After ordering a dry Bombay Sapphire martini and tossing back half of it in three quick sips, he felt a tap on his shoulder and was delighted to see it was Dave Stonetree’s adopted father figure.
“Uncle Chuck!” Spotswood exclaimed. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m doing quite well,” he replied. “And look at you. Last time I saw you, at the wedding, you were nothing but one of the best-selling writers in America.” He seemed to giggle. “And now? And now I can impress people with the fact that I am an amico personale of the world-famous television sensation Jonathan P. Spotswood.”
Spotswood felt himself blush. “I’d… hold off on that assessment until after the critics get through with me.”
“Nonsense.” He extended his hand. “Congratulations.”
Spotswood shook it then asked, “Could I introduce you to two of the real stars of tonight’s show?”
Bernardini turned to the couple. “Ah. Do I have the distinct pleasure of meeting Mr. Polanski and Miss Loveland?”
“Chuck? Andy and Laura. Andy, Laura? Charles Bernardini.”
The three exchanged handshakes then Loveland asked, “You’re Jip’s uncle?”
“No, no. Well, perhaps informally. I’ve known Jon for years, through my adopted nephew David.”
“Dave and I go way back, all the way to high school. I stood up for him at his wedding a few months ago.” He thought to tell them it was Stonetree who came up with the idea for the Battle of the Bands, but decided against.
“Lovely couple, David and Sharon,” Bernardini said, looking his new acquaintances up and down. “As are the two of you.”
“Thank you very, very much,” Loveland smiled.
“Dolce è l’alba che illumina gli amanti.”
“Pardon?” Polanski asked.
“Just an old appenine saying. It means… I offer you my best wishes.”
“So what brings you out here? I’d like to think pleasure but you have the look of a serious businessman.”
Bernardini made a noise. “Fortunately mixing business with pleasure.”
“Chuck’s one of the most sought-after authorities in the consulting world,” Spotswood put in.
Polanski’s tilted his head. “Wait a sec. You’re Charles Bernardini of Bernardini and Associates?”
“That’s correct.”
Polanski adjusted his sunglasses as if to look closer. “I’ll be damned. You were recommended to me, oh, maybe six months ago when I needed to have somebody’s bona fides checked out.”
“Ah.”
“Never called ’cause thought it got straightened out, but I was told you were about the best guy around to handle confidential inquiries.”
“You flatter me.”
“Came from an impeccable source.”
“Might I ask?”
“Ben.”
Bernardini turned to the bartender and requested a campari-soda with a slice of lemon, then said, “Ben?”
“Walbee. I had the impression you knew him, worked with him.”
Bernardini adjusted his tie. “Well, I… I certainly know of him. Who doesn’t?”
“That’s for sure. Anyway, turns out maybe it wasn’t straightened out. So could I contact you if I need a follow-up?”
Bernardini removed his wallet, withdrew a card then passed it across. “This has my private number. Call that one. I’ll look forward to assisting you.”
After examining it, he tucked it into his back pocket. “Thanks. I will.”
“Il mio piacere.”
Just then, Geno Polata stepped up and gave an exaggerated show of surprise. “Would you look at this! Has to be the best ensemble of celebrity imitators I’ve ever seen!”
Everyone laughed then Polanski asked him, “Bottom line?”
“Cherry. Cherry with a bullet.” He nodded with a contented smile. “Not only did I outdo myself, you guys, and girls I hasten to add, kicked ass.” He glanced about at the highlight clips playing on the various screens. “Incendiary. We’re talkin’ multi-platinum incendiary. Hardly’ll need much further mixing ’cept for maybe voc overdubs on two, three numbers. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted the coughs removed.”
“Coughs?”
“‘Member when you coughed twice during the Raspberries number? After the second chorus?”
“Nope.”
“Mick wasn’t using the click track and was just a shade of a beat behind so I figured you were doing it right on the quarters to get him up to speed.”
“That’s what I thought too, Gene” Loveland added. “I’d leave ’em in. For posterity.”
Polanski chuckled. “Well I guess that’s settled.”
“Great,” Polata nodded. Can’t wait for you to hear it.”
“Tomorrow’ll be soon enough, eh?”
“Already havin’ ’em burned, Andman. I’ll have ’em delivered in time for breakfast.” He looked to Bernardini then Spotswood. “Enough shop talk. Could you introduce me to this gentleman?”
“Chuck, I’d like you to meet the most extraordinary sound and lighting wizard the world has ever known, Geno Polata. Geno? Chuck Bernardini, my adopted uncle, once removed.”
Polanski and Loveland grinned as the two men shook hands.
“What a pleasure, Geno. Your reputation precedes you. I especially enjoyed the chapter in Jip’s book about your mastery. Perhaps you could share the secrets of wizardry with me sometime.”
“All you have to do is offer to pop for drinks, Chuck,” Polanski put in. “By the time the third round arrives he’ll spill anything you want.”
“I don’t drink anymore,” Polata said solemnly, then paused. “But I don’t drink any less.”
“What can I get you, Geno?” Bernardini offered.
“How about a generous serving,” he pointed, “from that bottle of Johnny Walker Blue? Neat.”
Bernardini placed the order with a barmaid who filled it quickly.
After a satisfied sip, Polata said, “Thank you. And as a man of my word, I’ll now share the first of my many secrets with you.” Leaning in he whispered, “Franklin said you need some help with an important project. I’m at your service. Now smile like you’re surprised.”
Bernardini did then said, “I’d like to know more about that sometime when we can speak privately.”
“Lemme add one more detail to pique your curiosity,” he replied, then leaning in again added, “We’ll be able to have that conversation in just a moment. Now nod your head that you understand.”
Bernardini did then said, “Very interesting. I’d like to know how you could accomplish such a feat.”
Within thirty seconds a Prism Princess stepped up then excused herself into the grouping. “Miss Loveland? Mr. Polanski? Mr. Spotswood? Mr. Potcheck is entertaining a few close friends from Manitowoc in his suite, one of the couples has to leave soon and he was wondering that if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience if the three of you could join them to be introduced and perhaps have some photos taken?”
“We’d be delighted to,” Loveland answered for herself and Polanski.
“Sure,” Spotswood agreed.
And they left.
“Ben told me you were a man of many talents,” Bernardini smiled. “But how did you manage that one?”
“You kidding? With everything I’ve done to make this weekend perfect? Those two’d give me their firstborn children if I asked.”
“Se non e vero, e ben trovato.”
“Well, maybe that was a bit of exaggeration.”
Bernardini regarded him quizzically. “You also speak Italiano?”
“Enough to get by.”
“Bene. Bene. That may be useful as we proceed.”
“So why don’t you fill me in on your project.”
Bernardini told him everything he’d shared with Walbee and Potcheck, then asked what he thought up to that point.
Polata held up a finger, ordered a refill then after a sip began, “First off, I am of the firm belief that Claude is a slimy,
egomaniacal worm who’s capable of anything… anything… if he thought it was in his fucking self-interest. Having said that, I’ll give him props for being a man of extraordinary skills and focus. He could give a master class on how to succeed in business by screwing anyone who got in the way. Third, from what I know, he is not a person to mess with unless absolutely necessary.” He hesitated. “Actually, even if it was absolutely necessary, I’d take a pass. Not that I wouldn’t like to see the asshole take a fall if he’s messing with the tournament.”
“Yes. Franklin told me about an episode between the two of you.”
“That’s old news. It’s your future I’m thinkin’ about.” He glanced about as if to see if anybody was eavesdropping. “I heard he had someone killed for having a fling with his wife.”
Bernardini thought a beat. “To the best of my knowledge, his fingerprints might be affixed to at least two unsolved murders and an aggravated assault.” He paused. “So do you think you could help me? Provide the technical expertise I need?”
Polata leaned against the bar. “Count me in. But I’m gonna have to give the… do you have any schematics, outlines, breakdowns on the specifics of ELFs or any other documentation I could examine to get me up to speed?”
“Certainly.”
“Too bad we don’t have any cusiscu. I’ve got... I’ve got some tools we could use to maybe coax out some possibilities.”
Bernardini removed the Ziploc from his pocket and passed it across. “Would this do?”
After holding it up to a light, the engineer chuckled “This would do just fine.”Polata then tossed back the rest of his refill. “How about we meet tomorrow morning. I gotta eventually get some sleep. I’m in 2930. Give me a call.”
“I’ll do that. I’m a bit weary myself.”
Spotswood returned, smiling and shaking his head. “A few guests? Right. If over forty counts as a few. You ought’a see the assembly line Franklin’s got set up. Photos. Choose the shot you like best. Sixteen by twenties printed. Autograph time. Next couple, please.”
“So what’re you doing back?” Polata asked.
“Apparently, I’m not as sought-after as… after we posed with two old geezers they decided to rather just have a keepsake featuring them with Franklin, Andy and Laur. Once the redo was finished some other guy chimed in that he’d like a new grouping too, so Franklin polled the crowd and I only received three requests.”
“So Geno? Tomorrow morning to discuss wizardry? 3112?”
Polata took a quick look at his watch. “I’ll give you a call.”
Bernardini shook his hand, then Spotswood’s, bowed slightly and left, angling aside as Denny stepped up looking refreshed and wearing a stylish Prism sweatshirt along with a knee-length, red leather skirt.
“Geno, let me introduce you to...”
“Hi,” she interrupted, extending her hand. “I’m Denny, Jip’s… ” she grinned at him. “Refresh my memory? Oh, wait! Forever your girl?”
He nodded as Polata took a step back to look her up and down. “Funny, but you don’t look like Paula Abdul.”
“You see… ” Spotswood began, but stopped.
Polata glanced at his watch again. “I’ve gotta run kids, but I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
“How’re you feeling?”
She raised a hand and gently touched her chest. “Well, one of my girls has a welt looking like a licorice pancake, but aside from that… ”
“Thank God.”
“… nothing a little loving care couldn’t take care of.”
Just then Christie stepped up, edged her away, hugged Spotswood a long moment then beamed, “After work. I’m available, as promised.” Before he could respond she continued, “Sorry we couldn’t talk this afternoon but Billi came down with a serious case of the yips and… ”
Then she glanced at Denny, flatly stating, “Could you excuse us?”
“No, she can’t,” he put in.
“Jonathan, this involves a very personal… make that two very personal matters.”
“Denny? Christie Cramer. Chris, Denny Dittrich.”
Denny extended her hand, but the offer was ignored as Christie returned her attention to him. “So what’s it gonna be?”
Before he could reply, Blair approached from behind then placed her palms over his eyes, teasing “I’m ready for that interview if you are, Bebe.”
“Billi?” he asked.
She lowered her hands to his shoulders and turned him around. “In the flesh.”
“Jesus F. Christ,” Christie groaned. “I’ve got first dibs on him, Bill.”
“Says who?”
“Yeah, says who?” Denny put in.
He eyed each of them individually then said, “Could you ladies please excuse me for a few moments? I think I left my dance card back in Mr. Potcheck’s suite.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday, January 1st
In his dream, Spotswood was sitting in the back of a sixtyish lounge, staring at the stage where Christie, Billi and Denny, outfitted like a white girl’s version of The Ronettes including platinum beehive wigs, were performing a bossa novatake of Be My Baby in what seemed to be Portuguese. Seated beside him were Polanski and Loveland dressed in matching blue pinstriped Nehru jackets, passing a joint back and forth in time with the music. When the buzzing noise began, he looked about in search of the source, figuring it to be an alarm of some kind. Shaking awake, he realized it was - the alarm clock, which read 7:00. Shutting it off, he rolled to his other side to say Good morning, but she was gone.
After a stop in the master bath to splash some water on his face, he grabbed his robe and headed for the kitchen, coming to a halt as he moved through the great room when a woman’s voice offered, “Good morning, sir.”Turning, he watched as she stood, smoothed the sides of her skirt and took a step forward, placing her hands behind her back. “I’m Marcy, Mr. Spotswood. At your service.”
He recognized the face but couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. “Reynolds’ crew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I entered the suite just after two… after you’d closed the bedroom door.”
He glanced about, wondering where the cameras were hidden. “Did you see someone leave earlier?”
“I heard someone leave just past five, but didn’t see them.”
“Really. Then how’d you know it wasn’t me?”
“My partner in the hallway would have notified me.”
“Ah.” He thought a few beats. “Have we met before? You look awful familiar.”
She smiled slightly. “I was assigned while you were still at the party.”Raising an eyebrow, she added, “Didn’t want to interrupt you. We decided to keep things inconspicuous.”
“We?”
“Well, Eyes did… the boss did.”
***
The morning and the afternoon schedule unfolded as if every detail had been well-rehearsed. The drawings of the final $5 million prize winners, along with the name of Anthony Rolli as the fortunate choice for the $25M Grand Prize, were attended by SRO crowds at both the Pyramid of Change - which continued to grow spectacularly - and inside the Oasis. Walbee gave another short, stirring speech focused on service and dedication at the conclusion of the awards and then, much to Spotswood’s delight, showed up at BB1 with Polanski, and the two sat for an impromptu, wide-ranging interview expertly conducted by Connie Scanlan who seemed well-prepared for this unusual eventuality. Of perhaps the greatest interest was the rainmaker’s response to the seemingly offhand query: “So how can you top this weekend, Ben?”
After exchanging a knowing glance with the CCBBA (and Combined Forces) front man, he’d confidently replied, “I... we have a number of sets of blueprints to continue refining, although I can assure you that all of them point to identical finish lines.”
“Which are?” Scanlan followed-up.
“Which are focused on bringing the fabulous vessel America..
. The United States of America… back to port as the once and future greatest world power in history, the most compelling force for the welfare of our planet’s citizens, a compass which points to universal health, employment and prosperity for all.”
That, Spotswood figured, didn’t require much analysis when read beside what Andy had told him the previous afternoon - Walbee undoubtedly was ramping up for a project bigger than any he’d previously undertaken.
***
Polata glanced back and forth between two of the schematics then looked across the table at his guest. “Tell me exactly... wait a second. If you had to bet everything on one theory, had to bet everything on just one way Claude thought he could pull something like this off, what would it be?”
Bernardini thought a moment. “I’d venture that enough cusisicu was surgically implanted into one of the players for her to receive prompts concerning the status of the others, or in the alternative, directions on what to bid.”
“Her?”
“Easton. Although… based on the intelligence you’ve seen, I have to think Kerensky figures, or at least once did… figured into the mix.”
“Because two shills would make the process too complicated?”
“No. With enough practice cheats can master virtually any ruse. More so, I’d guess for some reason the process mightn’t have worked with Nick, or for some reason stopped working, so he was abandoned as the primary target.”
Polata studied the drawings again, then tapped at some lines listing alternate energy requirements estimates. “Well, we’ve certainly got enough horses downstairs to power that theory so interrupting it at a the correct juncture would seem to be an efficient method of messing things up for them.”
“But… but wouldn’t we have to discover the location of the device used for transmissions?”
Polata stood and stretched. “Nah. Assuming it’s somewhere on the property and leaching from the grid, disrupting the power flow should do the trick. But I would like to get a better handle on whether your bet is a sound one.”
Weekend at Prism Page 30