All became clear when I showed up at his swanky London offices for the meeting.
The film that he had optioned was unlike any film that had ever been made. It was set in an underwater world and was about a crew of scientists who discovered an alien race living in the ocean, unbeknown to the rest of humanity. The film had started life as a graphic novel, which I’d heard Frank had come across. He’d instantly fallen in love with the concept and decided he wanted to turn the comic into a film.
But, at the time, I didn’t know that there was a storm brewing in the industry and Frank Holden was on the brink of losing everything. It seems that a number of young actresses had complained about unwarranted attention and advances from Frank, in return for leading roles in his films as well as their silence.
FH House Films was doing its very best to bury the story, but I soon discovered, from an employee of the firm who was very happy to gossip, that a reporter had gotten hold of the story and was threatening to blow the whole thing open. As a result, the company he had built was holding back from allowing Frank his usual large budget on the feature.
So Frank, who was renowned for being stubborn, decided he would go ahead and produce the film with a much lower budget, which meant nobodies like me were invited to meetings. He was a man who answered to no one.
I didn’t care about Frank’s wandering hands or his reputation for luring young women into bed. All I cared about was the opportunity to work with a genius in the field. My desire to succeed was second to none.
I can now admit that when I walked into the studio for my first meeting, with his personal assistant, I was shaking like a leaf. I wasn’t used to the ultra-modern leather sofas, industrial lighting and the luxury of the building. It was so far removed from the flea-infested bedsit that I called home.
While I sat awkwardly perched on the edge of the sofa waiting to be called in, I grew increasingly aware of the sound my trousers made against the leather. In a corner, behind a large glass desk, sat a secretary with super stylish clothing and her dark hair piled high on her head. She wore brown lipstick that made her pale skin look like that of a china doll. I felt ugly and out of place in her world.
‘Zara Golding.’ The receptionist fixed me with her cold eyes. ‘They will see you now.’ And she pointed towards a door on the far side of the room.
Getting up from the sofa and wincing, as my trousers again made a farting noise against the leather material, I straightened my navy jacket and made my way towards the door, which swung open just before I reached it.
‘Zara, I’m guessing?’ A flamboyant American woman dressed head-to-toe in black put her hand out and shook mine. ‘Won’t you come in?’
I followed the unknown woman through a brightly lit corridor; her kitten heels clattering on the hardwood floor.
‘Frank’s just through here. He is super excited to meet you.’ I nodded and smiled although I found her statement hard to believe. ‘I’m Monica Cherry, Frank’s PA,’ she explained while leading me into a room with a frosted glass door.
Sitting behind a large desk was Frank. I recognised him instantly. His large frame, small brown eyes and balding head were unmistakable. He didn’t smile or say a word. He simply sat looking at me. I didn’t know if I should take a seat or speak, or what it was he expected of me.
‘Geez, hon, take a seat won’t you.’ Monica’s American drawl echoed around the stark office as she went around the desk and took her seat next to Frank.
I pulled the black leather and steel chair back and sat myself down, being sure to keep my back very straight. You mustn’t slouch – the words my mother used to say rang in my ears.
‘So.’ Monica picked up a shiny tablet that was on the desk in front of her and scanned the page.
‘You don’t have much experience.’ Frank spoke suddenly.
‘Erm, no.’ I shifted in my chair.
‘So what are you doing here?’ he asked, still staring without blinking.
Unsure how to answer, I looked to Monica for guidance but her eyes remained focused on the tablet. She was not going to help me.
‘Well, I… I came because I got a call.’ I realised too late how lame I sounded.
‘Wrong.’ Frank leant forward, knitting his chubby fingers together on the desk in front of him. On his right hand little finger he wore a large gold signet ring. ‘You came because you want to work in film.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘But you have no experience.’
‘I have a little.’
‘Cops and Robbers?’ he sneered.
I took an instant dislike to the man.
‘Yes.’
‘You graduated from LFS with distinction,’ Monica chipped in, still studying her notes.
‘That’s right.’
‘So you’re smart enough. You have a bit of talent.’ Frank sat back in his chair and rubbed his stubbly chin.
I didn’t know how or if I should respond to that comment.
‘I have always wanted to be in film. It’s my passion. I love stories.’
Frank snorted and I felt my cheeks go red. I was a grown woman of thirty yet in his presence I felt like a child.
‘Let me tell you a bit about our vision.’ Monica finally put her tablet down and addressed me face to face. ‘Are you familiar with R.J. Hellman?’
An instant feeling of panic washed over me as I racked my brain trying to place the name.
‘He’s a little-known graphic novelist,’ she continued, unwittingly alleviating my fear. ‘His book, Water Warriors, has come to Frank’s attention and this is the project we are talking about.’
I had never heard of R.J. Hellman let alone a book called Water Warriors but I thought it best to keep my mouth closed and let them do the talking.
‘Water Warriors is a graphic novel about an alien race that lives under the water. Up on the land people have no idea of their existence. Then one day the Water Race is discovered. It really is a wonderful, imaginative story that will translate beautifully to the big screen.’
I nodded, making a mental note to go and get a copy of this bizarre-sounding book as soon as I’d left the office.
‘We are going to shoot it all underwater,’ Frank interrupted. ‘On a submarine. The film is going to be unlike anything anyone has ever seen. No one has attempted to make an underwater film before. I am going to change that.’ He folded his arms across his chest and slightly cocked his head to one side, still examining me. I bit my tongue and decided not to mention Das Boot.
‘I need an assistant director who will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. I don’t want your opinion or your artistic input. I want a skivvy with a good eye.’
‘Excuse me’—I adjusted the collar on my shirt as I spoke—‘but why, as you say, use someone with no experience for such a ground-breaking film? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.’
A look crossed his face and I felt Monica tense for a second.
‘This film is going to be shot entirely underwater in a submarine. It is going to take months of careful planning and I don’t want anyone interfering with my artistic ideas about the project. I need a yes-man’—he paused and small smile crossed his face—‘or rather, a yes-woman, by my side.’
‘I see,’ I said, not fully understanding.
Frank and Monica looked at each other for a moment, then a long silence followed.
‘I would love the opportunity to work on this project.’ I was desperate to fill the quiet.
‘You and every other graduate on the planet,’ Frank spat.
Then there was another uncomfortable silence.
‘Right!’ Monica clapped her hands together once and stood up. ‘Thank you for coming, Ms Golding. We will be in touch.’
And just like that the interview was over.
I left the office feeling none the wiser as to what the film was about, let alone why I had been called in, or if the meeting had gone well. All I knew for certain was that I was pleased to get away from th
e building and away from Frank Holden.
As I walked through Soho, on my way towards the Tube station, I tried to make sense of the strange manner in which the interview had been conducted.
Certain that I was not in the running for the job, I still wanted to learn more about the graphic novel that had inspired Frank and as I passed Gosh!, the comic shop on Berwick Street, I felt compelled to investigate.
Behind the counter stood a young man wearing a Green Lantern T-shirt.
‘I’m looking for a copy of Water Warriors.’ I was surprised when his eyes lit up.
‘Yeah, sure. It’s over here.’ He sprung to life and guided me through the maze of shelves to a section at the back of the shop.
‘Pure work of genius, that one.’ This kid had clearly read everything in the store. ‘One of my favourites. So poignant, you know?’
I didn’t have a clue but nodded and smiled, holding a copy of the book, if you could call it that, in my hand.
‘Will probably be a collector’s item in the near future,’ he continued, leading me back to the till. ‘I’ve got a first edition at home.’ His enthusiasm was as endearing as it was geeky. ‘You’ve got a special edition there,’ he said, scanning the book, ‘only a couple of hundred copies were ever made.’
‘Cool.’ I had never read a graphic novel in my life let alone been into a store that specialised in them.
‘Okay. That’ll be £22.99.’ I removed my purse from my bag and handed over my credit card, before examining the rather thin hardback I held in my hand.
‘You want a bag?’ he asked.
‘No thanks.’ I’d save myself five pence.
‘The artwork is beautiful, you know. Worth every penny.’ The kid responded to my obvious surprise at the price.
‘Hope so,’ I said slipping the book into my bag and crushing the receipt in the palm of my hand.
‘Have a good day,’ the kid called out as I turned and left the shop.
When I got back to my flat in Dalston, I kicked off my worn suede boots, flung my jacket over the back of a kitchen chair, made myself a large mug of coffee and went and snuggled down on the sofa with my new purchase.
The kid was right. The drawings were amazing and I soon found myself spellbound by the bizarre story about ocean-dwelling aliens.
Skipping lunch, I read right through to the early evening and only stopped when I heard the sound of Olly’s key in the door. I’d been so engrossed in the story that I’d almost forgotten I had a boyfriend.
4
The Pica Explorer
Day One. Hour 00:30.
‘Do you think we need to wake the others up and tell them what’s happened?’ Susie speaks in a half whisper. Until then, I haven’t thought about the other people on board, only those in the control room.
‘Yes. Good idea. Everyone needs to know,’ I agree as Susie fumbles with the cuff of her salmon pink sweater, her skinny fingers picking at the wool.
‘Frank is livid,’ she mutters. I dismiss her concern and head towards the sleeping quarters.
The submarine is a long metal vessel, separated into a number of sections. At the front is the control room, where Patrick and Fiona, the first mate, are usually found. In the middle are the living quarters, with a store room below, and a bunkroom – with beds built into the side of the sub. Beyond that is the lab and computer room, and another store room. And then there’s a second bunk room and right at the back is the engine room. It feels more like a space ship than an ocean vessel.
Frank is seated at the table in the living area, clinging to a mug and staring into it with a determined concentration. He doesn’t look up as I pass, followed gingerly by Susie. The blue light casts an eerie glow over everything.
Making my way into the first bunkroom, I am greeted by the sound of gentle snoring. To my left, in one of the high beds, Luke lies sleeping, his arm hanging off the bunk. Below him is Anya, a very respected scientist but someone I’ve found it hard to connect with. She lies with her back to the rest of the room, huddled up beneath her blanket. The other side of the room is abandoned and the beds lie empty with the bedding pushed back.
Following the sound of voices, Susie and I make our way into the second bunkroom beyond, deciding to leave Luke and Anya asleep and in peace for the moment.
‘Seems Ray and the others are awake.’ I turn my head over my shoulder and whisper to Susie as Ray’s loud and distinctive voice travels through the corridor echoing off the metal walls that surround us.
‘Someone sounds angry,’ Susie adds as we make our way back to the next compartment.
‘I told them,’ Frank spits, coming up behind us.
‘How does this happen?’ Ray barges in and stands with his hands on his slender hips. He is a true thesp.
When Ray had gotten on board I’d recognised him immediately. Of course I knew the names of the actors who were going to be involved in the film but the reality of meeting them didn’t dawn on me until we stood face to face. As an avid EastEnders fan I was slightly in awe of him. At first.
‘This can’t be.’ Dominique appears, draped over Sam who stands there helpless, his face as white as sea foam.
‘There must be some sort of system – radar, sonar. Something!’
‘Since when did you become a submarine expert?’ I can’t contain my disapproval.
‘Well, we can’t just sit here.’ The actor looks down at his perfectly manicured nails and shrugs. For a man in his sixties he really should know better than to behave like a child.
‘Someone is going to come looking for us, right?’ Sam finally speaks. The rest of us remain silent.
Sam Wilson has starred in a few budget B-movies and some ads. I recognised him from a mattress advert. He was better looking in real life than he was on screen, and on screen he looked pretty good.
‘Well, say something,’ Ray pleads, looking at me.
‘Who? Who is going to come looking?’ Dominique’s eyes fill with tears. ‘This was meant to be my big break. Now it looks like I am stuck in this metal can with a group of strangers.’ She dabs at her nose, clearly distressed but equally enjoying the drama.
‘Don’t be so over the top, darling.’ Ray rolls his eyes.
‘So what is the plan then?’ Sam says.
‘I think we need to go and talk to our captain,’ Ray says, straightening his back.
‘Yes. Good idea,’ Dominique agrees, still dabbing her nostril with the back of her sleeve and sniffing.
We all follow Ray to the back of the submarine, where the engine room is located. Ray struggles to open the heavy metal door before finally managing to push his way through.
What greets us is a mass of thick grey metal piping, dials and wheels. Patrick, who is dripping with sweat despite the fact the temperature has already dropped considerably since the power went off, is examining some of the dials.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Ray barks, making Patrick jump. ‘Why have we lost power?’
‘There has been a short circuit within the batteries.’ Patrick remains inspecting the dials. ‘An electrical malfunction of sorts. It isn’t clear what caused it yet. The engine and communications systems have both shut down.’
‘Well turn them back on then.’ Ray points a long finger at the captain.
‘If only it were that easy.’
‘So are you saying we are stuck here?’ a wide-eyed Susie asks.
‘The most important thing is that everyone remains calm. We have limited oxygen supply. We need to keep our breathing steady.’ Patrick does a good job of avoiding answering the question but his comments fill us all with fear.
‘We need to try and avoid a build-up of carbon dioxide,’ Fiona adds.
‘What would be the result if that happened?’ Dominique still clings to Sam’s arm like a lost child.
‘Suffocation is the number one risk.’ Patrick’s attempt to sound calm is fooling no one. None of us can speak.
‘The oxygen generators are running off the backup pow
er system. We probably have about a week’s supply.’
‘But you can fix the fault affecting the batteries, right?’ Sam puts his arm around a blubbering Dominique.
‘I don’t know.’ Patrick looks over at Fiona who remains extremely quiet.
‘Do you have scuba gear? Could we just swim out?’
‘Are you serious?’ Ray smirks.
‘Why not?’ I stare at him blankly.
Patrick explains gently, ‘That is not going to be possible. We are probably two hundred metres below the surface and we don’t have the equipment anyway. There is no possible way we would be able open the door.’
‘Okay. So you fix the fault and then we get this vessel going again.’
‘I will do my best but…’ Patrick’s words tail off.
‘Your best better be good enough,’ Ray hisses before marching out of the engine room with his nose in the air.
‘I think we need everyone to gather in the living area. We need to talk about this calmly.’ Fiona puts her arm on Patrick’s shoulder. ‘Zara, go and get Frank and Ray and let’s all talk this through. We must pull together.’
I nod and leave the engine room, noticing how deafening the silence is. When I get into the living area I find Ray slumped, sitting in one of the chairs with his head in his hands.
‘I can’t die. Not like this.’
‘We don’t need to talk about dying. Everything is going to be fine. We just have to stay calm and positive.’ I give him my best reassuring smile before leaving the room and going to knock on the bathroom door.
‘I’m having a shit!’ Frank shouts back in response.
‘We are all going to have a talk. Come and join us when you are ready,’ I snarl back, the ugly image of Frank sitting on the toilet now ingrained into my psyche.
It is the first time since we sank that I have been alone, and I allow myself a moment to let the magnitude of our situation really sink in. My hands start to shake and I feel my throat closing up. I close my eyes and rest my head against the cold metal wall, knowing that only a few inches away is an entire ocean of water. Then, without any warning, I start to gag before being violently sick.
Pressure: a dark and disturbing psychological thriller Page 2
