Cherringham--Final Cut (9 page)

“But what’s the case? Come on, I want to know!”

So Sarah explained how she and Jack were convinced that Zoë’s accidents were more than just accidents.

“This Jack — sounds dishy … you two are an—”

“He’s just a
friend
, Sophie!”

“Oh, that line — such a giveaway.”

“In this case — completely true.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sarah watched Sophie sigh in exaggerated disappointment.

“’Spose I’ll have to believe you. But I want an introduction anyway — my price for the information. Deal?” She grinned mischievously. “I can always use a new ‘friend’.”

Sarah laughed. “Deal.”

Sarah waited while Sophie took a long sip at her cocktail, then leaned forward.

“Right then. Time to dish.
The Rose of Cherringham
. Or …
The Turkey of the Cotswolds
as we’ve started to call it in the office.”

“No …”

“Oh
yes
,” said Sophie. “It’s a sinking ship — and me and the guys are only just keeping it afloat. We’ve pretty much burned every positive story we have now — running out of ammunition …”

“But why?”

“Well — here’s the thing: There’s all kinds of rumours about Alphonso losing it, and the script all over the place.”

“And Zoë’s accidents …”

“That’s right. But what I’m hearing from LA is that a lot of people actually
want
the film to flop. No — more than that — they
need
it to flop.”

“But hang on … that doesn’t make sense — it’s a hundred million dollar picture, no?”

“That’s right.”

“Who would want to lose that kind of money?”

“Well, for starters — the syndicate that funded it. See — they pool their money and fund a slate of movies. Some make money, some don’t. But the people who invest actually
need
the slate to lose money in the end — so they can write off their investment against tax.”

Sophie took a big breath.

Sarah nodded — she’d heard about these kinds of arrangements.

“Now — here’s the problem. Between us, okay? This syndicate in the last year has backed three big winners. And no losers …”

“So,” said Sarah, “unless one of their movies fails big time, the investors are going to get stung with a massive tax bill?”

“Bingo!”

“But how do they make sure the movie fails?”

Sophie laughed. “Oh, there’s plenty of ways to destroy a movie. And plenty of people they can lean on to achieve their ends.”

“You think that’s what’s happened here?”

Sarah watched Sophie shrug. “Could be. All looks pretty … suspicious, don’t you think?”

“But how can we prove it?” said Sarah.

“Impossible, I would have thought,” said Sophie. “Accidents tend to look … accidental — right?”

Sarah thought about this.

“You say they have people they lean on?”

“Yes.”

“You mean the crew?”

“And cast too, I imagine.”

“The other actors?” said Sarah. “But that’s terrible.”

“Don’t forget — if a star
knows
they’re in a movie that’s going to flop, they just want the whole thing out of the way, disappeared, pronto.” She nodded to the empty chair. “Can’t imagine Karl wants his name associated with this mess …”

“Hmm. Then Zoë’s accidents could be caused by anyone on set?”

“Anyone,” said Sophie. “Including Zoë herself.”

Sarah sat back.

Two hints tonight that Zoë might not be all she seemed.

It hadn’t even occurred to Sarah that the young actress could be playing some kind of game herself.

Was it possible? Would Zoë sabotage her own movie to save her career?

She didn’t believe it.

But if she’d learned one thing from working with Jack over the last couple of years it was this:

If the stakes were high enough — anyone could be guilty
.

Even the lovely Zoë …

“Jack — I must say you have taken this English Breakfast thing to heart.”

She watched as her friend took a forkful of egg, bacon, and tomato and made it disappear.

“Dunno about the ‘English’ part, Sarah. Seems like a good old-fashioned diner breakfast to me. Except for the tomatoes. Not sure where that idea came from …”

She laughed. They had got each other up to date on what they had learned; she from Sophie and Karl, Jack from Gary and Fraser, as well as spying on the ramparts.

This afternoon, Zoë would go back to the set for the biggest scene of the film.

Biggest — and the most dangerous.

And though it sounded like a lot of people had something to gain from having the film go wrong, they still had no evidence.

“You don’t seem too worried … I mean, with our lack of progress.”

He wiped his mouth and looked around him. They normally came to Huffington’s to meet, but this was an earlier meeting than usual. Sarah had some work at the office that had to go out this morning.

Soon Zoë would leave the hospital, have a bit of a rest at Sarah’s parents — and then head back on set.

And both of them felt … that could be dangerous indeed.

‘Hmm? Well I wouldn’t say we exactly have ‘nothing’, Sarah. Always good to have a nice, um,
gaggle
of suspects.”

“Even Zoë herself?”

“Bit of a stretch, but it’s not impossible.”

She knew that Jack was big on not eliminating any possibility until he absolutely had to.

“So what do we do with this … 'gaggle,' as you call it?”

He laughed. “Now there you got me.” His smile quickly faded. “I just know I’m worried about Zoë’s return to the film.”

“Me too.”

He looked away, his breakfast plate clean. He poured them both some more tea.

“When I was spying on Alphonso and Fraser … that was useful. If only I could see all our players during those accidents, that would be—”

Sarah suddenly had a thought — and reached out and touched Jack’s arm.

“Hang on, Jack — I think … there might be a way you can do just that …”

*

Sarah looked around at the café.

It was small enough that people close by could hear; but two elderly women had just finished, and stood up — leaving Jack and her out of earshot of anyone.

“You have an idea?”

“The cameras — they’re all digital, right?”

“These days … I guess, sure.”

“So they won’t worry about film, they’ll be shooting everything, and—”

Jack smiled. “I got it. Maybe — if we could see the footage, search the footage, we might see something?”

“Exactly.”

“Great idea. ’Cept — how do we do that?”

“You told me they let their film editor go.”

“That they did. Have his assistant, guy named Wally, working on the film.”

“So maybe you could … bluff you way into getting a look at the footage?”

Jack laughed. “I love the way you are beginning to think. Dunno if that’s possible. But I will tell you this …”

He leaned close, voice low.

“It’s one hell of a good idea. But there is a problem. I’m on duty to pick up Zoë from your parents’ house. Your mum and dad took her to the house straight after being discharged. And she has a ‘call’ for a little after three … costumes, makeup, etc.”

“I know. So how about this? I’ll pick her up. I’ll bring Daniel and Chloe too. We’ve been given free run of the set, right? Despite Alphonso’s protestations. That way, if you do get access to the edit bay …”

“Bay?”

“A console where you can access all the digital footage; you can look at it again; fast forward, zoom, cut, etc … all digital. You can see everything …”

“Sounds a little out of my skill set. More your line of work?”

“Maybe. But I think you may have a better shot at getting the guy to let you look. You could ask for a quick tutorial. I’ve used a console for some video ads I’ve done. Really — it’s as easy as operating your DVR.”

“Er, I still struggle with that. Okay, I’m game. And if anyone asks me why you’re driving …?”

“I’ll get Zoë to say she asked especially for me to pick her up. Sound plausible?”

Jack nodded.

Then …

“Sarah, bringing your kids there, are you sure—”

“I promised them already. They’re beside themselves — the biggest scene of the whole movie! Also — it’ll look like I’m just there to watch, excited kids in tow.”

“Right. But there will be explosions. Lot of them. I think you need keep an eye on Zoë as well? As much as you can. Without scaring her, just say … you will be sticking close.”

Sarah nodded. “I will. I’m guessing you don’t think she had anything to do with her accidents?”

“Do you?”

“Not at all.”

“Instinct,” Jack said. “Not very logical. But usually — I’ve learned — right. Okay, I’m going to head over to Repton Hall. Wish me luck.”

“You’re Jack Brennan,” she said. “You don’t need luck.”

Another big laugh. “Oh yes I do …”

Jacks stood up and went to grab the bill.

But Sarah was quicker. “This breakfast’s on me. After all the feasts we’ve had at The Spotted Pig on you …”

“And we are overdue for another, aren’t we? Maybe when this is all over?”

“Always fun …”

“I’ll keep you posted,” he said, and headed out of Huffington’s, leaving Sarah to finish her tea.

Whether they’d figured out what was happening or not, she felt that today, with its big battle scene — one way or the other — would be
something …

Jack parked his Sprite close to the front door of Repton Hall.

Here Jack would find the edit bay, and the assistant film editor who had taken over …

He walked into the hall, passing people bustling around in a way that reminded Jack of a scene from one of his favourite British series,
The Bletchley Circle
.

Everyone walking briskly, with a manic sense of urgency.

Didn’t yet have the feeling here of the
Titanic
going down, but Jack guessed everyone bustling around knew that their show was in trouble.

He stopped a young man who had a clipboard under his arm and wore a T-shirt that read;
Let me drop everything to work on YOUR problem
.

“Excuse, me, can you tell me where I might find the edit bay?”

The guy scrutinised him as if assessing why on earth Jack might want to go there, or if he even had permission to do so.

“Mr. Pesciak asked me to look in on Wally …”

The name of the Executive Producer became the necessary ‘open sesame’.

“Down the hall there; third door on the right. Games room of some kind, I guess. Wally should be there now.”

The young man whisked away, off to carry out an errand of what — Jack imagined — was meant to look like the utmost importance.

*

The door was open, and Jack knocked.

The shades were down; the room perfectly dark save for the lights from a control board and a trio of wide screen monitors suspended above the long table.

“Excuse me … Wally?”

An owl-eyed man in a striped collared shirt was sitting at the console, a paper coffee cup in his hand, a newspaper in his lap.

Things going slowly in the editing department with the production stopped,
Jack guessed.

The man turned, and with a squeaky voice that matched his bird-like appearance, he said, “Yes, can I help you?”

Funny, Jack thought … When people actually say that …
can I help you …
more times than not they really mean: what the hell are you doing here?

Jack stepped further into the room.

On the monitors, he saw a trio of scenes, frozen shots, none he recognised … All probably from earlier days in the shoot.

Jack thought he’d try the same gambit that got him directions to the room.

My bluff,
as Sarah called it.

“I’ve been helping Mr. Pesciak, escorting Zoë Harding, making sure everything is as safe as can be on the set.”

No word from the assistant editor.

“And — I was hoping I could look over the footage from the past few days. Make sure that some safety precautions weren’t missed.”

The man nodded as if it wasn’t a problem.

But then he spoke.

And revealed that it
was
a problem.

“No one told me that y-you’d be coming here, Mr. de Laurens or Mr. Haines never said …”

Jack took a few steps closer to the man, a smile still on his face, but hoping that the newly promoted editor would respond to someone nearly a foot taller, looming over him.

“Well, Wally, guess I could call Ludo.” Smile broadening … “Wake him up. Tell him I’m having a bit of a problem here. With you.”

The editor’s head started nodding, then shaking.

Hard enough to inherit the responsibility for piecing a mess of a picture together; Wally also probably realised he had to take orders from almost anyone.

Including me,
Jack thought
.

“No. That’s okay, Just tell me what you need, and I can set it all up.”

Jack clapped a hand on the man’s back.

“Great. Okay,” Jack grabbed a nearby straight-backed chair and pulled it close to the long table with the giant black console overseen by the three monitors.

“I’d like to review any footage, anything shot at all by any of the cameras for some specific scenes.”

The man’s head nodded.

“I want to see the footage from the day that Zoë got thrown from her horse, for starters. Then — that sword accident, when somehow a real sword was used in the scene between the King and Cromwell.”

Another nod.

Jack nodded, still keeping his smile in place.

As if reassuring Wally that this was all okay, nothing to worry about.

“Then lastly — when Zoë became sick, the scene in the castle.”

The man gulped.

If it wasn’t completely unlikely, Jack would have thought that the editor was acting guilty.

But Jack guessed that Wally was simply one of those people who acted guilty even when they bought a newspaper and a pack of gum.

“Safety first, hmm Wally? Want to make sure nothing was missed.”