Chapter 16 – Public Notice
That was the last time Roger only had to work a half day. It also was the last time he indulged in a mid-day martini. Gwen cracked the whip on the team, and that included him. All ten members sat in comfy chairs on the stage, which meant Gwen had pried Henric out of his sailboat for a day. She hadn’t told anyone what was on the agenda for the meeting, but the practiced eyes of the Ps had detected a bulge under her silk jacket, just behind her right hip. As far as they were concerned, that portended the worst. They thought they were past the days of armed conflict with Stirg, and had resumed their rightful positions as valued members of an elevated cultural institution. Now, here was Gwen again, packing heat. Oh, shit.
She said, “We’re at a breaking point in the production. Roger has a plan for contacting The Whosey and getting him on board. That’s a very important part of our production approach. If we don’t succeed in that, we have to go back to the drawing board. The thing is, when Roger implements his plan, our operation is out of the hat. It will put the public on notice about our production, and about our discovery of the Stravinsky score. Originally I thought we would keep this secret well into the process. But with this need to get Townshend, we’re going to have to disclose a lot very soon. Anyone have any ideas, any comments?”
The woman said, “As soon as this becomes public knowledge, all hell is going to break loose. The first thing that’s going to happen is that tons of people are going to want to know about finding the score. How that happened? Who? When? The second thing is that people are going to want to know about the ballet. Who is producing this? Why in Charleston, of all places? Who is choreographing? Who are the dancers? What’s this about a competition between The Whosey and Paul McCartney?” She looked around the circle of faces. “None of those things are going to be easy to explain. Obviously we can’t say the score was found in a secret compartment of a desk you all stole from the Hermitage Museum. So what do we say? People are going to want to know why you have control over a major, lost piece of music by one of the most important composers of the twentieth century. And then, when people find out about the money we’re spending on this, holy shit. That’s never happened before.”
Gwen could see the woman was getting worked up, which was ok because that was the purpose of this powwow. Gwen knew all this stuff the woman was bringing to the table was not the most important issue. She knew the issue was Stirg, and his reaction. Based on his reaction when he found out they had stolen a ton of stuff from the Hermitage warehouses, Gwen knew he was going to go ballistic again. Which was why she was carrying her handgun, clipped to her belt under the $600 silk jacket. She knew she had to re-arm her team, the way they had been six months earlier, and was leading by example.
The woman went on, “Then people are going to want to know about this competition between The Beatle and The Whosey. What are we going to tell them? That we’re making all this up? Are we going to tell them we’re paying this guy five mill to play around with Igor’s music? Five million dollars? Cause then these investigative types, and believe me, this is going to bring them out of the woodwork, are going to ask questions about our benefactors.” She looked at Helstof and Henric. “You all ready for that? Have people prying into your affairs? And what about you?” she said, looking at the four dancers. “And you?” looking at Gale. “You ready to have people camped out on the doorsteps of your houses, ringing the bell at all hours of the day and night?”
Roger thought the woman was a riot. This was great, laying it all on the line like this. Gwen did too. Saved her having to do it, which she had come prepared to do. The Junes sat quietly and looked around at their friends. No one spoke.
So Gwen got up looked at the woman. “Thank you. All that had to be said, and you captured the essentials perfectly. Except one important thing.” She reached around her waist and pulled her gun. Instinctively Peter covered his ears, and Pater clutched at Peter’s shoulder. Gwen had fired her gun in The Hall once before. She didn’t fire it now, but laid it on the table in full view. “In addition to all those realities, and those distractions, we’re going to have Stirg on our asses. Again. You remember what happened before. He’s not going to like us doing what we’re going to do with this ballet, any more than he liked us stealing the stuff from the Hermitage. He’s going to view this as a desecration of Russian heritage.” Gwen looked at each team member, straight in the eyes. Each person looked back her, still, composed, attentive. Pater had let go of Peter’s shoulder, and was relaxed now that he saw Gwen wasn’t going to fire her gun at the ceiling. Slowly she walked around the circle of chairs. Intensity radiated out from her to each of the others. She gave a double dose to the woman, who was the newest member of the team.
She said, “We are going to do this. Does everyone understand that? We are producing this ballet, just as we planned. We are going to be successful. It is going to be a great work of art. We face serious challenges ahead, just as you have described,” indicating the woman. “And the biggest challenge is going to be Stirg. We will meet those challenges; we will overcome all of that. We are going to do something great, and contribute to culture.” She paused, and sat down in her chair. “Now’s the time to go home if you don’t want the trouble that’s going to come from this. Nothing great ever happens without some trouble.”
Gwen knew what their old friend and Hermitage heist teammate Little Jinny Blistov would say at this point, if he were here. He’d say, “Hot damn!” She looked from person to person, starting with her husband. He smiled and blew her a kiss. Then at the Gromstovs, who held hands and gave a thumbs up. Then the Ps, who also held hands, and said, via Pater’s voice, “This is ballet. This is our new life in Charleston. Being scared isn’t so bad, as long as we can overcome that, and get done what we want to do.”
Gwen looked at the American ballet star and the English ballet star. Selgey said, “I’ve never held a gun before. Can I hold that?” Gwen knew there was not a round in the chamber, so she picked up the 40 caliber Glock and handed it to her. She said, “Keep it pointed at the floor.” Selgey did so, moving it around, feeling its weight. She looked at Bart and said, “Have you ever held a gun before?”
“Never even been in a room with one before.”
She handed it back to Gwen, and said, “So it’s going to be like that, eh?” She looked around at the others and said, “Do you know what it feels like to give command performances at places like the White House and the Paris Opera House? It’s scary as hell. But we both have done that many times. Always scary, but we did it anyway, because we believed in it.” She looked at Bart, “Are we in, or out?”
“We’re in,” he said, without hesitation.
Gwen knew Gale also was in. Gale had not been part of the heist team, but she had been adopted by the team afterwards, because she was a live wire, always interesting, fun as hell. She had been on the boat out in the harbor on the night Stirg had attacked. So this wasn’t her first time facing a threat. Gwen’s gaze passed on to the woman, and rested there. What would she say?
“I came here to retire. Be with my family, learn to like shrimp and grits, drink my iced tea sweet, and not complain about the humidity. Now I’m sitting on a theater stage, looking at a gun. I’ve never seen a gun before, except on TV. None of my former bosses at the San Francisco Ballet carried guns; or at least they didn’t bring them to work. None of the dancers, either,” looking at the Ps, who she knew had carried them in the front of their pants for a period of time when Stirg was actively threatening the group. “Now you’re telling me you guys stole stuff from the Russian government. Discovered a lost score by a world famous composer. Want to produce a ballet, and two of you have twenty-five million dollars you’re willing to spend on it. And lastly, you’re telling me some guy named Stirg attacked you in the recent past, actual physical violence; and he may, no, he likely, will attack you again. P
hysically attack you, with violence.” The woman kept looking at Gwen’s gun, sitting on the table. “Why do you want me? Why tell me this stuff? I’m a bean counter, an administrative person. I do budgets and PR. Maybe I’ll just tell the cops all this. Maybe I’ll call up this Stirg person, tell him all about what you’re up to. What’s up with all this, and me?”
Roger said, “You’re funny.”
The Ps said, “We like you.”
The ballet stars said, “You know ballet administration, and we need that to pull this off.”
Henric didn’t say anything, but looked at her kindly, with reassurance.
Helstof spoke for herself and Gwen. “We trust you, and we know you can handle this. We know you won’t squeal.”
The woman said, “How do you know?”
“Intuition.”
The woman said, “Oh. Ok. I’m in.”
The Lost Ballet Page 16
