by Jo Black
‘Oh ya I get it totally. They get fucked-up right? They’re just so fucking sick! Awesome. Everyone is going to be so jealous.’
‘Well. Good luck with the writing and we’ll see you on set in Libya,’ Alex said.
‘I can’t wait!’ She hugged and kissed them again. They headed outside to the waiting car. ‘Do you think he’s got this?’ Alex asked.
‘I think he was made for that job,’ Nish replied.
‘He knows he’s not making a film right? Just method acting.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, I doubt there’s a market for a California scientist who gets fucked by a bear and teaches it sign language in the Libyan Desert, even in Hollywood.’
35
A member of the fake film crew finished tying Megan to the chair in the tent, flanked by a pair of fake Libyan terrorists holding AK47’s. Trevor paced around squaring up imaginary shots with his fingers as they set up the camera.
‘Okay Megan. Here’s how it is. You’ve been kidnapped by Islamic fundamentalists. They are holding you for ransom. You need to plead with your wealthy C.I.A Agent father to pay a hundred and twenty million dollars or you are going to be violently raped then cut up into small pieces and posted to him. You need to be terrified. Absolutely terrified and convince him if he doesn’t give us the fucking money we’re going to fuck you and murder you. Is that clear? You’re going for the Oscar on this one baby so give it all you’ve got,’ Trevor said.
‘Okay. Should I mention the bears? I think I’d be worried that they’re going to hurt the bears as well, and he needs to like speak to the president and get like some marines n’ shit to come here and get them. Maybe those SEAL type dudes.’
‘No. Don’t mention the fucking bears. This is all about you. We don’t want to reveal the bears at this point. Exposition. Remember?’ Trevor explained.
‘Oh okay, I get it. You want the bears to come and rescue me for like a surprise because like my dad gets killed and shit.’
‘That’s it. You’ve got it. You’re a natural baby.’
‘Okay.’
‘Quiet on set. You do the whole Islamic nut-job Alan’s Snackbar routine. Then Megan makes her emotional appeal. Raw. Fear. Make daddy believe it baby.’ Trevor settled down in his director’s chair. ‘And action!’ The fake terrorists recited all manner of Islamic threats and gibberish cribbed from various online propaganda sites before nudging Megan. Quivering lip, tears for the win, she gave it all she had.
‘Daddy, I have been captured by The Islamic Al Nusra Martyrs Brigade and am being held in Libya. If you do not pay the one hundred and twenty million dollars ransom they have promised to savagely rape me, beat me, and cruelly torture me before beheading me and returning my body parts to you. I know you love me, and would do anything to keep me safe, please do as they ask. I’m so afraid. I want to go home. I miss you. Tell mom I’m sorry I didn’t speak to her for so many years, please send the money.’ Megan burst into tears as the fake terrorist held up a piece of paper with the contact phone number.
‘And... Cut! Excellent work. Very authentic. That’s a wrap people.’
‘Cool!’ Megan wiped off the fake tears from her face and headed out of the tent.
‘Well?’ Trevor asked Nish and Alex.
‘That’ll do it Trevor. Well done,’ Alex said. ‘Get it edited with the usual Islamic murder the infidels music and send it to The Frenchmen. Make sure it gets to Bishop.’ Alex departed.
‘Nice work Trevor. You’ve got a talent for this. You should think about making a real movie,’ Nish said.
‘Nish, can I have a quiet word?’ Trevor asked.
‘Sure,’ Nish replied. They headed out of the tent.
‘Megan and I have developed something of a rapport, and I believe with our creative vision this movie has a real chance of success. Could you talk to Alex about the budget? I’d really like to get those bears here and work on those next scenes.’
‘Trevor. There are no bears. There’s no movie.’
‘Yes. Yes. I know we said that. But now we’re here, we’ve got the talent here. We just need the fucking bears.’
‘Trevor. We’re a Private Military Company. Not a movie studio. We can’t start importing fucking bears into the desert to shoot a fake film.’
‘Can I least go and ask Gadaffi? He’s quite into his exotic animals. I think this is a project he could get behind. It would really put Libya on the map, creatively.’
‘If you want to go and see Gadaffi about making a film about Islamic terrorists poaching bears in the Libyan Desert, you crack on son. Just do me a favour? Don’t mention my name or Alex’s.’
‘So that means I’ve got full rights?’
‘It’s all yours Trevor. We’ve got what we need.’
‘And the girl?’
‘She’s free to do what she wants.’
‘Great. Thank you. This has been an inspired, truly inspired, time of my life.’ Trevor shook Nish’s hand and went off in search of Megan. Nish shook his head and headed off to Alex’s tent.
‘So what now?’ Nish asked.
‘Once Bishop has the tape, we go and pay him a visit and offer to get Megan back for him in return for the intel and a sizeable reward to cover our costs.’
‘You think he’ll buy it?’
‘Trevor did a pretty convincing job on the ransom tape. Not sure we’d have done any better even if it were genuine. What’s he up to?’
‘He’s gone to ask Colonel Gadaffi for some bears and money to make his film.’
‘Well, he’s probably the one person insane enough to think it’s a good story.’
36
The escorted limousine pulled into the heavily guarded luxury beachfront villa compound on the outskirts of Havana. Alex and Nish exited from the back of the car, they stopped at the door to be frisked by a pair of Cuban Army regulars before the door was opened and the housemaid let them in. The villa, previously occupied by a Colombian drug baron/revolutionary freedom fighter, was decorated in a style befitting those heavy of bank balance and light of taste. They made their way through the hallway littered with expensive but fake object’ d’art and into the main salon where Bishop was lounging on one of the opposed oversized ostrich leather sofas sipping on a mojito. ‘Well look what the cat dragged in.’ Alex and Nish walked over. ‘Why am I suddenly concerned my house isn’t carrying enough fire insurance?’
‘Don’t worry, we’re not here to burn it down,’ Alex replied.
‘You better sit down then. Mojito?’ He flicked his head at the waiting housemaid. ‘Two mojitos for our guests.’ Alex and Nish sat on the sofa opposite. ‘It doesn’t take a C.I.A Analyst to figure out what you two ass-clowns are here about, now does it?’
‘Former C.I.A Analyst...’ Nish corrected.
‘Not through choice...’ Bishop sipped on his drink.
‘You seem to have come through the ordeal with flying colours Bishop. Amazing what an Agency pension stretches to these days,’ Alex said.
‘You know how it is. You’ve got to take what you’re offered. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.’ The maid returned with the drinks and set them down on the table. ‘So let’s have it, the pitch.’
‘Your daughter Megan. She seems to have got herself in some hot water.’
‘I get burned then shortly thereafter someone grabs Megan and demands the exact sum that went missing as a ransom. Isn’t that an astonishing coincidence? It’s almost like those towel heads from Al-Nusra had some help. And I presume you just so happen to know a guy who knows a guy and can help me get her back. For a price.’
‘We have connections in Libya. We can facilitate her safe return, for a small consideration,’ Alex replied.
‘Which would be?’
‘Thirty per cent of the ask to cover our expenses, plus the dossier of intelligence you were given for safe keeping by Zara Scott.’
‘What a deal! Do you boys take coupons?’ Bishop said sarcastically.
‘I sense you aren’t
taking our offer seriously.’
‘Well why the fuck would I? Did you two fucksticks seriously expect me to buy this horseshit? Come on, I was with the Central Intelligence Agency, not the Ministry of Dumb Motherfuckers.’
‘That’s actually a thing...’ Nish said.
‘Colour me surprised. Is that where you two shitheads trained?’
‘Are we missing something here?’ Alex asked.
‘Uhuh. At what point did you think hiring Trevor, of all the fucking people, was a good idea to facilitate this two-bit shakedown? You boys so short of green that’s the best you can hire these days? If that’s the case it’s not so much Alex the scary dragon, as Alex the fucking pigeon.’
‘We don’t follow...’ Nish said with a confused expression.
‘Take a goddamn look! You clearly didn’t before you threw this amateur-night bullshit in The Frenchman’s mailbox, now did you?’ Bishop picked up the remote control and turned the large flat screen television on then played the tape. Alex and Nish sat back and watched. The ransom video played back finishing with rousing kill the infidels’ music before fading to black. They both looked at Bishop blankly. ‘Keep watching...the best part is yet to come, quite literally.’ They turned their attention back to the video, the black cut to static and chopped into the overwritten video that had been underneath. The scene changed to a home sex-tape of Megan tied to the bed in the Malibu villa with a man in a giant bear costume on top of her riding her from behind.
‘Fuck me like a bear! Fuck me like a bear! That’s it Trevor you dirty fucking animal! Fuck me like a bear!’ Megan panted out between strokes. Trevor growled. Bishop sighed and shook his head. He paused the tape and stared at Nish and Alex who simply face-palmed.
‘I told him to use a clean tape,’ Nish muttered under his breath.
‘What the fuck is this? Some kind of joke? You can’t be serious with this shit can you? A fucking five-year-old could do better than this. I’m insulted. So you, and you, and Trevor the bear can go fuck yourselves.’
‘I think you forget who you’re talking to here Bishop,’ Alex said with a threatening tone.
‘Based on the evidence presented, the three stooges.’
‘You might want to change your tone, regardless of Trevor’s monumental fucking-up of the plan, we still have your little girl.’
‘Well I’m just shocked as shit to learn that it wasn’t Al Nusra who upped and offed her from Mountain View to the Libyan fucking desert.’
‘You should have kept your mouth shut and taken the deal Bishop. The price just went up. We’ll take the full one-twenty million and the intel or you’ll get Megan back in small enough pieces to send US Mail,’ Alex said.
‘You have fun cutting that little bitch up y’hear? Send me the video of that and I might actually pay something for it.’
Alex frowned. ‘That’s not very paternal...’
‘She ain’t my little girl. Jesus you boys are behind the curve, where the fuck do you get your intel from?’
‘Why don’t you enlighten us.’
‘Megan ain’t my daughter. I was posted to some shit-hole in the deep south back when to keep an eye on our south of the border friends’ pharmaceutical importation operations. I picked up Megan’s mom working the poles in some two-bit dive. The very epitome of white redneck single mom trailer trash, she was merely a minor amusement in an otherwise exceptionally dull posting. Only problem is she had this little Lolita of a fourteen-year-old daughter. And well, given her mother’s frequent fondness for going off the rails on crystal meth, I foolishly gave in to temptation and smashed that little ass for all it was worth until I left. Only Megan’s a little smarter than I gave her credit for, and turns up at my motel as I was packing up to leave, making all manner of threats to report me to the local sheriff for under-age sexual exploitation and abuse if I don’t agree to take her to California. Not the sort of scandal I needed, and for various reasons, not least my enjoyment of smashing her perky ass, I foolishly agreed. Cut together a decent cover story that she was my little girl so people didn’t start getting all hung up on the under-age aspects of our relationship. She’s been bleeding me for cash ever since. So if you boys want to rid me of that, I ain’t got nothing but love for you.’
‘Fourteen? You should be ashamed of yourself,’ Alex said.
‘Don’t judge. I’m not the one sending out home porno of her being fucked by a schizoid dressed as a bear.’
‘Well that changes things then, doesn’t it?’ Alex said with a sigh knocking back his mojito.
‘Well yeah, I guess it fucking does now, don’t it? If that’ll be all, it’s nearly my siesta time and I’ve got some local senoritas booked in for a back rub.’
‘I’m going to give you an opportunity here Bishop, to do the right thing by Zara. You implicated her in your little heist and got her burned by Six and The Agency,’ Alex said.
‘Now hold your horses there. You can’t pin that shit on me. We were both investigating that case, and we both equally got burned. They merely used that whole joint-enterprise bullshit to cover our disappearance. I got lucky and managed to avoid capture. Zara, well, I’m sorry for her troubles. I took the cash after it was clear what was going down.’
‘Zara gave you that dossier for safekeeping. As an insurance policy. She got taken; you clearly landed on your feet. You need to let us trade her for it. She’d have done the same for you.’
‘Would she? I’m not so sure. I think Zara’s the sort of chick who puts the job before everything. You should share my opinion,’ Bishop said looking at Alex. ‘How long since you’ve shared the marital bed?’
‘She’d have done the right thing, regardless of the job she’d not leave you hung out to dry.’
‘Well, I’m not Zara. I’m sorry the way things went down for her. Shit happens. As I see it we were both equally fucked. Now I need that dossier as an insurance policy as much as she does. If it’s her, or me, I’m gonna look out for number one. That’s just how it is.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘What is it you Russian fucks like to say Alex? I’m sorry that you are sorry. But I’m a Boston boy at heart so I just don’t really give a fuck about any of you.’
‘I could have been a good friend to you Bishop, in your current predicament.’
‘I don’t need friends like you Green. Friends like you put me in exile in Cuba sleeping with a Glock under my pillow. I won’t lose any sleep if you cross me off your Christmas card list.’
‘So that’s your final word?’
‘Hundred and twenty million greenbacks goes a long way in Cuba. I figure I’ll just be fine enjoying my retirement right here. At least I’ve got plenty of decent cigars and senoritas.’
‘You do seem quite comfortable.’
‘Believe me I am.’
‘Well, since you won’t act reasonably, I guess we’ll need to make you a little less comfortable.’ Alex took out his phone. He spoke briefly in Russian then put it down. ‘How does an unheated cell in a Russian gulag sound Bishop? No cigars and senoritas, just a long time in the cold to reflect on the deal you could have made.’
The doors opened and the Cuban Foreign Minister entered accompanied by a man in suit. ‘The Cuban Foreign Minister I believe you know, the representative of the F.S.B to Cuba, perhaps not.’
The minister walked over and handed Bishop a set of signed deportation papers. ‘Mister Bishop the President of the People’s Republic of Cuba regrets to inform you that your asylum in Cuba has been rejected and gives you formal notice that you have twenty-four hours to leave the island. You will be held under house arrest and escorted to the airport in the morning where my associate in the Russian Foreign Ministry has kindly arranged a flight for you. Have a pleasant day.’
The minister departed. The F.S.B representative smiled and nodded his head slightly at Alex deferentially. ‘Aleksei, if there is anything else, we’re at your service.’
‘Thank you. I’ll let you know if the o
utcome changes after Mister Bishop has had time to reflect on his choices,’ Alex said looking at Bishop with a smile.
‘We’ll await your instructions at the Russian embassy. Good afternoon Gentlemen.’ The F.S.B representative departed.
‘You motherfucker...’ Bishop said shaking his head placing his drink on the table as Alex sipped his. ‘I should have poisoned that shit while I had the chance. So if you could do all that, why this charade with Trevor and his bullshit hostage tape?’
Alex looked at Nish, clearly irked. Nish shrugged. ‘We didn’t want you to feel like you were getting fucked over. We share a common enemy, you just have something we need.’
‘So, I assume if I co-operate then my sudden immigration issues will magically disappear.’
‘Everything is possible. For our friends. For our enemies? Not so much,’ Alex replied.
‘So what’s it going to cost me? To stay in Cuba? You’re not having the money. I’m owed that. My security here comes at a cost. Without that cash I’m screwed and might as well take my chances in the gulag. You guys are free to operate; you can just go and rob a bank or take some oligarch’s daughter hostage. I’m a prisoner on this island despite the exceptionally gilded cage. I set foot outside Cuba and The Agency will have me lifted and put in a Tunisian torture room before you can say how much for the carpet.’
‘Tunisia might be off The Agency’s holiday brochure for the next few seasons, the resort there is closed for repairs,’ Nish said.
‘I’ll make you a deal. You can keep the cash. I have other priorities right now. Trevor will keep Megan occupied with whatever bullshit film project he’s doing, they seem to be well suited. You’ll get your asylum back. I want the dossier so I can get Zara. Then everyone gets what they want.’
‘And what about my insurance policy? Without that intel I’ve got nothing.’