by Tim Dorsey
Four
Coleman toked up and held it as long as he could, then a coughing fit.
Serge pressed his hands down on the bedspread. Coleman! Youre blowing my little letters around!
Sorry. He picked paper squares off the floor. Looks like a lot of work.
It is, said Serge, squeezing Elmers onto the back of an ampersand. I dont know how the other kidnappers do it.
Seven: congressional investigation of theater snack counters. I want to buy ju-ju beans, not a ju-ju bean mine
Eight: retroactive death penalty for the guy behind me during Star Trek II who told his girlfriend: Spock dies at the end
Nine: What the fuck was William Hurt doing in Lost in Space? Not a demand, just curious
Ten
Coleman pointed at the completed portion of Serges work along the edge of the bed. Are the notes usually ten pages long?
No idea, said Serge. Havent read any before.
Coleman took another hit. I think its just supposed to be a single paragraph.
Maybe for the other guys. But I take pride.
Whats in the note?
Well, said Serge, reaching for the first page, Im new to this and wasnt sure how it was supposed to work, so I remembered some stuff from an article I once read about effective business communication. They said you first have to understand your letters objective. Land a job, pitch a product, apologize for banging the big clients wife. Next, gauge your audience. In kidnappings, usually hostile, so I thought I would open with a joke. After that, tell a little about myself, but not too much, because you want them to keep reading. Another thing the article said is if theres bad news, you bury it a little, soften them up first by emphasizing the positive. Then, when theyre all happy and off guard, you tuck in the bombshell and hope they dont notice. Like, Why dont we get together sometime for lunch, and, oh, by the way, could you bring a million dollars in unmarked, nonsequential bills?
Sounds like you know what youre doing, said Coleman.
The only thing the note still needs is Proof of Life.
Ally was sitting on the bed. She had just finished trimming her toenails and was now painting little daisies on them. She felt she was being watched. She looked up at Serge and Coleman. What?
We need Proof of Life, said Serge.
Whats that? said Ally. She noticed Colemans right hand. Why does he have those scissors?
Dont make this difficult, said Serge. We just need a little of your hair
** Chapter 30
VISTAMAX STUDIOS
A naked lightbulb came on in a props closet.
Jesus Christ! Whats wrong with those guys! said Mel.
Theyre psychopaths! said Ian.
Calm down, said Tori. I just talked to them again. Its all taken care of. Another minor misunderstanding. I wasnt clear with my instructions.
Minor! Theyre making movies!
And sending them to the networks! said Ian. Theyre clearly insane!
No, said Tori. Just intense. Thats what you get with people in this line who are good. But everythings okay now. I had a very frank talk with them. That rooms now probably the most boring in the whole town.
THE STANDARD HOTEL , ROOM 222
Ally ran across the room and over the top of the bed. Get the hell away from me!
Serge was right behind, followed by Coleman, bouncing over the mattress. Just a little hair.
Go to hell!
Coleman. Get her! Shes circling back your way!
She got by me! Shes too fast
Another lap around the room and over the bed.
Coleman, dont run with scissors!
VISTAMAX STUDIOS
The office of the Glick brothers was full of police again.
Sound technicians unplugged audio cables and packed up equipment.
Sorry, apologized Detective Babcock. The lieutenant says weve been putting in too many man-hours since the trail went cold. You have to understand we havent had any contact since
shoot, when was that?
Youve done everything you could, said Tori. We really appreciate the concern.
The sound technicians left. The detectives followed and got ready to close the door. Tori and the Glicks exhaled with relief.
Babcock stopped and turned around in the doorway.
Tori and the Glicks tensed and smiled again.
Theres still hope, said the detective. Never let go of that.
We wont. Thanks! They waved.
Who knows? said Reamsnyder. Six months down the road, something could turn up. Weve seen crazier stuff.
Three people grinning. Sure thing.
Dont hesitate to call if you think of anything, said Babcock.
We wont.
The door started closing. It opened.
You have our cards?
Several, said Ian.
You know where they are?
Somewhere, said Mel.
Heres a few extras, said Babcock.
Thanks.
Well, well be going now. They waved from the doorway.
Tori waved back, talking to herself through smiling, gritted teeth. Come on, close the door, thats it
They closed the door.
Whew!
Glad thats over
Crash!
The giant picture window on the side of the office shattered. A heavy rock skipped across the floor.
The door opened quickly.
What was that! said Babcock.
Look! said Reamsnyder. A rock.
Somethings tied to it, said Babcock, picking it up and pulling off the string. Its a ransom note.
TOKYO
The view from the seventy-fifth-floor office suite was blinding, even though it was after midnight. Garish, multicolored advertising lights made the night air glow like Times Square and Vegas combined, except in Japanese characters, except for the yellow McDonalds M. The streets below were clean but noisy with cars, buses, motorcycles.
A large man with pocked skin stared out the window, not focusing on anything in particular. Mr. Yokamura. He smoked a filterless cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger. In the distance, a jumbo jet flew by at eye level on its approach to the international airport. The range created the illusion it was flying too slow to stay aloft. Mr. Yokamura had a phone to his head. It was ringing.
Behind him, on the other side of the office, was a flat-screen plasma TV. The volume had been turned off. It replayed the same thing Mr. Yokamura had seen too many times already: a pair of men wearing panty hose on their heads, voiced over in translation. When Ally Street held up her sheet of paper, it was superimposed with the Japanese symbol for HELP.
On the carpet was an executive putting cup and an array of five golf balls left midplay. A putter stuck halfway out the smashed glass of a display case containing priceless antiquities.
Someone answered the phone at the other end.
Get me The Tat, said Mr. Yokamura.
No answer was necessary. Mr. Yokamura hung up and stared out the window with hands behind his back, watching another jetliner going the other way, across the Pacific.
VISTAMAX STUDIOS
A naked bulb came on in a props closet.
I swear to God, Im going to have a heart attack! said Mel.
A ransom note on a rock! said Ian. Where did you find those madmen!
Just calm down, said Tori. Its not as bad as it looks.
How can you say that?
Because weve still got
the advantage, said Tori. Except for that note, the police have nothing. Nothing at all. And thats how its going to stay.
I cant go through with this, said Ian.
You dont have a choice! snapped Tori. The note said theyre going to call us again in
she looked at her watch
fifteen minutes.
But the cops will be there again, said Mel.
Of course theyre going to be there, said Tori. Thats why you need to get ahold of yourself. All we have to do is make it through this one last meeting and were in the clear.
Theyre not going to buy it, said Ian. I can feel them closing in.
Will you relax? said Tori. The police dont know a thing. Theyre totally in the dark.
The closet suddenly got very bright. The startled trio turned toward the open door.
Were ready to take the call, said Detective Babcock.
** Chapter 31
HOLLYWOOD
Serge loved The Big Lebowski. He was on the edge of the bed, repeating lines with Jeff Bridges and John Goodman. He hit the back button again, replaying the scene leading up to the ransom phone call.
This isnt a fucking game!
Oh, but it is a game. She was involved in her own kidnapping. You said so yourself
The actors checked their watches in the movie. Serge checked his own watch. Dammit! We were supposed to make the call ten minutes ago!
Ally, theyre going to want to hear your voice to prove youre alive
. Ally?
Serge ran out onto the balcony, pulled her back inside and yanked the curtain shut. Does everyone remember their lines?
Ally sat on the side of the bed and looked away. Fuck off.
Coleman, you ready?
Coleman!
Coleman was sprawled facedown on the carpet with limbs bent in unintended directions like a chalk outline. Serge grabbed him under the armpits and sat him up against a wall. He lightly slapped his cheeks. Coleman! Wake up! We have to make the call!
Colemans head began bobbing. Ooooo. Serge, what happened?
Your regular afternoon power pass-out. Remember our code names?
Code names?
The ones we rehearsed all morning!
Oh, those. Coleman got up and grabbed a beer.
Okay, everybody. This is it. Take your places. He flipped open a cell phone. And
action!
The Glicks office was at full, fire-marshal capacity. The brothers, Tori, detectives, electronics experts. A sound guy was wearing headphones, adjusting knobs. There was a distant whapping noise from the helicopter hovering over the Vistamax lot, waiting to triangulate microwave signals. Nobody talking. Anxious smiles from the movie people. A clock ticked. Trickles of sweat ran down Ians forehead.
Detective Reamsnyder handed him a handkerchief. Youre sweating.
Uh, because were dealing with bloodthirsty kidnappers?
Now youre starting to understand, said Babcock. You should have called us from the beginning.
Reamsnyder checked his watch, then the Xerox of the crammed, ten-page ransom letter. Theyre late. The note says they were supposed to call ten minutes ago.
Let me see that thing again. Babcock took the letter from his partner and put on reading glasses:
Dear Ian and Mel Glick,
First, let me say Im your biggest fan love all your movies. Yes, sir, best stuff coming out of Tinseltown today. Like the wacky-but-touching mob comedy about the dyslexic don who keeps getting the wrong people killed but leaves the life after winning the Scramble-Gram championship. Or that totally fresh idea turning a Saturday Night Live skit into a full-length feature genius! You cant crank them out fast enough for me!
Hey, I got a movie joke for you. Its from the legendary screenwriter Terry Southern, who left us far too soon, but I dont want to dwell on that injustice because the business article said to keep this positive. The joke is about a terrible film being made. When you tell it at parties, you can substitute one of your competitors. Anyway, this film is really stinking up the set, and finally the lead actress says, Who do I have to fuck to get off this movie? Get it? See how she turned the whole thing around? I laugh every time!
In case youre wondering, you dont know me. But Im very dependable and ambitious, so we should have no problem working together. Speaking of which, I have a number of treatments Im working on. Are you ready? Think Farrelly brothers. Personally, I dont care for their stuff, but theres nothing wrong with making a little money, eh? Its a nutty-but-moving feel-good about unsymmetrical conjoined twins attached at the butt and the forehead who weather their classmates cruel taunts to win heart or hearts on the cheerleading squad. Okay, forget that. It sounded better in my head before I saw it glued together here. This next ones a lot better. Designed to attract a handsome A-list star whos never won an Academy Award and looking for a surefire vehicle to overcome his pretty-boy image. So in his role, he has to gain thirty pounds, wear makeup to deform his face and hes a retard. Start clearing space on the mantel! What am I talking about? You must get thousands of annoying letters every day asking for stuff, and I dont want you to throw it in the trash with the others. Right now, our business is what I can do for you.
Please keep reminding yourself that this is a happy letter. Im very content as I paste these words, and were still on good terms. Okay? Heres goes: Were the guys who kidnapped Ally Street. I dont know how you usually handle these things, whether you require proof of life. Proof of Life. Did you see that one? Whats up with Meg Ryan? I decided I dont like her anymore. I wanted to cut some of Allys hair, but she wouldnt let us, so those are some toenail clippings taped to the bottom of the page
Rrrrrrrrrring!
Heads turned. The technician checked modulation levels and the caller ID: FORD OELMAN. He gave detectives the thumbs-up.
Okay, everybody, said Babcock. This is it. Take your places. He silently signaled the room one finger, two fingers, three! The detective and Ian simultaneously picked up receivers.
This is Ian. Talk to me.
A million dollars in unmarked bills. No sequential serial numbers.
Sure, but youll have to give us time.
Youre stalling. The police are there, arent they?
Babcock shook his head at Ian, then made a swirling motion with a finger: Keep him talking.
Absolutely not, said Ian. Wed never
Its okay, said Serge. Thats what Id do
Put me on the speakerphone so we can all talk.
Ian looked at Babcock. The detective thought a moment, then nodded. Ian pressed a button.
Serges voice rattled out of a small box on Ians desk. Whos in charge there?
Detective Babcock. Whats all that noise in the background?
You mean the ionizing?
Babcock gave the sound tech a look that asked if they had a location yet. The tech shook his head. Babcock turned back to the speaker. I thought ionizers were quiet.
Yeah, but I got fifteen of em. Because my roommates
Youre not eating, are you?
Roommate? How many of you are there?
I cant say any more, said Serge. No offense its kidnapping rules. Otherwise Im a big supporter of the LAPD.
We appreciate it.
No, really. You take a lot of unfair criticism. The public just doesnt understand why twenty guys with batons have to beat the piss out of some drunk who cant even stand up by himself. He could have a grenade, right? Or a vial of anthrax. Thats what would be going through my mind.
Let me speak to Ally.
This is the part where you want to make sure shes still alive?
This is the part.
>
All right
Hey, Ally! Someone wants to talk to you
Come on, Ally, dont be like that
Just say a couple words
Jesus, when Im trying to watch a movie, I cant get you to shut up!
Is everything all right? asked Babcock.
Shes mad at me again, said Serge. Are you married?
Put her on the phone.
Were having technical difficulties.
Shes not there, is she?
No, shes definitely here, unfortunately.
Why cant I speak with her?
She wants her water.
Youre withholding food and water?
Long story, said Serge. But Ill make it short: Never kidnap an actress. Probably wont come up in your line, but this is absolutely my last
Ally! Please! Youre embarrassing me in front of people Im on the speaker
Youre in trouble when I get off the phone
Uh, Babcock? You still there?
Im here.
Ill have to call you back.
Wait, I
Click.
Babcock looked at the sound tech. He shook his head. Almost had em.
The detective turned to the Glicks, drenched in sweat. You recognize that voice?
They began stuttering.
The phone rang.
The detective hit the speaker button. Babcock.
Is this Babcock?
Whos this?
Coleman. Hes trying to talk to her now
Yelling in the background: Code name!
Oh, shit, said Coleman. What do I do now, Serge?
You did it again!
Wait, I can fix it
The desk speaker made the sound of a beer can popping open.
Detective?
Im here.
Yes, this is the kidnapper code-named Coleman Lantern, and me and my partner code-named Serge Suppressor want to assure you that Ally is perfectly fine.
Babcock looked toward the sound tech, who held up a single finger: one more minute.
You have to be reasonable, said Babcock. Were going to need some kind of proof.