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@Thunderpussy I hope not! When I realised my mistake I did the replace exercise in order to head off the potential for any negative comments from the grammar police!
@Dragonpol I wondered if there was such a facility but didn't actually know it existed. In this instance though I preferred to use the old fashioned method because in a few instances I substituted & for other words.
they misspelled Siege on the day time news.
@Thunderpussy. Yes I get the joke! I realised my mistake with the whole &/and thing a few weeks ago but was trying to figure out how to make the necessary amendments to the published book. In the end I contacted amazon support how gave me the dummies guide to doing so.
My word processor is open office & it throws up some unusual predictive text (notice the '&'! - it may be easier to get out of a cocaine habit than the &/and thing!) which has to be monitored. I find it quite irritating but don't know how to disable it.
I am actually reading it right now, great spy thriller!
For now work continues on the second Flynn adventure - because AGA was the first in the series I thought it wise to familiarise the reader with the history and workings of Department 7 in the opening two chapters, the device for doing so being the new Chief of Staff. I was worried that I may have spent too much time on this yet thought it necessary all the same. The next book contains none of that because it is assumed that AGA will have been read. The next book picks up where AGA left off so Flynn is taking the emotional baggage accrued during his Spanish mission along on this next one.
I have also incorporated one or two ideas mooted by folks here (Shillelagh ;) )
Without committing myself I hope to have it ready for publication sometime next Spring.
Meanwhile AGA continues to sell well.
Is Concannon still the villain of the piece?
In relation to sales for the past two months the book has been in the top one per cent of amazon books.
In that same period Kindle Unlimited reads (for which amazon pays the author approx 0.0034 pence per page read and to which I am subscribed) has earned me just shy of £100.
Meanwhile I have a few royalty cheques making their overland way to me.
Work on the next book is well advanced and during periods of downtime I have set about fleshing out the plot for the third.
BTW I know TP has already obliged and thanks to him for his kind words.
A fellow member with a few reviews.
Thanks again @Thunderpussy I am in need of some (hopefully positive!) reviews and this is the reason I ask for them among MI6 members who have read the book.
The couple of extracts are from the chapter three 'Sphere of Influence:
This is the opening of the chapter......
The flight had been delayed, so almost an hour and a half behind schedule the DC3 swept into land at La Guardia airport. There was rain in the breeze and the leaden sky forecast more as Flynn and the rest of the passengers disembarked and crossed to the terminal building for the brisk formalities of customs and immigration.
And a little later on......
"Harry Flynn!"
Flynn stood up to greet her as she approached. He drew the chair away from the table and offered it to her. She sat down then Flynn took to his own seat.
"Gem Stone." He said looking into her eyes. Gemma Stonello, or Gem Stone as she was colloquially known, was even more beautiful at close quarter. She was of Italian stock and traditionally attractive in typical Latin fashion. She had no need for make up and she knew it, applying lipstick and powder in a most frugal manner. Her hazel eyes were wide and doe like yet backlit with a fire that spoke of a temperament which was never far from the boil. Her nose was a study in classical perfection and the mouth - that oh so kissable mouth - was full and inviting. Her long auburn hair was set in a fashionable barrel curl pony tail which drew it away from the slender neck. Around her neck she was wearing a thin gold chain with a small crucifix which glinted softly as it caught the light to compliment the wonderful olive tone of her skin as it rested tantalisingly at the beginning of her cleavage.
She had changed out of her dance costume and was wearing a navy blue polka dot dress with a low sweetheart neckline and elbow length sleeves trimmed in white and a slim white fabric belt which accentuated her waistline perfectly.
"It's been a long time." She opened with a typical New York drawl which told its own story of perhaps too much of a fondness for cigarettes.
"Too long." Flynn replied as he waved over the waiter. Pressing the twenty dollars into his expectant palm he continued. "Would you like a drink Gem?"
She looked at her wristwatch.
"It's getting late but yes, thank you. I'll have a sidecar."
"You heard the lady." Flynn nodded to the waiter.
As the waiter withdrew Flynn scooped up his cigarette case and lighter. Pressing the button to open the case he offered it to Gem. She plucked one of the cigarettes then brought it to her lips expectantly as Flynn reached forward with the lighter. She cupped his hand briefly as she ignited the cigarette.
"What the hell are these?" She coughed, taken by surprise at its taste.
"Gauloises." Flynn smiled as he removed one from the case then lit it. "They're French."
She sat back in the chair and regarded him, drawing on the cigarette then expelling the smoke upwards and out of the corner of her mouth.
"So Harry Flynn, what brings you back to town? And what's with the scar?" She said looking at his left temple "It looks pretty fresh. You been upsetting someone you shouldn't have?"
"I have a little business here." He smiled, ignoring the question about his souvenir from Spain. "A little business which I thought you might like to get a taste of."
Thanks @Thunderpussy. It's finished and I'm on the second re-read/write. I hope to have it ready by the Spring.
Thanks @Dragonpol.
'Execution of Duty' follows directly from 'An Ungentlemanly Act' and sees Flynn dispatched to New York where he must take on the Irish American mob!
Click the link for more details:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XTWQ8MW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1490394380&sr=1-1&keywords=execution+of+duty
Next adventure. :) and nice Title.
Here's a segment from the Chapter 'All Necessary Means'
Having casually eased himself into position and with skeleton key in hand, Flynn weaved the last few yards through the crowd toward the storeroom door. With all these people about, he knew he was hidden from the view of the person manning the small kiosk from where loose change was doled out to the customers, allowing them to feed the machines.
Without anyone noticing, Flynn had the key in the lock, wiggling it gently before it gave. He was then inside, closing the door behind him. No one had challenged him or even given as much as a second look.
Inside, it was dark. He pulled the small flashlight from his jacket pocket and shone it up at the ceiling. The light fitting was within easy reach and quickly, he unscrewed the bulb. He had the coin at the ready and, fiddling slightly, he placed it on top of the bulb, before replacing the bulb into the fitting. Making sure he was ready, Flynn flicked the light switch and grabbed at the door handle. As expected, this trick was enough to fuse all the lights, plunging the parlour into pitch blackness.
The sudden blackout sent a ripple of surprise through the crowd. Stepping back out into the parlour, Flynn could see little in the blackness. People were already starting to push their way towards the exit in a somewhat disorderly fashion. There was talk and laughter, and some expression of displeasure by people who were forced to abandon their games, and it was among this confusion that Flynn cross grained the crowd, making his way quickly to the second door. The skeleton key worked just as easily on this lock, allowing Flynn to pass through and into the warehouse without being seen.
As expected, the building as a whole ran from the same electricity circuit. As a consequence, the warehouse was now also in total darkness.
Slowly closing the door behind him, Flynn breathed a sigh of relief that his plan had worked. He then took a few seconds to familiarise himself with his surroundings. From what little he could make out, the warehouse appeared stacked with wooden crates, arranged along four rows running the length of the building, each about ten feet high with an aisle to separate them. Each row of crates was further divided into thirty foot runs, leaving space enough between each to allow the employees easy access between.
He could hear voices away to his half right. In the far corner of the building, men were discussing the power outage with raised voices. Although the noise of the exploding sky rockets drowned out much of what was said, Flynn heard enough to realise that they would soon be getting to work to fix the problem. That they would be unable to trace the source of the issue to the light fitting in the little store room next door was another matter.
For now, time was at a premium, Flynn wanted to be in and out of this place while the general confusion still had the warehouse occupants by the throat.
Crouching low, Flynn made his way left, along the nearest row of crates, and away from the conversation, toward the foot of the stairway.
The staircase itself was cast iron, and had he been wearing normal shoes he was sure the noise of his ascent would have been audible for quite a distance. Quickly, Flynn was up the sixteen steps and onto the walkway. It too was metal and along its length - at the warehouse side - ran a three bar railing. There was no sign of life from within the office. Making his way to the far end, Flynn happened upon the door to the apartment. After trying the handle, Flynn went to work with the skeleton key. In a matter of seconds he heard the click of the bolt then was inside, closing the door behind him.
The room was just that, a space barely large enough to live in. Casting his flashlight around, the beam revealed little save for a single bed, a small wardrobe, an armchair and a small table and chair. Behind him, hanging on a couple of pegs by the door, were a jacket and overcoat.
Flynn quickly searched the pockets, lapels and linings of both, but found nothing. Turning his attention to the bed, he stripped the sheets, checked the pillow then upturned the mattress, before getting onto all fours to look underneath. Nothing.
He had seen the suitcase during his initial sweep of the room and plucked it from its resting place on top of the wardrobe. It was heavy and quite bulky, and as soon as he felt its weight, Flynn had more than an inkling as to what it may contain. He laid it on the bed and flicked the latches. The interior of the case was divided into four parts, within each of these compartments were the various components of a transceiver.
In just the same fashion as the British, the Nazis used radio sets hidden in suitcases for the covert transmission and receiving of messages. It was all ready to go, and only required a power source to enable its operation. If he had any doubts about the involvement of the mysterious 'Swiss guy', they evaporated in an instant, for here was conclusive proof that he - and O'Hare - were complicit in acts of spying for the enemy.
Flynn lifted the headphones and the roll of antennae wire from one of the small compartments, then shone the flashlight. There, at the bottom, next to a Morse key, was a small pocketbook. Flynn grabbed for it then flicked through its pages. This was the codebook alright. From here, and with a clear view out across the ocean, the enemy operative could uncoil the aerial and transmit coded messages to any U-boats which were within a couple of hundred miles distance.
Slipping the book into his inside jacket pocket, he stuffed the earphones and cable back into the compartment and closed the case. He then turned his attention to the wardrobe, pulling it away from the wall to look behind, before searching it and the few items of clothing within it.
Time was fast running out, but Flynn caught hold of his instinct to cut and run to make another sweep of the room. Lifting the rug, and feeling down the insides of the armchair. Leaning it onto its back, he inspected the underside, then that of the table and straight backed dining chair, to make sure nothing had been secreted.
Flynn's eyes followed the torch beam as it played about the room. He could see no other points of interest which deserved his attention. He would have liked to make another sweep, but it was now time to go. He was pushing his luck, and he knew it.
He pulled the small thermite charge from his jacket pocket and set it upon the mattress. Once he initiated the fuse, he had ten minutes to make good his escape. The charge would detonate with a dull bang, to produce smoke then a shower of white hot metal scabs which would engulf the room in flames within a matter of seconds. That most of the warehouse was constructed of wood hadn't escaped Flynn, and he was confident the violence of the thermite would soon raze whole place to the ground, the fire being so uncontrollable that all the damage would be done even before the fire department could arrive.
Flynn pulled at the fuse and heard the sizzle as it initiated. Picking up the case, he made for the door. Stepping over the threshold onto the walkway, his hand reached for the handle to pull the door closed behind him.
“Hey Jack. You okay?” The voice belonged to the silhouette which was approaching along the walkway. Flynn stiffened and his heart skipped a beat as he turned to face the voice. He could just make out the peaked hat and the long barrel of a firearm pointing towards the floor. He suddenly realised that in the darkness the security guard had mistaken him for 'Jack', the Nazi spy. Setting the case down, Flynn made no reply as he pulled the flashlight from his pocket.
“The lights have fused.” The man continued as he closed. “The guys are fixing it now.”
Any second now he was bound to realise that the person he was talking to was taller and more powerfully built than the German.
Flynn shone the flashlight directly into the mans face. Instinctively he baulked, and brought his free hand up to shield his eyes.
“What the....?!”
Flynn's own hand was as swift as it was unstoppable, outstretched in karate fashion, it sliced mercilessly, landing just beneath the guards Adams apple. He staggered back, unable to cry out, and Flynn heard the metallic clatter of the shotgun as it fell onto the walkway, followed by an almighty BANG as it discharged itself. Before the guard could recover, Flynn was upon him. The knee connected hard with the mans testicles, causing him to crumple forwards. In one move, Flynn had him by the wrist and elbow then propelled him forward towards the hand rail. The guard could do little to save himself as Flynn sent him sailing over the top to the concrete floor eighteen feet below.
Within the confines of the warehouse, the shot was distinctive above the background fusillade of exploding sky rockets. If Flynn had any hope that the noise had been absorbed among the fireworks, it soon evaporated. Looking out over the rail, he saw the glare of the flashlights as they turned in his direction. There was a shout, then a couple more, and movement from the beams. Flynn knew that men were running - and running in his direction.
Flynn grabbed for the shotgun, throwing back the lever to chamber another cartridge, as he picked up the suitcase and began to sprint for the stairway. He could see nothing, the flashlights were now extinguished, so his only sense of the location of the occupants of the warehouse came as they shouted instructions to each other. One thing was for sure though - they were still coming his way.
Flynn was a third of the way down the steps, when the blackness to his front was shattered by two flashes of yellow light. One of the bullets smashed into the wall somewhere over his head, while the other clanged into the staircase.
Suddenly, a flashlight flared brightly about fifteen yards away, from the same place where the shots had come, and Flynn found himself caught in its beam. One handed, while aiming from the hip, Flynn fired the shotgun in the direction of the light. He had no need to properly aim, the pattern of shot would do the work for him.
He heard curses, and half a sentence with the word 'shotgun' in it.
Jumping the last three steps, Flynn landed feet together on the floor. In that same instant, another two shots rang out, the bullets passing too close for comfort as he sprinted for cover at the end of the nearest aisle.
In cover and out of sight of the gunmen, Flynn Pressed his back against the crates. Bloody hell fire! Whoever was doing the shooting had arrived on scene far quicker than he could have anticipated!
Flynn dropped the suitcase then reloaded the shotgun. He was familiar with the 1887 and tried to remember if it held five or six cartridges. In this configuration, with cut down barrel and stock, it was a handy close quarter weapon.
Three, four, then five bullets came searching for him, thudding into the wall beyond. Another rash of pistol fire followed. This time, the wooden crates behind which Flynn was sheltering were being hit, and he was showered in flakes of splintered wood as he went down onto his haunches.
There were at least two men doing the shooting and they knew where he - Flynn – was. Most worrying of all was the fact that, unwittingly, they had also blocked off his escape route back into the slot machine parlour........................