The 16mm Caper

Chapter 17

Freddy listened to the steady, unanswered ring and slammed the phone down in a rage; it was eleven o'clock and she wasn't on her cell or at home and she hadn't called. He began imagining all kinds of trickery and scheming designed to cut him out of the deal and the thoughts drove him to smash a fist into the wall beside his window, shattering the plaster and breaking the knuckle of his index finger.

Hopping around in agony, Freddy cursed his lot with all the profanity learned in his thirty-nine years, and he grabbed his coat and left the apartment, headed for the local clinic. Still limping, with angry determination, Freddy plotted how he would handle Cheryl after he got his hand fixed. A deal with the infamous Ralston Hughes could be his launch into the big time and he was not going to let some conniving little broad stand in his way.

******

Cheryl lay curled up on the hotel bed, tears drying on her cheeks and in the corners of her glassy eyes. She stared without seeing, at the snow on the TV that Harry had left running, its hissing buzz exploding in her ears like a train's roar. She was terrified.

The woman had barely touched her yet the fear and the excruciating pain had left her weak, helpless and too afraid to move. She thought of Harv and her job and the stupid move she'd tried to make with Freddy. Everything had been jeopardized and for nothing; she lost the disc, got nothing for it, endangered her job and had met the most frightening woman she could have imagined.

Her parting statement had been a ludicrous reference to her hair colour, how stark white wouldn't go with her ruddy complexion, like what she'd done was little more than a passing handshake. The implication was not lost and Cheryl vowed she would have nothing to do with the film again - ever.

She crawled off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, repairing her face and straightening her clothes before slipping out of the room and down the fire stairs to the lobby and out to the street.

******

Dylan slouched on the big armchair in his recreation room, one leg over the side and a bottle of beer resting in his lap, as he listened to Peter's request. The dark, wood-paneled walls, decorated with framed prints of military uniforms seemed to make their conversation somehow more conspiratorial; the talk of hiding material and keeping secrets fit very nicely with the setting.

"I wouldn't ask except I know you built this safe into your foundation and I'd rather have it with a friend than a business acquaintance." Peter laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

"No bullshit now Peter, is this because there might be some danger involved with having it around?" Dylan referred to the story of the 'sinister' woman at the party.

"To be honest, Dylan, I don't know. But nobody would have any idea that it was here so even if- if someone came looking for it, they wouldn't come here."

"And you would die under torture before revealing its location?"

"Absolutely."

They laughed and teased one another some more then Dylan took the parcel from Peter and left the room. When he came back he gave Peter a strange look and asked, "Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"

"Oh yeah, figures. The minute you get the goods I'm a stranger."

"It's all tucked safely away just- just don't mention this to Catlin, okay?"

"Deal. Same goes for Mary." The two men punched fists and shared a swallow of beer from Dylan's bottle.

"Now what?"

"I dunno. I guess I'll start checking out the legit collectors and see what happens."

"You really want to sell it?"

"Sixteen mil is useless to me without the equipment. I've got a copy of the restored original on disc; that's all I need."

"When do we get to see this masterpiece?"

"When I'm sure things are back to normal."

"So much for that then. Want another beer?"

"I never had a first one."

"That's a no then. Okay, pal, see yourself out; I've got a ton of work to do." Dylan slapped him on the back and gave a short wave. "Mum's the word, remember."

"Thanks, buddy." Peter jogged up the stairs and out the side door to the street, happy to have the film stored safely and secretly.

******

"This young woman didn't come up with this plan on her own so we need to speak to the person she was working with."

"How do you know who that is?"

"Vera assured me." The room fell silent as Harry and Douglas shifted uncomfortably on the sofa in Austin's penthouse living room. "There was a man at the film institute that Vera interviewed." Austin looked across the room to where Vera was thumbing through a large coffee table book. "Vera?"

"Freddy Fisk." She didn't bother to look up.

"Perhaps you two could pay this Freddy a visit and see how he can help us; the original of this," he waved the disc Harry had acquired, "had to come from somewhere."

"What about the restoration place?" Douglas ventured, hopefully trying to bury his humiliating experience with a serious demeanour.

"That's where Cheryl Barber works." Vera offered. "Very likely where the copy came from."

"Let's see Freddy first. He was the one who contacted Ralston in the first place. I'll make some calls and see what, if anything, is known about this Cinelab Productions."

Harry stood and leaned on the arm of the sofa for a moment, gathering his balance. After Vera's attack he found himself wobbly-legged sometimes.

"What about . . .?" He nodded toward Vera."

Austin held up a palm. "You two get on your way." He blinked a nodded assurance and rose to see them to the door.

"I mean it, Austin," Harry whispered as they left. "No more dealing with- with her."

Austin nodded again and closed the door after them.

Vera closed the book and dropped it on the table, pivoting on one heel to face her father. "Am I grounded?"

"No need to act childish, Vera." Austin turned on his stereo system and inserted a disc of his favourite classical music. "Let them do this on their own, I think our best bet might be with the restoration firm and failing that, then you may be called upon to use your talents with our friend Mister Rabb."

"Why waste time? Why not go after him now?" She took long exaggerated strides across the room, executing a sudden stop at attention and then reversing the action back across the room.

"Because I believe our Mister Rabb to be cautious and not just a little clever. I doubt very much he has kept the original anywhere near his home or work - particularly after hearing our, or should I say, Ralston's generous offer and still refusing. Also, if we do have to deal directly with him it would be nice if he thought we were uuhmm- professional."

"So we beat up on everyone around him instead."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Austin sat down and closed his eyes, drifting away with the soothing strains from a chorus of strings.