Tag Archives: Azure Spark

V for Vendetta – Azure Spark. Part 22

by

4

[Don’t miss the Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

VENDETTA – Tuesday 1 p.m.

Vague visions vex me as they vanish. Memories return as Kama kisses me.

“You fainted, cariad. You need more time to recover.”

She’s kneeling on the grass with my head in her lap. She caresses my face.

“No. We haven’t got time. I fear what Lagens väktare means.” I look up at Ffion and Uthyr, their brows creased. “I need to go online. On my sister Gwawr’s computer.”

We sprint to the house and I sign to my deaf sister.  

Upstairs in her room, the four of us squeeze behind Gwawr as she types Lagens väktare  into Google Translate.

“Guardians of the Law”

“Above the law. Vigilantes. That’s their motivation. And my hyper-active tattoos are screaming Arms.”

“Explosives?” asks Ffion. “Like they used on your boat? Or guns?”

“The canisters were not tall enough for long weapons,” says Kama. “But disassembled ones, handguns, or components would be a viable guess.”

Uthyr waves me to the doorway. I trust my sister, but guessing she can lip read, Uthyr asks, “Should we talk outside?”

“Gwawr’s my trusted researcher – and my late tad knew that – as does Ffion. She knows more than mam-“

“-About you and Kama as well?” His smile eases my racing pulse. “Yes, I suspected when I arrived. You make a great couple and my unit would validate that.”

As they look over at us, we call the others over and suggest grabbing tea or coffee and sitting outside.

Drinking as we sit on the wooden bench overlooking the farm, I attempt to relax. This is almost home – this working farm. The sound of sheep. The glistening water where Kama and I swam before not making love. Better to dive in again to banish the nightmare.

Utkin. Xander Utkin.

“Ffion, does Vivian’s personnel file show any relationship to Xander Utkin, the guy Kama and I put away for arson, earlier this year?”

Our DI closes her eyes. A long pause when I wonder if this thread is coincidence.

“Vivian admitted Xander was her brother when she applied to join CID, three months ago. However, she was estranged from him and said he deserved to be locked up.”

Connected. Disapproval.

“Any sign that she feels that we are too soft on crime?”

“None. Like all of us she sympathizes with the victims. Works tirelessly to resolve cases. I suspect that’s one of the reasons that Wiley-“

“-Obsesses about her,” says Kama. “Those two are inseparable. Perhaps another team.”

Perhaps vigilantes. Or are they virtuous?

“Their follow-up on your deaths,” says Ffion, “has been exacting and sensitive.”

V for Vigilantes or Virtuous. E for Exacting and Explosives.

A mobile phone rings. Uthyr’s.

“Varley.” He listens, one hand rubbing his neck. “On the move? Which direction?” He nods then glances at his watch. “I’m forty minutes away at least. Follow them and keep me informed.” He snaps his phone closed.

“ Njörðr Hämnaren has cast off?” I ask. “Heading where?”

“East. Possibly towards Liverpool so outside the NWP’s operational area. But not my Marine Unit’s. If necessary, I’ll contact our colleagues at Merseyside Police. We’ll continue monitoring the transponder signals. Ffion, your team must find the vermin that think they are above the law.”

M for Merseyside and Monitor.

Uthyr leaves us strategizing beside the llyn.

“If we’re to draw them out,” says Kama. “Sparkle and I are the prime bait and-“

“-Your usual jeopardy approach,” says Ffion. “Last time nearly got you both killed.”

“Nearly is not stopping me. Fainting was just a memory recall device – that worked.”

Like my tingling tattoos.

W for Weapons. A for Arms. E for Explosives. S for Strategy.

V for Vendetta. Ours.

WAVES. Staggering ashore having survived the watery nightmare. Where?

“Sparkle and I must return to Aberdaron Bay and drown again.”


Aberdaron Beach – © Copyright Eirian Evans and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Akb1t37T4E

U for Undermine – Azure Spark. Part 21

by

4

[Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

UNDERMINE – Tuesday Midday

Unarmed, unaware and useless. My decisions. Why come here? Unsound understanding of my tattoos.

Kama’s tongue traces the heart where only she goes. Licks her way inside. Inviting me inside her.

I’ve betrayed her. Making love is impossible now. Even if my brain wasn’t scrambled.

“You’re distracted, cariad. Why? Your grandparents’ disapproval? They don’t know. Adjoining rooms don’t mean we’re lovers – even if we are.”

Peaceful sounds. Sheep. A tractor.

But nothing is normal now.

“My grandparents suspect – but don’t want to know. But I’m doubting myself. Stupidly blaming my tattoos–”

” -which have always led to the right conclusion.”

Shake my head. Crush her pillows.

“Only when I unscramble their weirdness.”

Each tattoo is a watershed moment in my life – becoming a goth, my first girlfriend, that first heartbreak. Culminating in our secret hearts. But upheavals – always.

Passion postponed, I dress in black – jeans, T-shirt and Doc Martens. Focus on positives. Ignore the pounding in my head.

Undetected. We can still thwart the Swedes and their NWP informer.

Outside, an ultramarine Land Rover Discovery draws up. We go downstairs and greet Uthyr Varley.

“Glad you got the coded message, sir.”

“Uthyr, please. Especially as this is unofficial – and you two are presumed dead. ‘Unacceptable fatalities’, the Chief Constable stated to the media.”

“Best if Sparkle and I remain dead until we’ve outwitted the suspects. Undercover and unseen beyond here. How much has the Marine unit uncovered so far?”

Without the involvement of the North West Police Underwater Search and Marine Unit, I know that NWP is in an unwinnable situation.

We sit on the wooden bench outside, overlooking a view I will always love. Mountains speckled with sheep.

“Forensics identified the explosive used from the wreckage recovered by Messrs. Thomas and Pugh as untagged Semtex – used primarily in blasting.”

“Traceable?” I suspect not, even if the Chief Constable is alerted.

“No resources, I’m afraid. We’re tracking the cargo you raised and tagged. The four containers are still on the yacht Njörðr Hämnaren in a marina between Llandudno and Conwy. No attempt has been made to unload them. What do you suspect is in them?”

Our dilemma. My unease. “Unsure at present.”

A white Peugeot 308 pulls into the farmyard and parks by the new farmhouse built for my grandparents and mother.

Uthyr looks at his watch. “Ffion Baines on time as usual.”

Our DI points down to the llyn – the lake that gives the farm its name: Tyn-y-llyn. The lake where I learnt to swim – and we still do.

“Coffee, tea and gossip can wait. Today it’s urgent that we unmask whoever betrayed my officers. Ugly prejudice taken to unacceptable lengths. But why?”

“Money,” says Uthyr. “usually the ulterior motive.”

M for Money. P for Prejudice. Unlikely. We are missing the reason.

“Anyone behaving unexpectedly?” asks Kama. “The team must be devastated – or should be.”

“When officers die, everyone pulls together. United – as we are in Porthmadog. Wiley Yates and Vivian Utkin volunteered to investigate your murders. I gave them access to some – but not all – of your files.”

Who do we trust? Wiley knows our secret and understands. Vivian is an unknown.

U for Understands and Unknown.

Her surname Utkin is familiar. From where? Another case? A chill. My stomach seethes. Like my mind. Shredded, ever since the explosion.

“Pia Pilkvist said something in Swedish before attempting to kill us. Kama?”

“It sounded like ‘larger victory’ as if they had accomplices elsewhere acting underhand–”

“–like in other police forces,” says Uthyr.

Silence. Even the sheep are unvoiced.

“Or it was another attempt to undermine us – sow doubt.” I shake my head. “But it makes no sense killing us then.”

K for Kill. V for Victory and Volunteers. A for Accomplices and Anxious. T for Traitor and Threats.

KVAT means nothing. My tattoos are failing us.

“We have grounds to arrest the Pilkvists,” says Ffion, tensing her shoulders. “I’m desperate as they intended to kill you both. But I can’t until we’ve uncovered their informer and other accomplices.”

Our safety requires uncertainty. Remaining hidden. Blood from chewing my lips. Gritted teeth instead. Not inactive if we want to lure them out. Think. Untangle my mess.

“Thwarted.” Uthyr clasps his hands behind his head. “I’ve asked HMRC if they have grounds to seize the canisters, but they were inside UK waters when raised. Nothing to point conclusively to their overseas origin. Too circumstantial. But we’re primed to respond.”

“And if they contain drugs or worse?” My skull vibrates. Just tight. Weak. “Time was imperative, they said. Why?”

T for Time. V for Victims.

VAKT.

Head spinning. Brain swamped. As my knees fail, I remember. “Väktare. Pia said Lagens väktare.”

Falling. Where’s Kama?

Snowdonia

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

T for Treachery – Azure Spark. Part 20

by

6

[Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

TREACHERY – Tuesday 1 AM

Tossed. Tumbling through turbulent water toward treacherous rocks. Thunder in my head. Eyes seared by the explosion. Nothing, not even stars.

Dead. That was their intent. Arms around me, tugging me. Kama towing me.

“Don’t thrash.” A shout penetrates the storm that tramples my mind. “I can see. I’ll get us ashore.”

“Where? A cove? I remember only rocks and cliffs.”

“There has to be one nearby. I glimpsed Bardsey Island from the yacht.”

Doubt. Before we sailed to the dive site. Then cliffs. Cold and tired.

“Relax, cariad. We’re a team – survivors.”

“If you can see, I’ll swim behind. I can hear – sense you ahead. Swimming will keep me warm – alert. Please, thozhi.“

Kama fastens a tether strap around my wrist. “I’ll attach the other end to my ankle. Safety 101.”

Tremble and smile. Warmth. Her ankle with a rose tattoo that matches mine. Our eternal love.

We swim together. Trust.

A sound. Waves slapping on a clinker-hull. A voice – robust. Welsh.

“There. Alive and swimming.” Guto Thomas, and he shouts at us. “Genethod, we heard the explosion – muffled but definite. What happened?”

“Rescue us and we’ll tell,” Kama says. “But officially we are dead. In reality, wounded. Sparkle was blinded – still is.”

Arms pull us aboard. A second voice says, “Back to Port Meudwy then.”

“Padrig. We must vanish,” I say. Smiling in the total darkness.

“Your new secret is safe with me,” he says. “Just as your earlier ones were – cousin. Us Pughs are a smart family.”

Even if I feared his kinship, he’s true. Not every Pugh is as prejudiced as my thaid, my grandfather Hywel Pugh.

Plan. Move ahead of the Swedish smugglers – and the traitor in NWP. Lure them out.

In front of the fire in Guto and Padrig’s cottage, we eat bowls of Cawl – lamb and vegetable stew. Warmth, and with my eyesight returning, we devise tactics.

“First, messages to our DI, Ffion Baines and to Inspector Uthyr Varley to activate tracking of our concealed transponders.” Kama writes the coded message. “Officially, we have to be missing or dead.”

“We can retrieve some of the wrecked boat,” says Guto. “Evidence – your people will know what sort of bomb.”

“Forensics will come.” Kama anticipates what I suspect. “Then some detectives – perhaps even the one that betrayed us.”

“Kama and I can’t stay here. We have to get to Tyn-y-llyn.”

“Ivor Pugh’s farm,” Padrig says. “I’ve been there a few years ago. I’ll take you. Covert?”

We all laugh.

“My family are used to my weird ways. So, if we turn up at the Pugh farm hidden in some trailer – no surprise.”

N for Nightmare and Nemesis. K for Killed and Kinship. P for Pugh and Protection. U for Unseen and Uncle. I for Ivor and Intent. C for Covert and Code.

UNPICK. Unscramble the tangled threads hiding our traitor.

When we make sense of Pia’s parting words.

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

S for Sabotage – Azure Spark. Part 19

by

3

[Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

SABOTAGE – Monday Midnight

Stars shining on the sea should settle our nerves. Impossible now we are sure the scheming stinks.

“How will we find these containers you say was swept overboard during the storm?”

Peder hands Rashmi an electronic tracker.

“Switch this on and our cargo will be transmitting a signal. Simply follow that. When you find the cargo attach the items to the rapid deployment lift bags. Once inflated they will bring the cargo to the surface for retrieval. Straightforward.”

Mind racing. Hesitate from asking what the salvage is. My senses say don’t.

“How many containers? You’ve given us eight small bags.”

“Four to search for. Two lift bags per canister.”

Pia strides over, tapping her watch. “You better leave now.”

At the stern, we climb back down to our boat, already loaded with the scuba tanks and lifting devices.

We cast off and raise the sails. Our craft slices apart the sheen on the water from the moon and stars. Perfect weather.

Sudden dread as spasms seize me.

P for Panic but also Precautions. Slow breathes.

The mini-sonar directs us over the area where the cargo should be. We lower the sea anchor and release the rapid deployment lift bags – weighted to sink steadily on a long hawser.

A last scrupulous check of each other’s equipment, then we drop backwards over opposite sides into the serene darkness. The beams of our head-lamps stab into the depths.

The strengthening beeps guide our cautious descent.

When we reach the bags, we lower them. Deeper, past jagged rocks. Seaweed. Curious fish.

Containers – canisters designed for underwater recovery. Not just for the deck of a Swedish ship in the storm. Not swept overboard but jettisoned.

I sign Rashmi to strap two balloons to the first container as I adjust their regulator pressure gauges for the correct depth. Then we scrutinize the containers. No signifying marks. Nothing to divulge the contents. But designed for lifting straps.

However, there is a suitable slit where I insert our own tracker – a signal we can follow. Security 101.

We open the valves on the two scuba cylinders that inflate the bags. Swim clear as the bags lift and carry the container towards the surface.

Same procedure with the second canister – and second transponder. Two more balloons. Then the final two canisters.

A for Ascent.

Almost over. Tension not disappearing. Breathe slowly. Don’t waste precious air.

Our ascent takes longer as we need a stage decompression. Longer climb than our descent and time working on the seabed. Time enough for the waves to have picked up above.

The beginning of a squall.

No sign of the rapid deployment lift bags.

P for Panic as my stomach churns.

But the Njörðr Hämnaren has sailed closer. They’ve already winched the cargo aboard.

Relief and Apprehension.

We take off our tanks to simplify our return journey.

Tattoos hammer T for Timing.

“Too easy,” I say to Rashmi. “Be prepared for anything.”

Like the semi-automatic shots that spray the sea. R for Revenge.

Pia hails us. “Time to stay where you are, detectives. Yes, we know who you are and thank the North Wales Police for their assistance. Lagens väktare. May you swim in peace.”

I dive at Kama as I spy the carelessly stowed spare sail and scream.

TRAP. The boat is ripped apart.

https://www.oceandefenders.org/news-and-media/ghost-gear-galore.html

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

R for Rogue – Azure Spark. Part 18

by

8

[Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

ROGUE – Monday Afternoon

Regatta races are never routine. Padrig’s factors are in play as he leads us rank and file racers. We were warned. That includes the risk awaiting us on the Swedish yacht. Ffion tried to alert us, but thrills win every time.

Evading rivals, we jibe too violently. Lose ground – and the wind.

Patience. Rationalize. But we like to win – whatever the odds.

As I steer us back into the breeze, my mind dual-tracks. Sailing and strategy. Both risky but only one roils my stomach.

Rashmi shifts her weight as my next jibe is precise.

We’re no longer last.

Will Peder and Pia Pilkvist expect better? Reject us for shit boat-handling? Fail us – with the case wide open?

Unlikely. They implied time was tight. But They know something.

A boat closes on us. The next turn needs to be tight. No room for error.

Setup perfect. Jibe gentle. Danger passed.

Smiles. For now.

Mistakes have been made. We know we have a renegade copper. A police officer with a price. Our heads?

No suspects before we left Porthmadog. None now we are on our own.

We cut inside another boat on the next turn. Gain another place.

Sailing might become a serious pastime. Rashmi’s beaming’s face underlines that – if we can abandon swimming.

Never.

I glance at my watch. Not long left

Raucous cries ring from the shore. Local fans and tourists. Drowning out the roars from crews exhorting their partners for a final push.

 Our interaction is mental. Written on our faces and in our pounding blood. We are a team. Unstoppable.

Except in a regatta. Trailing in mid-pack – also-rans. Padrig and his racing partner win again.

“Do we congratulate them?” I ask. But Peder and Pia Pilkvist are waving us over to the night-black luxury sailing yacht that looms offshore.

We lower our sails as we draw alongside. Peder motions to the stern which rears over us. He throws us a line, and we secure our Aberdaron boat.

A metal ladder hangs off the yacht. We climb up, past the blood red name

“Welcome aboard the Njörðr Hämnaren,” says Pia, simpering like a snake. “She can out-sail most yachts in her class – when we choose to compete. Not today though.”

The couple lead us to the cockpit which I recognise as highly automated. A necessity with a minimal crew.

“Did you sail her here alone?” I ask, wondering if we are expected to help with the yacht.

“All the way,” says Pia. “With all the technology installed, especially the computer-controlled electric winches controlling the sails, it was leisurely.”

State-of-the-art navigation equipment from what I can tell. Someone has money from somewhere. Illegal goods?

“All we lack,” says Peder, “is a submersible.” He laughs. “Human divers are preferable – especially at night and close to the rocks.”

So, a night dive. No witnesses. What does that mean? Has the rogue cop set us up? Rocks are treacherous too.

Cold fingers crawl up my spine. T for Treachery.

“Our money. The risk – deep diving at night close to the shore.” My lowered voice is not fake concern. Every tattoo screams. “Five thousand pounds at least.”

Am I provoking a fight? Or testing their commitment? Our worth?

“Acceptable.” Without hesitation. “But first, we move the Njörðr Hämnaren around the coast.” Pia’s mask slips. Warning light. “While you two check the equipment we acquired for you. Best scuba gear available.”

An attachment on the sonar depth indicator catches my eye. Like a vehicle tracker. My glance shifts to an out-of-place garden gnome. On a yacht? An electronic component smuggled into Wales?

But the gnome is staged. For us.

Peter taps his watch.

“Time to run those safety checks in the aft cabin. Go below and it’s the one nearest the stern. We will tell you when we’ve reached the dive site.”

As we head into the plush space below, Rashmi says, “Every sense says get off this ride. Our cover is blown. But we are reduced to one choice. Dive.”

I squeeze her hand as we reach the smallest cabin and inside find the scuba gear.

Brand-new with labels still attached. Staging? Sizes are right. Air tanks are full. We run through all the checks Varley taught us.

“These gloves, boots and hood fit snugly. But we use our own special wetsuits – for luck,” says Rashmi. “And certainty.”

S for Safety and Security. T for Treacherous and Tanks. E for Electronics. P for Price.

STEP. Forward or into the unknown?


Photos by Peter Ainsworth – Aberdaron Sailing Club
http://www.hwylio-llyn.co.uk/home.htm

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yZCpyOQLE0

Q for Quake – Azure Spark. Part 17

by

6

[Music treat at the end. This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

QUAKE – Sunday Evening

Quiet meals in quaint country restaurants can sap resolve. Not tonight when we all have questions. Like what are the sea jewels? Not drugs.

Peder and Pia Pilkvist collected us as arranged, taking us to a French bistro well above our normal budget. Somewhere we aren’t known.

We are encouraged to choose anything – and the wine flows freely.

“Did you eat Latin food in Patagonia? Or Welsh?”

“Welsh with an Argentinian twist.” I smile and add, “seafood became our favourite as it was fresh from the sea at Puerto Madryn.”

“Perfect, I recommend Quenelles de Homard.” Pia explains. “The lobster is local, maybe from off the Aberdaron coast.”

“I prefer Caille en Escabeche,” says Peder. “With the quail, I’m partial to the blend of Latin and French – fusion is an art form. Spare no expense when you order. We can afford this luxury.”

And the yacht. GEE is not an overtly rich company. No high value electrical or engineering items. Certainly not garden gnomes.

“I’ll have the Escabeche,” says Rashmi.

I choose the quenelles, but my mind is tapping my bracer. Q for Q-ships. Not what they seem. A disguise to hide weaponry. Like Quenelles de brochet and pike bones.

“Great choices require the right wines, “says Peder who then talks with the sommelier in passable French.

We aren’t meant to understand. But policing tourist areas has advantages. But nothing triggers alarms – yet.

If G is for Garden Gnomes, is W for Weapons? H for Herrings and more bones?

“Before the wine leaves us unfit to race tomorrow, what do you need me and Sioned for? As divers or sailors?”

Pia dips her head to her husband. We’re not meant to see as he is asking the sommelier for a bottle of vintage rosé Champagne.

“Divers primarily,” says Pia. “Your competitive reputation is impressive. But you will need your boat.”

Our doctored qualifications were straightforward for NWP to upload on the Internet. Our Q-ship.

“After we race tomorrow? No sooner I hope.” Although our participation is not vital. But I falter as if dismayed.

“Race, but then we need you. We will bring our yacht,” says Peder. “Then we’ll take you to the dive site.”

Late afternoon or later? Warning qualms kick in.

“Before the regatta ends?” Rashmi plunges deeper. “Or later when people disperse? A night dive will cost you more.”

Pia smiles and I shiver.

“After your race, join us on our yacht. No need to spoil this quiet meal with details.”

N for Night – W for no Witnesses. And for Warnings.

They suspect us. No more quizzing them tonight. Maybe not even on their yacht – their Q-ship. Or is that the freighter? The ship that is meant to be in Sweden.

Or is it? Another loose end. But we’re alone as money rules.

I attempt to quell my fears with food. By quenching a thirst for information that alcohol only stimulates.

Keeps them chatting. They’re digging too. Why? Do they know we’re police? Queer and a threat? Quislings.

We are being interrogated with a smile. About Patagonia. About diving competitions.

“How long have you two been together – diving? Amazing, your families are both from the Llŷn.”

Pia pushes – gently. A for Attitude and Alarm.

“Fate – except our families left together, so it was inevitable we were friends at school. And on the swimming team together.”

Rashmi is inventive, but Pia’s face indicates the story is disbelieved. Why? Who are they? More than smugglers.

S for Sail, Swim and Smugglers.

I shiver. Quake as my fears build. No coincidence.

I for Inside Information and Interrogation. R for Renegade – the cop that ratted on us.

Who?

RAIS – raison d’être. Why betray us? Prejudice or high-value goods? Or both?

Or RANG – ranged weapons?

In too deep without backup. The jeopardy thrills again. Quivering and riled.  Rats.

Lobster Quenelles – https://dianescookbooks.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/lobster-quenelles/

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” William Congreve – The Mourning Bride