Month: December 2016

The Art of Deception 43

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week Alice met the agent she would work with. It was … something of a surprise. The conversation continues.

Alice stood and pointed, “You!”

“You!”

“What are”

“You”

“Doing”

“Here?”

Roderick ignored Alice and demanded, “That was my question, I can’t possibly work with her, Lord Grey.”

“Nor I him, please Uncle.”

Lord Grey beamed at them, “I see you’ve met; excellent; saves time on tedious introductions.”

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.

My apologies for creative punctuation.

The discussion will shortly turn to various items Sir Roderick brought back from “those rebellious colonists.” One of the things he absconded with is a copy of “Mr Jefferson’s machine.” Thomas Jefferson is one of the several inventors of a wheel cipher.

m94-c-1200 The wheel cipher, in this case a more modern implementation that was used until the start of the second world war, is not bad. It would have been difficult for 19th century cryptographers to break. But not impossible.
m-138-a_strip_cipher_2 The US has a long history of using this system or its logical equivalent – strip ciphers. The message is put in one column and then some other column is read out as a cipher. Paper strips replaced the wheel cipher because they’re easier to change and more important in a battlefield situation, easier to destroy. Since nearly every soldier smoked, and the paper was typically nitrated, it would only take a touch of flame to hide the key.

These ciphers also illustrate an important concept in security. They (the modern ones) were not intended for top secret communications, but instead were used to handle tactical secrets. For example, to let the artillery know which German hill to shell without letting the Germans know until the shells fell on them.

It may seem strange that the British are still referring to the Americans as colonists. It took another war to finally convince them that independence was here to stay. The bad feelings lingered into the start of the first world war, where had the Germans been vaguely clueful, we could have come in on their side. The statue of Baron von Steuben at Valley Forge NHP was donated in 1915 by the ‘German-American Bund’ and German language newspapers were common in the US until the Zimmerman telegram and the Lusitania.

Still working on a cover idea – hard even though I’m a dashed good photographer (if I say so myself). That and editing the manuscript to put more description/reaction into it. (not to mention a few thousand words).

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstein’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.

Like poor Cecelia, ” The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Secret Supers – A guest post from Aurora Springer.

Gargoyle Hunt, Book 3 of the Secret Supers

Danger is the last thing on Estelle’s mind when she visits the University of Oxenford for a summer course. But, mysterious thefts and shadowy figures spur her into action. With Toby five thousand miles away, Estelle and her winged horse must hunt for the culprits alone. Soon they are embroiled in a mixed bag of aliens and ancient magic. Toby’s unexpected arrival throws her into turmoil and spurs events into a climax. Under pressure to succeed, Toby is trapped in a web of deceit. The two supers have less than a week to catch the crooks and salvage his reputation.

gargoyle-coverExcerpt

Outside the entrance of the mound, the hippies were debating the alignment of the Kennett Long Barrow relative to the major axis of Stonehenge. Estelle hid a smile and stepped back to gaze at the rock entrance. She climbed to the top of the barrow in search of a quieter spot, enticed by the promise of a cool breeze and extensive view. A handful of people lounged in the grass above the entrance. Further along the mound, two middle aged women sat next to four small dogs.

Estelle strolled toward the end of the mound. The two women made an incongruous couple. The thin one had a severe black dress and long black hair framing a pale face, while the other woman had short gray curls, round pink cheeks and wore a flowery frock. Two of the dogs, miniature greyhounds, scampered over and sniffed at Estelle’s knees. She bent down to pet them.

The plump woman said, “I see you like dogs.”

“I love animals,” Estelle said, smiling at the friendly woman.

The thin woman stared at Estelle, sharp black eyes contrasting with her pale complexion. Lidding her eyes, she whispered, “I see white feathers.” She opened her eyes and asked, “Do you have a pet bird?”

With a flutter of wings, the speckled white pigeon landed on the mound nearby. “I’m not a pet,” Rockette squawked indignantly.

“Hush,” Estelle sent.

“Not a pet and not a bird,” the dark haired woman said, glancing at the pigeon.

Her pink cheeked friend smiled at Estelle. “Would you like to sit down and chat for a few minutes, dearie?”

“The dogs have yappy thoughts. Better find out who they are,” Rockette advised.

If the mare could hear the dogs, Estelle guessed they must be Farleon animals. She sat on the grass and the dogs lay down and licked her bare legs. “Thanks. I’m visiting Oxenford for a summer course.”

“One of our American cousins?” the thin woman asked.

Nudging her companion with an elbow, the plump woman said, “I’m Misty Tibbit and my partner is Dot Farthingale.”

“Estelle Wright. I’m from Atalanta in the United States.” She petted the two dogs curled beside her. These women and their Farleon animals were her kindred.

The pigeon waddled closer.

“And who is the bird that isn’t?” Dot asked in her astute fashion.

“My companion is a mare called Rockette,” Estelle said, gesturing at the pigeon.

“I can talk to the dogs,” Rockette announced. “They like to hunt Zarnoths.”

Misty gestured to the small greyhounds. “Meet Wolfie, Molly, Patch and Catch.”

Sighing with relief, Estelle said, “I could use some Farleon friends. There’s trouble in Oxenford. Mysterious thefts and living stone gargoyles. I guess they might be Zarnoth creations.”

The two older women exchanged glances, and Dot mumbled, “Ill dreams troubled me two nights ago.”

“Never mind the dreams,” Misty said. “The local newspaper was brim full of the university’s losses. Along with a mite of speculation about the criminals.” Fondling the ears of the dog sitting beside her, Misty nodded at Estelle. “We’ll see what we can find out.” She rummaged in her handbag, pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and scribbled a note. Handing the paper to Estelle, she said, “Call us if you need help. We live in Hodgecombe Cottage, Little Wickham. It’s not ten miles from Oxenford.”

“Thanks!” Trusting her new Farleon friends, Estelle offered her phone number in exchange.

Secret Supers Series

Teen superhero, Starrella, and her flying horse combat alien crooks.

Super Starrella, Book 1

Starrella Falls, Book 2

Gargoyle Hunt, Book 3

banner-secretsupers3bks

Complete List of Aurora Springer’s Books: http://auroraspringer.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html

 

 

Author Bio

Aurora Springer is a scientist morphing into a novelist. She has a PhD in molecular biophysics and discovers science facts in her day job. She has invented adventures in weird worlds for as long as she can remember. In 2014, Aurora achieved her life-long ambition to publish her stories. Her works are character-driven romances set in weird worlds described with a sprinkle of humor. Some of the stories were composed thirty years ago. She was born in the UK and lives in Atlanta with her husband, a dog and two cats to sit on the keyboard. Her hobbies, besides reading and writing, include outdoor activities like gardening, watching wildlife, hiking and canoeing.

Media links:

Website  Facebook  Twitter  Google+  Blog

 

Sunday Snippet, A Modest Proposition, ctd.

A Formulaic Romance

This is the start of another story Amelia and I are putting together. There’s a pun in the title that will become obvious in time.

It starts with the trope, Lady Rachel on her way to London, is stranded in the country by an unfortunate accident. They’ve made their way to the house in the distance, but not without slipping in the muddy lane.

The Master was introduced here. He was somewhat annoyed at the disturbance, but willing to see that his guests were properly entertained.  The housekeeper, Mrs Hobbes, leads Rachel and Lucy to their rooms to prepare for dinner The carriage wright makes a cameo appearance in a previous snippet.

Last week saw the arrival of Rupert’s Uncle George and a hint at the complicated family history – a history that was not completely … harmonious.

After a peek into Rupert’s history, George makes a somewhat unusual proposition to Rachel. This week continues their dialog

 

An Unexpected Visitor and a Proposition.

“I see. You aren’t expecting me to do anything … improper, compromising. I still desire marriage, although not with Lord Hartshorne.”

Lucinda had sat silent through this exchange, “Miss Rachel, please. This isn’t becoming and I’m afraid you’ll live to regret it.”

“I know Lucy, but to be honest, Lord Bromley warned me that I was cutting it too fine when I first wrote to him.” Rachel stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then at Lord Bedlington. “On the understanding that I shall simply be a friend, or at least do my best to be a friend, I’ll accept your offer.”

“That’s the spirit. You won’t regret it, and my Charity will be pleased to see her new nephew at Almack’s. Get her mother to show you the town.”

“Why not yours?”

“Ah, well, she prefers that Rupert not get married. Afraid he might break the entail. However, what we’d do with his estates is beyond me. It’s one thing if he doesn’t produce an heir. Entirely another if he doesn’t try.”

“I see. There is a complication, Lord Bromley expects me this week.”

“Not a problem, I’ll frank your letter. Um … I have one of my own to send to the city, so if you write yours quickly, I’ll see that it gets sent today.”

“To Charity?”

“Why would you write … I’m sorry, mine’s to her.”

“As it should be. Where did you find paper?” Rachel rose, followed immediately by Lord Bedlington.

“The library, in a desk below a stuffed eagle.”

“All those creatures, I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable writing while they watch.” None the less, Rachel found her way to the library and ignored the animals’ unblinking stare while she wrote a short letter to her sponsor, to let him know that she would be later than expected, but would arrive, in style, escorted by a member of the ton.

It’s probably obvious that the title, “A Formulaic Romance” refers obliquely to chemistry. There’s another arcane reference in the text. Anyone caught it yet?  It’s sort of, maybe, perhaps, important, given what Rupert worked on in the past.

The unusual firearm shown in the featured image is another clue.

The Art of Deception 42

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week Alice sat, nervous, in her uncle’s office while he reviewed her work. Pleased with it, this week he elevates her to active status and introduces the agent with whom she will work.

“Yes, I’m assigning you to work with one of our best agents, Roderick, Lord Fitzpatrick; he’s just back from a long stint in the Americas.”

“Sounds delightful, is he handsome?”

“I’m sure you’ll like him; just the man to squire you around the assemblies; one of the leading tulips of the ton, a real nonesuch. Odd thing is, he also reported finding a French agent, in Bristol and then Bath; the agent hit him so hard that he ended up in the hospital overnight; do you think it was the same one?”

Alice pondered his words for a few moments, and said, “Might be, he was … rather obvious about it.”

“Funny thing that, Lord Roderick said she was-”

The servant knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He and Lord Roderick entered.

Alice stood and pointed, “You!”

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.

My apologies for creative punctuation.

promo_dec_16

Lots of great books and one of mine (Frankenkitty)
Still working on a cover idea – hard even though I’m a dashed good photographer (if I say so myself). That and editing the manuscript to put more description/reaction into it. (not to mention a few thousand words).

 

first_motorcycle_and_gasoline_vehicle
This is a little later (1880’s), but shows the first gasoline vehicle. Note that it’s a motorcycle. I doubt Herr Benz wore “All The Gear All The Time,” but then he didn’t have to worry about those new fangled automobiles on his roads.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstein’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.

Like poor Cecelia, ” The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

Turkey Pie

Meat pies are a traditional way to finish up with leftovers. Leftovers such as turkey.

Step 1) (Day before) boil the bones and less desirable parts of meat. (back & wings). I break it up and cover it with water. Then I boil for 4-5 hours until the fluid is dark and slightly viscous. Doesn’t that sound delightful? That’s the collagen dissolving to give the stock body.

Step 2) Filling. Precook by boiling two or three potatoes. Do it with the skin on. I’ll also cut up three or four carrots and add them to the mixture. Once they are cooked, drain and let cool (you can overlap this step with making the rest of the filling).

In a deep frying pan saute (tablespoon olive oil, tablespoon +- butter) two onions and 5-6 stalks of celery. Cut up the turkey while these are cooking. Add about 1 1/2 cups of the cooled stock to the frying pan and start the reduction process. Put the turkey and carrots (if they’re done) in the frying pan while you’re reducing. Reduce the stock by about 1/2.

Step 3) Crust. 2 cups flour, 1 stick margarine, teaspoon salt, teaspoon sage, teaspoon thyme leaves (I suppose you could used “mixed spice” in the UK). Cut the margarine into the flour mix. Then when you’re ready to roll it out mix in about 1/3 cup cold water. I add the water in smaller amounts as it’s easy to add more and dashed hard to remove it. Divide into 2/3 and 1/3.  Roll the 2/3 out and line a 9 inch glass pie dish.

Step 4) Assembly.  De-skin and cut up 1/2 the potatoes and place on the bottom crust. Add the rest of the filling from the frying pan. Then skin and put the remaining potatoes on top. Roll out the remaining crust and cover/seal with the lower one.

Bake at 375 F (210 C – slightly hotter than moderate) for about an hour. Since fluids may leak from the pie, it is a good idea to put the pan on a baking sheet with sides to catch the liquid before it messes up the oven.

Enjoy.