COMING SOON!
This is my latest book. It has yet to be published.
In
the book, “The Extraordinary World of David Gardner,” David is a present-day
novelist who nodded off one day while working at his laptop. When he woke up,
he found himself in the office of U.S. General “Wild Bill” Donovan somewhere in
England in the middle of a 20th century war. Both he and the general
had a lot of questions but few answers. David found he had one thing, however, and that was the uncanny ability to change events with the stroke of a pen, a gift he put to good use during World War
II as an agent with the OSS (Office of Strategic Services). His adventures
continue with his partner and now-wife, Mary Ann, in this latest saga.
Please feel free to read a few pages.
PROLOGUE
David was beginning to lose his grip. He chanced a look down at the ice-packed concrete, six floors below the balcony and wrought-iron railing he was clinging to so desperately.
“Well, Major Veiss, where do you think he might have gone?”
“I don’t know, Colonel Mons. He certainly did not pass us as we walked through the door.”
“Do you think he might have flown off the balcony?”
“No, Colonel, but maybe he jumped.” Both SS officers peered over the railing.
“I do not see a body lying on the street, Major.” The major looked directly into David’s eyes, barely visible in the fading light of early evening.
“Ah, Colonel, there he is.” They both were now looking down at David.
“Major, how long do you think he has been hanging there?”
“I don’t know, sir, but if it has been more than a couple of minutes, his grip must be faltering. Look at his fingers; they’re beginning to turn blue.”
“So they are. Dr. Gardner, would you be so kind as to release one of your hands and return my property to me?”
“I’m just a little busy right now, Colonel,” David grunted. “Why don’t you come down here and take it?”
The major reached into his holster and pulled out his Luger automatic pistol. “Why don’t I just shoot him? Then we can go down to the street and retrieve the documents.”
“No, Major. He will soon lose his grip on the bars.”
The major made a show of looking at his watch. “Let’s see how much longer he can hold on before he decides to end his life.”
“You know, Major, it must be excruciating, knowing that only ...” the colonel pointed his finger and counted, “seven fingers are engaged, and their tenuous grip on two very cold iron bars is all that stands between life and certain death.” They both laughed.
“Tell us, Dr. Gardner, what is going through your mind right now? I mean, you’re not only seconds away from what promises to be an extremely painful death, but you must know you have failed,” the colonel taunted. “How does that feel? We really want to know.”
David again glanced down at the street. He calculated how long it would take for him to fall six floors to the ground. He wouldn’t have time to pull his pen from his jacket pocket, let alone write his way out of his predicament.
“Look, Colonel, he is now holding on by just five fingers. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“Okay,” David grunted once again, “pull me up, and I’ll give you the papers.”
“I see no reason for us to soil our uniforms,” the colonel said. “No, we will wait for you to hit the ground, and then we’ll retrieve the documents.”
David’s 210 pounds were now suspended by only three fingers. Thoughts of Mary Ann passed through his mind as he finally lost his grasp on the bars and began his plunge to the cold concrete, six floors below. His body turned so that he was now facing the street. He seemed to be moving in slow motion at first, but gained speed as he fell. “I love you, Mary Ann,” he yelled.
“I love you, too, David, but please wake up!” He came awake with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He opened his eyes to find Mary Ann hovering above him.
“I’m awake,” he said feebly.
“The same dream?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m all right now.”
“David, maybe we should tell Bill.” She was referring to General William Donovan, founder of the newly-formed Office of Strategic Services, or OSS. “You need some time away from any missions so you can talk to someone about your dreams.”
“Who would I talk to? I’ve researched dream phenomena, and I can assure you I know much more about this than any psychiatrist living today.”
“David, I know you’ve researched a number of things as a writer, and I’m sure you had access to a lot more material in 2014 than we have now. But it certainly can’t hurt to talk to someone, can it?”
“I suppose not, but you know I can’t tell them my whole story. I can tell you that shrinks don’t want to quit until they know every little thing about you.”
“I know, but still, it might help just to talk to someone.”
They showered, ate breakfast, dressed and were seated in front of General Donovan’s desk by 9:00.
“How much time off are we talking about David?” Donovan asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. A week or two.”
“I’m sorry,” Donovan said, looking from David to Mary Ann. “We have a major push coming up, and you two will play key roles. I can maybe give you a few days, but what’s coming up ...” he thought for a moment, “well, it could shorten the war by months and save countless lives. I just can’t spare you and that amazing gift you have.”
David looked at Mary Ann for a long moment, then back at the general. “Okay sir, I think we understand.” he said. Mary Ann nodded hesitantly.
The general exhaled and said, “I’ll tell you what I can do ... what I can give you both.” He turned and looked at the calendar on the wall behind his desk. “Today is Tuesday; I can give you until 0700 Saturday. That’s when I have to brief you about the mission. And I don’t say this to place any pressure on you,” he said, leaning forward over his desk conspiratorially, “but this is, without a doubt, the biggest undertaking of the war thus far.”
“All right, Saturday at 7:00 a.m.,” they both said and stood to leave.
The general stared after them thinking, I certainly hope I’m not making a mistake. If he’s not at 100%, we’re going to lose the biggest chance we’ll ever have to shorten and, eventually, to win this war. And those two will probably wind up dead in the process.
PROLOGUE
David was beginning to lose his grip. He chanced a look down at the ice-packed concrete, six floors below the balcony and wrought-iron railing he was clinging to so desperately.
“Well, Major Veiss, where do you think he might have gone?”
“I don’t know, Colonel Mons. He certainly did not pass us as we walked through the door.”
“Do you think he might have flown off the balcony?”
“No, Colonel, but maybe he jumped.” Both SS officers peered over the railing.
“I do not see a body lying on the street, Major.” The major looked directly into David’s eyes, barely visible in the fading light of early evening.
“Ah, Colonel, there he is.” They both were now looking down at David.
“Major, how long do you think he has been hanging there?”
“I don’t know, sir, but if it has been more than a couple of minutes, his grip must be faltering. Look at his fingers; they’re beginning to turn blue.”
“So they are. Dr. Gardner, would you be so kind as to release one of your hands and return my property to me?”
“I’m just a little busy right now, Colonel,” David grunted. “Why don’t you come down here and take it?”
The major reached into his holster and pulled out his Luger automatic pistol. “Why don’t I just shoot him? Then we can go down to the street and retrieve the documents.”
“No, Major. He will soon lose his grip on the bars.”
The major made a show of looking at his watch. “Let’s see how much longer he can hold on before he decides to end his life.”
“You know, Major, it must be excruciating, knowing that only ...” the colonel pointed his finger and counted, “seven fingers are engaged, and their tenuous grip on two very cold iron bars is all that stands between life and certain death.” They both laughed.
“Tell us, Dr. Gardner, what is going through your mind right now? I mean, you’re not only seconds away from what promises to be an extremely painful death, but you must know you have failed,” the colonel taunted. “How does that feel? We really want to know.”
David again glanced down at the street. He calculated how long it would take for him to fall six floors to the ground. He wouldn’t have time to pull his pen from his jacket pocket, let alone write his way out of his predicament.
“Look, Colonel, he is now holding on by just five fingers. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“Okay,” David grunted once again, “pull me up, and I’ll give you the papers.”
“I see no reason for us to soil our uniforms,” the colonel said. “No, we will wait for you to hit the ground, and then we’ll retrieve the documents.”
David’s 210 pounds were now suspended by only three fingers. Thoughts of Mary Ann passed through his mind as he finally lost his grasp on the bars and began his plunge to the cold concrete, six floors below. His body turned so that he was now facing the street. He seemed to be moving in slow motion at first, but gained speed as he fell. “I love you, Mary Ann,” he yelled.
“I love you, too, David, but please wake up!” He came awake with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He opened his eyes to find Mary Ann hovering above him.
“I’m awake,” he said feebly.
“The same dream?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m all right now.”
“David, maybe we should tell Bill.” She was referring to General William Donovan, founder of the newly-formed Office of Strategic Services, or OSS. “You need some time away from any missions so you can talk to someone about your dreams.”
“Who would I talk to? I’ve researched dream phenomena, and I can assure you I know much more about this than any psychiatrist living today.”
“David, I know you’ve researched a number of things as a writer, and I’m sure you had access to a lot more material in 2014 than we have now. But it certainly can’t hurt to talk to someone, can it?”
“I suppose not, but you know I can’t tell them my whole story. I can tell you that shrinks don’t want to quit until they know every little thing about you.”
“I know, but still, it might help just to talk to someone.”
They showered, ate breakfast, dressed and were seated in front of General Donovan’s desk by 9:00.
“How much time off are we talking about David?” Donovan asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. A week or two.”
“I’m sorry,” Donovan said, looking from David to Mary Ann. “We have a major push coming up, and you two will play key roles. I can maybe give you a few days, but what’s coming up ...” he thought for a moment, “well, it could shorten the war by months and save countless lives. I just can’t spare you and that amazing gift you have.”
David looked at Mary Ann for a long moment, then back at the general. “Okay sir, I think we understand.” he said. Mary Ann nodded hesitantly.
The general exhaled and said, “I’ll tell you what I can do ... what I can give you both.” He turned and looked at the calendar on the wall behind his desk. “Today is Tuesday; I can give you until 0700 Saturday. That’s when I have to brief you about the mission. And I don’t say this to place any pressure on you,” he said, leaning forward over his desk conspiratorially, “but this is, without a doubt, the biggest undertaking of the war thus far.”
“All right, Saturday at 7:00 a.m.,” they both said and stood to leave.
The general stared after them thinking, I certainly hope I’m not making a mistake. If he’s not at 100%, we’re going to lose the biggest chance we’ll ever have to shorten and, eventually, to win this war. And those two will probably wind up dead in the process.