Tuesday 19 May 2020

Book Tour Blog Stop with an Extract: Celeste Three Is Missing by Chris Calder



Celeste Three Is Missing by Chris Calder

The world’s first earth-orbit passenger plane, the sensational Celeste Three, takes off from its base in Arizona, also the only place where it is designed land. On a routine flight the craft disappears.
On board is Viktor Karenkov, billionaire oil magnate who has used his wealth to evade prosecution for a murder he committed years earlier. Gregory Topozian, the murdered man’s friend, has been waiting for a chance to bring Karenkov to justice. With dogged determination and considerable ingenuity, he conceives an audacious plan.
Getting the craft down in total secrecy is key. And someone has to pay the huge costs involved.


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An extract from the first chapter. Context: Dawn, a day in the 1980s, in the remote Soviet Republic of East Gulamistan. Gregory Topozian, part owner of an oil drilling site has arrived with Suleiman, the local Chief of Police. The site has been taken over by Viktor Karenkov, a local gangster. (860 words)
Gregory strode towards the door, with Suleiman following. The soldiers at each side stepped back to let them through, but the way they held their Kalashnikovs showed that they meant business. Gregory Topozian was angry, frightened and confused. Had these thugs really killed his deputy in cold blood? What sort of animals were they? He had fought to get the license that gave his company sole mining rights in the area, gambling everything he had in order to become a partner in the enterprise. He would be ruined if the license had been revoked. What was going on?
He bounded up the steps and went through the door, turning slightly to speak to Suleiman.
“Where are they? In my office? How many?”
“Yes. There are three. Karenkov, his bodyguard and a soldier.”
Gregory strode down the narrow corridor towards his office at the rear. The policeman was unable to keep up and he followed, more slowly.
“Gregor, be careful,” he pleaded.
At the end of the corridor Gregory turned and saw the soldier standing outside the door to his office. He heard voices from within, one raised to shouting volume. The soldier levelled his rifle and stood still, blocking the entrance. Gregory strode forward.
“I am Topozian, Director,” he said firmly.
The guard raised his weapon. “Wait.”
“This is my office,” Gregory hissed, pushing past. “Get out of my way.” He turned the door handle and burst into the room. The soldier had stepped back, his face showing his surprise. Suleiman caught up, went past him and entered behind Topozian.
The man sitting behind Gregory’s desk was heavily built, with square shoulders. He had short, cropped blond hair and blue eyes set in a hard face. He was casually dressed in denim jeans and a heavy leather jacket. Opposite him sat a large bald man wearing a roll-neck sweater. The man in the leather jacket was leaning back in the chair, with his booted feet on the desk and he was speaking, but stopped in mid-sentence. The man facing him across the desk stood up.
The man in the chair raised an eyebrow. “You are Topozian?”
“Yes. And you?”
“Did our friend the policeman not tell you?” His lips parted in a grin as he took his feet off the desk. “I am Viktor Karenkov. I work for Intexplor, I am sure you know them.”
Gregory could not conceal his anger. “He said you killed my deputy in cold blood. I will make sure that you pay for that.”
“Cold blood? Calm yourself, we do not do such things. Your man had a pistol. My colleague Boris,” he nodded towards the big man, “shot him in self-defence. Regrettable, but there it is.” He shrugged and looked at Suleiman. “Is that not so, Superintendent?”
The bodyguard Boris cut in, nodding vigorously. “I had no choice.”
Suleiman’s face bore a look of stark fear. He glared at Karenkov, spun his head to look first at Gregory, then back again to answer Karenkov.
“I…I did not see the incident,” he mumbled.
“No? My mistake.” Karenkov grinned. “No matter, everyone else did.”
Gregory was speechless. He realized instantly that Suleiman’s response was pure self-defense. Understandable, in the circumstances.
Karenkov sat up, reached for his briefcase on the desk and continued calmly.
“I have some papers for you, Mr Topozian.” He flicked open the lid of the case. Gregory took a step forward and waved a hand angrily. “I am not interested in your papers. I will be taking up the matter of my deputy’s killing with the proper authorities, but now I insist that you get out of my office and leave these premises immediately.”
Karenkov ignored Topozian’s outburst. He withdrew a large brown envelope from the briefcase, dropped it on the desk and looked up. The envelope hit the desk top with a muted thud.
“You want to contact the proper authorities? Good. In here you will find official notice from the highest authority, revoking your mining license. Also a copy,” he inclined his head, “of our license, and notification of the acquisition by Intexplor of everything on this site.”
Karenkov glared at Gregory. The bodyguard had drawn himself up to his full height and was grinning. Beside Gregory, Suleiman seemed to have shrunk in stature.
Gregory felt the blood rise in his cheeks. His nostrils flared. “Our license is signed by Petrov himself, the Soviet State minister for development of resources. Only he or someone higher can revoke it.”
Karenkov laughed and shook his head theatrically. The bodyguard Boris joined in. Karenkov rubbed his palms together.
“Of course you must go and see him. You would be welcomed, I assure you.” He stopped laughing and his expression changed, as suddenly as if turned off by a switch. He leaned forward, an ugly grin on his face. “Ivan Petrov was arrested last week. He has been jailed for fraud.”

After ten happy years of retirement in rural France, Chris Calder is back in England. He came late to writing novels, penning his first whilst incarcerated in a French hospital following cancer surgery. At the time he spoke little French. Unable to communicate effectively with the staff, he spent his time fleshing out his first novel. Five more have followed; light thrillers leavened with humour. Best of all, the cancer is now history.

Chris knows that readers of fiction expect to be diverted and entertained. He loves feedback and believes passionately that taking on board readers’ views improves what what he does. You can email him at chris@chriscalder.com. Go on, he’d love to hear from you.

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