The Importance of Research

Enough of posting my old crap :). Let's get back to business!

Historical fiction as the name obviously indicates is fictional elements intertwined with accurate historical events.  We have discussed the importance of ethos in the past and today I am going to post my tips on how to achieve this.

1.  Don't be in a rush to get to your keyboard.  If you have story ideas write them in your notes or inspiration sections and store them for later.
2.  This sounds cheesy and odd being I am writing my tips on the web but don't rely on things you read on the internet.  While countless amounts of good stuff is online there are just as many opinion pieces that are based on the authors preproposed ideas and on the web there is no-one to fact check or offer a counter argument.  In my opinion the best spot to do your research is a college library.
3.  Read multiple books and if possible primary source documents on the subject - don't rely on one authors account of what happened.  This is especially true for time periods with a lot of contradicting accounts of what happened.  For example, Julius Caesar is a pretty famous guy who ruled the Roman Empire in 100 BC but to this day Historians still argue about how he came to power.  Was it through backhanded scheming or at the will of the people to defend their rights against the over reaching elite?  I honestly don't know so I would make sure I look at both arguments before putting pen to paper.
4.  It seems like a trip back to the classroom or worse the work conference room but brainstorming on paper really does work.  Draw your bubble with you historical characters and events and by throwing out ideas it will help you link events together and ultimately improve the accuracy and flow of your work.  Often my brainstorming papers look like something a conspiracy nut would have!
5.  Don't be afraid to have to rewrite something.  Trying to connect the dots between what is in your head and what happened hundreds of years ago is not easy.  If you write something and it ends up in a big contradiction to history don't worry about it.  Re-read the section and see where you can connect it in a better way.  If there is no saving it just cut and paste it to a rough draft section and start over.  Always keep sections you have removed, often something in them ends up being helpful in the future.

Hope this helps and remember there are no passages of writing that are wrong; just passages that don't fit your current project!

Pick up my latest completed project here: http://store.payloadz.com/details/1941573

The OuterQuaker Affair - Part 4

And now the thrilling (maybe) and gripping (possibly) conclusion to The OuterQuaker Affair ...

11.

            On the fourth floor Robert Cody and his companion had been enjoying a quiet dinner when they received the phone call from Franklin warning them to stay away from the door.  Since then they had been anxiously sitting by the window looking for a way to escape.  They had contemplated jumping but only concrete would break their fall.  They had been relieved when the cops pulled into the parking lot. 

“It is going to be okay now the cops will get us out.” Robert had said to comfort his dinner guest.  He was trying to comfort himself as much as anyone. 

            Franklin checked on his adversaries in the parking lot, they were still milling around waiting for him to make a move and make a mistake.  “Here’s your move,” he yelled as he pressed hard on the detonator key.  A muffled explosion erupted from beneath him.  Water from the bay should be filling the basement and heading towards the lobby, it would fill the tower.  In the panic it would create he would make his escape. 

            In his apartment Robert Cody heard the explosion.  His houseguest let out an alarming cry “Oh my god Robbie, they’re gonna flood the tower.  That explosion leveled the basement walls.  Were all going to die.  You have to get out.”  With that he kissed Robert on the cheek and ran for the door. 

“Get down” he screamed at Robert.

“NO” Robert screamed back but it was too late, the explosive device detonated killing Roberts partner instantly.  Robert was stunned but his anguish soon turned to survival.  He ran to the door and then out into the hallway.  He hit the elevator call button but nothing happened.  The stairs were his only option.  He cautiously opened door, he peered in.  There were no sounds from the stairway so he entered.  By the time Robert reached the lobby the water was flowing over his shoes.  He ran for the front door but it was locked he turned to look for a chair to throw through the window.  As he did so he stepped on a wire under the water.  The water lessened the blast but was still forceful enough to blow him through the plate glass doors.  He landed on the concrete in a heap.  As he looked up a handgun was pointed at him.  “Police, identify yourself.” was the cry from the armed man.  Robert was able to get out his name and apartment number and was soon helped by a paramedic.  Thank god he thought himself as he medic helped him away from the tower.

12.

            The water was soon flooding the whole building.  Franklin was headed to the roof.  Behind him screams of panic could be heard.  The water was entering apartments, apartments that the residents were trapped in.  Explosions rocked the building as tenants tested their front doors.  Franklin had not lied to them, as they turned the handle the doors exploded leaving death and debris.  Not sure how many more explosions the building could take Franklin quickened his stride towards the roof.  The air was fresh as he opened the roof door.  He sprinted to the fire escape at the front of the building.  Before reaching for the ladder he pulled a knife from his pocket and made two cuts, one on his forehead and one on his hand.  The blood began to flow as he proceeded to make his descent from the OuterQuaker tower. 

            The police were forced to retreat further behind their yellow tape as the explosions rocked the area.  The fire brigade was the first to act.  Seeing the terrified residents at their windows they set up the fire trucks close to the building.  They extracted the fire ladder and were able to rescue the people who lived at the front of the complex.

“Where are the terrorists? Surely they are not going to stay in the building as it explodes around them.” Wally Jarvis enquired.  His train of thought was interrupted by a scream from the tower.

“Help me” the voice screamed. “I managed to get out from the roof.”

The man in front of them was covered in blood from his daring escape.  “Get a medic over here.” one FBI agent yelled.

“Where are you hurt?” the paramedic asked the bloody figure.

“I fell and hit my head.” Franklin lied.

“Can you walk okay?” Franklin was asked, he nodded and they headed over to the ambulance.  More tower people were being brought down from the now decrepit looking building.  As Franklin approached the ambulance the medic left him for a moment to tend to another injured person.  Franklin took his chance and walked passed the medical truck and out towards the media and crowd.

“That’s him.  Stop him.” yelled Robert Cody from a neighboring ambulance.  “I saw him in the building.  He’s the one.”  Wally Jarvis heard Roberts cries and ran over to the scene.  “Hey you stop.” he yelled at Franklin.

Franklin didn’t miss a step as he turned and tore his gun from his pocket he fired twice at Jarvis then ran across the parking lot.  Jarvis hit the ground as both shots missed.  He pulled out his service revolver.  Raising his hand he leveled and fired one shot.  The shot hit Franklin in the back, his body arched forward and his legs gave way.  He crashed into the concrete as his momentum carried him a few feet forward.  Jarvis picked himself up and ran over to the slumped body.  Franklin was dead.  The bullet had punctured his lung and torn through his heart. 

“Crime doesn’t pay and greed is the worst sin.”  Wally Jarvis said to Dave in the worst infomercial voice he could muster as he rejoined the police and FBI team.  “Let’s hope paperwork pays well.” Dave responded “because there's going to be a shitload of it to explain this!”        

I hope you liked this short story in all of its corny glory :)  If you did, feel free to comment or pop over to http://store.payloadz.com/details/1941573 and pick up my novella for less than the price of a candy bar!

Mmmm.. candy :) 

The OuterQuaker Affair - Part 3

Part 3 of 4 of my awesomely bad hostage drama written while in college!

6.

            When Samuel Brass came round he was back in his apartment.  His attacker had tied him to a chair and put a large piece of duct tape over his mouth.  Samuel's head was throbbing and his eyes were fuzzy.  “Welcome back to the world of the living” a voice from behind him said.  Samuel Brass was the principal director for the Unibond Film Company based in Los Angeles.  He had been responsible for recent Hollywood blockbusters.  Brass had moved the 200 miles to San Francisco to escape some of the lights of LA.  He did a lot of his work out of his penthouse suite but still had to return to Southern California’s movie land numerous times a month. 

The chair Samuel was tied was sharply turned to face his foe, slumped on the sofa were two people dressed in black outfits.  The closest man in black waved his gun in Samuel’s direction.  “You will be our guest for a while.  We are going to notify your employers at Unibond of your predicament.  They will pay or you will die.  I am sure they will be willing to part with some cash to save their most prominent director.”  Samuel's heart sank, his movie The Ransom Note had just broken the one hundred million dollar sales barrier and now here he was, a hostage in his own home.  It felt like a scene from his movie.  “Just sit back and relax and let us take care of everything.” the second assailant in black remarked.  The two men in black walked out of the living room and towards his study.  They spoke in hushed voices as they left.

7.

            The tower looked quiet and unassuming as the SFPD pulled into the parking lot.  The uniform officers soon had a fifty-foot perimeter around the front entrance.  Detective Jarvis received a call on his cell phone that further added to his misery.  Josh Fulwell owner of the Unibond Film Company had received a phone call from kidnappers claiming they had Hollywood hotshot Sam Brass held hostage in his San Francisco penthouse.  They had demanded a ten million-dollar ransom.  Jarvis turned to Dave  “This is the real deal.  A movie company just got a ransom demand from someone in this building.”

“Jesus Christ” Dave let out in frustration “Where are the FBI?”

As if magically called by Dave three dark saloons pulled into the complex.  The flashing dashboard lights looked like something from 1980’s Miami.  Two suited agents approached Detective Jarvis.  “Looks like you have done a good job so far, we will take over the lead now.” the smaller of the two men proclaimed.  Jarvis was not a man with a huge ego and graciously stood aside.  “Just remember my men are good and if we can assist you we will.”  Jarvis responded.

“Will do.” the FBI agent replied.

The two agents spoke for a short while and then returned to Jarvis.  “Okay here’s the plan.  Use the uniforms to keep the crowd and media back.  We know the principal hostage is on the top floor and I imagine the rest of the residents are someway controlled.  The middle floors are office space and should be unoccupied.  I suggest we try and infiltrate those office floors with a small tactical unit.  A full assault would be too risky; they could start shooting hostages before we got anywhere near them.”  

The tactical unit would arrive in twenty minutes so all Jarvis and his FBI comrades could do was wait.

            The two intruders had been busy since the law enforcement agencies had arrived.  They had seen them pull up from Samuel Brass’ front window.  They had foreseen this scenario and were expecting the Feds to try to enter the building.  That was going to prove tough for them however.  The front doors to the tower and the lobby were laden with trip wires and other home protection devices aimed to keep undesirables out. 

 8.

                The OuterQuaker tower complex was a bottleneck complex, which had only one entrance.  Three sides of the building were surrounded by water.  This would make it difficult for the authorities to rescue the hostages but it would also be difficult for the criminals to escape.  The larger of the men in black grabbed Sam Brass and dragged him into the bedroom.  After throwing him on the bed he slammed the door behind him.  Sam heard voices form he main room but could not understand them.  After a few minutes he heard the front door slam.  The two masked men split up and headed in different directions.  One headed to the stairs the other unlocked the elevator and proceeded to the ground floor.  The FBI tactical team had arrived and after being briefed was about to approach the tower.  The team consisted of five men decked out in urban combat outfits holding automatic weapons.  They shuffled forward and soon reached the sliding doors that separated the OuterQuaker tower from the outside world.  What happened next was swift, ruthless and brutal.

9

            Special agent Reyes was the first to try the door.  Using a knife he pried the door open enough to clear the locking mechanism.  The five men cautiously and in tactical formation entered the lobby.  No sooner had they done so the sliding doors closed behind them, detonating a tear gas grenade behind them.  The men were forced to move further into the lobby as they did so Reyes tripped on a wire and set off another teargas blast to their right.  Unwittingly as they slowly moved away from the gas they moved straight into a crossfire trap.  The two men in black had witnessed the arrival of the FBI agents from the stairway door and the elevator.  The elevator door opened an inch further and a Luger assault rifle was pushed through the gap.  The moment the agents entered the trap gunfire erupted from two locations and cut the FBI men to pieces. 

            Jarvis was dismayed as he saw the event unwrap through the glass windows.  Smoke had filled the lobby and then he had seen the agents fall. 

“What in god’s name just happened to you team?” Jarvis asked a nearby FBI agent.  In a dismayed voice the agent replied

“Looks like we are going to have to go back to the drawing board.  They seem to be one step ahead of us.”

The building no longer looked quiet or unassuming as the smell of death took over the area.

  

10.      

From the penthouse suite a phone call was made to the Unibond Film Company.

“Is the money ready?”

“Not exactly, we can’t liquidate that sort of money this quickly.”  Josh Fulwell claimed.

“Don’t give me those police stalling lines.  I want five million dollars transferred to the following Swiss bank account within ten minutes or I start throwing people from the roof.  Your film boy will be first to see if he can fly.” The killer wrapped up the conversation by giving the account number then hung-up.  He then headed to meet his partner in the basement.

            Josh Fulwell looked at his options and against the advice of the police he called his bank and authorized a cash transfer to a Zurich bank account.  The other five million would be transferred to a different account on the release of Sam Brass and the OuterQuaker hostages.  Fulwell slammed the phone down in frustration. 

            The cops and the bureau were at a standstill outside the tower.  They still feared the outcome of a full siege and with no way to contact the hostage takers a negotiator was useless.  Wally Jarvis spoke first.

“Is there anyway we could lure them to the front of the building and take them out with sharp shooters?”

“I don’t think they’d fall for that.” Dave reasoned.

“They saw the tactical team coming and took them down in a matter of seconds.”

The FBI had just been informed that half the ransom had been paid. 

“We have to wait and see what their next move is.” the agent suggested. 

            In the basement of the tower the first intruder was rigging explosives to the outer walls.  Jackson the second intruder approached with good news.

“Ben, Half the money has been transferred to our account.  All we have to do is follow up with the end of the plan and we will walk out of here millionaires.” 

“The devices are all set.” Ben pointed to the detonator.  “Press the red button and water will flood the whole building.”

“Good.  The time is very close. What‘s that loose wire hanging down from the wall” Jackson enquired.

Ben turned to look and responded “I don’t see anything.”  When he turned Jackson had pulled a gun and was aiming it directly at him. 

“Ben, you remember when I said we could live happily off of five million dollars? I lied!”  With that he fired one shot hitting his partner square in the forehead. 

“The time is very close” he repeated and grabbed he detonator.

The conclusion of this story will be posted next week ...

Reading is the key to writing

This blog update discusses something that may seem obvious but sometimes it's not:  reading is good for writers!

The majority of writers are keen readers, often from a young age.  I have been reading from a young age and although I am not exactly sure what book it was or if it was a compilation of a bunch of books, something inspired me to attempt to write.  As I have mentioned in a previous post I initially tried to write an absolute masterpiece from scratch.  This is because something I read made me feel some emotion that blew my mind.  In turn this made me want to create that moment for other people and hence I started to write.

Growing up I was very much into Enid Blyton's Adventure and Famous Five series, from there it was onto the Hardy Boy's.  Into my later teens I read Stephen King and Dean Koontz and then stepped up to Jeffrey Deaver and Cormac McCarthy as a grownup (sorta).  The point is I have always read, there have been plenty of long gaps between books as other things get in the way but I usually still have a desire to read.

Writing a book of your own is normally pulled from your own life experiences.  While most of my work is spent writing about time periods hundreds of years ago and I have never spent any time standing on a battle field, I have experienced being in a fight and I have on more than one occasion been scared.  Using how these past events made me feel allows me to relate to the characters I am writing about and ( in theory) make my writing better.  Reading other peoples work regularly broadens your experiences.  After all even though someone else wrote it you are the one experiencing it in you own way.  This allows you to have additional ammunition in your writing arsenal.  Obviously reading Harry Potter and then writing a book about a female wizard called Betty Totter is not going to get you anywhere but if you keep reading regularly I believe it improves your own work and makes writing easier and more enjoyable.

As always my online novella is available here: http://store.payloadz.com/details/1941573-ebooks-fiction-a-franks-tale-roger-thornton.html and maybe you can find where my experience of getting sucker-punched in Middlesbrough on a wet night as a teenager laid the groundwork!

How to Re-inspire Yourself

At times you just can’t move along in a story and it has nothing to do with creative forces.  Unless you are a professional writer with the net worth to back up not having a regular job there are always going to be days that suck the life out of you and while writing can really help bring you back to earth the desire to actually do it is nill.  Sometimes there are just too many other things to do.  In short, life gets in the way of your writing.  You will have days when there is simply no time to put key to keyboard or pen to paper.  The key is to try and not let this happen too many days in a row.  Just as a small crack can turn into a big one before you know it a week or a month have passed by.

To break out of this vicious cycle I try to remind myself how fun writing a story is by writing something really small and simple.  The most common reason I stop writing for a long period is because I have gone back and forth so much with details and problems with my current project that it becomes work.  I have a job already, I write for fun, I don’t want to deal with another headache every day.  By writing a small two to three paragraph story in one shot I get the creative side of my brain working again and I can see a completed story right in front of me.  That sense of accomplishment can be the driving force that gets you back to writing your real masterpieces.

Glancing at my word file lets me know that I haven’t written anything on my current project in forty-one days!  So let’s give this off the cuff short story a shot.  I am currently picturing “Who’s Line is it anyway?”.  Topic …. Hmmmm … going to the store.  With who?..... the dog.  Why? …the dog wants ice-cream.

Okay, here goes …

Jimmy sat up after a long stretch.  He had been woken up by that annoying Kardashian show blaring on the TV.  He wandered over to Tim who was loudly snoring on the couch.  Now I know why the TV was so loud Jimmy thought to himself.  He tried to wake up Tim by head butting his leg, but that wasn’t working.  Groin shot it is.  Jimmy leapt into Tim’s lap causing him to curse and groan in one breath.    

                “Stupid dog” Tim blurted out.  Jimmy just sat on him staring him in the face.  Ice-cream, Ice-cream, Ice-cream, Jimmy’s inner monologue repeated over and over.  Tim pushed the dog to one side and grabbed his shoes from beside the couch.

                “Going to the store” he announced to his wife who was still engrossed with the Kardashians.  Tim grabbed Jimmy’s leash and hooked it to his collar.  Jimmy’s tail was wagging like crazy. 

                “Ice-cream” he happily reported to himself.

                The grocery store was less than a mile from Tim’s modest house and although the streets were dark as soon as they neared the store the headlights from the main road lit up the sidewalk with crazy eerie shadows.  Within ten minutes Jimmy was standing triumphantly outside the grocery store.  Tim went to hook Jimmy’s leash to a pole.

                “What the hell?” Jimmy immediately said to Tim.  “How am I going to pick my ice-cream flavor if you leave me out here?”.  Soon a stranger commented on the barking dog.

                “Looks like you got a wild one there” the man said to Tim.  A wild one, me? Jimmy thought to himself.  Time for a change in tactics.  As Tim knelt down to attach him to the pole, he looked into his eyes with the perfect puppy dog stare he had perfected many years ago.  He tipped is head to one side and tried to lick Tim’s hand.

“Sorry Jimmy, No Dogs Allowed” he said and pointed to the sign with a picture of a dog with a big X through it. 

                “Fine.  Get me peanut butter ice-cream with sprinkles” he barked angrily at Tim.

                Jimmy hated being attached to a pole.  How come Tim got to go in the store with all of the smells, good things to eat, and people to jump up on.  He felt helpless.  What if a cat came by?  Who would chase it away and save the planet?  His racing thoughts were broken by the sight of Tim with one of those white plastic bags that seem to carry all the good stuff.

                “Peanut butter ice-cream?” he barked.  Tim said nothing and just unhooked him.

                “Freeeeedooomm” Jimmy said embracing the spirit of Mel Gibson.  Ten minutes later they were at home.  The Kardashians had ended but now Chloe and Courtney was starting.  Jimmy cringed as he looked at the TV with distain.  I may hate that thing more than cats he thought to himself.  Tim slumped back into his couch groove and pulled cookies from the plastic bag. 

“Okay good start but get to the ice-cream” said Jimmy.  He turned to see the TV volume was being increased some more.  Can’t get distracted, must get ice-cream Jimmy thought as he looked at Tim and then back at the plastic bag.

                “Good dog Jimmy” Tim said and threw the bag towards the expectant dog.  Jimmy jumped forward thrusting his head right into the bag.  He sniffed the bag and it smelled of cookies.  Mmmm cookie smell.  He kept going, sticking his head deeper into the bag.  It was empty.  Jimmy’s cookie smell euphoria immediately ended.

                “Why you dirty no-good rotten human” Jimmy started.  “I walk all the way to the store with you and tell you exactly what I want you to get seeing as you left me tied up outside, and all you come back with is cookies, for you”. 

                “Tim, make the dog stop barking, I can’t hear my show” a voice from the other couch said.  Jimmy stopped and slowly wandered to his dog bed under the window.  I am soooo peeing on your couch tomorrow he thought and quickly fell back asleep.

Okay, a quick twenty minute story to get the creative flow going again.  I will give it a quick read to make sure I didn’t make any typos or grammar errors and on to my blog it will go.

The OuterQuaker Affair - Part 2

As promised here is the next exert of "The OuterQuaker Affair"

3.

            Jim the doorman leapt into the air as his precious Notre Dame racked up another 7 points on the scoreboard.  His team was pounding UCLA, his only regret he had to listen to the game rather than watch it at home.  The buzzer rang and two well-dressed gentlemen approached the door.  Jim buzzed in the men.  “Good Evening Mr. Cody.“ Jim cordially addressed him.  As Cody approached the elevator a thin dark haired man passed him.  Cody entered the elevator with his companion and shot up to the fourth floor.  Jim sank back into his chair and powered up his radio.  As he did so a slug hit him in the chest.  The chair flew back as the wheels effortlessly turned on the polished floor.  His assailant grabbed the lobby keys and locked Jim, chair and all in an adjacent maintenance closet.  Keys in one hand and printouts from Darrin’s laptop in the other he allowed himself a smile.  “Marvelous” he said to himself and then ducked into the door marked “Stairs”.

            Detective Jarvis was in no mood to be trifled with.  He had spent an eventful day overseeing a failed sting operation.  Not only had it failed it had gone horribly wrong and an unsuspecting tourist lay in the hospital with a gunshot wound.  Although off-duty he had to write a report on the days events and it was proving damn near impossible.  James Clark noticed Jarvis’ light on, “Jesus Christ Wally just go home.  Get some sleep and fill in this bullshit tomorrow.” 

“Fat chance.  You were on the taskforce.  I don’t know why you’re so cheerful.” 

Wally Jarvis had been a cop for twenty-two years and had slowly and surely made his way up to Detective.  Whether his rank would survive the day was an unsure question.  His phone startled him but to his relief his home phone number showed on the display.  “Hey Janice.”

“When are you coming home, Wally?”

“Could be awhile, I have a lot of stuff to fix up before I can leave.” 

“Try not to leave too late the kids miss you.” 

“ I miss them too.”  He hung up the phone and put his head back into his papers.

4.

            At 7pm the elevator doors swung open.  Karen Daniel’s entered.  She was headed out to meet friends and then a night of dancing lay ahead.  As the elevator started its decent the fluorescent light flickered out.  Without lights the blade made no reflection before imbedding itself in Karen’s throat.  She dropped to her knees making loud gurgling sounds as she gasped for her last breath of air.  Blood splatters on the elevator buttons showed the first signs that OuterQuaker had a stalker murdering at will.  Karen’s lifeless body was dragged to Darrin’s apartment where she joined his corpse on the bed.  Using the doorman’s keys he turned the key in the fire fighters function, locking the elevator.   

            The killer’s main prey was creeping closer but first he had to secure the rest of the building tenants.  Going from door to door and floor to floor he attached a small wire device to each handle.  The device was very compact; he had assembled them before hand at home.  Now each door from floor 3 through 6 had a bomb just itching to go off.  Using the information from Darrin’s laptop he began to call the OuterQuaker residents. 

“Mr. Jameson, good evening this is a courtesy call just to inform you that if you open your front door you will be blown to pieces.  Thank you.” 

“What, what” a startled voice exclaimed.  “A bomb on my door? But why?”

“Don’t worry about why.  Keep it nice and simple, stay in your apartment and live or touch the door and die.”  The intruder then tore the telephone line marked 3A from the breaker box.  He continued to make calls receiving every emotion from cries to threats.  Either way pleased him.  The most satisfying was Dan Sim in 6E.  “Bomb! Yeah right you prank calling son of a bitch.  What happened your parents leave you alone tonight?” the macho stockbroker had sarcastically responded.  The killer smiled and shot back “Oh this is no joke as we speak 3 pounds of Semtex explosive is attached to your door.  Go ahead and try it if you don’t believe me.”   

“You bet your ass I'll try it you jerk.”  The explosion was reasonably small and well controlled in the narrow hall of the apartment.  Dan Sim however was blown back into his living room; the majority of him landed on the couch.  His arm however flew across the table and settled close to the bedroom door.  In the basement the killer smiled “Well Mr. Sim that proved to be a good demonstration for your peers.”  Grabbing his revolver he headed for the stairs.

5.

            On the seventh floor penthouse suite Samuel Brass was startled by the loud explosion.  He leapt off the sofa and picked up the telephone.  The handset had no dial tone.  Sam became very worried.  Throwing on his shoes he ran to the door, as he opened it and peered into the foyer a slight movement caught his eye.  As he looked up the butt of a gun came down on his temple.  He instantly saw black and hit the floor.                  

Jarvis was still at this desk when the call came from Tom Collins at ABC.  “This is Detective Jarvis”. 

“We just got a call from someone claiming they are holding hostages at the OuterQuaker Tower complex on the bay.”  The excited caller blurted out. 

“We have a news van heading there now.”

 “Now hold on, you have a news truck en route!  My men should be there to secure the area before any civilians arrive.  Do you have anymore information you can give me?”  Collins voice had changed from excited to nervous

“No that’s all he said then hung up the phone.”  Jarvis grabbed his jacket and headed into the main detective room. 

“Tim, Dave we have a situation, were going out.  Steve call the FBI, tell them we need a terrorist or hostage specialist then patch them to my cell.”  The three men left the precinct and headed towards the outer bay area.  “Is this serious?” Tim asked Detective Jarvis. 

“Could be.  The media got a threat that someone has hostages in a tower complex”.  Tim let out a heavy breath that was interrupted by a cell phone ringing.  “Jarvis.  Yes sir, we’re on our way as we speak.  Will do.”  Jarvis clicked off the phone.  “They want us to set up a perimeter and wait for a unit from the San Fran bureau.  Let’s get some uniforms down here to help out.” 

“God I hope this is a hoax.” Dave exclaimed out loud. 

“We’ll soon see, that’s the tower right ahead.”

   

I hope you are enjoying this story and I am will post the next few chapters soon :)

Feel free to leave a comment (good or bad!) and if you like this you can always download my full story "A Frank's Tale" at http://store.payloadz.com/details/1941573