The Big Bamboo (23 page)

“Hertz?”

“Final precaution,” said Tori. “Told me to turn in the entrance with those fold-down spikes where the signs say ‘severe tire damage.’ Leaped out with the briefcase, climbed a fence and took off in a car he’d planted earlier on a side street.”

“What for?”

“Head start, I guess. If anyone was following, they’d have to take the long way out because of the spikes. While I was there, some idiot blew out his tires. I thought it was gunfire at first. The whole thing was a nightmare.”

“What about Ally?”

“Said he’d call once he was safe.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” said Mel.

“He said the deal had changed.”

“I got a bad feeling.”

The phone rang.

Everyone froze. They looked down at the caller ID. FORD OELMAN.

Tori took a deep breath and picked it up. “Hello?”

Silence on the other end.

“Hello?” she repeated.

Finally, a voice that had been altered with an electronic synthesizer. “You fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” said Tori.

“We told you no police! You got a tap on the line.”

“We do not!”

“Yes, you do. We have one of those special devices. And an undercover unit followed you to the rental lot.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Looks like you just killed off your female lead.”

“But we gave you the money!”

Click.

Tori’s head snapped toward the brothers. “Did the police come by already?”

“Yeah, they just left,” said Ian.

“What’d they do?”

“Put in a tracer,” said Mel. “And a recorder…”

The office door opened.

“…And a bug,” said Detective Babcock. “We heard everything you just said.”

“You bugged this office!” yelled Tori.

“You lied to us!” yelled Reamsnyder.

“Because of what just happened!” Tori yelled back. “I told you!”

“Everyone calm down,” said Babcock. “This won’t get us anywhere. What’s done is done. The important thing is that we work together from now on.”

Tori gritted her teeth. “If anything happens to Ally—”

“They’ll call back,” said Babcock.

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s what they do. Probably want more money since the first was so easy.”

“Meanwhile, every second counts,” said Reamsnyder. “We’re already processing the Hertz lot. The undercover unit that was following you took some pictures before he jumped the fence, but they don’t show much.”

“Was that the guy who blew out his tires?” asked Tori.

Babcock nodded. “Forgot about the spikes.”

Tori sat back and folded her arms. “A crack team you got.”

“We need your help,” said Reamsnyder.

“Did you get a good look at him?” said Babcock.

“What the hell do you think?” said Tori. “We rode around town together.”

“No, I mean did it look like he was wearing a disguise? Mustache, wig?”

Tori shook her head.

“Okay then. A sketch artist is on the way over. And we’d like to put some other people in here around the clock in case you get another call. They’ll stay out of the way. Can you think of anything else?”

“Yeah,” said Tori. “You’re assholes.”

A ten-foot grizzly stood on its hind legs, all teeth, ready to attack. The bear was surrounded by dozens of other taxidermied animals in the big-game trophy room of the Vistamax props department. Tigers, leopards, moose, an ibex. The walls were covered with antler heads on wooden plaques. There was a closet at the end of the room. Muffled noises and whispers inside.

The closet was as dark as a photo lab, even after eyes adjusted. Someone found the light switch; a naked bulb came on. Gasps.

The tiny room had a matrix of metal storage shelves for the smaller game: squirrels, badgers, bats, snakes, three butterfly collections and fifty jars with things pickling inside, for mad scientist scenes. So much stuff there was barely enough room for Tori, Ian and Mel to squeeze together.

“What are we going to do?” asked Mel.

“This is a disaster!” said Ian.

“Keep your voices down!” said Tori.

“They’re on to us,” said Mel. “Did you see how that one detective was looking at me?”

“We’ll go to jail!” said Ian.

“They’ll rape me!” said Mel.

“Nobody’s getting raped,” said Tori. “As long as we all stay calm and stick to the plan.”

“It’s a dumb plan,” said Ian. “We never should have agreed—”

“It’s a perfect plan,” said Tori. “In fact, the police will actually help.”

“How can they possibly help?”

“Credence,” said Tori. “We’ll invite them to the press conferences. More publicity. That was one of the objectives.”

“But now we’re neck-deep in felonies,” said Mel.

“We didn’t bargain for that,” said Ian.

“No crimes have been committed,” said Tori.

“Of course crimes have been committed,” said Mel. “What do you call giving the police a false kidnapping report?”

“We never did that,” said Tori. “In fact, we
denied
there was a kidnapping. Remember? All they have is the rehearsed stuff we said for the benefit of the bugs planted in your office. I told you: It’s all been carefully planned out.”

“I don’t know,” said Ian.

“I do,” said Tori. “Everything’s falling into place. As long as none of us goes and does anything stupid.”

“I can’t take the pressure,” said Mel.

“Look, you told me Potemkin was out of control, but his contract wouldn’t let you halt production.”

“So?”

“So I found a way. Fake the abduction of his star actress and let public opinion shut it down. Potemkin may be crazy, but even
he
isn’t stupid enough to continue filming with that kind of media or he’d become the biggest leper…”

“…In a town full of lepers,” said Mel.

Ian began to nod. “He won’t be able to get a good table.”

“But what about when she shows back up?” said Mel. “He’ll just start shooting again.”

“Time’s on our side,” said Tori. “No production can stay down forever. People have to eat. He’ll start losing crew and talent, probably begin another project himself.”

“You really believe that?” asked Mel.

“We can’t lose,” said Tori. “I’ve already gotten twenty offers for the exclusive story, dead or alive. More on the dead side.”

“That can’t hurt at the box office,” said Ian.

“I’ve already talked to editing,” said Tori. “We have enough in the can to piece together a couple hours. It still won’t make any sense, so we’ll call it an art film.”

“It just might work,” said Mel. “Bank on one big weekend before word of mouth starts.”

“Then position the DVD as a cult classic,” said Mel.

“And we recoup the rest from France and Scandinavia,” said Ian. “They’re big on films that don’t hold your interest.”

“But our biggest ace in the hole is when Ally makes the daring escape from her sadistic captors,” said Tori. “Imagine
that
news conference.”

“Are you sure she’s solid?” asked Ian.

“Hundred percent,” said Tori. “She
hates
Potemkin. Barely had to convince her to be kidnapped.”

“What about her career?” asked Ian. “That movie’s not going to help.”

“She’s through after this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can parlay the abduction into six months of articles and a book deal. Then she’s last month’s flavor. After that, I’ll leak a scandal story on her to the tabloids in exchange for positive coverage of my up-and-coming clients.”

“But I thought you were her friend,” said Ian. “Remember how you shouted at us over the…misunderstanding?”

“That was before I went to the set and found out she couldn’t act,” said Tori. “Fuck her.”

“Tori! That’s terrible!” said Mel. “You’re our kind of people!”

“But who are these guys you hired?” asked Ian. “That’s the part that worries me. What do you really know about them?”

“Relax,” said Tori. “They’re pros, absolutely the best.”

“How’d you get them?” asked Mel. “I’d have no idea where to start looking.”

“Friends of mine put me in contact. Vouched for them up and down.”

“A hundred thousand dollars still sounds steep,” said Ian. “Seems like we could have gotten by with a lot less—”

“What do you think this is, hiring college kids to deliver holiday mail?” said Tori. “That’s what you have to pay if you want something like this done right.”

“I’m just wondering if we can trust them with Ally’s safety,” said Ian. “If something goes wrong, we’re all accomplices.”

Tori laughed. “I’m more concerned about the kidnappers’ well-being. Ally’s so high maintenance she makes Paris Hilton look like a Navy SEAL.”

The Standard Hotel. Room 222.

A knock at the door.

Coleman staggered over, holding a bottle of Beam by the neck. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Serge. Open up.”

“Who?”

“Serge! Open up!”

A long pause. Coleman took a swig. “Serge isn’t here.”

“No, you idiot.
I’m
Serge. Open up!”

“Who?”

“Serge!”

Another pause. “Serge isn’t here.”

“We’re not making a comedy album! Unbolt the door right now or I’ll kill you!”

Coleman opened up. “Oh, hi, Serge.” He stuck his head out in the hall. “Some guy was just here asking for you.”

“Boob.” Serge came inside with a briefcase and looked across the suite. “Holy mother!”

The curtains were drawn all the way open: Ally Street out on the balcony, leaning over the railing.

Serge made a mad dash, yanked her back inside and pulled the drapes shut. “What the hell’s wrong with you? People can see up here!”

“I want to go down to the pool.”

Serge was at a loss. “What part of kidnapping are you having trouble with?”

“I’m losing my tan.”

Coleman tapped Serge’s shoulder. “The sign on the front of our hotel is upside down.”

“That’s on purpose.”

“What about the lobby?” asked Coleman. “There was this hot chick in lingerie living in a giant aquarium behind the reception desk.”

“It’s L.A.”

“Did you get my water?” asked Ally.

“Forgot,” said Serge, placing the briefcase on the dresser. “I was kind of busy. There’s some bottles the hotel provided in the closet.”

“It’s not my brand.”

“It’s water,” said Serge.

“I need my brand.”

“Serge,” said Coleman, holding up a foil strip. “They have rubbers in the courtesy bar.” He held up his other hand. “And my dope is all wet.”

“What?”

“I can’t smoke it wet. I forgot it was in my pocket when I took a shower.”

“Why were you wearing pants—…Forget it. Hair dryer’s by the bathroom.”

“Thanks.”

Serge flipped the latches on the briefcase. He slowly lifted the lid with heart-flutter anticipation. Bingo. Jammed with packs of hundred-dollar bills that seemed to give off rays and make the room brighter. Wait, the room
was
brighter. Serge turned around. “Ahhhhh!” Curtains open again, Ally straying onto the balcony.

Serge sprinted and jerked her back inside.

There was a small bang; lights dimmed momentarily. “Everything’s okay,” said Coleman. “Just dropped the dryer in the sink.”

Serge closed the briefcase. “Do I have to child-proof?”

Coleman came over with the charred dryer. “Did you get the money?”

“Yeah,” said Serge. “But then I met this guy and traded it for some magic beans.”

Coleman pitched the small appliance in the trash. “They gave us a broken dryer. And it blew my dope all over the rug.”

Serge slid the briefcase under the bed. He reached in a suitcase and removed his portable DVD player.

Coleman got down on his hands and knees, picking through the carpet. “Found a place last night that you’d like.”

“I was wondering where you went,” said Serge, placing the DVD player on top of the television. “I woke up and your bed was empty.”

“Can we get my water now?” asked Ally.

“After I passed out, I got up and it was still only midnight,” said Coleman. “So I walked down the block to the Chateau Marmont.”

“Good choice.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Coleman. “Belushi croaked there, so I figured it was
the
place to party. Had like ten drinks.”

“Must have spent a fortune,” said Serge, turning the TV sideways. “A beer is what? Ten dollars?”

“I don’t know. I was drinking scotch.”

“Wow. Your tab had to be over two hundred dollars…”

“Except it was eighteen-year-old scotch.”

Serge extracted sets of RCA cables from his suitcase. “…Four hundred.”

“And I was buying rounds for the bar.”

“Jesus!” said Serge. “How much did you spend?”

“I don’t know,” said Coleman, getting out his wallet.

“Did you hear me?” said Ally.

Coleman opened the billfold to the currency section. “Hey, all my money’s still here.”

“You skipped out on your tab at the Marmont?”

“I don’t remember,” said Coleman. “I was pretty stoned, too. Near the end, the bartender had to keep wiping up my spills. Then I got the two-minute warning.”

Serge unscrewed co-ax. “The what?”

“You know when that voice in your brain says you have to start heading for your bed right now or you won’t make it?”

“Unreal. You drank all night at the Marmont for free.”

Coleman stuck the wallet back in his pocket. “And I’d always heard it was expensive.”

Serge attached the last of the wires and turned the TV back around. “There.”

Coleman touched his forehead. “But I can’t remember how I got this bump.”

“That was my fault,” said Serge, walking over to his suitcase. “You blacked out on the roll-away bed and started snoring like an elephant. Tried to turn you over, but you were too heavy, so I spun the bed around. At least you’d be snoring the other way…”

“Are you ignoring me?” said Ally.

“…Then you got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and walked the wrong way into the sliding glass door.”

Coleman rubbed the knot. “I thought it was a force field.”

“And I need my personal trainer,” said Ally.