by Liza Cody
‘I don’t think we’ll bother,’ Tina said.
‘Don’t blame you,’ the stocky man said. ‘Who do you work for, if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘Whoever the client is,’ George said. ‘In this case Ms Walker.’
‘I mean, what’s your outfit? What’s the name of the firm?’
‘Oh, I see,’ said George. ‘It’s a small South London firm. You wouldn’t have heard of it. Why? You looking for a job?’
‘You never know these days,’ the man said. ‘Got a card?’
George patted his pockets. ‘Somewhere,’ he said. ‘Tina?’
‘Tell you what,’ Tina said, ‘I’ll look one out and give it to you before you leave.’
‘OK,’ the man said. ‘I must say, I don’t think Mr Zalisky was expecting professionals. He thought he’d be …’ He broke off as a knock sounded at the door.
Tina opened it to a little man dressed all in black. He blinked at her nervously through thick steel-rimmed spectacles as if his mother had sent him next door to borrow a cup of sugar and he wasn’t at all sure of his reception.
‘Where’s Birdie?’ he asked plaintively.
George said, ‘I’m George Adler and this is my colleague, Ms Cole. Are you Mr Zalisky?’
The little man nodded, and George went on, ‘Ms Walker sends her apologies. She’s asked me and my colleague to represent her in this matter.’
‘Oh dear,’ the little man said, opening his hands helplessly. ‘I don’t know … I was expecting to see her. This is most disappointing.’
Tina said soothingly, ‘Ms Walker has given us detailed instructions and a video to show you.’
Her tone was so maternal that for one moment George thought she was going to pat the little man on the head. He said, ‘Would you like to take a seat, Mr Zalisky? Shall we get on?’
But Nash Zalisky dithered in the doorway until the stocky man opened his bag and brought out two pillows and a handful of clean white napkins. One pillow went on the seat of the chair opposite the TV. The other rested against the back. Napkins were spread over the arms and back like antimacassars. Only then did the fussy, anxious little man consent to sit down. The stocky minder stood behind the chair like a soldier at ease.
‘The tape, the tape,’ Nash Zalisky said, fluttering his hand.
Tina picked up the remote and pressed the play button. The screen lit up to a picture of sun and sea. Surf was rolling in, small black kids were playing beach soccer. In the background a guitar played. The camera scanned the horizon, turned and came to rest on a hammock strung between palm trees. Two young people were sharing the hammock. They looked like a pair of film stars. The camera crept closer. The man had one arm round the girl. His other hand made circles in the air.
‘Ripples,’ he said. ‘I wonder how long before these ripples reach London.’
Tina touched the pause button and the image of the handsome man stuck trembling to the screen.
George said, ‘Is this the video you want to see, Mr Zalisky?’
‘Maybe,’ Nash Zalisky said. ‘But how do I know this isn’t all there is?’
‘Shall I fast-forward?’ Tina asked. ‘You can tell me when to stop.’
Images raced silently across the screen. ‘It’s all here,’ Tina said. ‘We haven’t substituted Tom and Jerry.’
But on the screen people scampered and chased each other through the sunshine, speeding through dawn to dusk like cartoon characters.
‘Stop!’ Zalisky cried, and the headlong rush halted suddenly in a candle-lit room. The shuddering picture showed George a close-up of a heartbreakingly young Linnet with dim light gleaming off unruly fair hair.
‘Can you go back?’ Zalisky said. ‘I want to see this bit.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tina said. ‘George?’
George dragged his eyes away from the screen and said, ‘I’m afraid, at this stage, we’re only authorised to confirm to you that the footage exists.’
‘Just a couple of minutes,’ Zalisky pleaded. ‘Surely there’s no harm in that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tina said. ‘Our instructions are explicit: we can only go on when the money’s been transferred.’
‘What absolute nonsense,’ Zalisky said. ‘Why doesn’t she trust me?’ He was staring at the screen as if he thought he could persuade the blonde child to change her mind. Still staring, he held out his hand and the thickset man placed a mobile in it.
He punched a number, and said, ‘Yes, this is he. Would you call Mr XYZ and confirm the arrangement we made this morning.’ He snapped the phone down and turned to George. ‘I’m here to. help her,’ he said. ‘Has her life been so full of betrayal that she can no longer tell who her real friends are?’
George found himself disliking the little man so intensely that he couldn’t answer. He picked up his own mobile and called the office. ‘Hello there. Just to tell you Mr Zalisky has made his call.’
Linnet’s soft voice replied, ‘Thanks, George. I’ll check that and ring you back.’
Zalisky said, ‘Is that her? I’d like to speak to her.’
‘I’m sorry,’ George said, ‘but she hung up.’ He cut Linnet off.
‘Now we’ll have to wait,’ Tina explained. ‘Ms Walker wants to make sure all your arrangements are to her satisfaction.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Zalisky said. ‘I hope you can see how unnecessary all this is.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Tina said.
‘Then … ?’
For a moment, George thought the little man was going to make them a counter-offer. His eyes flicked between the two of them with something like hope, but then he shrugged helplessly. The thickset man rummaged in his bag and produced a flask from which he poured a single cup of black coffee. Zalisky accepted the cup and returned to his scrutiny of the face on the screen.
The face on the screen, George thought, was extraordinary: eyes lowered, shadowed by long lashes, lips parted as if she were about to speak, luminous skin, the whole framed by gleaming, coiling hair. She seemed to be emitting light. She could have had a career in the movies, he thought, and wondered why she hadn’t.
Electronic interference slashed jagged lines across the immobile face. But the horizontal lightning was powerless against such a potent image of perfect, dewy youth. The youth, the sheer lack of years, got to George and made him feel he was protecting a child, any child, his own child, from whatever harm life had in store for her.
Whatever was in store for that face had already happened. He knew that, and it almost brought a lump to his old, experienced throat. But he wondered, suddenly, if it was the same illogical emotion which was driving Linnet. Wasn’t she trying to protect Jack, the young handsome subject of the film, from further harm?
After the call came through and Tina rewound the tape to the beginning, he watched Linnet the child wander through ten minutes of excerpts, barely saying a thing. She was clearly Jack’s adornment, Jack’s medal, first prize for simply being Jack. There was little to see of the Linnet George knew, and he wanted to stop the film and lecture the child as if she were his own daughter.
‘Say something,’ he might have said. ‘You’re worth more than this. Be yourself. If they don’t like it – tough; that’s their problem, not yours.’
But the only time he saw the real Linnet break through the blank mask of beauty was in a short scene near the end where she was playing a keyboard and Jack was singing. Then he saw the astonishing eyes focus, concentrate and communicate the way they did every day years later in the office. That was the only time, though, and when the scene came up he was surprised because he didn’t know she could play piano. In fact, with only the film as evidence, it was surprising to find out she could do anything useful at all.
At the end, when the screen went black and Nash Zalisky said, ‘What a loss, what a waste,’ George had to make an effort to realise that he was talking about Jack. The film was about Jack, not Linnet – Jack, Jack, Jack, all the way. George’s inner dialog
ue with the child Linnet was irrelevant.
Tina rewound the tape but left the cassette in the machine. She said, ‘The next step is to ask you if you wish to buy the cassette with no transmission, publication or reproduction rights attached. It would be for your own personal use only.’
‘It’s a sample,’ Zalisky said. ‘A sample of what?’
‘Of a film of about ninety minutes’ length,’ Tina said, ‘and some unedited footage which survived after the film was edited.’
‘Do you know for a fact that the film and the extra footage exist?’
‘Yes,’ said George, carefully avoiding Tina’s eyes. Neither of them had seen it.
‘Have I your word on that?’
‘Yes.’
‘You see,’ Zalisky said, ‘we have a problem. Of course I want the cassette. I want to examine it at leisure and I need to show it to my consortium of backers. But the consortium feels that the price we discussed prior to this meeting is too high. I’ve already paid heavily just to view it here.’
‘The price,’ Tina said, ‘is not negotiable. Neither Mr Adler nor I are authorised to negotiate. We’re simply here to carry out Ms Walker’s instructions.’
‘What the consortium has in mind’, Zalisky said, as if Tina hadn’t spoken, ‘is an exchange.’ He turned to look at George. ‘This is difficult,’ he went on, clasping his hands between his knees. ‘As you know, I’m trying to be a friend to Birdie. I’m trying to protect her – to safeguard her future. But my backers have other ideas. I too have instructions to carry out. You must understand that I’m representing money and interests that are not my own. This, unfortunately, is business.’
‘Even so,’ Tina persisted, ‘we can’t negotiate with you.’
‘What the consortium proposes is a simple exchange – one cassette, plus those reproduction and transmission rights which Birdie wants withheld, in exchange for another cassette.’ Zalisky held out his hand and the stocky man behind his chair gave him a video cassette of his own. ‘I’m afraid’, he said, ‘that when Birdie finds out about this piece of tape she’ll want to rethink her strategy. As I say, this is not my idea, and I’m quite devastated about it. But you’ll have to see it so that you can make Birdie understand that the consortium means business.’
‘Hold on,’ Tina said. She looked at George. ‘We should discuss this.’
‘What’s on the tape?’ George asked.
‘I haven’t seen it,’ Zalisky said, licking his dry lips fastidiously. ‘But I am assured that it’s unpleasant. Birdie won’t want it in circulation.’
‘I’ll ring her.’ George punched his radial button and a moment later heard Linnet saying, ‘Hi, how’s it going?’
‘There’s a snag,’ George said, keeping his voice neutral. ‘Mr Zalisky wants the cassette, plus all the rights, in exchange for something you won’t want to see in circulation. It’s another video cassette.’
There was a short silence and then she said, ‘Have you seen it?’
‘Not yet. He wants to show it to us.’
More silence. George looked at Tina for help but she was watching Nash Zalisky with narrowed eyes.
Linnet said in a small voice, ‘George, do you think he’s bluffing?’
Without warning, George felt his knees begin to tremble. He said, ‘Talk to Tina, maybe she knows.’
Tina took the phone and George sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank TV screen.
He heard Tina say, ‘I think it would be wise to find out. OK, talk to you later.’ She turned to Zalisky and said, ‘We’d better see what we’re dealing with.’
She took Linnet’s cassette out of the VCR and substituted Zalisky’s.
Zalisky accepted the remote and said, ‘I think I’ll use your fast-forward technique. I don’t think any of us will want to view this in real time.’
What followed ripped through George’s brain like an express train. It was black and white footage shot from a fixed camera position. The location was a hotel room with the bed in the centre of the screen. A man and a girl trotted jerkily in, dancing to and fro, tossing drinks down their throats, tossing clothes on to chairs, their bodies emerging rapidly from their colourless garb like trees stripped of leaves by a strong wind. A brief scene of jolting coupling was followed with barely a pause by another in a different position.
Zalisky stopped the film at a place where both faces were turned towards the camera. The man was at least three times the girl’s age. He was heavy and balding. His meaty hands gripped the girl’s slender hips holding her immobile on her knees. There was no expression whatsoever on her face. It was the same blank mask of immaculate young beauty she had shown George on the previous tape.
Zalisky said, ‘Sadly, I think we can all agree that we’re looking at Birdie. What a shame. It really does undercut her bargaining power.’
George crossed to the window and opened the curtains. Outside, the sky was as grey as the picture on the screen. Behind him, he heard Tina clear her throat.
‘Let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘What are you proposing to do with this tape?’
‘Nothing,’ Zalisky said. ‘For myself, I’d burn it and all the existing copies. Unfortunately it isn’t within my power to do so, and the owner of the tape has already received an interesting offer for it from a multimedia group. He would, of course, reject the offer and destroy the tape if we can come to a sensible agreement with Birdie regarding the Antigua Movie and the audio material she claims to possess.’
‘I see,’ Tina said. ‘So you’d like us to relay this offer to Ms Walker? She should give up all materials and rights to them in return for a promise to suppress a few minutes of pornographic film. Is that the deal?’
Zalisky replied, ‘I’m sorry to say that it isn’t simply a question of pornography. If you force me to continue I’m told that we’ll see the ingesting of cocaine, and at the end there is clear evidence that this was a commercial transaction.’
‘I should bloody well hope so,’ Tina said. ‘No one goes with a pig like that for the fun of it.’
George turned to face the room again just in time to see Zalisky blinking in surprise. He said quickly, ‘You’d better call Ms Walker again, Tina, and see how she wants us to proceed.’ The anger in Tina’s voice calmed him, made him feel that his own emotional reaction was not entirely foolish.
While Tina was making the call Zalisky said, ‘This pains me. It really does. Please, please, assure Birdie that I’m doing everything I can to protect her. If only she’d talk to me I think she’d realise that I’m the only friend she’s got. I do urge you to explain to her that where Jack’s image and recordings are concerned we are the only game in town. No other record company will touch them once the contractual situation has been disclosed. And with this … er … pornography extant, I don’t think anyone else will take her claims to title or copyright at all seriously. I would so much like to shield her from inevitable rejection and disappointment.’
George considered picking the fussy little man up by the scruff of his neck and dangling him out of the ninth-storey window until he shut up. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked gently on his heels. The stocky man, who, was still standing at Nash Zalisky’s elbow, seemed to be transfixed by the dirty grey image that was still shuddering on the TV screen.
Tina put down the phone, stepped across the three men and switched the TV off. She said, ‘Well, Mr Zalisky, you’ve given our client a lot to think about. In the meantime, thank you for coming. We’ll be in touch.’
Zalisky said, ‘Is that all? Doesn’t Birdie at least want to exchange tapes? I wish you’d let me talk to her.’
‘Our client is very disappointed with your counter-offer.’ Tina sounded as if she were reciting lines. ‘She instructs me to say that she needs time to think it over.’
‘She has forty-eight hours,’ the little man snapped. ‘Even I can run out of patience. She’ll have to learn to take the hand of friendship and not to scratch it.’ He
rose to his feet and darted waspishly out of the room leaving his minder to scuffle around collecting pillows and napkins. The minder’s last act was to snatch the video out of the machine and stuff it in his pocket before hurrying into the corridor.
‘Well, cheerio and hasta la vista to you too,’ Tina said to the closing door. ‘Jesus Christ, George, what a bust! I apologise. Paranoia, in this case, is entirely justified.’
George sighed and sat down on the bed. ‘What did she really say?’ he asked.
‘She was pretty upset. But what the hell – she got all her back tax paid. That’s not bad going for letting that little prat watch a ten-minute video.’
‘We’ve still got it, haven’t we?’
Tina patted her shoulder bag. ‘Right here,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t give that extortionate little pile of parts a kick in the pants, let alone something he really wants.’
George allowed himself to smile at last. The afternoon had gone very badly, but at least he felt Tina was on the team. ‘I thought you were going to have one of your famous lapses of good nature,’ he said.
‘Did you see his face?’ Tina asked indignantly. ‘I thought he was going to lick the screen. You know what’s really pornographic, George? It’s men’s expressions when they’re watching it. Not yours though. You looked as if you were watching a tragedy. Which maybe you were. Oh, fuck it. Let’s pack up the VCR and get out of here.’
‘I wonder what she’ll do now,’ George said, watching Tina fiddle with plugs and cables.
‘Mr Zalisky’s one hungry little bastard,’ Tina said from behind the TV set. ‘He’ll be in touch again. Linnet’s got something he wants. He isn’t going to leave it there.’
V
Serenity
There’s a rock’n’roll cliché which goes, ‘If you screw up really badly on stage, pretend it’s part of the act and carry on.’ I tell all my baby bands that one. I also tell them not to be afraid of rock’n’roll clichés – they’re there for a reason: they work.
