Since June 2, 2017, I hatched the idea for this project, known to me as ‘Return of the Wolf’, ‘Return of the Basque’, or even its French language title, ‘Le retour du loup.’
I’ve been caught between deciding whether the project ought to be a novel, screenplay or to adapt a script from the novel. One way or another, I’m sharing some of my workings.
Here’s a link to my story map for ‘Return of the Wolf’, and below is a passage from the would-be novel. More to come in the days ahead:
The gunsmith had been pre-eminent in Belgium’s firearms manufacturing community. A rising star of FN Herstal, Belgium’s national factory, in the French-speaking Walloon. Herstal is the industrial centre of Wallonia, part of greater Liège, on the river Meuse.
Herstal still laid claim as the largest small arms exporter of the Continent. Its holding company owned the iconic American firearms companies, Winchester rifles and Browning.
Browning founder John Browning designed Herstal's FN Model 1910. This model sparked the First World War, a conflagration laying antecedents for its sequel.
The handsome pistol is a semi-automatic, a mechanism John Browning pioneered. Semi-automatics contrasted with automatic firearms. The latter requiring the continued depression of the trigger. Selective fire weapons are capable of interchanging, using a selector switch. This allows modes of automatic, semi-automatic, and burst mode, firing a predetermined number of rounds.
The catalysing cartridge propelling the Great War was a .380 ACP. assassinating Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie. presumptive heirs to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in Sarajevo.
ACP denoted the acronym Automatic Colt Pistol, for cartridge designs by John Browning. John Browning derived the .380 design from his 0.38-inch calibre cartridge. He omitted the flanged rim from the bottom of the pistol cartridge for the .380 of similar dimensions.
Pistol serial number #19074, now housed in Vienna’s Museum of Military History, was the offending weapon. Its magazine capacity holds six .380 cartridges, yet it took only two to assassinate the Austrian royal couple.
Disassembled, the Model 1910 consisted of five major parts. The magazine. The slide, the uppermost part recoiling back-and-forth as the pistol fires. The spring, kicking back the thrust of the recoil upon propulsion, and the barrel, its bore designed for 0.38- or 0.32-inch calibre cartridges, and the frame.
Disassembled, the Model 1910 constituted a couple dozen smaller parts. The extractor and its pin, removing fired cartridge casings, making way for fresh ammunition. The firing pin and its spring, providing the impact. The grip plates, screws, and decorative escutcheon of the Fabrique National logo. The various safety mechanisms, preventing accidental discharge. The trigger and accompanying sear, holding back the firing pin until a suitable amount of force exercises upon the trigger. Plus, a couple extra pins and springs.
Another cartridge for the FN Model 1910 bookended the two World Wars in the European theatre. Adolf Hitler died from a 0.32-inch calibre ACP from his police pistol designed by German gunsmith Carl Walther.
The Basque only knew the gunsmith as Glenn. Glenn had versed himself in both the artisanal tradition, as well as industrial-scale mass manufacture. It was only for a shift from the cacophony and relative mundanity of the factory floor which had led the gunsmith to become freelance. More underground, then of the shopfront variety.
Proficient in the trade of machinists, as much as the use of manual hand tools, expert in the discipline of ballistics and chemistry. Glenn hadn’t served in the Belgian military. He was in service to half the nations of the world’s militaries in his tenure at FN, he'd steeped himself in military standards. His paternal grandfather was a painter. Glenn channelled his artistic sensibilities into gun innovations of a more improvised nature. Some for his own amusement and curiosity; others fit-for-purpose upon private commission.
Such was the nature of The Basque’s request upon Glenn. The two remained acquainted over an eight-year period. One knew as little about the other, suffice for what each shared in brief windows of exchange. Glenn would receive phone calls asking for an appointment and a suggested time at Glenn’s workshop.
Glenn operated from the basement of his home, a two-storey dwelling, of which he occupied the top apartment. A couple in their seventies occupied the bottom apartment. Their relationship was cordial, and both allowed privacy for the other. The couple were not aggrieved for Glenn to make use of the basement. The sole proviso precluded metalwork was after suppertime at 7pm, and during the couple's joint afternoon nap, between 4 and 5pm. In exchange, the couple asked Glenn to store their unused bicycles, and some Vlaams Belang flags and paraphernalia. It may have seemed incongruous for a Flemish couple living in Wallonia to be proponents of Flemish nationalism and secession. But many veterans of Fabrique National opted for walking or cycling proximity to one’s workplace. Glenn’s neighbours had little excuse, long since retired, yet tied to their home. Glenn’s sympathies were similar, identifying as a Flemish nationalist. This shared, unspoken bond allowed for minding each other’s business without antipathy.
Insulated from the nearby motorway, the Rue Jean Volders, on the outskirts of Herstal, was next to a large shopping centre. It maintained a quietness. Identical two-storey attached dwellings line the street. Brick-facades, pitched, tiled, roofs. Closed roller shutters characterised most homes, with little distinction or outward decoration. but for an occasional box of red-pink flowers and city cars parked in driveways or on the street. Behind each domicile, any manner of private moment may be occurring. Banal, domestic, or untoward, each furnished a veneer of privacy and discretion among neighbours.
The Basque had little reason to either hold an affection or distaste for the gunsmith, Glenn. By appearances he seemed a man of moderate temperament. His quietude lent a mild unease to The Basque’s sensibilities. The Basque’s inference was this mildness of manner was more reflective of Flemish sensibilities of modesty. The Basque found this admirable when craftsmanship or talent hid beneath the facade.
The Basque had seen in international news reports Belgium had experienced a seeming spate of paedophilia. He wondered what in the chemistry of privacy, modesty and a reserved temperament lent itself to sowing the seeds of such malign phenomena.
At the least, thought The Basque to himself, if Glenn the gunsmith had anything in his closet, it would be in this basement. Better to be running an underground armoury than other unsavoury alternatives.
In contrast to the gunsmith's talents, The Basque didn't consider himself technical. More romantic of heart, swayed by his passions, but introverted, kept far below the surface of his visage.
The Basque spoke English, as a bridge to Glenn. He knew from prior visits Glenn elected not to speak French, though fluent per his former employment at the Fabrique Nationale.
The Basque conceded he had of late not had use for small arms, thus had not needed Glenn’s services. It was an irrelevant point to either party to note The Basque’s absence. The Basque castigated himself for the show of familiarity such that he’d need to explain himself.