tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22790301728957480632024-03-13T09:56:15.766-07:00Side Effects - The Serial NovelWelcome to the Side Effects portalAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2279030172895748063.post-3197610643386354232013-05-25T09:41:00.001-07:002013-05-25T09:41:58.594-07:00Life is like a bowl of cherries In that there's always the weird-shaped ones. Update is straightforward - working full time and dancing around finding time to write in a well-scheduled manner. I may well have to rethink weekly updates as I've only got 15000 words banked and am running in smallish circles.<br />
ah well, it's all about adaptability. Onwards!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2279030172895748063.post-42574990892695678272013-05-10T09:17:00.001-07:002013-05-10T09:17:40.895-07:00And the first hurdle looms in the fog<br />
Not really, but bad news. My laptop's hard drive is now a briquette, so we're going to suffer a hiatus while I get another computer and reclaim my work from the cloud and the bad drive. On the plus side I very recently did full backups, both to the cloud and DVD.<br />
DO THIS OFTEN. That is all.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2279030172895748063.post-91677032878962847442013-05-05T08:28:00.000-07:002013-05-05T08:35:08.859-07:00<br />
<h1 align="CENTER" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">
Side Effects</h1>
<h1 align="CENTER" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">
Chapter One</h1>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 1cm;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center; text-indent: 1cm;">
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A Fix
Four novel</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Copyright
2013 Michael Lane</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><i>This is a
work of fiction, any resemblance, etc etc.</i></span></div>
</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 32px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 32px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Rhianne
dug her nails into my arm.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Is
the pilot just imitating a lawn dart or do we have a problem?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I
tried to be helpful.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Well,
we’ll know in a few seconds.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">The
plane came into Spokane on a steeper angle than I liked, and I
watched the desert scrub below as it came nearer and nearer, going
green with a few trees and then with the patterned viridian of little
lawns. The houses were older, small and shrinking away from their
neighbors. I wondered if the owners ever got used to the howl of jet
engines just few hundred feet over their roofs. Probably. You could
get used to anything.</span></div>
</span></span><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">We
had. Being nameless guns-for-hire had been strange for the first few
jobs, but while it never became old hat, it was what we did.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I
should mention we never actually use guns. Guns are the last resort
of the talentless and crass, as far as I’m concerned. They’re
also too easy, and they seduce a lot of people in our line of work
with a quick solution to a problem; a solution that only engenders
more problems.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">The
737 didn’t have a problem, speaking of such, and we managed to get
down while the plane crabbed, its nose out-of-line with the runway as
its back wheels touched down. The pilot made it look easy, and used
the rudder to drag the nose around as it dropped, and I exhaled as
the seat belt dug into my gut under the reverse thrust of the big
engines.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“I
guess it was just windy and he wanted to get down between gusts,” I
said. Rhianne quirked an eyebrow and disobeyed the seat belts
fastened light to start digging in the overhead bin for her bag.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Dave
had ridden a few rows back, and I caught his eye as we stretched and
looked blearily around. Dave stuck out as a six-four Chinese American
who weighed one-sixty soaking wet, and his anonymity wasn't helped by
his facial hair. He’d grown an awful Fu-Manchu moustache that he
insisted was authentic outlaw-biker over the last six months of
unemployment. He looked like Burt Reynolds' bastard lovechild, but we
couldn’t get him to shave the lip-weasel off. He offered a thin
smile and waggled an eyebrow. We avoided each other as we
disembarked. He’d take a cab to the hotel while Rhianne and I would
rent a car from the Hertz counter, a process we finished as quickly
as we could.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">There
wasn’t much to keep a tourist at the Spokane International airport.
Maybe it’s changed since 2003, but back then it was two runways, a
single terminal, endless parking lots and a nearly-deserted cab
stand, high on the hilltops outside the city. If you went west, the
rusty-barked Ponderosa pines thinned and failed, opening out into
endless sagebrush and wheat. East, the trees thickened gradually as
you fought uphill across the hundreds of miles of incline that
eventually lead to Idaho, Montana and the Rockies.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">The
airport had a plaque extolling the fact that Spokane had hosted Expo
’74. I didn’t know if anything had happened locally since the
World’s Fair, but I assumed nothing much had, or someone would have
replaced the sign with something more up-to-date.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">For
a northern state, it was hot, if dry, and the little Toyota sedan we
rented was an oven. As we navigated out way into the city the air
conditioning made the interior gradually more livable, and Rhianne
thumbed open her cell.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Calling
Jack?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Yeah. I want to see if
he’s set up, and ask if he knows where we can get together and have
dinner.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Not
Applebee’s. I know he loves Applebee’s, but please God somewhere
else.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Jack
picked up and my wife ignored me, so I concentrated on the view. The
freeway had reached its long descent of the hills around Spokane, and
I could see the city laid out below, tallest around the banks of the
Spokane river, mostly brick and concrete and nothing much over twenty
stories. The city sprawled widely, though, its far side lost in the
brownish funk of a smog bank that capped the low-lying valley. I
passed a Washington State Trooper sitting on the shoulder and gave
him the curious stare anyone would. Ignoring cops always made them
wonder what you were up to, in my experience.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Rhianne
snapped the phone shut.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Applebee’s?”
I groaned.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Nope.
Dress for Mongolian.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I
spent the rest of the drive to the Sheraton wondering how one dressed
for Mongolian.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Shang’s
Mongolian Grill was located in downtown, in what looked like a
re-purposed car dealership. You ordered mysterious meat-related food
and then cooked it on the gas-fired steel grills that occupied the
center of each table. It was pretty good.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">When
we’d pulled up and parked we spotted Jack’s beloved Ford panel
van half a block up, looking rusty and dirty. The driver’s
compartment was a litter-filled burrow, in contrast to the sealed
cargo space, which was where Jack did a lot of his work when we were
on a job. We found him inside Shang's, already seated, with Dave as
his side, dipping a charred strip of some kind of meat into a bowl of
sauce.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">There
were eight or ten tables, half of them full at this early hour, and
we settled in and exchanged greetings.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Jack,
you look well,” Rhianne said, stealing some sliced peppers and beef
from his tray and plopping them onto the grill with a hiss.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Jack
smiled and adjusted his John Lennon glasses.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“I
look fat and I am. You look great though. Why do you stay with Mark,
anyway?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Jesus,
Jack. Nice to see you, too,” I muttered with a twinge of reflexive
worry. Jack did look big. He was at least 250 pounds back then, at
the height of what he calls his Doritos Years. He knows he can make
me twitch by asking silly questions of Rhianne, so he makes it a
habit. I do have some professional skills, but self-confidence where
it comes to my insanely beautiful wife isn’t one of them. I wonder
why she hangs around, sometimes. She does have her adventures, but
she always comes home to me, and there are times I can’t fathom it.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“It’s
either his stamina in the sack or his inability to notice when you’re
pulling his chain,” she said, pushing her cooking food around with
a pair of bamboo chopsticks.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Jack
smiled and rubbed his double chin, the reddish stubble rasping. Dave
raised an eyebrow but said nothing; he was packing away the barbeque.
For someone who looks like Ichabod Crane, he eats like a fire.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“So
what have you figured out,” I asked Jack, who learned back and
messed with his ponytail for a minute.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Well,”
he said, resettling the scrunchy that held his hair, “I’ve run
the usual checks on both parties.” He lowered his voice and leaned
forward, settling his forearms on the edge of the table.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Aldebaran
Enterprises is owned by a group of private investors, and Jared Burke
is the CEO.” Burke was the man who had approached us through a
former client in Germany. “He’s as rich as he says. Aldebaran
Enterprises, known to its peers as ‘AE’, is doing private
pharmaceutical research. They’ve been especially prominent in diet
and cosmetic augmentation drugs; the stuff that makes big bank.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Botox
and amphetamines? And the group that took his new drug?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“McCarthy
Medical Research. They also have their chief lab here in Spokane.
Lorraine McCarthy is the founder and big boss. She came out of the
University of California, working on geriatrics-related research,
then moved into pharmatech. McCarthy Medical focuses on </span><span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span lang="en">geriatrics,
fertility and burn recovery.”</span></span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I laid out a fan of thin
strips of pork and watched them sizzle.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“McCarthy sounds legit,
why would they be stealing from a bunch of chemists specializing in
the boobs-and-hardons field?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Dave swallowed a mouthful of
beef dipped in a pepper sauce I’d tried and discarded as inedibly
hot and put in his two cents.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“From a research
perspective, cosmetic and anti-aging research aren’t very far
apart, and burn treatments would dovetail nicely with a lot of
anti-aging skin work. They’re selling to different markets but the
research is going to be in the same vein.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I grunted.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“There’s also some
personal bad blood,” Jack said. “Jared’s daughter Olivia is the
one that stole the sample for her then boyfriend, one of the McCarthy
lab rats that Lorraine McCarthy had instructed to get close to the
daughter. Olivia insists she didn’t know who she was stealing it
for. Her dirtbag boyfriend talked up some fictitious sister with burn
scars. He had pictures, I take it.” Jack shrugged and made a
disgusted face. “She might be that dumb, but in any case, she
borrowed a vial of their new Nectar prototype and gave it to Chad,
and Chad headed for the hills and his employers at McCarthy.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Sounds like the bird’s
flown, so why bother bringing us in?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Burke isn’t convinced
his goose is cooked, yet. The sample that was stolen was an early one
in the first stages of testing. From what Burke says, it’s not
something McCarthy Medical can patent, not in its present form. If
McCarthy can’t duplicate their research and move ahead, it’s a
hint, but that’s all.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“So they want us to get it
back and mangle McCarthy’s records, I assume,” I said.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“That’s it. Though you
won’t be able to get the sample back. They’ll have made more,
Burke said. What he wants is a sample of McCarthy’s work so he can
see how close they are.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Rhianne snorted. “So why
don’t they just take it to the cops? Why pay us a quarter mil to
recover their drug?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Embarrassment?” I
guessed. Jack nodded and dumped a handful of octopus tentacles on the
grill.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Burke doesn’t want
Olivia’s little boo-boo to get out. It’d make his investors
nervous, and he’s not big on her potentially up on felony charges.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I sighed. People pay us for
a lot of reasons. It’s funny how often it’s because of common,
garden-variety embarrassment combined with a fear of losing money.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“You have any
reservations?” I asked.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span lang="en">Jack
pushed the tentacles around as they curled into sucker-dotted donuts.
“I’m always a little bothered when we have to clean up after rich
kids and personalities are involved, but it looks square, as far as I
can see. I can’t get much of anything on McCarthy. They’re
buttoned up tight and we’ll have to go in and get the data and this
‘Nectar’ compound physically. That is to say </span></span><span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span lang="en"><i>you
</i></span></span><span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span lang="en">will.”</span></span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I nodded. Jack never did
fieldwork. He was the wizard and set in his mobile tower of
technological weirdness.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Can you get us in?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Oh, yeah. Getting you out
may be more interesting, but McCarthy is more vulnerable to physical
entry than electronic. The drug will be in one of the secure labs on
the sixth floor. As to the data, if there is any yet, they have their
own isolated system and I’d bet the data’s in there, or in
Lorraine’s safe on a thumb-drive. ”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“And they can’t just
patent this Nectar?” Rhianne asked. “Even if it doesn’t work
yet, just to lock it in?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“It’s not ready,
apparently,” jack said. “Dave knows more about the science stuff,
but I gather they’ve got the guts of a brilliant wonder drug that
will allow for skin recovery that would work for burn victims or old
rich actors, but it’s not finalized and they don’t have a
compound ready for registration.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Even if they did,” Dave
added, “they’ve got to build a convincing mass of false research
data – backwards engineer it – so it looks like McCarthy
developed it on their own if Aldebaran challenges them. Aldebaran
could ignore the theft and fight it in court, but it would take
months or years, and there’s no guarantee a judge would find in
their favor.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">Ever since we were dragged
into the shadows after Rhianne was blackmailed in an attempt to get
at her Senator father, we’d worked the sorts of problems that
people needed dealt with quietly. None of us had intended to live
this life. I’d been studying to be a journalist. Rhianne had been
after her MBA, Dave was a chemist with real talent looking for a slot
in an Ivy League school and Jack was trying to make the shift from
high-school hacker to highly-paid computer jock. Life takes odd
corners, sometimes.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">It wasn’t that working in
our off-the-grid team was a bad life. In fact it was a ton of fun,
but it was always had the chance to go seriously wrong.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“</span><span style="font-size: small; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;"><span lang="en">Well,
it’s not as interesting as stealing Russian secret plans from the
mob, but it pays good and it sounds solid,” I said, in one of my
less-prescient moments. “I want a basic briefing and some options
tomorrow at our room at the Sheraton.”</span></span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">* * *</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">The Sheraton was one of the
tallest building in Spokane, built right on the river. From our
room’s balcony you overlooked Riverfront Park, the sole remaining
bit of Expo ’74, and the creaming white roil of Spokane Falls. I
was clutching the balcony rail – I’m not very good with height –
when Rhianne wrapped her arms around me and murmured against my back.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Do you ever blame me?”
she asked.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Huh?” I asked, aglow
with my native brilliance.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“For the life we lead, all
of us?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">I managed to turn around and
looked down at Rhianne. She’s still the lithe, smart girl I fell
for in the middle of a Yakuza sex-club. I know how that sounds. You
had to be there. She’s a smart cookie with east-coast breeding who
came west with her Senator-to-be father and fell afoul of the sorts
of people that love power and money more than manners. I’ve written
about it before in these annals, and it’s only important to realize
that I meant what I said next.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“The best day I ever had
was the one when I met you. The rest is just the candy dropping out
of the pinata.”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">That made her grin.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“Are you suggesting that
if you hit me with a stick goodies will fall out?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“No, but how about it I
order a bottle of wine and turn the hot-tub on?”</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">“That might work better,”
she admitted.</span></div>
</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">It did</span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 1cm;">.</span></div>
</span></span></div>
<div lang="en" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1cm;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2279030172895748063.post-88631326252309773352013-05-02T21:20:00.000-07:002013-05-02T21:21:42.610-07:00Side Effects, coming May 5. Apply directly to forehead.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My name is Michael Lane and I write stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s almost time to embark on the weird path that is <i>Side Effects</i>. I thought I’d preface the
first installment <o:p></o:p><br />
with a brief explanation of what I’m doing and what you can
expect.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_D6XVJzICcoEa3_EDBlEZV2IVL6TIT_awffU_Xna8DODo4my7dwwZBhMbLzflTNxxINAzoS2k-zP7cCUVt_gAA32r6B3BQdfpB3DZqmz7xQUoR4XaCSXtkKHIGckxYA_w4XSWQM-YRNP/s1600/sideeffect+tiny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_D6XVJzICcoEa3_EDBlEZV2IVL6TIT_awffU_Xna8DODo4my7dwwZBhMbLzflTNxxINAzoS2k-zP7cCUVt_gAA32r6B3BQdfpB3DZqmz7xQUoR4XaCSXtkKHIGckxYA_w4XSWQM-YRNP/s1600/sideeffect+tiny.jpg" /></a><i> Side Effects</i> will follow
the career of the four odd individuals from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tokyo-Pizza-ebook/dp/B00C7IHSX0/ref=la_B00ATLCSA0_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367554428&sr=1-1">Tokyo Pizza</a></i>. It picks up more than a decade after the group’s sophomore work in Tokyo,
at a time when Mark, Rhianne, Dave and Jack are established as an illegal problem-solving
team that works under the name Fix Four.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The four are not special ops. They’re professionals in their
given fields, but with the exception of Dave’s fascination with explosives,
none of those fields touch on lethal skills. Fix Four does not kill people to
solve problems, though people do sometimes die.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Side Effects</i>
follows the group as it takes what starts as a simple corporate espionage job
for a pharmaceutical company based in eastern Washington. It’s not long before
that “simple” situation is complicated by murder and treachery. When their
employer and the man they stole from both show up dead, the group realizes they
are the last loose end in someone’s carefully woven skein of conspiracy. The
four find themselves hunted both by curious law enforcement and a murderous third
party.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To save their own skins, Mark and his band of misfits will
have to solve the mystery before the powers behind the scenes retire Fix Four
once and for all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first installment will be released on May fifth. It’s a
pay-what-you-want proposition. You’re invited to click the little Donate button
in the column to the right and pay what you feel you should. You can pay once,
dribble a bit as each chapter releases, or do whatever floats your boat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you read and enjoy <i>Side
Effects</i>, I encourage you to follow the blog, tweet your interest or blog
about the project. It is, in its way, a very modern experiment. I’m trusting that
consumers will recognize value and pay for it, and that they will tell others. Leave comments if you like. I do read them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, unhook your brain, get some popcorn and don’t sweat the
side effects. The FDA wasn’t worried, after all.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Side Effects</i>,
coming May 5. Apply directly to forehead.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2279030172895748063.post-65482345043082811252013-04-30T20:59:00.002-07:002013-04-30T20:59:19.417-07:00Side Effects portal - Serial Novel - Pay What You Want<br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: #1c1c1c; color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
Side Effects - the serial</h3>
<div class="post-header" style="background-color: #1c1c1c; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;">
<div class="post-header-line-1">
</div>
</div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5172262407798800745" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: #1c1c1c; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 558px;">
This is where the joys and wonders of Side Effects will unroll. This serialized novel - sequel to the 30-hour novel finalist <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tokyo-Pizza-ebook/dp/B00C7IHSX0/ref=la_B00ATLCSA0_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367357334&sr=1-1" style="color: #dd7700; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Tokyo Pizza</a> - will come out in weekly pieces, and readers are invited to pay what you think it's worth using the fabulous Donate button over on the right.<br /> If you feel like a chapter is worth a dollar, that's great! Or if you felt it was 25 cents of good, then do that. You can read for nothing, of course, but I trust that people understand writers have to eat, too, and a few pennies do help.<br /> So you enjoy the serial, what should you do? Easy. Tell people and send them here. Tweet it, blog it, scream on Tumblr, wave cardboard signs on the freeway off-ramps. It all helps. Subscribe to the blog and your email will let you know when pieces go up. It also makes me feel good.<br /><br /> Expect the first chapter in May, with weekly updates planned. There will be art, too, if the gods are kind.<br /><br /><br />And lo, a provisional cover appears!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRx8bk62r8MaaR3zPmnL8a2j1bGD5VSNyZ0B9kknDIse2mo9b17pQFq4Qwdas0A_Fvy9WB73jzdtoiphbfH8iVE5wtvia5vbKup8tWKhFaY91OYcyieZKinyhQVrdsC_stN2yX059Adl6/s1600/sideeffect+sml.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #dd7700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRx8bk62r8MaaR3zPmnL8a2j1bGD5VSNyZ0B9kknDIse2mo9b17pQFq4Qwdas0A_Fvy9WB73jzdtoiphbfH8iVE5wtvia5vbKup8tWKhFaY91OYcyieZKinyhQVrdsC_stN2yX059Adl6/s320/sideeffect+sml.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />Just a general caution to all: The images, characters and text of <i>Side Effects</i> are all rights reserved, Copyright 2013 Michael M. Lane. That being said, none of the content will have DRM and can be exchanged free for fair use, so feel free to send a copy to a friend. All I ask is that you point them to the web site. <b>Selling or hosting the work, or any portions thereof, is not allowed without express permission, however</b>. As usual, you may use excerpts for review purposes and so on.<br /><br /><br /><b>Next update: May 3</b> What you can expect in the upcoming weeks, in a nutshell.<div style="clear: both;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="post-footer" style="background-color: #1c1c1c; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px;">
<div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-1">
<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-control blog-admin pid-94013873" style="display: inline;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/page-edit.g?blogID=6202419499419617872&pageID=5172262407798800745&from=pencil" style="color: #dd7700; text-decoration: none;" title="Edit page"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="18" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/icon18_edit_allbkg.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10891185865185632971noreply@blogger.com0