This
week, my seven actions for
Operation Author: 365 Actions to
Becoming a Successful Author
I
will serialize chapters from Solomon's Secrets, 1 a day for 7 days.
I recommend that you read the previous posts to get up to speed with the story so far. As chapter 2 is very short, today I'm publishing chapters 2 & 3 (Bonus!)
Enjoy, and please leave comments. Thanks
Enjoy, and please leave comments. Thanks
BRISTOL
He tries to control me. He thinks he has the strength, but we both know
it’s all a façade. I give him his strength. He wears a mask over me so the
world sees what he wants it to see. All the while, I’m there. Looking through
his eyes. Watching. I feel what he feels and more.
I feel it now. The energy. Doing delicious things to me. A desire. It’s
pulsing.
I’m watching her. I’m always watching.
Her movements are feline in their grace. She is lithe and supple. Her
creamy skin shimmers like his best silks. He can have the fabric, I’ll have the
flesh.
I’ll take what I want. I always have.
But not yet.
It’s too soon.
My lips are dry and I slide my tongue around them.
I ignore the itch. But Jon still scratches.
We both listen. She is in the spotlight. It gilds her curls with an opalescent halo.
My angel.
My demon.
Her red lips form shapes, her throat forms words from her brilliant
mind.
He closes his eyes and I see.
She mines her rich vein of knowledge but only shows her audience a
glimpse of it. She knows much, perhaps too much. She knows more about the rings
and the box than she is telling us. She is hiding things from us, I see it in
her eyes. I see more of her than she needs to know. She fascinates me. I want
to know more.
I want to be there. In her green eyes. But not yet. It’s too soon. I
must allow him to play out the social overtures first. There is more I must do
before she sees me. In the shadows, I will stay.
Jack comes out of the box later.
Sasha was
acutely aware of how sore her feet were. Everything was closing in around her.
It was the image. Whenever she looked at this sketch her head was
flooded with confusing memories and her world shrank.
She glanced at the audience, who were waiting patiently for her to
continue and noticed the man in the expensive suit on the front row. He had
dark blonde hair and a sparkle in his eye. He seemed to be hanging on her every
word, leaning forwards and staring intently at her.
She was sure he was smiling encouragement. She swirled the laser pointer
at the screen once more, looking away to avoid his eyes, but still felt them
boring into her. She swallowed and continued her talk.
“This artefact is of interest to me,” she pointed at the box. That
terrible, frightening and unnerving box from her past, “In the text, Democritus
describes a box in which unidentified atoms appear to be contained. This is the
point where Archeology and Physics collide.”
She took a sip of water and cleared her throat before flicking to the
next slide. More disjointed Greek text. She felt better without the image of
the box in front of her, she could concentrate again.
“How are these connected? That’s exactly what myself and my team
are trying to uncover.”
She paused and looked at the audience. Silence. A couple of muted
coughs.
“To help decipher what Democritus seems to be describing in the text, we
contacted the Center for Theoretical Studies at the University of Miami and
linked up with Dr Harry Schafer.”
She paused, smiled, then flicked to the next slide.
There was an image of a media player window, a bearded man’s face with a
big play button in the centre. She tapped the touch screen on her podium and
started the video.
A rising crescendo of orchestral music filled the room and came to a
dramatic halt before Dr Shafer began to speak.
She found herself watching the video of her colleague, although she’d
seen it hundreds of times. He flashed a cheesy smile at the camera then adopted
his serious look once more. She found it hypnotic how his beard seemed to
twitch a millisecond before every word. He was in his 40’s, only a little older
than her, but his dowdy shirt, tweed jacket and bushy amber beard made him look
ten years older. He was sat in front of a blackboard smothered in impossibly
complex chalked equations.
Sasha glanced out to the audience once more, watching their reactions.
Harry’s video described the unidentified atom Democritus had unwittingly
discovered all those millennia ago and the fact the box seemed to act as
shielding from radiation – a concept unknown to science until the twentieth
century.
When the video ended, she clicked to the next slide and made reference
to a couple of Dr Schafer’s published books and papers before moving on.
The next slide showed some sketches of four rings.
She had debated whether to mention the rings in her talk, but made the
decision to gloss over the subject.
“Somehow linked to this new element are these rings. Each one represents
the four elements as were understood in classical antiquity – earth, air, fire
and water – suggesting Democritus viewed the contents of the box as an unknown
element – Somehow, ironic his understanding of what was an element is so close
to what our understanding is today.” She flashed a grin at the audience.
Nothing. A couple of people were starting to look tired and bored now. She had
planned to expand on more of the translations but thought better of it. This
seemed a good point to wrap up, at least the audience could then have more time
to ask questions.
She was momentarily distracted by movement at the back of the room.
Before the house lights came back up, someone in the audience was already
leaving.
She watched the figure slink out, a cat on the prowl. Something about
the way he moved disturbed her, in his gait perhaps, or the urgency of his
motion. A shadow from her past.
A blink, and he was gone, like a whiff of expensive aftershave. Goose
bumps pricked up her spine.
She shook it off and painted on her hostess smile. She took questions
from the audience for another quarter of an hour before the fragmented mass of
people started to break away.
One person waited behind – still sat in their seat on the front row,
legs crossed and fingers laced around their knee.
She gathered up her notes and looked up when she sensed him approaching
her.
“Dr Blake?”
She flashed a slightly startled smile at him.
“Good evening. I saw you in the front row – you looked as though you
enjoyed my talk,” she said, her smile becoming more confident.
She shifted into the appropriate persona, hopeful he would buy a book.
She’d only sold one so far tonight.
“I did. And I thank you. Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is
Jon Solomon,” he held a hand out to her, accompanied with a winning smile.
She took it firmly. Time to turn on the charm.
“Ah, so you are our very generous benefactor? No, no sir, I must thank
you. Without the much needed financial injection from Solomon’s Silks this
event wouldn’t be possible.”
“You’re too kind. But I’m certain a woman as resourceful as you would
find another way. Some other sucker with a checkbook and a fascination with old
mysteries,” he flashed a wolfish grin that lit up his face. It made him look
friendly, trustworthy.
First impression; she liked him and stifled a smile.
“Nevertheless, thank you for the support,” she nodded graciously.
“You are very welcome.”
He rocked on his heels and drove his hands into his trouser pockets, “Dr
Blake, forgive me if this sounds a little forward, but do you have any plans
now? I am keen to discuss your project further with you, if you would indulge
me?’
She was bewildered for a moment. She had been poised to hand him a book
but hesitated.
“Oh… well…urm. Mr Solomon…”
“Jon, please. Call me Jon.”
She flapped her mouth open then clamped it shut before responding, “I
didn’t have any plans. Nothing beyond Domino’s Pizza and a DVD.”
She smiled at him, flattered and curious about him in equal measure, “I
could certainly spare you some time to talk further. Would you like a book?”
She waved towards the teetering tower of gleaming hardbacks.
“I already have one actually. It’s well-thumbed. Another time, it would
be great to get it signed?”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Excellent. Shall we head out to dinner then?” Jon hovered an arm behind
her, beckoning her towards the door.
Her cheeks felt hot and she looked away.
“Why not,” she flashed a smile and he took the lead.
She followed him out through the atrium and onto the entrance steps. The
flagstones beyond the Bath stone colonnade shone with moisture, like stained
pages. The headlights of a car flicked on ahead and dazzled her for a moment,
the light splattering along the pavement.
They glanced at each other briefly. A smile flickered across his lips,
before they stepped down onto a drizzly Queens Road.
*
In this chapter we've just met our bad guy - but who is Jack?
 |
| Outside the Victoria Rooms, Bristol |
Tune in tomorrow for the next chapter...
Coming soon - Solomon's Secrets is in the final stages of preparation
for publication. Help me to see it in print by pre-ordering now.
- e-Books £3
- Paperbacks £10 (inc P&P)
Thanks :)
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