WRITEALOT: Morocco

Showing posts with label Morocco. Show all posts

Friday, 1 March 2024

THE IGNORANCE OF BLOOD - Book review

This is the fourth – and final – book in Robert Wilson’s Inspector Jefe Javier Falcón detective series set primarily in Seville. The Ignorance of Blood was published in 2009.

It takes place in 2006 when a Russian mafia man is involved in a fatal traffic accident. In his car the police find a bag bulging with euros and video discs – stolen from a mafia gang, apparently.

Falcón is still trying to get to the bottom of a bomb explosion – was it terrorists or some other cause? He is advised not to obsess about it. There are other cases to investigate: ‘Personal crusades, Javier, are not advisable in police work. Every old people’s home in Spain probably has a retired detective gaping from the windows, his mind still twisted around a missing girl, or a poor bludgeoned boy. Don’t go there. Nobody expects it of you’ (p41).

The Russian villains are particularly unpleasant – and seem to be competing gangs. ‘The veneer, though, was only an expensive suit thick, as Viktor Belenki was a violent brute with access to a rage so incandescent that even Revnik’s most psychopathic henchmen were afraid of him’ (p45).

The video discs implicate a number of very important individuals in the city and elsewhere; there are connections to shady constructors and financiers. Two mafia gangs want those discs.

Falcón covers a lot of familiar ground, including Atocha rail station, where three bombs were exploded on March 11, 2004; other bombs exploded on four trains; those responsible were members of al-Qaeda; over 190 people were killed and over 2,000 injured. (I recall it well; we were living in Spain at the time). However, the bomb explosion Falcón is investigating is not believed to be connected to that atrocity.

Still topical now, Falcón is faced with individuals being radicalised by Islamists. ‘Radical Islam was not something you changed your mind about. Once admitted to the close fraternity and their secrets there was no walking away. They wouldn’t let you’ (p81). Indeed, anyone joining becomes a ‘lost soul, walking a world of death, destruction and martyrdom’ (p86).

Falcón is drawn into the turf war between Russian factions when Dario, the son of Consuelo, his lover, is kidnapped. Are the kidnappers Russian or Islamists?

Along the way, he is faced with an imprisoned judge, a female sculptor in a bikini, and a Moroccan friend engaged in spying on an Islamist group for the Spanish security service. There are violent deaths, gruesome deaths, and a convoluted mystery that must be solved in Morocco.

Falcón has previously suffered from a breakdown, but now he is stressed and stretched to the point where not only is his job at risk, but also his life. Some chapters end with a nail-biting cliff-hanger.

The descriptions of Seville, the characters and the emotions are well delineated with powerful writing.

Although there are references to previous Falcón novels, the book can be read as a standalone. However, the Falcón books in order are: The Hidden Assassins, The Blind Man of Seville, The Silent and the Damned and The Ignorance of Blood.

Monday, 22 August 2022

NO PRISONERS - 2nd Leon Cazador thriller

NO PRISONERS - LEON CAZADOR thriller #2 published 23 August 2022

Inside track:

The beginning of the first chapter of No Prisoners started as a proposed short story entitled ‘Golf Lynx’ – like many stories based on Leon Cazador’s cases, this title was a play on words. Leon finds a body in a golf course sand bunker. The ending was more or less envisaged as well. Inevitably, when I was asked to write a second Leon Cazador novel, I immediately opted for these scenes to be incorporated. So all I had to do then was plot and write the (considerable) middle!

If a series of novels was going to work it was clear that Leon needed a personal assistant or secretary, a sounding-board, someone who could become his sidekick. Some years ago he had worked with an undercover cop Carlota Diaz. She seemed like a likely candidate.

Carlota Diaz had high cheekbones which flushed at sight of him. Her chestnut-colored eyes shone as she rose from her reception desk. Tall and attractive, she was from northern Spain with the fair coloring from her Celtic ancestors. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a chignon. She wore a fetching white poplin top and a lacy black bra was visible through the material. Her black skirt hugged a narrow waist and broad hips. He’d made a point of memorizing her birthday from her CV; she was twenty-four yet had a mature head on relatively young shoulders, which had served her well in the police – until she was shot in the leg by an escaping felon. Afterwards she’d been offered a desk job but she decided to resign instead. Leon made her a better offer.

She sidled round the desk and limped up to him, her warm and smooth hands clasping his. “I waited in for you.”

“Thank you. There was no need.” He gently released her hold and shut the door. He was pleased to see her. She was always full of life, a beacon of hope in the gray world he tended to inhabit.

They had a good relationship, despite the difference in their ages; God, it didn’t bear thinking about: he was thirty-two years older! His heart held a special place for her, but they had not taken it further than the occasional kiss. That age difference inhibited him.

For this book and the next, then, Carlota plays a prominent role.

The storyline for the intended short story had been about pedophiles, a particularly nasty group of individuals. Though Leon had no children, he had a niece, so would have dreaded her falling into the clutches of such people. As he becomes sucked into this dark world he declares to Carlota that he had no intention of taking any prisoners: that’s how strongly he felt.

Excerpts from No Prisoners

Surprisingly, quite a few investigators were hired by Spanish families to keep an eye on their teenage sons and daughters. The rise in street crime and drug use was an ever-present worry for responsible parents. If the kids were sucked into crime, the shame could be devastating to the family; and the future for the kids was going to be bleak.

Villains view undercover cops with extreme malice and drastic prejudice. Though not always while undercover using one of his aliases, Leon acknowledged he would be dealing with individuals who would kill. Those who had killed or were happy to order a murder.

Now, the Paseo Vistalegre is attractive and modern, but it wasn’t too long ago that it looked as though it had recently suffered its own little earthquake. Then a mindless vandal deprived the statue band of their trumpet: I know where I’d like to stick the instrument if I ever found the culprit, Leon thought. However, the band had now been re-sited and a new trumpet restored. Never let the senseless idiots win.

Leon wasn’t surprised. Spain had an unfortunate reputation for domestic abuse; officials postulated that many men cannot handle women’s new-found independence, which to Leon seemed odd since freedom for women began decades ago, when the old regime died with Franco in 1975. Yet denuncias for domestic violence in the Alicante province alone had tripled in the last ten years... Leon tried to keep clear of those cases. Basic adultery – by either party – was fair game and less dangerous than many of his other capers; it helped create the illusion that such work paid the bills. He was careful about where his considerable wealth actually stemmed from, since it had been illegal. In truth, he didn’t trust himself where domestic violence was concerned. Usually the culprit was the man – and Leon knew he’d been tempted on those rare occasions when he’d been involved to teach the bully a severe lesson, which could have put him in court or even get his license revoked. He detested bullies of all shades.

From the closet Leon took a black silk long-sleeved shirt and put it on . He kicked off his shoes, unbelted his pants and replaced them with a black pair of cargo pants. Carlota was unfazed. The first time he’d needed to change in a hurry, he’d asked her to go into her office. She’d complied but halfway through changing she’d entered with an urgent phone-call. “Don’t worry,” she’d said, “nudity is no big deal.” So this wasn’t the first time he’d undressed in front of her. Nor would it be the last, he suspected. He shrugged into his shoulder holster, checked the Astra and then the Colt in his ankle holster. He selected a pair of black rock hopper neoprene shoes from a closet shelf and fastened them. She delved into a filing cabinet and handed him two magazines for each gun.

Myriad stars and a full moon shone in the deep blue night sky and reflected in the waters of Marsaskala Bay. Other reflections, from the odd occupied moored boat and buildings, bars and restaurants, diminished the magical effect. Dressed in their gray-and-black wetsuits and wearing their buoyancy compensators, an air tank each, and neoprene gloves and footwear, Leon and Carlota carried the rest of their scuba gear down to the rocky shore. Here, in the light of the moon they did their pre-dive checks on each other – air switched on, all quick-releases and straps secure, visible and within reach, and contents gauges showed “full”. Then they put on their fins and face-masks and swam a short distance into the wide bay and then submerged.

Cazador considers the perpetrators of some crimes deserve only one fate, and that means no prisoners!

Tuesday, 23 January 2018

Mule women die in stampede

The border between the Spanish enclave of Ceuta and Morocco [in North Africa] is daily crossed by female porters who carry large loads, some often heavier than their own weight, strapped to their backs. They are called ‘mule women’ or ‘hamalat’.

Last week, two such women in their forties – Ilham and Souad – were crushed in a stampede of fellow porters.

While it’s difficult to corroborate figures, it is estimated that between 4,000 and 15,000 female porters use the route each day. These human mules are impoverished and carry the loads to earn a pittance.

More details can be found in my book Catacomb (pp36-37); these ‘mule ladies’ also work between the Spanish enclave of Melilla and Morocco:

“Before the 1990s there was no serious border between Morocco and Melilla. Then, membership of the EU meant that Spain was expected to strengthen its border controls. So now a few hundred million euros’ worth of goods arrive in Melilla’s port each year,” Abdel explained. “And the women are used to avoid import taxes because any package that is hand-carried in to Morocco is considered as luggage and therefore duty-free.” (p36)

Catacomb (published by Crooked Cat Books, 2015). Paperback and e-book available here

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

Paperback trilogy - the cat's meow...

Three exciting paperback action romantic adventures featuring ‘the avenging Cat’!

With superb uniform covers from Crooked Cat Publishing.

Catalyst - £7.99

Kindle also available – (series introductory bargain!) - £0.86

Catacomb - £5.99

Kindle - £2.58

Cataclysm - £6.99

Kindle - £2.58

Other e-book formats are also available.

CATALYST

The Avenging Cat series #1

Catalyst: a person that precipitates events.

That's Catherine Vibrissae. Orphan. Chemist. Model. Avenging Cat. She seeks revenge against Loup Malefice, the man responsible for the takeover of her father's company. An accomplished climber, Cat is not averse to breaking and entering to confound her enemies. Ranging from south of England to the north-east, Wales and Barcelona, Cat's quest for vengeance is implacable. But with the NCA hot on her tail, can she escape the clutches of sinister Zabala and whip-wielding Profesora Quesada?

CATACOMB

The Avenging Cat series #2

Catacomb: a subterranean cemetery: a place where ancient corpses are found – or new ones are dumped.
After their recent success in Barcelona, Cat and Rick continue their vendetta against Loup Malefice and his global company, Cerberus, penetrating the lair of Petra Grimalkin in Nice. But death stalks the pair, as do the dogs of law from the NCA, Basset and Pointer. Cat’s trail of vengeance next leads to the Cerberus health food processing plant in the Maghreb. She puts her skills to good use in Morocco where she again confronts the psychotic killer, Zabala. From the exotic streets of Tangier to the inhospitable High Atlas Mountains, danger lurks and a deadly ambush awaits…

CATACLYSM

The Avenging Cat series #3

Cataclysm: a political or social upheaval

Some months after their adventure in Morocco, Catherine Vibrissae receives devastating news from Rick – news that will change her life. Still determined to go to Shanghai to face down her arch enemy Malefice and end her vendetta once and for all, she thwarts an ambush by Cerberus’ head of security, Mr Soong. To complicate matters, oligarch and people smuggler Belofsky is in Shanghai with his own agenda. While Cat plays cat-and-mouse with Soong, she uncovers a conspiracy that could lead to war between China and Japan

Friday, 11 December 2015

Writing – research – argan oil

When I was researching Morocco for my second novel in the ‘Avenging Cat’ series, Catacomb, I came across argan oil. I was aware of this anyway, as it has become a popular ingredient in shampoos, shower gels and skin creams.

The Argan (Argania Espinosa) is a tree native to Morocco and the tree can live up to 200 years. Morocco is the only place where this tree grows.

They call it "the giver of life". The tree is resistant to dry and arid conditions, actually tolerating temperatures ranging from 3-50 ° C.

The Argan grows in the arid and semi-arid South-west of Morocco. Twisted and prickly, it sends its roots deep into the earth in search of water.

The tree’s fruit is green, like a giant olive and tastes sweet but quite unpalatable. But it contains a treasure: a tough nut with small oil-rich seeds. The oil is very nutritous, and - even more important – it’s rich in essential fatty acids and antioxidants.

The walnut shells are burned as fuel. The argan wood - known as "Moroccan ironwood" - is highly valued, and used for marquetry inlaid boxes. Nothing is wasted.

Argan oil production supports about two million people in the main argan oil-producing region, and much of the oil is made by a number of women's co-operatives. ‘Co-sponsored by the Social Development Agency with the support of the European Union, the Union des Cooperatives des Femmes de l’Arganeraie is the largest union of argan oil co-operatives in Morocco. Employment in the co-operatives provides women with an income, which many have used to fund education for themselves or their children. It has also provided them with a degree of autonomy in a traditionally male-dominated society and has helped many become more aware of their rights.’ – Wikipedia.

You may have seen photos of goats up trees, eating the firm argan fruit, which has a thick peel and pulp surrounding an almond-shaped nut. The fruit naturally passes through the goat’s digestive system whole and is eventually excreted. Traditionally, members of the indigenous Berber population gathered the nuts from the goat droppings, cracked them open with stones, then roasted and ground the seeds inside. The argan oil extracted from this process is high in essential fatty acids and vitamin E, and has long been used locally as a skin treatment and cooking ingredient, and for dips for bread and salad dressing. Now, the modern world has adopted the oil in diet and cosmetics.

Alas, the storyline in Catacomb never allowed me to introduce this fascinating subject, so this was one piece of research that got away. The moral of this is – don’t use research information just because it’s interesting; only use it if you can make it relevant.

Thursday, 19 November 2015

Writing - Catalyst for a series

If we’re to believe the experts, books in series are very popular and ‘sell’. This makes sense. Look at the popular TV and movie series that draw viewers in the millions. The audience – the readers, the viewers – like the familiar world of the characters, even though they still want to be stretched by a constantly moving story with twists and turns.

Writing a series is not easy, and sometimes the original writer might not have even intended to pen a series. There are perhaps two approaches:

1. A character or set of characters cry out for more treatment, more adventures, so a series is born – perhaps extending from a sequel

2. The writer plans a situation or a number of plots and creates characters who have the longevity to span more than one novel

I suspect that Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe didn’t begin as a series, no more than C S Forester’s Hornblower. But their characters demanded more – including books harking back to their past. The back stories of both Hornblower and Sharpe were novels written some time after the first book in the series was published. The Richard Bolitho novels by Alexander Kent (Douglas Reeman) also followed this pattern, written out of chronological sequence. [Interestingly, Reeman’s first book was published in 1958 and his latest was in 2011; he’s now 91].

Unintended series

Usually, these begin with the nagging requirement to write a sequel. Sequels tend to demand to be written because the hero or heroine has unfinished business. In actual fact, the author has invested time and emotion in the character and it is painful to leave that ‘person’ in limbo (even if it was ‘happy ever after’). And of course in the writing of the sequel, more story lines insinuate themselves into the author’s psyche. This kind of series can present the biggest problem for the author, because sometimes the first book has presented a kind of strait-jacket, a constriction that has to be broken to allow for more free rein in the future. That strait-jacket might be a job or a spouse; either of which may have to be jettisoned for the series to continue.

Intentional series

A series can be rewarding not only for the reader, but also for the author. Naturally, to begin with salient points have been mapped in the main character’s life, to progress the series. But it’s the putting on of flesh that makes the project so intriguing. I’m a great believer in planning a book, but within that plan there’s still scope for diversions that might provide material for later adventures. These diversions may be caused by new characters being introduced or by unexpected events precipitated by the plot device.

The planned series begins with a central idea. A mission for the hero or heroine. A goal or a quest. The black magic series Night Hunter by Robert Faulcon (Robert Holdstock) began with black magicians kidnapping the hero’s wife, daughter and son for nefarious purposes, leaving him for dead. He survived and began delving into the supernatural, seeking clues to the whereabouts of his family, his quest sustained for six books (1983-1987). Pick a genre and you’ll find hundreds of series books in that genre: crime, science fiction, fantasy, and horror, for example. You can search for series and get some surprises too.

This site is quite interesting. I was surprised at the dominant series titles – but bear in mind that the more books in the series, the more votes/readers that series is likely to get:
http://www.fictfact.com/most-popular-by-genre/cozy

I’m dipping my toe in the series concept with two strands: The Tana Standish Spy Series and the Avenging Cat series.

The ‘Avenging Cat’ begins with:

Catalyst – which introduces Catherine (‘Cat’) Vibrissae who is on a mission of vengeance against Loup Malefice, CEO and owner of Cerberus, a global company of dubious ethics.

“Yes,” Avril said. “I get a small retainer from one of the anti-pollution groups, DOSE - Defenders of Sacred Earth. Not much. But they want me to continue, just in case anything goes amiss. They keep quoting PCB pollution at me. I point out that the stuff’s banned, but they insist I carry on checking. Distrustful lot…” She shrugged. “But they pay.”

Len tapped his fingers on the desk. “PCBs?”

“Polychlorinated Biphenyls,” Cat said. “Highly toxic, used in the manufacturing processes of paints, adhesives, polish, electrical equipment. Firms were pretty cavalier with it…”

Len chortled. “Is this the chemist in you coming out now?”

“You’re a chemist?” Avril said.

“Yes…”

Avril leaned forward, in interrogator’s mode. “But I thought you were a model.”

“I’m both. Modelling pays better – and my hours aren’t so regular.’

Avril narrowed her eyes, faced Len. “Cathy’s right. PCBs were banned in the late 1970s, early 80s.”

“Well,” Len said, “that’s all right, then, surely?”

“No, not really.”

Cat explained, “What Avril means is that PCBs can remain in seawater for a thousand years…”

http://mybook.to/Catacomb

Catacomb – continues on Cat’s vengeance trail, this time taking her from Nice to Morocco.

That evening, they all sat at a long table, Gerard on her right, Rick on her left. Opposite were Howard and Abdel. The walls of the dining room were adorned with oil paintings, landscapes, views of Tangier, and seascapes, all executed by Gerard. “You’ve captured the light perfectly,” Cat said. “Your style reminds me of the Orientalists.”

“Why, thank you, my dear. I simply adore Delacroix.” Gerard wore a cravat, a red silk shirt and loose flannel trousers with open-toed sandals. Quite the Bohemian, she thought.

Glad to be free of trousers and shirt this evening, she’d chosen a simple black dress. But out of respect for Abdel, she’d draped her shoulders with a wispy black lace shawl that covered the enticing generous ‘v’.

Howard nursed his Volubilia Gris, a white wine he recommended, and stared away into memory. “I remember you wearing that black ensemble, it seemed more like mourning clothes – except for the revealing décolletage, I might add.”

“And no visible panty line, as I recall,” chimed in Gerard with glee.

“Because,” Cat replied, “I wasn’t wearing any.”

Howard guffawed.

“I’ve been to some of Cathy’s fashion shows,” Rick said. “I’m sure she’d appear elegant even in a bin-liner!”

She closed her hand over his and squeezed it. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Gerard chuckled. “I agree. Elegant even in glitzy tat!”

Howard whooped loudly. “Sheer dress, sheer wantonness!”

“Remember that wedding dress with the see-through top?” Gerard chortled. “A few eyes popped at that!”

“I can imagine,” Rick said.

Shaking his head, Howard moaned. “The new trend seems to be to expose what is usually covered and to cover what used to be exposed. I can’t say I like it much. It loses the allure.”

Cat smiled at Abdel, who appeared uncomfortable, his face slightly flushed, as if unsure where to rest his gaze. “The pendulum will swing, as it always does. Ignore these critics, Abdel, they’re only baiting me.”

“I know, Cathy. But it is–”

“Unseemly,” chimed in Howard. “You’re right. We should behave better with our guests.” He winked at Gerard.

“Consider us both chastised.” Gerard coyly lowered his lids.

“Now, tell us,” Howard said, leaning close to her, “why are you really here?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Utterly see-through, my dear.”

Keeping to only a few details, she explained about Loup Malefice’s machinations and her discovery that he’d had her father killed.

Cataclysm – is due out next month and sees Cat in China, determined to confront Malefice once and for all in Shanghai. But complications arise before she can achieve that goal…

Madrid
After so long apart, Cat and Rick fell into each other’s arms when they got inside the city apartment. No sooner had the door shut behind them, their cases shoved to one side in the hall, than they began undressing each other on their way to the bedroom.

Afterwards, as they snuggled close on the bed, she said, “It still hasn’t sunk in. All the money I’ve been bequeathed.”

“You can do almost anything, go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Rick.” She hugged him, kissed him on the lips.

“You don’t have to continue with your crusade, you know.”

“I sort of promised. You were there.”

“Yes, but it can be all done legally – no more abseiling down buildings!”

“We’ll see – after Shanghai.”

“All right, I’ll settle for that.”

“I hope we can get the paperwork sorted and find a seat for you on the plane.”

“Me too. I hated us being separated. I know it was for a good reason…” His voice choked off.

“I know, darling. I feel awful.”

“It’s sad, Cathy. But it also makes you grateful to be alive… You never know how long you’ve got left, do you?”

“Live for the moment?”

“Yes.” He kissed her. “Something like that.”

“I told you about Daddy’s great affection for Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations.”

“Yes, you did. So?”

“He wrote, ‘In the life of a man, his time is but a moment, his being an incessant flux, his senses a dim rushlight, his body a prey of worms, his soul an unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, and his fame doubtful’. Long or short, our lives should be lived for the ‘now’, not dwelled upon in the past, nor blindly yearning for an unknowable future.”

“That’s quite a philosophy. Seize the day?”

“I’ve seized something, I think…” she purred playfully.

“Hmm… so you have…”

The Tans Standish Spy Series is about Tana, a psychic who works for the British Intelligence Service, and begins with:

The Prague Papers – which finds her in Czechoslovakia, 1975, some seven years after her last mission there during the Soviet invasion. This time, she has to identify a traitor and in the process loses some friends.

The Tehran Text – takes Tana to Iran in 1978, having recovered from the trauma of the Czechoslovak mission. She needs all her psychic powers and guile to evade the Shah’s secret police, while attempting to preserve the life of friends.

I hope you can join me in these series, and enjoy the ride!

If you’re keen on spy fiction series, then drop by here

http://www.spyguysandgals.com/index.asp

Randall has amassed a phenomenal amount of information – 800+ series comprising some 5800+ books as well as covering 200+ movies and 1200 TV shows). I’ll be featuring a blog post about Randall soon.