October Novel Essential Information

 Novel Title: Inadvertently Entangled

Time Setting: 1943

Genre: Historical

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: October–November

Locations: Kraków, Nazi-occupied Poland; Budapest, Kingdom of Hungary

Main Characters: Pierson Edwards

Background Information: 

Born the only son and oldest of two children to his parents, Pierson is the middle of five children his father has through three marriages, and the first of three children his mother has through two marriages.

His parents divorced when he was six because his mother had discovered his father was having an affair with the woman who is now Pierson’s stepmother, and Pierson spent his early childhood with his mother before choosing to live with his father as a teenager.

This led to Pierson’s spending more time with his paternal family, which includes his great uncle, who is known even to him, his cousins, the children of his older cousins, as Uncle Ashford, who is his grandmum’s sister.

Uncle Ashford and Pierson’s grandmum were born in England, with his grandmum having met his grandfather owing to his grandfather having been a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force during WWII, following which they were married and emigrated to his grandfather’s home province of British Columbia.

Since Uncle Ashford and Pierson’s grandmum, as well as their mother, were the only members of the family who survived the war, Uncle Ashford and Pierson’s great-grandmum — who died before he was born — emigrated to Canada in the 1950s to be closer to family.

Having never married, Uncle Ashford nonetheless delighted in his nieces, nephews, and subsequent generations, and often regaled them with stories of his war experiences, which included being in MI6.

Pierson, as those before him, found the stories entertaining, but as he got older he began to question if things were quite as cut and dried as Uncle Ashford — and his grandfather, who also shared stories of being in the RCAF — had always said they were.

He isn’t completely a Holocaust denier, but he does question whether some of the atrocities Uncle Ashford attested as being part of the Holocaust really happened, and particularly to the degree Uncle Ashford claims they did, and he also questions how many Nazis were actually complicit in the operation.

As a result, in Uncle Ashford’s later years, Pierson got into some discussions with him that turned into arguments in which neither he nor Uncle Ashford gave any quarter, and Uncle Ashford died at the age of 101 without Pierson having convinced him to soften his line or his having convinced Pierson to harden his.

Thankfully, since Uncle Ashford’s death — followed shortly by that of Pierson’s grandfather — the evils of the Nazi and the Holocaust have faded from family conversation, to the point that Pierson has effectively forgotten about them.

Pronunciations:

Kraków: krohkoof

Budapest: buhdahpehsht

Under Illusion: Day 20

Word Total: 120,021

Year to Date: 810,317

Summary of Events:

Having had all the necessary surgeries on his hand unless problems arose during physiotherapy, Trace was released from hospital to go back to Spokane. Because his wounded hand was his gear-shifting hand, Bentley offered one of his appropriately licensed men to drive Trace and his load back to Spokane, while Dallis was to fly back to St. Louis with her brothers. Neither of them were eager to part, even though they exchanged phone numbers, with Dallis actually bursting into tears that Trace tenderly soothed when they could no longer put off their separation…

Excerpt of the Day:

“But we should get going,” Trace said.

Dallis nodded and started to loosen her grasp around his neck.

Before she’d fully released him, however, she looked up at his face. She couldn’t let him go without saying it.

“I love you Trace,” she whispered.

Trace looked a little surprised, and even somewhat disbelieving. Before he could say anything, however, Dallis grasped his neck in both hands and pressed her mouth against his, which she could tell also caught Trace by surprise, but he responded favourably, drawing her close to him with his hand and pressing his lips back against hers.

Dallis savoured the moment, knowing that it would very reasonably be at least a week or two before she saw him again, not to mention, it was the first time she’d kissed a man on the lips since she given Papa good-night pecks on the mouth as a little girl, and she felt that it was everything she’d hoped it would be, and more.

Eventually, however, she was forced to withdraw, mostly because she felt like her mouth was getting tired. Trace looked at her affectionately as he drew back far enough that she could see his face.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “But I’d better get going or we’re going to need a room.”

Dallis nodded and released his neck, watching as he took up the handle of his suitcase and towed it after himself to his truck, where Bentley’s man who’d be driving it for him opened the door and loaded the suitcase in before standing ready to give Trace a hand if he needed it, but Trace got up on his own easily.

The driver then closed the door and went around to the driver’s side while Trace stowed his suitcase before taking the passenger seat and fastening his seatbelt. Dallis felt fresh tears come to her eyes as Trace made eye contact with her through the windshield.

She felt an arm come around her shoulders and turned to see Javor was the owner of it. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. She leaned her head against his shoulder and looked back at Trace, who was still looking at her, and looking like he might break down too as the truck’s engine roared to life.

Trace turned and gave the driver some instructions, it seemed, before looking back at her and not breaking gaze even as the truck slowly rolled forward, passing her and Javor, as well as Ratko and a small handful of other personnel who were in the parking lot watching it leave.

Dallis watched until the truck disappeared from sight, then she turned and buried her head into Javor’s shoulder. This was certainly not how she’d expected to feel once she’d completed her first solo job.

Next Post: 2 October

Under Illusion: Day 19

Word Count: 114,044

Summary of Events:

Bentley arranged for Trace to be taken to hospital, with Dallis accompanying him, where his hand was determined to have been quite damaged owing to the bullet's angle of entry, requiring several surgeries that kept Trace in hospital and under the influence of painkillers for a few days before he was lucid enough that Dallis could explain what had happened since to him, starting from when the shooting had all happened…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Oh,” Trace said. “Then what happened?”

“The two men holding you were loyal to Bentley, so they moved Litton and Pancho out, as well as bringing you and Bentley down to the main floor,” Journey replied. “You and I were then taken to an alley and an ambulance and police were called.”

“What?” Trace asked. “Taken to an alley?”

“Yes,” Journey replied. “Bentley doesn’t want his gang to get found out, so he had two of his men feign a gunfight and I told the police that you and I had been innocent bystanders who’d fled into the alley for refuge from the shooting, but you’d accidentally been hit by a stray bullet. As far as they know we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, just so you’re aware of that.”

Trace nodded. He liked that thought.

“Outside of that you’ve been in surgery,” Journey replied.

“What about your brothers?” Trace asked. “You said they were in Tucson.”

“I did tell them to come as we were taken up to where we found Bentley,” Journey replied. “They ended up being hit by somebody who’d run a red light up in Tucson and their car got wrapped around a tree, but they’re fine, the rear of the car was hit, so they got another car and came down.”

“Wow,” Trace said. “They’re all conspiring together to get the load?”

“No,” Journey replied.

“But, why not?” Trace asked.

“Bentley isn’t interested in forging the alliances Litton wanted to forge with the cargo,” Journey replied. “He’s got a man lined up to drive you and your load to Spokane once you’re released.”

Trace couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“But didn’t he give you the orders?” Trace asked.

“He made the arrangements with us in St. Louis,” Journey replied. “But only because Pancho — who was with him — would’ve killed him if he didn’t. He chose us because he hoped we’d be able to help him get free of Litton, and we have, so he’s giving us extra money.”

“Oh,” Trace said. That had to be nice.

“Trace,” Journey said, reaching a gentle hand up to turn his face to look at her. “I’m not keeping mine.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Trace asked.

“I’m going to pay your medical bills,” Journey replied. “Not only here, but if you need anything further done in Spokane.”

Tears came to Trace’s eyes unbidden. He had no words. He looked away.

“It’s the least I can do,” Journey said, sounding emotional for herself. “I mean, I got you into this mess, after all. And, like I’ve said before, I don’t need it. Besides, I know you’re trying to get ahead, and you’ll probably have lost your job because of me anyways, so I might as well try to make up for it if I can.”

Trace nodded, turning to look back toward Journey, whose face was blurred in his tears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Journey whispered softly.

Under Illusion: Day 18

Word Count: 108,034

Summary of Events:

Dallis supervised as Pancho and two other gangsters searched Trace's truck for a key to the lock on his trailer, but found none — which didn't surprise Dallis — before trying to break the lock and the trailer, but finding they didn't have the tools strong enough to do either. The blond man, very upset, had Trace taken to a room to be tortured for the truth, where Dallis was surprised to see a battered Bentley, as she followed to see what was going to happen to Trace, who continued to protest his innocence and civilian status, to the rage of the blond man, who struck him across the face with a stick in anger…

Excerpt of the Day:

“How dare you insult Litton Kane!” the man shouted.

“He’s not a gangster,” Dallis spat. “He’s just an ordinary citizen.”

The blond man stalked toward her, looking intent to use his stick on her.

Before he could get into arm range Dallis struck him with a solid kick to his ribs that caused him to crumple to the floor in pain, where Dallis kicked him a couple more times.

“How you ever got Al and Bentley to work for you I can’t begin to imagine,” Dallis spat.

“Al was never in allegiance with us,” Pancho said.

“Litton is my uncle,” Bentley said.

Dallis turned and saw Bentley had managed to get himself leaned back against a wall, although he still looked and sounded to be in more pain than when she’d entered the room.

“Paternally, obviously,” Bentley continued. “They never got along. Dad was older, more charismatic, better organised, taller, stronger.”

“Was?” Dallis asked.

“Nonetheless, Dad gave Litton a place in his gang, and a pretty good one too,” Bentley continued, ignoring Dallis’ question. “But that wasn’t good enough for Litton. He needed the power for himself, so he struck out on his own to build a competing empire, which is a little bit easier said than done, especially considering his superiority complex. So he decided to go the hostile takeover route and killed Dad, threatened to murder and otherwise destroy all the women and children in order to get Dad’s men to do his bidding, and means to sell the cargo of the truck to Mexican cartel lords he wants as allies for a smuggling operation in order to give himself greater glory than Dad ever achieved. Or so he thinks.”
“Or so I think!?” Litton shouted, surging up from his crumpled heap on the floor.

He drew a pistol from somewhere and fired it at Bentley, missing wildly. Dallis could tell Litton wasn’t aiming at all as he fired, thus only a few of his shots grazed Bentley, while the rest embedded around him.

“You have the aim of a Stormtrooper,” Trace said.

Immediately Litton whipped around and fired with a similar wildness at Trace, except that his bullet made a more significant contact with Trace than any he’d fired at Bentley had, as blood immediately started flowing down the back of Trace’s hand and a look of significant pain came over Trace’s face.

Dallis immediately drew her gun and fired two shots, one into Litton’s gun-holding hand, the other into his hip, prompting Litton to crumple to the floor in pain. She then turned to Pancho, whom she saw had his gun out as well.

She shot his gun out of his hand and then fired a second shot into his shoulder before turning to the men holding Trace, who both immediately raised their hands, releasing Trace, who crumpled to the floor, clutching at his hand. 

Under Illusion: Day 17

Word Count: 102,045

Summary of Events:

Trace was disheartened to not reach Tombstone — where he'd hoped to be able to escape with the help of locals, and especially law enforcement — before being required to turn onto the next part of the route to the ultimate destination of Fairbank, a ghost town, where they met the gang leader, whom Dallis was surprised and wary to observe wasn't Bentley, or Al, although he did look like a relative. Both of them were rather astounded that the gang leader seemed to think Trace was also a gang leader, although Trace was grateful to merely be herded into the backseat of a car instead of shot as he'd feared. Dallis, however, was forced to endure the company of the gang leader, whom she didn't like at all, as they drove to Nogales, with a gang member driving Trace's truck after them to a warehouse, where the gang leader wanted to inspect the load…

Excerpt of the Day:

They walked up to a loading bay, against which the rear of his truck’s trailer was pressed, the overhead door that sealed the bay having been raised out of the way. Two men were standing by the closed doors waiting.

“Why isn’t it open?” the blond man demanded.

“We don’t know this lock,” one of the men replied. “It doesn’t have a keyhole.”

“What?” the blond man snapped. “Pancho!”

The grey-haired man walked up to the door and examined the lock critically for a long time.

“What is it Pancho?” the blond man demanded. “You know locks!”

“My guess is that it must be some sort of an electric lock,” the grey-haired man — Pancho, apparently — replied.

“An electric lock?” the blond man asked. “What is an electric lock?”

“That’s the only way I can figure it,” Pancho replied. “I would suppose that some sort of electronic, or maybe even magnetic, charge is required to be applied to the lock before it can open.”

“You don’t even know!?” the blond man demanded, sounding upset.

“No,” Pancho replied. “I didn’t realise there was such a thing as keyless, buttonless locks.”

“Even my lock expert hasn’t seen a lock like this,” the blond man said. “Why are you my lock expert?”

“Because I know locks,” Pancho replied. “But surely our driver has the key, even if it is not a key by convention.”

The blond man turned and looked at Trace. “Where is the key?”

“I don’t know,” Trace replied.

“You have to have the key!” the blond man snapped.

“I didn’t load the trailer,” Trace replied. “I don’t even know what’s in it. I just know it’s loaded, and that the load just about maxes out my GVW limit.”

The blond man scoffed profanely. “You, of all people should know what’s in your truck and how to access it!”

“I’m not a gangster,” Trace replied. “I’m just an employee of ESM. I know nothing about what they do.”

The blond man shouted his profane disagreement, stalking toward Trace, which revealed he was hardly taller than Journey. “I will not be lied to!”

“I’m not lying!” Trace exclaimed.

Forcefully the blond man slapped Trace. “You will not fool me!”

“Seriously?” Journey asked.

The blond man whipped around to look at her.

“You seriously believe he’s a gangster?” Journey asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” the blond man demanded. “He had gangsters protecting him.”

“What?” Trace asked.

“How do you know?” Journey asked.

“My men know what gangsters look like,” the blond man replied. “Every single man they liquidated was a gangster.”

“What!?” Trace exclaimed. He wanted to exclaim further in his disbelief of what he was hearing, but he didn’t know what to say. All of the men in all of the black cars that’d been following him around and forcing him around were gangsters? Was that why he’d never been told what he was doing? Because he worked for the front of a gang?

Under Illusion: Day 16

Word Count: 96,018

Summary of Events:

Dallis was woken in the night by some men from Bentley's gang who needed her to help them disable the GPS tracker on Trace's truck. The following morning, as a result, the black car duels behind them came to an end, as Dallis suspected Trace's employers no longer knew where Trace was once their car had been forced off the road. She and Trace travelled through New Mexico into Arizona, where Dallis was instructed that they were to leave the I-10 and head south on Arizona State Route 80, toward Tombstone, with signage of a monastery approaching causing Trace to suggest that maybe they should get some prayers said for their souls before they died, which Dallis didn't think was necessary — mostly because she didn't want to die…

Excerpt of the Day:

She watched silently as the signage telling them where the monastery was — hidden behind trees that Dallis supposed subsisted off the precious water they got when the San Pedro River ran, as if there was any groundwater it was probably far too deep for their roots to reach — passed without Trace decelerating and pulling in to get the monks to offer prayers for him.

If she was honest, Dallis wasn’t really sure what good it would’ve done. She didn’t know all that much about most religions, but she did know that most religions inspired a significant amount of devotion from their followers, if they didn’t outright demand the devotion, which meant that it probably wasn’t likely that any deity would really appreciate people trying to get the perks offered to the religiously devoted only at the last minute.

Part of her wondered if Trace had come to the same conclusion, and thus had elected to carry on past the monastery. Either that or he’d probably thought of the car that was still following them, and probably wouldn’t have been too pleased if they’d turned into the monastery.

“I would’ve preferred my sister killing me than this,” Trace said, his voice sounding a little emotion-choked.

Dallis looked at him, his eyes looked glassy. “Why?”

“She would’ve killed me in my sleep,” Trace replied. “I would’ve had no chance to suspect it. This… knowing is killing me.”

“I don’t want to give up hope that it won’t happen,” Dallis said.

“Why?” Trace asked, sounding somewhat upset.

“Because,” Dallis replied, tears coming to her own eyes. “Because I couldn’t bear it. I would feel like a failure. I would’ve done what I was told, but not what I wanted.”

“You really care that much?” Trace asked.

Dallis looked at him to see he was looking at her with almost desperate tear-filled eyes.

“Yes,” Dallis replied. “I’m not supposed to care for you, I know, but I can’t help it. I don’t even care if my brothers think me crazy, but I’d get them to come help me to get you out of there alive if I can’t do it on my own.”

“What good is that going to do?” Trace asked.

“They’re in Tucson,” Dallis replied. “They’re probably not really all that far away.”

“Do you think they’d come?” Trace asked.

“My older brother’s been fussing over me worse than my father ever did,” Dallis replied. “He’d come in a heartbeat. Then he’d call me crazy when he gets here and finds out why I want him.”

“He’s scared you’re going to get hurt?” Trace asked.

“Very,” Dallis replied. “But considering that this is the first time I’ve done something like this at all — forget alone — I’m not really surprised.”

“And you think they’d do what it takes to keep me alive for your sake?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“Do you think they’d succeed?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“I hope you’re right,” Trace swore.

Dallis nodded. She hoped she was right too, but she didn’t honestly know how much resistance she and her brothers might find themselves up against.

Under Illusion: Day 15

Word Count: 90,020

Summary of Events:

Dallis and Trace continued their journey into the increasingly desertlike landscape, making a stop at Pecos for fuel, as well as lunch. While Trace was fuelling his truck, Dallis was called by Ratko, who told her Al's wife had called in distress, speaking a mixture of Spanish and English before her call had been cut off; it had Ratko concerned, but neither he nor Dallis knew what to make of it either. Trace sensed something was up over lunch, and so asked Dallis once they were on the road again, where she told him some of the details, and the two went on a bit of a rabbit trail about the fact that neither of them knew Spanish…

Excerpt of the Day:

“That can be true sometimes,” Trace agreed. “But now that we’ve found the rabbit I guess we go back to the call from that lady, which I’m presuming was incoherent because of the Spanish.”

“Well, and her distress,” Journey replied.

“So what does it mean then?” Trace asked.

“We have no idea,” Journey replied. “But it’s not really good, because either things have gone completely south on the whole, or the people we were counting on to have our backs are no longer there.”

“We as in you and me?” Trace asked. “Or we as in you and your brothers?”

“We as in me and my brothers,” Journey replied. “But it was my hope that those who’d have my back would allow me to get you out too.”

“But now there’s not so much chance that either of us are going to get out of it?” Trace asked.

“I don’t know,” Journey replied, sounding on the cusp of frustrated tears.

“I’m sorry, don’t cry,” Trace said. “I’m just probably being too nosy. I’ll stop now.”

“My brother said they might come down for backup,” Journey said. “He said he’d let me know, though.”

“They’re not sure that they will?” Trace asked.

“Well, with not knowing really what the call meant,” Journey replied. “They’re concerned, and I’m pretty sure they’re probing for answers already, so hopefully we’ll have a better picture before we get there, but… as if it wasn’t going to be challenging enough.”

Trace nodded. He couldn’t say what Journey had shared was all that comforting. If anything, it proclaimed that the situation had gotten bleaker, and it made Trace really wonder if he should’ve turned back.

“Do you think maybe we should just go to Spokane then?” Trace asked. “Maybe even escape to Canada together?”

“I don’t have a passport,” Journey replied. “And I’ve heard the process for those isn’t exactly swift, even if you were to put a rush on it.”

“I mean, Spokane has a decent amount of wilderness around it, or we could go into Montana,” Trace said. “We don’t have to hide in Canadian bush. We could even go up to Alaska and hide in the dark all winter if we wanted to.”

“But we’d be hiding forever,” Journey said. “And I wouldn’t really want to cut myself off from my brothers.”
“So you’re committed to going wherever we’re going even if it happens to be the mouth of an angry dragon?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“Why?” Trace asked.

“Because there’s not enough unknowns for me to believe that whatever may be wrong is so bad as to be inescapable,” Journey replied.

“That’s got to be nice,” Trace said dryly.

“Nice to know you expect me to put in a lot of effort to get you out of there,” Journey snapped bitterly.

“Why should you?” Trace asked. “I’m supposed to be an expendable.”

“Yes, you are supposed to be, but I can’t see you that way anymore,” Journey replied. “Losing you wouldn’t be collateral damage to me. It’s supposed to be, but I can’t let it be.”