The Big Bamboo

by Tim Dorsey

  “Really? Cool!” Ford jumped up and headed for the door.

  “Hey, shithead,” Reamsnyder called after him. “Don’t leave town.”

  ** Chapter 20

  Hollywood Tattletale

  SHOOTING SCHEDULE DELAYED BY KIDNAPPING

  HOLLYWOOD— The nation remains stunned by this weekend’s abduction of Vistamax actress Ally Street from a crowded Sunset Boulevard sidewalk.

  Despite the brazen nature of the crime in front of dozens of witnesses, police have only partial and conflicting descriptions of the assailants, which they attribute to high substance levels and general chaos at that hour on the strip.

  “We thought they were filming a movie,” said one tourist from St. Paul. “It almost seemed real.”

  “The screaming and desperate cries for help are what got my attention,” said another visitor from Akron. “But it turned out to be something else.”

  The motive for the kidnapping remains a mystery, and investigators report receiving no ransom demands or other communication from the abductors. However, sources close to the actress maintain they have every reason to believe Street is still alive and are hoping for the best.

  “We’re hoping for the best,” said Tori Gersh, Street’s agent and publicist. Gersh made the comments during her fifth press conference since the incident, where she also thanked well-wishers for the thousands of cards and stuffed animals before breaking into sobs again and handing the microphone to Vistamax co-owner Mel Glick, who refused to take questions and read a brief statement:

  “While the importance of movies cannot be overstated, this type of tragedy puts everything in perspective. The studio’s employees and shareholders continue to pray for the safe return of a beloved member of the Vistamax family. Meanwhile, what can the public do? If Ally was here, I know she’d want all of us to keep going to the theaters. Otherwise, the kidnappers win.”

  The producers and publicist were then rushed to a waiting limo while police escorts cleared a path through the crush of reporters, fans and unemployed onlookers who remain encamped outside the studio gates, where the scene has taken on a virtual circus-like atmosphere, because of the sword-swallowers and cotton-candy carts. Meanwhile, distraught celebrities have been seen coming and going through the gates at all hours, including boy-band heartthrob Jason Geddy, who almost dated Street and is reported to be in seclusion at the Viper Room.

  In a separate development, already rampant rumors spiked yesterday when police briefly took into custody an unnamed low-level employee from the studio’s props department, who was reportedly stalking Street and observed harassing her at Skybar just hours before the abduction. Police later released the suspect, who was immediately swarmed by reporters outside police headquarters.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. Please, leave me alone,” said the young man, whom the entertainment press has been able to identify as The Stalker Ford Oelman.

  In light of the actress’s disappearance, filming of All That Glitters has been indefinitely suspended again.

  “We were going to shoot around her,” said a Potemkin spokesperson. “But we decided it would send the wrong message.”

  THAT AFTERNOON

  Vistamax Studios, office of the Glick brothers.

  Mel paced and waved his arms. “Of all the crazy things!”

  Ian stared up at the wall, whining to the giant oil portrait of his grandfather. “What are we going to do?”

  Tori Gersh sat quietly in a chair across from their desks. “Get a grip.”

  Mel opened a drawer. “How can you be so calm?”

  “Because there’s nothing else we can do. Falling apart won’t solve anything.” She checked the time. “Did you tell your secretary?”

  Ian nodded. “The call comes directly in here. She’s not supposed to answer it under any circumstances.”

  “Why doesn’t the phone ring?” said Mel.

  The phone rang. The brothers jumped.

  “Let me handle this,” said Tori.

  Ian looked at the caller ID. “Ford Oelman? Where have I heard that name?”

  “Shhhh!” said Tori. She picked up the phone. “Hello?

  ”

  “I remember,” said Mel. “That kid from props with the screenplay. He was on the news.”

  “That’s right,” said Ian. “The Stalker Ford Oelman.”

  Tori waved for them to be quiet. “Yes, I’m still here

  No, we haven’t called the police

  That was the Glicks you heard

  ”

  Mel pointed. “But what’s his name doing on our caller ID?”

  Tori covered the phone. “Shut up or you’re going to fuck this!” She uncovered the phone. “I’m back

  Nothing’s wrong

  I have the hundred thousand right here

  ”— she glanced down at the briefcase by her feet—“

  I understand

  Yes, I have a pen

  Uh-huh, uh-huh

  Got it. I’m on my way.”

  She hung up. The brothers were leaning forward. “So?”

  “So, I have to hurry. Only got thirty minutes.” She reached down and grabbed the briefcase handle.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “I pay.”

  “That’s the plan?” said Mel.

  “This isn’t one of your stupid movies!” She got up and headed across the room.

  “It’s our money!”

  “I have to go.” Tori opened the door. Betty was standing there. With two detectives. “I was just about to knock,” said the secretary. “These two gentlemen

  ”

  They entered the room without invitation. “You have a minute?” asked Babcock.

  “Why? I mean sure,” said Ian.

  Tori headed out into the lobby.

  “You, too,” said Reamsnyder.

  She turned around. “Me?”

  “Just a few questions.”

  “But I’m late

  ”— glancing at her watch—“

  an appointment.”

  “Only take a minute,” said Babcock.

  “What’s in the briefcase?” asked Reamsnyder.

  “Papers.”

  “You’re gripping the handle pretty hard.”

  Tori exhaled and came back to the office. “This kidnapping business has me on edge.”

  “Understandable

  Have a seat.”

  Tori sat. So did the brothers. The detectives stayed standing, for the edge.

  “How can we help?” asked Ian.

  Babcock walked across the room and stared out the window. “You haven’t gotten a call from the kidnappers, have you?”

  Mel opened his mouth.

  “No,” Tori said quickly.

  Reamsnyder walked to the other side of the room and stared up at the oil painting. “You’d tell us if you did?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” said Ian.

  “Because kidnappers always say, ‘No police.’ ”

  “And that’s always a mistake,” said Babcock, surreptitiously pressing the caller ID button on Ian’s message machine. FORD OELMAN. “Friends and relatives think it’s less risky if the authorities aren’t involved.”

  “But they’re wrong,” said Reamsnyder. “They don’t understand the kind of people they’re dealing with. Going it alone is very dangerous.”

  “Costs lives,” said Babcock. “Seen it over and over.”

  “Would you object to us wiring your office?” asked Reamsnyder.

  “Yes,” said Mel. “I mean no. I mean sure. Go ahead.”

  Tori shot him a look. Mel shrugged at her behind the detectives’ backs.

  “Excuse me,” said Tori. “I read somewhere they now have devices that can detect that kind of thing. We don’t want to endanger Ally.”

  “Our new equipment is more advanced.”

  “Put in whatever you want,” said Mel.

  Tori glared again.

  “Great,” said Babcock. “I’ll call the audio guys.”

  SUNSET AND VINE

  A shiny black Porsche 911 Cabriolet sat at a red light.

  Tori was wearing a bright red scarf, like the phone call had in
structed. Curved, smoky sunglasses. The call didn’t mention that.

  She looked down at her own shorthand note: Sunset, west. Alone. Cell phone. Roof open. Briefcase, passenger floor.

  The light turned green. Tori accelerated through Cahuenga and Highland, precisely the speed limit. Out the top of the car: towering palm trees and towering billboards for the new Hanks movie, the new Zellweger movie, the old Affleck movie coming to a video store near you. Through a yellow light at Fairfax, Tori growing worried. She checked the phone in her lap to make sure it was on.

  The Porsche took the left bend in the road at the Marmont. Okay, something was clearly wrong. What spooked them? A police tail? Maybe the detectives knew more than they were letting on. She checked her rearview.

  The 8000 block, hills getting steeper. Swank canyon homes peeked down into the car. So did the man with binoculars on the top floor of the “Riot” Hyatt, where Zeppelin raced motorcycles through the halls. He was dialing a cell phone.

  This is definitely a bust, thought Tori. She was looking over her shoulder for a U-turn when the phone rang. She fumbled it in her hands and it almost went out the window. “

  Hello?”

  Tori listened. “La Cienega?

  ” She looked up at the street sign of the intersection she was just about to cross: La Cienega. Brakes squealed. The Porsche skidded up the sidewalk, tires rubbing the curb. A startled pack of tourists jumped back. Except one. He vaulted the closed door on the right side of the Porsche and landed in the passenger seat.

  “Drive.”

  A rattled Tori threw the sports car back in gear and nearly sideswiped a Gray Line bus. The man grabbed the briefcase on the floor next to his feet. “Is this for me?”

  ** Chapter 21

  MEANWHILE , BACK AT VISTAMAX

  What’s taking her so long?” said Ian.

  The door opened.

  “Tori!”

  “Did you give them the money?”

  “Where’s Ally?”

  Tori plopped down in a chair. “He scared the hell out of me.”

  “What happened?” said Ian.

  “Jumped in my car.”

  “Jumped in your car?”

  “Dressed like a tourist,” said Tori. “Made me drive all over the place to make sure there wasn’t a tail. We ended up in the Hertz lot by the airport.”

  “Hertz?”

  “Final precaution,” said Tori. “Told me to turn in the entrance with those fold-down spikes where the signs say ‘severe tire damage.’ Leaped out with the briefcase, climbed a fence and took off in a car he’d planted earlier on a side street.”

  “What for?”

  “Head start, I guess. If anyone was following, they’d have to take the long way out because of the spikes. While I was there, some idiot blew out his tires. I thought it was gunfire at first. The whole thing was a nightmare.”

  “What about Ally?”

  “Said he’d call once he was safe.”

  “That wasn’t the deal,” said Mel.

  “He said the deal had changed.”

  “I got a bad feeling.”

  The phone rang.

  Everyone froze. They looked down at the caller ID.

  FORD OELMAN.

  Tori took a deep breath and picked it up. “Hello?”

  Silence on the other end.

  “Hello?” she repeated.

  Finally, a voice that had been altered with an electronic synthesizer. “You fucked up.”

  “What do you mean?” said Tori.

  “We told you no police! You got a tap on the line.”

  “We do not!”

  “Yes, you do. We have one of those special devices. And an undercover unit followed you to the rental lot.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Looks like you just killed off your female lead.”

  “But we gave you the money!”

  Click.

  Tori’s head snapped toward the brothers. “Did the police come by already?”

  “Yeah, they just left,” said Ian.

  “What’d they do?”

  “Put in a tracer,” said Mel. “And a recorder

  ”

  The office door opened.

  “

  And a bug,” said Detective Babcock. “We heard everything you just said.”

  “You bugged this office!” yelled Tori.

  “You lied to us!” yelled Reamsnyder.

  “Because of what just happened!” Tori yelled back. “I told you!”

  “Everyone calm down,” said Babcock. “This won’t get us anywhere. What’s done is done. The important thing is that we work together from now on.”

  Tori gritted her teeth. “If anything happens to Ally—”

  “They’ll call back,” said Babcock.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because that’s what they do. Probably want more money since the first was so easy.”

  “Meanwhile, every second counts,” said Reamsnyder. “We’re already processing the Hertz lot. The undercover unit that was following you took some pictures before he jumped the fence, but they don’t show much.”

  “Was that the guy who blew out his tires?” asked Tori.

  Babcock nodded. “Forgot about the spikes.”

  Tori sat back and folded her arms. “A crack team you got.”

  “We need your help,” said Reamsnyder.

  “Did you get a good look at him?” said Babcock.

  “What the hell do you think?” said Tori. “We rode around town together.”

  “No, I mean did it look like he was wearing a disguise? Mustache, wig?”

  Tori shook her head.

  “Okay then. A sketch artist is on the way over. And we’d like to put some other people in here around the clock in case you get another call. They’ll stay out of the way. Can you think of anything else?”

  “Yeah,” said Tori. “You’re assholes.”

  ONE HOUR LATER

  A ten-foot grizzly stood on its hind legs, all teeth, ready to attack. The bear was surrounded by dozens of other taxidermied animals in the big-game trophy room of the Vistamax props department. Tigers, leopards, moose, an ibex. The walls were covered with antler heads on wooden plaques. There was a closet at the end of the room. Muffled noises and whispers inside.

  The closet was as dark as a photo lab, even after eyes adjusted. Someone found the light switch; a naked bulb came on. Gasps.

  The tiny room had a matrix of metal storage shelves for the smaller game: squirrels, badgers, bats, snakes, three butterfly collections and fifty jars with things pickling inside, for mad scientist scenes. So much stuff there was barely enough room for Tori, Ian and Mel to squeeze together.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Mel.

  “This is a disaster!” said Ian.

  “Keep your voices down!” said Tori.

  “They’re on to us,” said Mel. “Did you see how that one detective was looking at me?”

  “We’ll go to jail!” said Ian.

  “They’ll rape me!” said Mel.

  “Nobody’s getting raped,” said Tori. “As long as we all stay calm and stick to the plan.”

  “It’s a dumb plan,” said Ian. “We never should have agreed—”

  “It’s a perfect plan,” said Tori. “In fact, the police will actually help.”

  “How can they possibly help?”

  “Credence,” said Tori. “We’ll invite them to the press conferences. More publicity. That was one of the objectives.”

  “But now we’re neck-deep in felonies,” said Mel.

  “We didn’t bargain for that,” said Ian.

  “No crimes have been committed,” said Tori.

  “Of course crimes have been committed,” said Mel. “What do you call giving the police a false kidnapping report?”

  “We never did that,” said Tori. “In fact, we denied there was a kidnapping. Remember? All they have is the rehearsed stuff we said for the benefit of the bugs planted in your office. I told you: It’s all been carefully planned out.”

  “I don’t know,” said Ian.

  “I do,” said Tori. “Everything’s falling into place. As
long as none of us goes and does anything stupid.”

  “I can’t take the pressure,” said Mel.

  “Look, you told me Potemkin was out of control, but his contract wouldn’t let you halt production.”

  “So?”

  “So I found a way. Fake the abduction of his star actress and let public opinion shut it down. Potemkin may be crazy, but even he isn’t stupid enough to continue filming with that kind of media or he’d become the biggest leper

  ”

  “

  In a town full of lepers,” said Mel.

  Ian began to nod. “He won’t be able to get a good table.”

  “But what about when she shows back up?” said Mel. “He’ll just start shooting again.”

  “Time’s on our side,” said Tori. “No production can stay down forever. People have to eat. He’ll start losing crew and talent, probably begin another project himself.”

  “You really believe that?” asked Mel.

  “We can’t lose,” said Tori. “I’ve already gotten twenty offers for the exclusive story, dead or alive. More on the dead side.”

  “That can’t hurt at the box office,” said Ian.

  “I’ve already talked to editing,” said Tori. “We have enough in the can to piece together a couple hours. It still won’t make any sense, so we’ll call it an art film.”

  “It just might work,” said Mel. “Bank on one big weekend before word of mouth starts.”

  “Then position the DVD as a cult classic,” said Mel.

  “And we recoup the rest from France and Scandinavia,” said Ian. “They’re big on films that don’t hold your interest.”

  “But our biggest ace in the hole is when Ally makes the daring escape from her sadistic captors,” said Tori. “Imagine that news conference.”

  “Are you sure she’s solid?” asked Ian.

  “Hundred percent,” said Tori. “She hates Potemkin. Barely had to convince her to be kidnapped.”

  “What about her career?” asked Ian. “That movie’s not going to help.”

  “She’s through after this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can parlay the abduction into six months of articles and a book deal. Then she’s last month’s flavor. After that, I’ll leak a scandal story on her to the tabloids in exchange for positive coverage of my up-and-coming clients.”

  “But I thought you were her friend,” said Ian. “Remember how you shouted at us over the