The 16mm Caper

Chapter 5

Everyone focussed on their drinks for a few minutes, absorbing what they knew.

"Why don't we just go and see the guy with the film? Make him an offer and take it from there?" Harry flopped down on the other end of the chesterfield, fiddling to get his feet around the leg of the table.

"Subtlety is our motto, Harry." Austin sipped his drink. "At least until it fails." They all smiled. "Until we have established proof that this film is authentic and valuable, we want to keep a very low profile. That's why Vera will do the visit with Fisk; she can exert her ample charm without revealing our interest.

"It is imperative that Ralston doesn't catch a whiff of this until the horse is gone." Douglas glanced at Harry and smirked. "What else do we know about this Rabb fellow?" Austin ignored the byplay, keeping his attention on Vera.

"I can give you a brief itinerary of his latest movements and social commitments."

"Anything we might exploit?"

"He took the film to an outfit called Cinelab - they're doing the restorations."

"So we know it's at least worth the expense of restoring." Austin. Nodded slowly. "What else?"

"I would guess it's very much worth restoring since this Peter Rabb is not financially situated for costly gambles, and Cinelab are not a cheap operation."

"You think there's an agreement there?"

"Possible."

"You mentioned social itinerary?"

"He's attending a company award party with his girlfriend this Friday, apparently she qualified for some prize or other. She's a member of the purchasing team at an ad agency. It's an annual thing."

"What company?"

Vera looked at Harry expectantly. She had done all the homework and provided the two men with a summary, expecting now for their lesson to prove eventful.

"Uh, it's called uh, Mediatrend." The details provided by Vera had sunk in. "They're an ad agency for a few of the bigger players in town." Harry said.

"I know of them," Austin nodded. "Christopher Emmanuel is the head partner. Very smart. Very shrewd." He thought for a moment. "I might be able to swing an invitation if it's not closed to the company. Are you up to a cocktail mingle, Vera?"

"Are you asking me for a date?" She shifted noisily on the cushions.

"Not me . . ." His eyes fell on Harry.

From his place by the window, Harry murmured an oath that did not go unnoticed by the others

"I beg your pardon, Harry?" Austin spoke with a mild rebuke

"He said, 'shit, didn't you Harry?" Vera sipped from her glass, re-crossing her legs languidly.

"Harry," Austin said, turning to focus on the older man, "the smoothness of this operation depends upon everyone following orders. I have placed Vera in charge, and you will accept that as my wish. Any pertinent objection to make?"

He sauntered back toward the trolley. "I'll take care of my part."

"I know you will. Vera is my insurance." He smiled benignly as Harry cast an uncertain glance at the woman watching him.

"Am I named on the same insurance policy as him?" Douglas leered at Vera who directed her attention to him with steady, unblinking eyes.

"As a matter of fact." Austin saw the leer and also some of the colour, fade from the man's face at Vera's expression. "Consider her my eyes and ears, and bear in mind, she is also your protection should circumstances demand."

Douglas moved tentatively to the drink cart. "We can take care of ourselves," He said with forced bravado.

"Good," Vera purred, rising in one swift, graceful move. "I hate babysitting." She set her glass alongside Harry's and touched the young man lightly on the shoulder. "I'm going to the little girl's room, you take care of yourself now."

She squeezed his shoulder and Austin smothered a smile as Douglas tilted down with a painful grimace.

"That bitch!" He muttered after she left.

"Just a warning, my friend. She could have just as easily paralysed you for life with a little more pressure. Vera is a very dangerous woman. I recommend getting along."

"You're the boss." Douglas grumbled sarcastically, rubbing his shoulder. "So now what?"

"We find out if I can get Vera and Harry invited to this party."

"And me?" Douglas looked at the cart and halted under Austin's glare.

"You will await orders like a good soldier. Right, Douglas?"

"I expect so."

****

"Three hundred and twenty-five dollars!" Mary lifted a tangle of spaghettini onto her plate with a plop. "Pass the cheese, please."

Peter shoved the container over. "That included a DVD copy, Harv said it was cheap at twice the price. The film was in such good shape he hardly had to do anything to it.  It's exactly fifty minutes long, running at sixteen frames a second, which also validates the fact that it's an old film. He's very interested in what's going to happen to it."

"So now what, are you going to sell it?"

"I don't know, I thought I might even keep it. We watched it, and it really was a lousy plot with terrible acting but whoever filmed the thing--"

"R. Cadian?"

"Nah, he was the director. Harv says that the camera man really knew his stuff, considering what he had to work with."

"Does Harv have any suggestions about what you should do?" She slurped, and a strand whipped up and hit her cheek leaving a sauce scar.

Peter pushed his plate away and tore off a chunk of bread from a small baguette. "He says if I don't want to go the institutional route, to look up the big collectors, stuff like this always has a market." He watched her twist another clump onto her fork and raise it to her mouth.

"Better hurry." She paused and the clump untangled, dangling down in unmanageable strings. 

"Told you."

She screwed up her face and rocked her head at him, rewinding the spaghettini. "Maybe you'll meet somebody at the party."

Peter groaned and quickly held up his hands defensively. "I know, I said I'd go and I will. I just don't have to be happy about it, do I?"

"It would help."

"Fine. Look, this is me happy." He pulled his face into a hideous smile.

"Bugger."

"I love you too. You'd better think about getting ready, it's almost seven-thirty."

"You are going to change, right?" She scooped up the last of her meal and rushed the plate to the sink, chewing madly.

"Something wrong with my clothing?"

"Try saying to yourself: my clothing, something wrong." She tossed a dishcloth at him and bounced down the hall.

"I'll get my old Tux out if you aren't careful." He called, clearing off the dishes from the table and scratching at his neck.