“I’m… sensation is stretching it.”
“Not in my book, babe.” She looked over his shoulder. “D’you have breakfast yet?”
“I got tied up with something.”
She pointed beyond him. “They sent up enough for an army. Go grab something and we’ll catch up. And be a dear and please fetch me a mug of the Jamaican Blue Mountain.”
After pouring two cups of the coffee and cream cheezing-up half a bagel, he returned, sitting across from her. “Where’s Laur?”
“Mediating.”
“You mean meditating?”
“No. You heard it right. Mediating between Good Laura and Psycho Laura to decide which one’s gonna perform tonight.” She sighed. “Jip, I’ve seen her verging on lockdown hysteria before but she’s got the volume dial up to 11.”
“A little nervous?”
“A little? No, my child. We’re talking a few short steps away from catatonic central.”
“She’ll be okay.”
Watts thought a moment then nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… it’s the drama that’s exhausting. Fifteen minutes on what shade of nail polish will go best with which guitar… as if anybody’s going to give a flying fuck?” She took a sip then rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands together. “So you got any counterintelligence to share with me as the tsunami approaches?”
“How do you mean?”
“About what Andy’s up to.” She lifted one of the tablets showing a frozen frame from his interview with Polanski and Lera then pressed the play arrow. Experience teaches… at least it taught me that if you can get an opponent off-balance early on, get ’em against the ropes, delivering a knockout becomes easier. Then she paused it. “So?”
“Beats me.”
She took another sip then leaned in. “Do you know anything about something called the Polanski something System?”
He did, or at least had seen a diagram labeled Polanski Attack System sitting on a kitchen counter at the man’s New Mexican compound a year earlier when he’d come to visit and discuss some details in Wheels Up. Though he hadn’t studied the image, it looked to possibly be the blueprint for a terraced additional wing being planned for the estate including a pair of turrets on either end that would match those already built. The only unusual detail was the printed word Fender running up one of the towers and Yamaha running down the other, indicating it might be…
“Yeah. I think it’s the new recording studio he’s putting in at his place outside of Santa Fe. Why?”
“Just something I’d heard.” She paused. “Probably nothing.”
Loveland stepped into the room wrapped in an oversized white, ankle-length terrycloth robe with a towel over one shoulder, her wet hair slicked back. Even without a trace of makeup, she could have sat for a fashion shoot without missing a beat.”Jip! What are you doing here? I thought you and Connie were covering the Walbee thing.”
“Is that an invitation for me to scoot?”
She went across and pulled him close, kissing the side of his head. “You can stay as long your duties permit. It’s so great to see you! When was the last time?”
“The launch party,” Watts put in.
“That was eons ago. Eons. Lemme get a cuppa so I can pepper you with some personal Qs.” After filling a mug and taking a few swallows she asked, “So how come you did Alliance instead of us? Afraid of our animal estrogen?”
They all laughed.
“We flipped a coin, Connie won, chose you.”
“Shows the guy’s got great taste.” She paused. “And he is a real sweetheart. That was one of the best sit downs I’ve had in memory.” She took another sip. “So what’s the scuttlebutt on tonight’s festivities? Did Pam tell you about the bomb squad they’re gonna have off-stage?”
He thought about what Walbee had said the morning before.
“Pam arranged it. She thinks I might be the first person to spontaneously explode on a worldwide television broadcast so wants to make sure they’ve got a box to put me in to avoid collateral damage.”
The two women roared.
They chatted for another half hour, mostly about non-Battle topics. If Loveland was as edgy as Watts had indicated, she certainly wasn’t showing it. Glancing at his trans after it beeped, he said it was time to get up to the booth and after wishing them good fortune followed by hugs all around, he returned to the great room to gather up Denny who stalled a moment while her, Reg and Luke finished up a round of Double-Time Standoff!
As the two of them walked back to the elevator, she took him by the arm to get his attention.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
“Not particularly. Why?”
“I am.”
“Something wrong?”
“Yeah. You distracted me from the game. That’s why I lost. Distractions in my business are not desirable. But you are. So could you please stop?”
“Which part?”
She thought a moment then grinned. “Let me get back to you on that.”
***
“Coming up,” Scanlan said to the center camera in Broadcast Booth One, “Jip and I will recap what we just witnessed at that empty space… ”
“Formerly empty space,” Spotswood said.
“… formerly empty space just a short stroll away from us here at the Oasis Theater.”
“An Oasis with every seat filled, all nineteen thousand. A couple folks might have left for lunch but practically everyone is sticking around to see the replay.”
A huge roar of approval rose from the spectators.
“We’ll be right back after some messages from our sponsors,” Scanlan continued, “but if you’re leaving for a midday repast, please remember that later Phil Schuster and Richie Levenfeld will have live action from the Tournament Room as the Final Four face off for the second and third rounds of the one hundred million dollar, winner-take-all World Standoff! Tournament.”
“And tonight of course, Connie and I will be back with the Battle of the Bands featuring Christie Cramer, Billy Blair and The Alliance versus Pandora’s Obsession, followed by a lineup of their special guests which promises to make the event… well, if you have any interest in popular music, this concert is not to be missed.”
“Or to quote a pretty savvy writer I know, it’s going to be the biggest rock concert ever held in the history of the universe.”
“Man, I wish I’d come up with that line.”
“You did.”
They both laughed.
“Coming up, Fox will also be replaying my interview with Pandora’s Obsessions’ Pam Watts and Laura Loveland followed by Jip’s with CCBBA co-founders Dave Lera and Andy Polanski.”
“As my algebra teacher used to say before returning to her office to retrieve something she’d left behind, we’ll be back in a fraction. Stay tuned.”
***
Bernardini carried a tray of sparkling water bottles, glasses and ice into the living room of the suite and set it atop the long counter MacKay had delivered then sat on one of the accompanying five high stools, waiting for Bridge to return with the spare laptop wifi sifters and MacKay to finish up his call. When everybody was in their seats, Uggie dimmed the lights then fiddled with a stubborn shade that refused to close completely.
Before them was a twenty by thirty foot skeletal array jerry-rigged out of PVC pipes, duct tape, concrete blocks and steel braces holding twenty-eight thirty-two inch monitors and a small handwritten cardboard sign reading Tutti ifatti Tutto il tempo. Some of the screens were frozen on the faces of the Final Four from the first round of the Tournament while others showed alternating views recorded during the match. A quartet flashed with various sets of numbers and formulas specific to Kerensky, Easton, Chang and Lascaux beside four shadows placing their stats into analysis configurations alternating every few seconds. Still others displayed 3D representations of the Tournament Room and the players’ retreat cubicles. Included on the bottom bank were live feeds from Fox, CNN, Wall Street Jour
nal TV and WGN. At the far lower left Martin Scorsese’s Casino rolled silently.
“So?” he asked as Vaccaro sat beside him.
“Pluto is taking an additional look into the ELF potential but’s pretty sure the current masking protocols downstairs would block anything but a photon torpedo fired from the starship Enterprise. Franco’s still trying to get with the guy in Rio but figures he’s already celebrating Vespera de Ano Novo.”
Bernardini made a noise. “Photon torpedo?”
“A shitload of energy.”
“Ah.” He opened one of the bottles. “Jack?”
“I’ve run ’bout every deep water on all four of ’em then sorted them back through the Regionals and Terrs,” MacKay sighed. “There’s a little blip with the Russian but statistically insignificant.”
“Tom?”
“The fall of the tiles including the possible resorts are clean.”
Bernardini thought a moment. “Vac? Have you gotten anything on the visit possibilities?”
“Aside from Kerensky, my contacts in Paris haven’t been able to develop anything on the other three. The records of guests at the spas, especially Chateau du Changeant, when they were there and what services were provided, are for obvious reasons kept close to the vest. They pride themselves on discretion so prying even the smallest nugget from anyone is gonna be problematic unless they’re willing to risk losing their job. St. Honore’s dispatched others for lesser transgressions.”
“Who are you dealing with?”
“Peter Strauss and Chuck Stonehill? Good men. They were the ones who got us the timeline on that pair of Monet’s, or I should say the forgeries, we helped Lloyd’s unravel.”
“Ah.” He looked back to the analysis screens. “And the discretionary funds limit we set for their incidentals is how much?”
“Thirty thousand Euros.”
“Increase it to seventy.”
She chuckled. “The per source top is ten. Did you want… ”
“Increase that to seventy also.”
“That’s a bribe big enough to get somebody to retire.”
Bernardini glanced to the Casino screen and pointed. “This is una delle mie scene perferite. I love those two thugs getting beaten with the Louisville Sluggers.” He paused. “But I don’t think that corn grows that high anywhere.”
Vaccaro shook her head. “Maybe it was irradiated?”
“With what?” Tom asked.
“I dunno. Maybe uranium-based Miracle Gro?”
Everyone laughed except the boss. “Let’s see what happens in today’s rounds then recalibrate.” He swiveled around then stood and stretched. “And please keep in mind the bonus pool. All of us could retire if that gratuity lands,” he tapped the counter, “on our table.”
Chapter Eleven
“Welcome back to Broadcast Booth One hovering above the stage here in the Oasis Theater,” Spotswood said, “where we, along with an audience of 19,000 fortunate ticket holders have just witnessed an event held outside of this venue that may rival anything we have seen or will see for the duration of our weekend here at Prism. Connie, your thoughts?”
“We’ve got a concert coming up this evening that I’m thinking may go down in the books as a keeper, but I’d have to agree with you that the spectacular show Messrs. Walbee and Potcheck just delivered around 600 yards from where we’re sitting was… I’d really have to see it all transpire again to attach the appropriate superlatives to it. Amazing wouldn’t do it justice. Incredible would be in the ballpark. Fantastic might be a good starting point.”
“We’ll be showing a repeat in about ten minutes and it appears the crowd here inside the Oasis wants to see the replay, too. Doesn’t appear anybody’s left their seats.”
“We’ve received a number of texts and emails from our worldwide audience asking for some specifics so how about if we tackle a few of those. Jip, a lot of folks want to know why we weren’t out there ourselves.”
“A couple of reasons, Connie. First of all, for logistical and more importantly safety concerns, our hosts decided to only place about five thousand temporary bleacher seats surrounding what I’ve been told will now be known as the Pyramid of Change. As everything went off as planned, I’ve got to say… I think that perhaps seeing the mechanisms had never had a complete, live run-through that somebody decided not to throw caution to the wind. I mean, if there was a misfire of any kind it could have proved to be catastrophic. That in mind, I’m sure they didn’t want to risk the two of us not being available for the Battle of the Bands tonight.”
They both laughed.
“Death by a thousand cuts I could live with. But… ”
“Now that’s what I’d call a very clever malapropism.”
“Thank you, but I believe you meant a contradictory phrase. Though whichever it is, I can assure you it was completely unrehearsed.”
They both laughed again then Spotswood consulted his notes. “So we’ve got a big, empty square surrounded by five thousand spectators with a speaker’s platform on the far side containing a podium, a few chairs and one of those spinning balls that bingo numbers are drawn from.”
“A ball maybe two stories high?”
“At least. Now there was no question in anybody’s mind, at least not mine, that this setup had to do with Ben Walbee’s No Time For Change crusade that at last count had brought in in excess of 35 billion, that’s billion with a capital B, folks, thirty-five billion coins, mostly pennies, nickels and dimes that had become the property of No Time For Change dot Org, a charitable institution founded by Mr. Walbee with a fairly broad mission statement directed to making the world a better place for all concerned.”
“Not to mention the fact that all qualifying contributors would be placed into a lottery for a chance at winning one of 11 drawings, 10 each for a prize of $5 million along with one grand prize of $25 million.”
“So at the appointed time, Mr. Walbee ascends to the platform to what I think we can safely describe as thunderous applause… ”
“We’re going to be seeing some actual rock stars this evening, Jip. But that ovation, I’m sure, will compete with any of them receive. If there were any lingering reservations concerning Ben’s status in the pop culture firmament, they linger no longer. He has got to be at the pinnacle of anybody’s list. A genuine superstar.”
“Accompanied by three youngsters, they were introduced individually but I didn’t catch their full names, who dutifully took their seats to listen with the rest of us to the opening remarks.”
“And they were mesmerizing. And straight from the heart.” Scanlan checked his notes. “I doubt that the speech lasted more than three minutes, but Walbee touched on a plethora of the themes he’s been presenting dating back to his first foray, the Just One Free Pass movement. Let’s see. The American sense of fairness and forgiveness. The value of understanding alternate points of view. The goodness of charitable acts. The penalties of straying from the tenets of the Founding Fathers. The nod to Reagan’s shining city on a hill. His belief in a divine hand that somehow could sometimes be pushed aside rather than embraced by misguided leaders more interested in selfish ends.” He paused. “We’ve all seen the recent poll numbers placing him as the number one individual respondents of all political stripes would like to see in the White House after our next election and we’ve all heard his emphatic denials of any interest in public office. But after he finished, to an ovation greater than the first, and ignoring my nagging but controllable though occasional drift into cynicism, it occurred to me that we might have seen just a tiny restructuring, a new branch growing on his decision tree. Jip?”
“I think I’ll stick with covering pop culture. Politics isn’t part of my job description.”
“Then please continue your report.”
“So the kids are sitting, the ball is spinning, Ben Walbee is grinning.” He checks his notes again. “Then the man of the hour returns to the microphone and says Oh, by the way. I did want to show you a small dem
onstration of what millions of people can do when they join forces to create a miracle of generosity. A few of the audience clap but it was as if the rest of them took deep breaths and held them in. Complete silence, soon broken by what sounded to be metal on wood grinding, sort of like if you were drilling a two by four out in the garage, except much much louder. Then from the corners of the empty square I saw… at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing… slowly moving out of the ground at matching angles are these four enormous steel cylinders that had to be a dozen feet in diameter.”
“A good guess, Mr. Spotswood. But I’ve just had a stats sheet come up on my screen and the precise diameter of each of them is fourteen feet, three inches.”
“And then they stretch up at least?”
“That quartet of cannons eventually reached 41 feet, six inches, settling at angles of exactly 51 degrees.”
“The crowd just stares, but I’m not sure if they were sure about why they were all having a collective freeze. It reminded me of when the mother ship in Close Encounters comes breezing over the hill and everybody watching is too amazed to do anything ’cept not divert their eyes.”
“And then we heard those four deafening cracks. Must have been pretty forceful because I’m pretty sure the Oasis Theater and my chair shook.”
Spotswood glanced to his own screen and gave a wide-eyed grin. “Gee, Professor Scanlan. Do you have any idea what amount of energy could have caused that?”
His co-anchor chuckled. “As a matter of fact I do.”
“Please share.”
“According to engineers at Jennings Fusion… one of our lead sponsors I should mention… ”
“Teacher’s pet.”
“According to engineers at Jennings Fusion, those explosive noises were the result of a rapid ramp up of each of the five engines specially constructed to feed the dispersing tubes with… let me pause here a moment. Do you remember back in the days of yore when NASA was sending space shuttles into the firmament?”
Weekend at Prism Page 17
