Hello campers and regular people with other things to do this July,

I’m not going to lie, it was hard to write today. It was hot, AGAIN. Too many hot days in a row turns my brain to mush. And then just as I got into a really good flow I hit a geographical quandary. I had to stop and consider my options. I’ll sleep on it and hopefully know what I am about tomorrow.

I did write 477 words today. (A little shy of goal but I really need to figure out which port makes the most sense for my terrorists to be landing their ship at before I go on.)

Total 3881/3000 I’m still ahead. Holy Cow Bat Man!

Excerpt:

Galatea returned to the work room in time to hear Stanley yip gleefully. “There you are.”
“You have something?”
Gareth and Talon both sat upright.
“Yes, I have your ship.”
“Do tell.”
“The Al-Uzza is a Liberian ship based in the port of Monrovia. According to known intel it is a ship for hire if the work is dirty and the money clean.”
Talon opened his mouth to tell Stanley that was information they already knew or could have surmised given the situation but Galatea forestalled him with a quick shake of her head. “Go on, Stanley.”
“It last left Monrovia 22 days ago and is not expected to return.”
“Wait they filed that they don’t intend to return?” Talon needed clarification.
With a sigh, Stanley went on, “They didn’t file a return date, so they are classified as no expected to return.”
Talon nodded but didn’t feel particularly put out by Stanley’s insinuation he should know this, he was SAS, what did he know about boats.
“It was last spotted in the North Pacific about five days ago.”
Galatea nodded and smiled hoping he would get to something relevant.
“And that’s about it unless you want to see the floor plans now.”
“That’s it? No information on where it might be or where it might be going? Who’s running it?”
Stanley shook his head. “It’s not like boats file flight plans or carry beacons like airplanes. Once they leave port, they’re invisible until they pull into the next one.”
There was stunned silence for a few beats. Then Gareth cleared his throat. “That’s not necessarily true.”
All eyes turned to him. He opened his eyes, slowly lowered his legs from the coffee table to the floor, and sat up. “They pull Local Notice to Mariners, right?”
“I suppose so. I thought those got sent automatically from the map company.”
“Notice to Mariners and Summary of Corrections do but you can radio in for a Local Notice to Mariners. When you’re approaching an area and you aren’t sure how up to date your map is.”
Stanley frowned and began typing like a hacker, which was essentially what he was preparing to do.
Galatea returned to pacing, Gareth leaned back in the chair and closed eyes once more. Talon attempted not to watch Galatea’s body as it roamed the room with her usual casual grace.
The assistant breezed through with take away which they fell upon immediately with gusto. It took Stanley long enough that mere remnants remained in the bottom of the cartons when he announced he had something.

I think by some strange gift of positive typing, writing my spy novel has become marginally fun. I still find myself getting really angry, like when I forget a scene I am supposed to weave in that the rest of the novel hangs on. sigh. But the last two days have gone well. I am even toying with the idea of killing one of them off. I’ve already written the ending, true, like three years ago, where they all survive. But it’s not too late for a rewrite. LOL

I wrote 1035 today. Bringing my current total to 2879/1500. I’m still ahead. At this rate I will finish July 16. Wow.

Excerpt:

The interrogator had worked herself up into quite a little temper tantrum. She had resorted to slamming the chair out of her way, then picking it up and slamming it into the table moments later as she went on ranting at Galatea who had yet to say a word.
Someone rapped on the glass behind the interrogator and she glared at Galatea for a long moment before stomping out of the room without a word.
Galatea did a few mental calculations. It had been long enough.
When the interrogator returned she seemed to have calmed down. “You’re being transferred to (british federal agency). This is your last chance for me to help you.”
Galatea smiled.
“Do you want to go to prison for life. They’re saying you’re a terrorist.”
Galatea snickered at the preposterousness of the situation. Many countries in the world probably would consider her a terrorist. But as far as she could remember she had not done anything terrorist worthy in England or even Greater Britain for that matter.
“Whether or not you talk, they will prosecute you. Tell me something I can use to help you.” She implored.
Galatea shook her head. “I’ll wait.”
“Where have I heard that accent before?”
Galatea returned to her bland smile.
There was a rap on the door this time and a head popped in, “They’re here.”
The interrogator shook her head. “I wish you had let me help you.”
Galatea stood and moved to the door with no further response. The gentleman took her arm and directed her along the hallway. At the office area Talon was waiting.
“Are you sure just one of you can handle this?”
Talon flashed a look of scorn and reached for Galatea. “Her belongings?”
As the man turned around Talon reached down and unlocked her handcuffs. He took the bag and tossed back the the cuffs. “Thanks.”
Without further ago, he walked out the door with Galatea in one hand and her bag in the other.
As they cleared the airport door and crossed the side walk to the waiting Rolls, “Took your sweet time.”
Talon chortled. “Because getting someone out of security is such as easy task.”
“You did it now didn’t you?”
Talon exhaled harshly. “Try to find a little gratitude.” He opened the door and used the arm he had to propel her into the backseat. She slid in and found herself face to face with Penelope. “Good evening.”
“Good evening to you.” Penelope took a long look at Galatea.
“Do I have you to thank for my release from that boredom?”
Penelope nodded. Talon slid in after stowing Galatea’s bag in the trunk. “I had a bit to do with it.”
The two women looked to each other and burst out in laughter. Talon swallowed and tried to prepare himself for a long ride to ops headquarters.

Good morning, I have written 1118 words already today. Kiddo is at camp and I am in an air conditioned and blissfully quiet library. Hence the word flowage. According to the Nano stats page I will finish on July 17th if I maintain the rate of work. I don’t think Nano has ever predicted I would finish early. LOL.

Officially I have written 1844/1000 words. That’s +844 words. Nice to be me today.

I share a snippet I wrote this morning. Keep in mind I know it’s rough. It is a nano after all.

They landed at Heathrow, Talon breezed through customs, he assumed Gareth was not far behind. Galatea he could see loitering to the back of the foreign nationals line. He moved on straight out of the airport without a backwards glance. He grabbed a cab and headed straight to the office, hoping to catch Penelope before she left for the day.
She was on the curb about to step into her butter yellow Rolls Royce.
Talon leaned forward to the glass partition, “Lay on the horn, eh? I need to get my mother’s attention.”
The cabbie complied.
Talon smiled to himself, the mother card worked every time. Penelope glanced up at the cab which slid to a stop just behind her precious Rolls. Talon tossed the obliging man some cash (whats appropriate?) and leapt out. “Mom.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed. She hated when the agents did that. She smiled at the cable driver as he pulled back out into traffic.
“Sorry bout that.”
“Let’s just get in shall we before anyone else wants to be adopted.” Talon took her arm and slid her into the back of the car. The door barely closed behind Talon when the driver pulled away from the curb.
“How was your sight seeing trip?”
“Interesting. But I can’t get into that right now. We ran into a little snag on the return part of our journey.”
“Is that so? You seem to be in all one piece but your decision making skills do seem impaired.”
Talon smiled, “Next time I’ll tell the cabbie you’re my mistress.”
“Milo Sterling, you will do no such thing.” Penelope sounded shocked with a small dash of flattered.
Talon laughed and attempted to kiss her hand but Penelope was having none of that.
“What do you need?”
“The mossad agent on our team, she ran into a little trouble with her passport upon entrance at Heathrow. She’s being detained and we need her back.”
“We need her back or you need her back?”
Talon studies Penelope for a moment. “Does that really matter? You’ll help me.”
“I will.”
There was silence as they say at a stop light, then Penelope slid forward and directed the driver to reroute them to Number Ten Downing Street.
“The PM?” Talon was surprised.
“Big problem calls for a big solution.”