the leader of the gang who took my wife. Remember that?” the voice sounded threatening. Probably to remind the fake assassin who was in charge. There was a half sob before the phone was slammed down.
CI Robert Turnwell had heard the entire conversation and was already celebrating as Diana informed him in her normal flat tone of voice “You can charge Danny Ports, the hirer boat yard owner with the murder of Marvolow Carter.” CI Turnwell was already at the door and turned the handle.

*

The screen froze, along with the CI on it. The lecturer had paused the recording. The lights automatically turn on again, bathing the room in light.
Steven Goldmen blinked; he’d been enjoying that case recording. His dark brown hairs stuck up where he’d been resting it on the table. If his blue eyes showed anything, it was disappointment.
The classroom was laid out with rows of tables, six by three. The tables arranged so all students faced the front.
The lecturer was short at five and a half feet in height, his black jacket matched the board in colour and indeed use, by the looks of the chalk marks along the back.
He asked the question that was asked at this point in all Crime & Evidence level four courses. Expecting the answer, as always, to be no thanks he said in his boring, dull and pointless tone “Does anyone want to take the Exams in this subject?” the answer obviously astounded him. Steven Goldmen said loudly and clearly “Yes, I would like to take the exams” predicting the reaction to these words he add “If that’s o.k.” in a confident tone.
The room erupted into noise, the lecture quieten the group down and spoke the standards admission words “Steven Golden wishes to provide evidence that he can be a CI.” after saying this in official tones he add “Good luck Steven” in his normal voice.
As Steven Goldmen exited the classroom so the testing could begin, the lecturer pressed the play button and the recording began to play in earnest.

*

CICA Robert Turnwell progressed to the assassin’s boathouse. The door stood wide open and inside the living room was bare of furnishings. Everything was gone, including the assassin himself. There was a note left behind for the milkmen the note read:-
“Going to meet the new gang leader of the gang, who nicked my wife, taking measures to stop them doing it again to anyone else’s. The whole gang will pay for taking her.’
Don’t leave milk please.
Danny.”
After reading this, the team raced back to the apartment where the gang conducted their dodgy dealings.
When they reached the apartment, the assassin was using a different gun this time, aimed at the same office window. The gang member that was about to be shot was staring down at the water. Robert and Diana moved towards the assassin. They reached the rooftop as Danny was making his final preparations for the shot. Robert did the only thing he could, jumping on the killer and knocking the gun out of his hand.
A good three minutes later, a police boat pulled up below. Twelve police officers climbed onto the roof and arrested and charged with murder, Robert’s struggling detainee.

*

Back at the College of Crime the recoding stopped playing. Steven Goldmen was nauseously awaiting the results of his Exams and practical test, having only just returned from completing them. If he hadn’t passed them all, he’d have to wait another five years to retake them, but would probably give up and join the police force. That was the last thing he wanted, being condemned to cases like drug smuggling and cats stuck up trees.
Looking across his desk at Steven, his lecturer opened the envelope. He read out the results in order.
Steven couldn’t believe it; he’d passed both Exams and the test too. His lecturer couldn’t believe it either. Nobody could.
CICA Steven Goldmen had become the youngest ever to pass the exams and test. He was though and his career was saved.

Results

Danny Ports
Sentenced for the murder of Marvolow Carter, the judges said when sentencing Ports to twelve years imprisonment ‘In light of recent events surrounding this case, the accused was acting out of grief for his wife who apparently spent her last days on earth in slavery. Having said this there is no excused for murder’ by the time the recording had been shown to the pupils of the College of Crime Danny had served three years.

Robert Turnwell
Was awarded 'best case solver of the year' for his performance in the Danny Ports case.

Steven Goldmen
After successful completion of the Exams and practical test, was reward a two week holiday. Steven is now awaiting his first case.


The End

Not too be pulished by publisher yet!

Unfortunately I did not get published in an anthology competition I entered. However I won't give up, after all what do you achieve by giving up? If I don't find any more publishers for my short story by 1st July 2008, it will be posted here automatically.

This is a crazy post because I'm setting sonmething up. A new template in fact. I'm also hoping to start a big ad campaign soon. I'm thinking something like...........er...............tell you tomorrow morning.

Hopping about?

If I were to write a story about rabbits it would probably be rubbish. That because to write a story I need to get an idea of the characters, places and sometimes even the technology. Rabbits probably don't have very much technology. A rabbit on a laptop computer would be quite humorous but also not very realistic. A rabbit spends most of it days underground and hops around a lot, both are inaccessible to me.

So instead I write stories that involve humans, and technology. Much easier to write.

Got to hop
-Author