Wednesday, February 17, 2016

CHAPTER THREE - EPISODE TWELVE


CLICK HERE FOR THE PREVIOUS EPISODES

A MATTER OF PROFIT


Gregor shrank back in his bunk as Rual came for him, pulling the long knife from her belt.

But then – to his enormous relief – Shaklin stepped between them, blocking her.

A nasty grin creased Rual’s face. “Don’t mind doing you first,” she told Shaklin. “You and your teammates are always acting like you’re better than the rest of us.”

“Now, now,” Zheng broke in. “We here all be shipmates. Very rich shipmates, soon to be. Quarrel, we must not.”

He put a restraining hand on Rual’s knife arm. “Shaklin, a good man is he,” Zheng said in his most soothing voice. “In his head, he lives. In his church, he lives. Beings, all equal, he believes.”

Gregor could see the war going on in Rual’s face. She badly wanted to kill Gregor and didn’t give a damn one way or another if Shaklin had to go first.

Whether Shaklin was a good man or not had no bearing on what was going to happen next. But by sheer force of will, the canny Zheng was getting a far more important message across.

Without Shaklin and his crew the whole enterprise would fail and they’d all soon be against the wall facing an Imperial firing squad.

Rual sighed and stepped away, sheathing her blade. Now Zheng turned to Shaklin, who was clearly furious at being threatened. Zheng gave Shaklin’s shoulder a comradely squeeze.

“Mind not our Rual’s temper,” he said. “Sometimes, too hot it becomes.”

Rual’s face reddened and Zheng hastily added, “And good reason for this temper, she has.” He indicated Gregor. “Much suffering, this man has caused our Rual.”

Gregor snorted. This was too much. “It’s not my fault she’s a gambling addict,” he said. “I put in that gaming area in the Rec Room for the entertainment of the crew. And at my own expense, I might add.”

He pointed an accusing finger at Rual. “She’s in there every minute off shift dumping credits into the machines. Why, I even caught her in there gaming during work hours. Having her fun on company time.”

Fury once again overtook Rual. Drawing her knife, she pushed past the other two men and would have buried it hilt deep into Gregor’s chest if Shaklin hadn’t intervened – grabbing Rual’s wrist and spinning her around.

While Gregor cowered in his bunk, Rual struggled with Shaklin, screaming curses and threats. She nearly broke away. But then Zheng jumped in and helped Shaklin disarm her.

Rual collapsed, shedding bitter tears. “Gone, gone,” she moaned. “Every credit I had in savings. My pension fund. I even took money from my own family.”

She jabbed an accusing finger at Gregor. “The machines are rigged,” she said. “The concessionaire at the last port told me so himself. He was chuffed because the captain made him pull his machines – machines with fair odds approved by the company – and installed his own.”

Frightened as he was, Gregor couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride. It had been one of his cleverest moves. Not only had he fixed the odds so they were more favorable to the House – meaning Gregor – but he’d installed a special program that targeted certain individuals. It sussed out weak-willed scrotes like Rual and played them like a cat toying with its prey. Letting them win a few rounds – sometimes even for large sums of money.

Then, wham! The gaming fist would come slamming down. The Mark would be taken for every credit he possessed and then a loan program would pop up, offering usurious interest rates for immediate gratification. And when that was gone, the hacked names and contact numbers of friends and relatives would appear, and the Mark would be enticed to contact them immediately and beg for money.

The program even offered suggestions the Mark could use to wheedle money from those who hesitated. A fictitious daughter suffering from an equally fictitious malady. Or, the Mark might be encouraged to say he had been kidnapped, or injured. The wheedling possibilities were endless.

It wasn’t Gregor’s fault that Rual and her ilk were all such willing liars. Such low class beings that they’d bankrupt their own loved ones to feed their filthy habit. They were born victims and would more than likely die victims.

He shook his head in disgust. “Not my fault,” he whispered.

To his horror, it seemed that Rual had only been shaming. Waiting for her chance. As the others gaped at Gregor for speaking so foolishly, she jumped for him.

Somehow the knife was in her hand again, sharp blade gleaming in the cabin light.

The blade swung and Gregor screamed in pain as the sharp edge slashed across his chest. Hot blood spilling.

Once again, the blade slashed at him, but somehow Shaklin got there in time, and grabbed Rual’s wrist.

Then Zheng stepped in, embracing Rual, and the fury drained away and she collapsed into his arms weeping and sobbing that she was sorry, so sorry.

And Zheng was saying, “Never mind. Never mind. Soon, put right all will be. More credits than dreams you will ever have. And fixed, your family will be. Proud of you again, they will be.”

Meanwhile, Shaklin had rustled up a first aid kit. Skillfully, he stripped off Gregor’s shirt and dabbed the wound with cotton swatches.

“It’s not so bad,” he said. “Maybe only six or seven staples will do the job.”

Gregor gasped as she poured a stinging liquid into his wound. Then he was groaning in pain as she got out the medical stapler and hit him six, then seven, then eight times.

Tears streamed down Gregor’s face. “You could have used the anesthetic,” he said, pointing at the slender cylinder next to the bandages. “It’s there in plain sight.”

Shaklin snorted derision. “You’re lucky I wasn’t holding the knife,” he said. “If anyone has the right to take your life it’s me.” A single tear ran down his cheek. “You are the reason Pegatha was taken from us.”

Desperate, Gregor grabbed the cylinder and pressed it next to the wound. There was a slight sting and then the pain vanished. Gregor sank back in his bunk, drawing in deep breaths to regain a modicum of control.

And with control came a feeling of bitter resentment. Shaklin’s remark had been so unfair. The accusation as false as it was scurrilous. It wasn’t his fault Shaklin’s mate had died. She’s just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. An airlock misfunction was to blame.

True, a port maintenance inspector had spotted the faulty airlock seal. But the replacement would have put Gregor so far behind schedule that his mission bonus was endangered.

Besides, the inspector said it wasn’t that serious and was happy to sign off on the airlock – plus all the Flame’s other maintenance difficulties – for a hefty fee. Well, not so hefty that Gregor couldn’t expect a handsome profit when he received his well-deserved bonus.

Gregor had been taught by his father, Lord Wichman, that profit was life’s Holy Grail. And for profit, there will always be risk. Sometimes risk might cause discomfort for a few beings. But that was the price a being must be willing to pay if he is to be successful.

It briefly occurred to Gregor that Shaklin and the other mutineers might be presently engaged in just that sort of risk taking. Betting their lives against the chance of great profit.

Then another thought occurred to him and he couldn’t help but smile.

And then someone slapped him hard across the face. He reeled back, raising a hand against another blow.

“What was that for?” he whined.

“Smiling, you were,” Zheng said. It was he who had delivered the blow. “Why smile, you?”

“Oh… Oh… It was nothing,” Gregor said. “Just the anesthetic. Feeling a little woozy.”

And he bit his lip against another reflexive smile.

Gregor had just figured out how he might turn all this misery into a pot of gold.

He looked up at Zheng. “Have you started negotiations with the Empire yet?”

Zheng was non committal. “Spoken to them, we have.” he said.

In other words – a big clotting “No.”

“Well, before you get to far along,” Gregor said, “I hope you’ll consult with me.”

Rual snorted. “Why would we do that?”

“Because with my father’s influence,” Gregor said, “I can help you get a much better deal.”

“We’ve already got an offer from Ventura,” Rual said. “I say we just take it and be done with the whole business. Every day we delay, the more dangerous it becomes.”

“But what if I can get you more?” Gregor said. “A whole clot of a lot more.”

Silence fell upon the room. Zheng’s pink tongue flashed out to lick his lips. There was a definite glitter in Rual’s eyes.

Gregor looked at Shaklin, other than fingering his dreadlocks, he showed no emotion whatsoever. He’d sworn to everyone in the cabin that he opposed killing Gregor. So revenge wasn’t his motive.

Money?

As impossible as that seemed to someone like Gregor, riches apparently held no great attraction to him.

So what was it that Shaklin wanted?

Suddenly the tall black man straightened and turned to go. “It’s time for the Nav check,” he said, and hurriedly left the cabin.

“A Nav check?” Rual said. “What the clotting big deal? We’ve been – mas o menos – in the same place for the last month. What’s to check?”

“If happy it makes him,” Zheng said, “Care, I do not.” He turned to Gregor. “Now, little cheena,” he said. “More, I want to know about your father.”

And so Gregor told him more, only needing to exaggerate a little. His father was that important.

But in the back of his mind he kept worrying over the Shaklin conundrum.

If money wasn’t his object, what else could it be?

But hard as he tried, Gregor couldn’t come up with a thing.

What the clot could be more important than money?

NEXT: THE CORPSES IN THE TOOLROOM

*****

*****

*****

THE TIMURA TRILOGY: When The Gods Slept, Wolves Of The Gods and The Gods Awaken. This best selling fantasy series now available as trade paperbacks, e-books (in all varieties) and as audiobooks. Visit The Timura Trilogy page for links to all the editions. 

NEWLY REVISED KINDLE EDITIONS OF THE TIMURA TRILOGY NOW AVAILABLE. (1) When The Gods Slept;(2) Wolves Of The Gods; (3) The Gods Awaken.

*****


Tales Sometimes Tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived La-La Land with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate Fix-It Boys. How an alleged Mafia Don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Andy Warhol's Fire Extinguisher. The Real Stars Of Hollywood. Why they don't make million dollar movies. See The Seven Pi$$ing Dwarfs. Learn: how to kill a "difficult" actor… And much, much more.

Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:

U.S. .............................................France
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Canada ........................................ Italy
Germany ..................................... Japan
Brazil .......................................... India

*****






A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF: In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.

*****

 LUCKY IN CYPRUS:

A True Story About A Boy,
A Teacher, And Earthquake,
Some Terrorists And The CIA


LUCKY IN CYPRUS is a coming-of-age story set in the Middle East during the height of the Cold War. An American teenager – son of a CIA operative – is inspired by grand events and a Greek Cypriot teacher. 

He witnesses earthquakes and riots and terrorist attacks, but in the end it is his teacher’s gentle lessons that keep him whole.

Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: 


Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
  • "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
  • "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. 
  • "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****

NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF

THE HATE PARALLAX

THE HATE PARALLAX: What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)

*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:

A novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan


After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.



BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. 

*****

TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!

Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with  a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is  "The Blue Meanie,"  a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.



Wednesday, February 10, 2016

CHAPTER THREE - EPISODE ELEVEN


CLICK HERE FOR THE PREVIOUS EPISODES

GREGOR 


Gregor stared morosely at the dinner plate. It was divided into three sections. Drakh-brown glop with lumps the size of marbles filled the largest section. This was the entrée. He’d never had the nerve to ask what the lumps were.

More glop was mounded in the second section – but it was grayish green with yellow streaks and had the consistency of garbage pail slime. This was the starch.

The third section contained the alleged sweet. It was purplish glop, with orange spots.

He sighed and with great reluctance jabbed a plas spoon into the brown glop. Raised it to his lips, trying not to notice the long, snot-like strings stretching between spoon and plate.

Gregor got ready. The trick was not to breathe. He stuck the spoon into his mouth - face contorting at the taste - and then he forced himself to swallow. Half-gagging and choking as he got it down.

He let his breath out in whoosh, grabbed a mug of badly-recycled water and drank it down, doing his damndest to dilute the disgusting taste.

The water was almost as bad as the brown glop and for a moment he thought the battle was lost and nearly vomited. By sheer force of will he kept it down.

Then he slumped back in his chair, gathering the courage and strength to start on the starchy slime.

Gregor began by cursing the traitorous crew members in general and their back-stabbing ringleaders in particular for humiliating him so.

He was their Captain, by God. A being they had sworn to obey when they joined the Emperor’s Merchant Service. It was as solemn an oath as any Imperial Guardsman made. Well, almost as solemn. They weren’t really professionals. Only quasi-military, as some of his old prep school chums cruelly reminded him when they got together at their fathers’ clubs.

But only a few dared say it to his face. And then only if they were drunk enough to forget just how important his old man was. His dad, Lord Wichman, was not only the president and CEO of Wichman XII, the most exclusive resort planet in the Empire, but he had been presented at court, was a board member on a dozen or more vital businesses and industries, and was a regular honored guest at the annual Empire Day festivities at Arundel Castle.

When Gregor was a lad he’d actually sat in the same box as the Eternal Emperor. During one performance an aerialist had slipped and fell thirty feet, hitting the ground so hard it looked like she bounced. It was one of the funniest things Gregor had ever seen – the young woman’s arms flailing, the gaping fish-like look on her face, emitting hilarious squeaky noises, topped off by the humorous double bounce when she hit the ground.

Naturally, he’d laughed, and then he heard someone snort and he turned to see that the Emperor was looking at him. And he was smiling. Well, it was sort of a smile.

On bad nights – and there had been many since he washed out of the Guard several years before – it seemed to him that the smile looked more like grimace of disgust. But when he woke with the cold sweats he calmed himself by thinking that at the worst it was merely the look of royal indigestion.

Remembering the self doubt, Gregor’s stomach roiled and he pushed the plate of three glops away. Please, God, why did he have to eat this swill? There was plenty of good food in his private locker – seized by the mutineers, no doubt.

Zheng and the others were probably enjoying this very minute. Laughing at him all the while. All those delicacies: real beef steak, lobster, caviar, pate, foie gras, plus all those special breads and cheeses and other gourmet treats. Washed down with fine wines and champagne.

Instead, they were feeding him the barest minimum. Contractually, merchantmen were entitled to three BCM (Basic Crew Meal) containers a day, totaling 1,800 calories for humans, with different nutritional requirements for ETs. Gregor was a little over two meters in height and before starvation was forced on him he weighed a slightly chubby 88 kilos. He didn’t know how much he weighed now, but there was no chub at all on his frame and his uniform hung off him like a clown suit.

Of course, no one in their right mind would eat this garbage, much less try to subsist on it. Which is why Gregor, who considered himself an enlightened captain, had instituted a generous program with special menus for a small percentage of the crew members’ wages.

Naturally he made a profit, but his father had taught him that profit was as essential to life as clean air – which was another little side business Gregor had going. For a fair price, sweet-smelling air – instead of the oily recycled shipboard atmosphere – could be had by turning a nozzle above each being’s bunk.

It was sweet and cool and made for easy sleep. Of course, if a being wasn’t frugal and was burdened with family responsibilities, they obviously couldn’t afford that inexpensive luxury and nothing but foul air would be emitted when the nozzle was turned.

But that was to be expected. Fair was fair. After all, Gregor wasn’t in the charity business. And he worked hard to supplement his wages and the allowance his father regularly banked for him. He constantly, and assiduously, searched for new ways to turn a profit.

Skimming and reselling supplies, buying refurbished equipment and clothing for the crew and pocketing the difference, as well as selling favorable shifts and appointments whenever the opportunity arose. And charging for little things, like emergency leave to visit ailing family members.

It wasn’t much, but when it came to maintaining a ship and crew of 120, as well as a 100 kilometer-long space train, even a small percentage made a handsome sum when the mission was complete.

And if a crew member made so bold as to complain, Gregor heaped on enough demerits so they could never go on leave and make their subversive objections known to others.

Gregor repositioned the dish of three glops. He had to eat, damn it. The mutiny was already over a month old and there was no telling when the ordeal would end. He had to keep his strength up. His wits keen. And keep a constantly lookout for anything that might aid his chances of survival.

Gingerly, he stabbed the spoon into the purple blob with orange stripes. As a sweet it would surely have more calories, so he might not have to eat as much.

He held his breath.

Took a bite.

Then vomited his guts on the floor.

He was bent over heaving when the cabin door banged open. There was silence. Then laughter. He looked up to see Zheng’s gloating face.

Zheng was short and squat and had habit of constantly licking his lips with a shockingly pink tongue. Not unlike a toad, Gregor thought. Behind him was Rual, a tall, skeletal, vaguely humanoid female of indeterminate age. She had a long, stern face with large black unblinking eyes. Gregor had never seen her smile, much less laugh.

“Gutt damn! Vhat a filthy miststuck you be, Gregor,” Zheng said. “Drakh for brains, also you have.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Rual. “I think maybe Poppa had to pay somebody big credits to make him captain.”

Rual measured him with cold eyes. Gregor shivered. “If we can’t get a deal with the Emperor,” she said, “I want to be the one who cuts his throat.”

Before Zheng could answer, someone else came forward. It was Shaklin. A tall, handsome young man, with dark skin, beaded dreadlocks and misty brown eyes that always seemed as if they were searching for things no one else could see.

“Zheng, you swore there would be no killing,” he said, elbowing Rual aside. “Otherwise, my teammates and I would have never agreed to join you.”

Shaklin was a self-proclaimed bishop of the Church Of The Universal Location, a religion Gregor had never heard of before. More importantly he and his team of nineteen beings came from a race of tribal navigators who had obsessively roamed their home planet, mapping every conceivable position, from the molten interior to the upper atmosphere and eventually on to uttermost space.

In short, they were the only beings aboard the Flame who could safely navigate from one place to next. They were also the ace up Zheng’s sleeve. If boarders threatened the ship, Shaklin and his team could swiftly plot a series of jumps so complicated they would be impossible to follow.

Rual wasn’t happy with Shaklin’s interference. Her hand went to the haft of the long knife sheathed in her belt.

“If we take Venatora’s deal,” she said, “we won’t need you, or Gregor. So back the clot off, holy man.”

Then she turned to Gregor. “In fact,” she said, “I have a mind to kill the scrote right now. To slice his lying throat from ear to ear.”

As she advanced on him, Gregor felt sudden wetness at his crotch.

“Please,” he squeaked to the others. “Please!



NEXT: A MATTER OF PROFIT


*****

*****

THE TIMURA TRILOGY: When The Gods Slept, Wolves Of The Gods and The Gods Awaken. This best selling fantasy series now available as trade paperbacks, e-books (in all varieties) and as audiobooks. Visit The Timura Trilogy page for links to all the editions. 

NEWLY REVISED KINDLE EDITIONS OF THE TIMURA TRILOGY NOW AVAILABLE. (1) When The Gods Slept;(2) Wolves Of The Gods; (3) The Gods Awaken.

*****


Tales Sometimes Tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived La-La Land with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate Fix-It Boys. How an alleged Mafia Don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Andy Warhol's Fire Extinguisher. The Real Stars Of Hollywood. Why they don't make million dollar movies. See The Seven Pi$$ing Dwarfs. Learn: how to kill a "difficult" actor… And much, much more.

Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:

U.S. .............................................France
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Canada ........................................ Italy
Germany ..................................... Japan
Brazil .......................................... India

*****





A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF: In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.

*****

 LUCKY IN CYPRUS:

A True Story About A Boy,
A Teacher, And Earthquake,
Some Terrorists And The CIA


LUCKY IN CYPRUS is a coming-of-age story set in the Middle East during the height of the Cold War. An American teenager – son of a CIA operative – is inspired by grand events and a Greek Cypriot teacher. 

He witnesses earthquakes and riots and terrorist attacks, but in the end it is his teacher’s gentle lessons that keep him whole.

Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide: 


Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
  • "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
  • "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus. 
  • "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****

NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF

THE HATE PARALLAX

THE HATE PARALLAX: What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)

*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:

A novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan


After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.



BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization. 

*****

TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!

Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with  a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is  "The Blue Meanie,"  a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.