The 16mm Caper

Chapter 4

Austin found conversation with Julia very disconcerting. He considered his empty glass, finally setting it on the table in front of them and clasping his fingers together on his lap.

"Ralston Hughes has pretty much used up all the interest I have in being his factotum, I'm considering a more relaxed, concentrated approach to my future through personal opportunity."

"Meaning exactly what?"

"Meaning that this film discovery seems like exactly the right element with which to launch my independence. This is apparently a particularly unique, and quite possibly a very valuable find, and deserves better than to wind up in Ralston's cupboard.

"I've been doing his trophy gathering for eleven years now and frankly, I'm tired of it. I don't see why, since I'll wind up doing all the research and recovery anyway, I don't do it for myself . . . or with someone else. I was thinking that maybe you and I could realize something from this project, something that might- might allow us to--"

"As I said, Austin, I swing to many rhythms, but I could get used to one. Screwing Ralston, figuratively for a change, now that appeals and who knows, we might just explore the other a little more closely." She batted her eyes teasingly.

"Don't be afraid to tell me your feelings," he gasped, a smile spreading on his flushed face.

"Never. Now what about the film?"

"Right." He cleared his throat again and poured another glass of wine as he described the secret monitoring of his employer's business dealings. "I can use Ralston's own people, along with a special source of my own, to secure this item on our behalf with Ralston being none the wiser." He held up his glass. "Are you sure you're serious about this?"

Julia leaned forward and clinked her glass with his. "I had no idea you could be so devious, Austin. I look forward to a new exploration."

"As do I." They traded wide smiles.

She hesitated and gave him a long look. "This might sound crass, Austin, but before committing totally, I'm curious about the independence part you mentioned. Do you think this film could be valuable enough to uhm- provide a comfortable independence for two?"

He smiled. "I have a personal reserve that I have allowed to build quite successfully over the years. This will just be icing on the cake, that, and an opportunity to say screw you to Ralston Hughes."

He confirmed that he would set things in motion immediately, first of which would be to bring in some of his own people, a decision he would keep to himself for the moment.

******

The huge penthouse terrace afforded a one hundred and eighty degree view to the east of the sprawling city. Behind a privacy screen of potted cedars, aligned as sentinels along the edge of the railing, stood a large, round glass topped table surrounded by four well padded chairs all covered against winter. Also winterized, a lounge and a portable bar snuggled in a private corner next to the penthouse wall.

Planters skirted the rest of the terrace, bereft of their summer blooms and now simply drab, empty earthen containers. The cedars danced lithely in the gusting wind and a heavy, grey sky pressed down over the city carrying the distinct threat of snow or freezing rain. Winter was losing its grip but was still leaving nail marks as it dragged across the climate.

Twenty-two stories below, the houses were hidden beneath a surprising density of trees, now naked and undressed by winter's demands but ready to suit up for the coming spring. It was only from such a height one could see, that in summer, Toronto was a much greener city than when viewed at street level.

Austin Price lowered his binoculars and stuffed his hands in his coat pocket against the chill as he watched the approaching dot with his naked eyes. Quickly, the dot enlarged, assuming the form of a Bell Ranger helicopter and as it roared directly over Austin's head, he could see the front seat passenger offer a casual wave.

He turned and followed its path until it dropped behind the building and then he went inside. Ten minutes to the Island airport, another twenty or so for clearance and then a further twenty to the penthouse. His team had arrived.

He hung his coat in the front closet and rubbed his hands as he checked the thermostat setting; the generous share he received from his employer's wealth didn't prevent nature from defeating even the most deliberate defences.

Satisfied when he heard the heat pump start, he went to the living room and watched the street below, impatient to begin.

******

When the buzzer sounded Austin switched on the videophone, checking the distorted, overhead shots of his visitors before releasing the private elevator to the penthouse. A few moments later, following a brief knock on the double, oak-stained doors, his team entered, dropping their carry bags in the vestibule and moving forward to greet their host.

"Excellent time. Flight satisfactory?" Austin shook hands with both the men and gave the woman a brief, awkward embrace.

"Perfect," The older of the two men answered. "Always a treat to fly Air Ralston."

Harry Feldman resembled Anthony Lapaglia from TV only a more crumpled version. The hair was a little longer, the eyes a little more vague and the posture less impressive but all under the distinct aura of a survivor.

"We'll keep that little item to ourselves, eh?" Austin smiled. The group shared a chuckle and moved to the spacious living room that faced west over the city.

"Wow, some view!" The younger man stood at ease in front of the huge windows, taking in the panorama of Toronto's skyline. He rocked on his heels, leaning forward to counterbalance the action.

Douglas Waller epitomized the stereotypical hood. His attitude was one of belligerence and self-indulgence, both equally represented in his style of dress and lack of maturity. What Douglas did offer, was an uncanny ability in and around different modes of transportation, and a knack for defeating door locks.

He turned and did another, wow stance with arms spread as he took in the size of the TV.

"One big mother, eh?"

"Yes, it is. Drinks everyone?" Austin pushed a chrome and glass trolley over beside the leather chesterfield and indicated self-service. "So, tell me, Vera, what do our spies say?" He splashed some scotch in a glass and chose a seat opposite the couch facing the woman.

There was a swishy crinkle of leather as Vera accepted a drink from the older member of the team and crossed her impossibly long, leather clad legs.

"The name of the man financing the restoration is one Peter Rabb, Assistant Manager at a small independent movie theatre, the uhm- Starlight." She saluted Austin and sipped the drink, wetting her scarlet lips with a slow, pink tongue. "So very - Hollywood," she added.

"He is single, lives mostly alone but has a woman, a Mary Wendlestat, who shows up at random intervals for equally random periods of time. They seem to be . . . a thing." She formed one-handed quotes in the air."

"When you say a thing, you mean they're—?"

"Yes-s-s-s, Austin." Her eyes flashed, and she gulped down the remainder of her drink, holding the empty glass back toward Harry.

"I'll get that," Austin spoke calmly as he rose and took the glass from her outstretched hand. "Is there any other important information? What about this Fisk fellow?" His voice carried enough admonishment that she accepted the fresh drink with a mirthless smile.

"He's a records administrator at the film institute and apparently one of your boss's trolling lines. He's the one that sussed out the info and passed it on to your chief."

"I know that much already. Will he be a factor in any way?"

"I think he'll pop up at awkward intervals."

"He will need to be interviewed."

"So, what's this picture we're after?" Douglas asked.

"What could be an extremely valuable piece of film history." Austin replied.

"Like some of the stuff you get at garage sales." Douglas swirled his drink and stared at the others - the others stared back - silently.