Arts
The Swaling, Part Forty Four
We are together alone on the floor of Natasha’s Dolphin Square apartment. She has closed the curtains and sat on the opera glasses to attract my full attention. In doing so, she ended our nighttime [more…]
Memoir
Arts
The Swaling, Part Forty Three
Myself and my colleague Natasha are squatted on her studio floor beside open curtains looking at the nighttime lives of others. Safely in darkness, to ensure our scantily dressed shapes aren’t silhouetted to the outside [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Forty Two
“Beau Peeper? Classy. From some kind of top-shelf magazine one hears about? The things you do for Queen and country, Worth.” I’m showing Natasha my exhibit ‘A’, a newspaper cutting I hope will persuade her [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Forty One
Miss Williams’s accommodations resembled a hotel room rather than an apartment, and a middle-market one at that. Its attraction was location, location, location rather than size, furnishings and decor. That location was the seventh floor [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Forty
April 1984 suffered its share of chill winds, further proof that the final quarter of the 20th century drew towards an ice age. But the clocks never struck thirteen and the masses making their way [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Thirty Nine
We’re in the underground comms room of a deserted nighttime British High Commission in Singapore. Outside, a swaling wind, a tropical storm mixed with the burnings of Indonesian crops, is battering the city state’s good [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Thirty Eight
“Whose side are you on?” I snarled to Lotus Flower in a private message. “Mine,” she replied promptly. “You retire in disgrace in a few weeks, I have to think about the rest of my [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Thirty Seven
In real life, we’re sat in a row in the comms room, logged on to our computers. On the screens our avatars are in the virtual 3D interactive world of EYE, an intelligence archive retrieval [more…]
Arts
The Swaling, Part Thirty Six
We’re in an underground comms room in Singapore, suffering a bit of low key blackmail as an old contact, Tammy, on the New York side of a cell-phone loudspeaker, wants to know something, before she’ll [more…]