The 16mm Caper

Chapter 2

After a casual dinner of penne doused in a mystery sauce with mushrooms and onions, several glasses of inexpensive Italian white wine, and a bowl of green Thompson grapes for nibbling, Peter introduced his treasure from work with a long and logical justification for sneaking it out without permission.

"I don't know, Peter, it could be very valuable."

"I'm sure it is to someone. So what?"

"Well shouldn't you tell Wendel?"

"No, why should I? He wasn't even there when this was put in the basement - none of us were for that matter. Besides, he doesn't own the place. Some anonymous corporation has that distinction. I told you, it's been there for a heck of a long time, Mare, at least since it was a burlesque house - and obviously forgotten."

She fingered the edge of the slightly corroded tin in the carton and let out a long breath. "So what's inside?"

"Let's see." He picked up a cardboard tube and, inserting two fingers, twisted the paper until it slid out easily then they unrolled it on the table. "Oh wow! It's a movie poster for an old western! Look at this!"

The poster read: RCADIAN FILMS presents Guns Across the Rio Grande with Arthur Bennett and Helen Sizemore. Directed by Raoul Cadian. Mary leaned over and squinted at the small print along the bottom. "It says printed in The United States of America, something, something. It's all smeared and then a date. Omigod, Peter! Nineteen twenty-nine. Do you think that's the picture in the tin?"

"It's only sixteen millimetre but I guess it could be." He picked it out of the box and turned it over. "Look, it says, GARG Run 84 min RCADIAN. Eighty-four minutes is a good length for a film that old, and sixteen mil is even more unusual."

"Open it and see."

"No way. Who knows what shape it's in, we could ruin it by exposing it to the air. This should be done by professionals."

"Who?"

"I can call the Film Institute and find out who does restorations."

"That could be expensive."

"I'm only asking, Mare, not committing."

******

Freddy Zisk hung up his phone and leaned back from his desk, tapping the end of his pencil on the blotter. The caller hadn't been very forthcoming about what he wanted restored, and his questions were beginning to tick the guy off, so he had given him a name and let it go.

He could try calling Cheryl at the lab, but she wouldn't really know anything without doing the same kind of prying he tried. The guy might not even go there. Still, she might find a way if he does - for a share. He picked up the phone and dialled.

Peter was still miffed with the jerk at the Institute, another nosy, goddamn bureaucrat. He had provided a name though. He dismissed his annoyance and walked the last few blocks from the bus stop, entering the ancient, faded brick building, and checking the lobby directory for Cinelab Productions.

An earlier call was placed to see if the company did what he wanted, and after giving as few details as possible, said he would come down. On the fourth floor he was introduced to a tiny reception area manned by an even tinier woman, with huge, horn-rimmed glasses and a headphone/microphone set clamped over a fuzz ball of silver hair. She jerked her head up without speaking and stared.

"Hi, I uh, I spoke to someone on the phone about restoring film."

"What company?"

"Huh?"

"What company are you with?" The fuzz ball vibrated impatiently.

"Oh. No company. Just me." He chuckled into her stern look.