Blind Side

by William Bayer

  C= t mes, c difficult to photograph. He'd ried many times

  shooting in different seaons, and he'd even tried to put some people in his pictures, visiting veterans he'd posed against the stone.

  "But that didn't work out," he said, "and anyway I'm no good at setting stuff up. Remember what you taught me, GeoP That basically there're only two ways to approach photography: you roam the world searching for images or you make your own."

  "You like film noir, Geof. Remember The Woman in the Window?" I nodded. We were driving back to Santa Fe by the new road that runs along the Rio Grande.

  "Edward G. Robinson explains blackmail to Joan Bennett. He makes a nice little speech.

  " 'There are only three ways to deal with a blackmailer,' he tells her. 'You can pay him and pay him and pay him until you're penniless. Or you can call the police yourself and let your secret be known to the world. Or'-and here old Edward G. pauses for effect-'you can kill him." I remembered that nice little speech.

  "That's what you're up against. I should say 'we' -because I want in if you'll take me after you've heard what I've got to say. I have some reservations. The girl bothers me a little. But even if she's not as straight as you think, I can deal with her unless she's very bad news."

  "Whatever she is, she isn't that," I said.

  "Trust her?"

  "I do now-yes."

  "But then you're not the best person to judge her, are you, Geof)"

  I had to agree with him about that.

  "Okay, I got maybe nine points I want to make. First, normally I'd say double the demand to show we mean business, But we can't do that here because the original demand for a million was way too much. Still, now, we've got to stick to it. Show the slightest sign of weakness and we're dead.

  "Second, we have to enforce compliance by giving the enemy (and that's what they are, Geof, the enemy-don't ever forget it!) a whole array of unpleasant alternatives. Fine to threaten them with the cops, but that isn't enough. Murder rap's good, but not sure. Find their other weak spot, threaten them there. That's how we make them pay."

  o what's their other weak spot?" I asked. xposure. The tabloids. That's what'll make Darling Guy wears a mask, he's afraid of being seen. So for that. We got pictures, we can show the world he is. See, there's our basic threat: disgrace.

  n this same area, call it point three, we exploit that weakness to unnerve him. I'd like to see you stake him out, then ambush him with your camera. Even money says he won't be able to take it, that you can make him cover up. Do that-and you're in charge. Then you'll hold the whip."

  "That means going back to New York."

  "You're going to have to do that anyway. Thing is, Geof, if you shoot him like I say, he gets to look you in the eye and see you're serious. Easy for him to come to a meeting prepared to stare you down. But take him by surprise, and every shot will be like a blow across his face.

  I smiled. I liked that. In fact I liked Frank's whole approach. He had a grip on the thing, which made me feel good, and that I'd been right to bring it to him.

  "This Mrs. Z-she's another weakness. As are the Duquaynes, if they're as fashionable and well known as you say. they didn't do any murders, but they don't want to go down with people who did. If we approach them right, we can get them to pressure Mrs. Z. And that may help us divide her from Darling."

  f didn't get what Frank was saying.

  "Darling and Mrs. Z are accomplices."

  "Yeah, right now they are. But for how long? He's got money, she doesn't, which means he's got to pay for both of them, and that breeds resentment-on both their parts. If he hadn't whacked Sonya, she wouldn't be in trouble. If Kim hadn't gotten ideas, he wouldn't be getting blackmailed. Doesn't matter that they're allies, each has got a problem with the other. The more we can exploit that, the more we weaken them and increase our chances."

  "What next?"

  "Send them a message. they have to understand what happens if they don't comply. The best message is a demonstration-like sending that kid to throw lye at your door. We're going to have to do a violent act to make them see we're serious, something comparable to breaking Rakoubian's lenses. That was a stroke of genius, Geof. Best move you made."

  "What kind of violent act?"

  "We'll think of something."

  I must have moaned, because, when Frank glanced at me, his eyes were a little sharp.

  "This isn't a game."

  "I know that."

  "Intellectually maybe, but not yet, not in your heart. What old Edward G. said in that movie-that's the way they're going to think. They're going to give very serious consideration to killing you, Geof-to killing all of us. Which brings me to point number five: Play for keeps. I'm talking now about mental attitude. This is combat, and they're the enemy, and there's no middle groundit's us or them. Go into this, you're going into lawless territory where you have to be prepared for treachery and also to kill. I mean really be ready to do it, Geof, because that split-second when you're thinking, Should I kill this guy or is there some other way? will be the split-second when, without compunction, he'll be killing you.

  He went quiet after that, and I fell silent too. I didn't doubt that everything he said was true. I only wondered whether I had the character for it. I was a photographer. I didn't know if I had a warrior's blood.

  "Actually," he said, "it won't be so bad. I'll always be there watching your back. I want you to take pictures too. The more you take, the more they'll fear you because photographs are their nemesis. And with pictures, if things go wrong, you'll have material to take to Scotto. The cops would rather put away a decadent killer like Darling than a one-time amateur blackmailer like you."

  "Okay," I said, "what's number six?"

  "Neutralize the cops. You've handled them pretty well so far, but you can't leave them hanging the way you did. From your description Scotto sounds good, but Ramos may be even better. Good cops are relentless-that's why they choose the work. they like the chase and they like the capture. So when you go back to New York, you're going to have to handle them with care.

  "Another thing you're going to have to do is sacrifice Rakoubian. Sounds harsh, but the guy deserves it. He deserves whatever he gets." ?"

  "What do you mean-'sacrifice'.

  "Squeal on him. Have Kim tell Mrs. Z he took the pictures. they may kill him for that, which wouldn't be such a bad thing-you'll be rid of the one person who might try to extort from you later on. Also7 you'll give Once they Darling and Mrs. Z an outlet for their rage.

  do something to him they may feel a lot less anger toward you." I thought about that, and, funny thing, the longer I thought about it, the better I felt. Rakoubian had been willing to see me killed. Whatever happened to him now came with the territory.

  Okay," I said.

  "What's next?" ily a guy like

  "An idea I have about Darling. Norma that would insulate himself. If he wanted to get rid of Shadow he'd contract out the job. He didn't. He tortured her. Which tells you what a'twisted animal he is. But there's more. See, it's pretty clear he had some help, someone to drive her body to Newark, and those two street. Which means there're guys who chased Kim on the nd no matter people around who know what he did, a

  they probably don't like him what kind of goons they are,

  n-'oying it they're for hurting girls and e j – Guys like that, if caught, they'll spill their guts, and Darling's got to know that too. That has to keep him up at night, as does the prospect that under certain conditions Mrs. Z may very well-squeal herself. Okay, what does that tell us? That he may have as his objective the liquidation of all these difficulties at once. I mean killing you, me, Kim, his associates, Mrs. Z, everyone who ow@ver.yone. Now, if he does decide to go that route, if he sees that as his only way out, he can't use surrogates, he'll have to do it himself. And that means exposing himself on the field of battle.

  ,,Which brings me to my final point: choose the battlefield. Ultimately, in a deal like this, there comes the payoff-a
nd-exchange when the parties have to meet. That's the most dangerous time, the time we're most vulnerable, the time we want to control the territory. Can't be the base. Key West's your base-the place you take the Money and hide out. And New York's no good-it's their territory as much as yours. Which leaves New Mexico. Resolve 't out here, my stamping grounds, and we'll have a big advantage."

  I'd been listening so intently, I didn't notice that just before Santa Cruz he had turned off the road to Santa Fe and driven a mile or two along the route to Tierra Amarilla. He stopped the car.

  "What's this?" I asked.

  "Get out. Take a look."

  I got out, looked around, didn't see much of anything.

  "You can't tell now," he said, "but right here',-he made a mark with his boot heel in the dirt beside the road-"this is the very spot."

  floo ked at him. He was grinning.

  "Can't help it Geoff. I couldn't resist. This is where Ansel set up his tripod." He motioned to some ruins in a field on the left side of the road.

  "That's what's left of the village." He raised his finger above the distant mountains.

  "The moon was just about there. .

  "Moonrise, Hernandez": Ansel Adams's greatest picture, a photograph swooned over by school kids and sophisticated collectors alike. The picture had been printed over nine hundred times, but still the prints were so greatly desired they fetched close to ten thousand dollars whenever they came up at auction.

  "to take a picture like that-the thought of it!" Frank looked at me, then down at the ground.

  "Don't think you know, but for years I've been jealous of you. Guess most every photographer has. Jealous too of Ansel for 'Moonrise.' Jealous of Cartier-Bresson for the man leaping over the puddle. Of Kertesz for the man carrying the picture while the train passes on the bri@g@. Of Caponigro for the running deer. Those are the miracle pictures, the ones no matter how good you are, you can never find they have to find you. I've thought about it a lot, why they come to some and not to others, and I've decided I shouldn't be jealous; they've enriched my life too much. I've also come to the conclusion that people don't just stumble into shots like that, that they come to the great photographers because the great photographers are ready.

  I was with you, remember, when you took the PietA. You were ready. Were you ever……

  When we reached Santa Fe, he called Mai, told her we wouldn't be back till late, then took me on a tour of the town. We strolled around the Plaza, then looked into the galleries on Canyon Road.

  Most of what we saw was garbage: sentimental paintings of Navaho women and illustrator-type coWhoy scenes. The prices shocked me when I considered the fact that the galleries wouldn't charge them unless they were what people were willing to pay.

  After dinner at a Mexican place, Frank took me back to his studio. While he disappeared into his darkroom to finish up some work, the full force of what he'd said coming down from Taos suddenly hit me hard.

  He was talking about killing or being killed, and sacrificing Rakoubian as if he were a pawn. I didn't know if I was ready for stuff like that. I picked up the phone on his desk and called Kim in Key West.

  I caught her just as she was about to leave for work.

  "Geoffrey, what a terrific time to call. I was starting to get depressed about tonight. How's it going? It's so humid here, you sweat from just thinking about going out." The notion of her sweating turned me on. I imagined the gloss on her forehead, the faint aromatic flavor of her skin.

  "Frank thinks we can do it," I said. "Great! Is he willing to join us?"

  "Yeah. Only problem is-it could turn violent, he says. I don't know if I'm up to that." There was a pause before she spoke. "Don't worry about it. "

  "I am worried."

  "Frank's our hired gun."

  "Yeah . . . ?"

  "So we'll let him take care of the violent parts." She paused again.

  "Hey! I miss you, lover-boy!"

  "And I miss you."

  "It's hard to sleep alone."

  "Hard for me too." "Come back soon, will you?"

  "Looks like we'll be meeting in New York."

  "All the better," she said, I cause I'm really starting to loathe this place. I'd love it, of course, if I could lounge around the Pier House pool. But waiting on tables … Well, it won't be long now. When you and I are done with this thing we'll own Duval Street. Got to go to work, Geoffrey. But I want to leave you with a thought. Instead of letting the danger scare you, see if you can let it turn you on. Go with it, the why you did with Dirty Adam. The way you did that first night down here. Remember how you ripped my clothes and left my brains on the floor?" She laughed.

  "Fun, wasn't it? Well, taking Darling's money can be fun for us too." She made a kissing noise.

  "That, Geoffrey, is a big sweet kiss. And please give a hug to Frank for me, even though I haven't met him yet."

  After we hung up, I sat behind Frank's desk. Talking to her made me feel good. She was so vibrant, alive, and she was right about letting the danger excite me. All I had to do, I found, was just to think about it in a certain way.

  When Frank came out of the darkroom he showed me the latest work of Leo DeSalle and Nelly Steele. He did all their black-and-white printing. Several times he paused to explain the pains he'd taken to achieve a particularly sensitive effect.

  The two famous photographers made good strong pictures. DeSalle was the old master, working in the grandview landscape tradition, while Steele, his young lover and prot6g6e, made perfect tender little still-lifes.

  "Leo doesn't bother with the darkroom anymore. He's done it all, and he'll keep doing it till he dies-climbing around the rocks like an old mule, setting up, then burying his head under the focusing cloth. But Nelly cares about everything, every tone, every nuance. Which is why, in time, she'll surpass him. And if she's smart, she'll leave him for someone else."

  There was something poignant in Frank's observation that dovetailed with the comments he'd made on the site of "Moonrise, Hernandez." He was a master printer and a master analyst-he had the ability to see straight to the core of a situation. Looking again at his own work, I wondered why he tried to obfuscate what he saw. There

  a density in his pictures that blocked access to their g. He showed the viewer something new, but he beckon him past the surface of the paper with his passion. 4'Can't imagine trying to bring this off without you, Frank," I said.

  "But still I'd like to know why you want in on such a dirty deal." He searched my eyes.

  "Money. "Come on! It can't just be that."

  "Why not?" He looked almost angry.

  "Hey! Don't make me feel bad I asked a question,"

  "Sorry," he said. And then: "Your question cuts pretty close. "

  "I understand. Look-maybe ou don't see it, but in a way you really do have it all. Great family. Great wife. You live in one of the most desirable places in the country. You and Mai are artists, you make your own hours. Maybe you're not as rich as DeSalle, but how many artists are?"

  "Sure," he said, "I know all that. But it's not enough anymore. I'm forty-four, I'm tired of struggling. I'm sick of worrying-can I afford to have the car fixed? pay the grocery bill? send Ali to college? I'm sick of printing DeSalle's pictures, then reading articles about the superb prints of Leo DeSalle. I want to be a full-time photographer, take my shot, see how far I can go. And I want the same for Mai because I think her besi-work's still ahead. That's what it's all about, Geof@coring the money to buy the time to pursue our own work for a couple years."

  But after midnight, as we drove back to Galisteo, the scent of pifion trees heavy in the night air, he told me something else: "What I was saying up at Hernandez sometimes I wonder whether I'll ever be ready the way you were."

  ':Ready for what?"

  , to take the great picture when it comes."

  "Come on, Frank!". His self-pity bothered me.

  ' !'in a highly competent

  "No, Geof-I mean it. I know photographer. But
maybe I'm better at something else?"

  He went quiet after that, but a few minutes later, when he spoke again, his voice was different.

  "Maybe this thing you've brought me, this blackmail thing-maybe this'll be my 'Moonrise,' " he said.

  Again in the morning the fiery sun stoked up the cold dry fields. Mai drove the girls to the bus, while Frank and I sat outside working up a plan.

  We plotted out the next steps: Kim's and my trip to New York, what each of us would do, who'd say what to whom, demonstrations we could make of our seriousness of purpose. I phoned Kim in Key West twice that morning, and both times I put Frank on to speak with her. He asked her questions about Mrs. Z. Listening in to his side of the conversations, I could tell they were getting along. ."I think this partnership just may work out," Frank said after he spoke with her the second time.

  "She's a real live wire, this girl of yours."

  "You told me, 'Don't let her go,' " I reminded him.

  By noon we were excited; we felt we had a viable plan. We'd war-gamed the thing every which way, and though there were several points of danger, we couldn't find any major flaws.

  Mai called us to lunch. The three of us ate at a picnic table in the back garden. Then Frank offered me his second car, a beat-up Volvo, to use while he went up to Santa Fe to tend his gallery. He gave me a map, marked some places he thought I might find interesting. When I was in the driver's seat ready to leave, he propped his arms against the door, leaned forward and spoke.

  "You know you're going to have to pack iron."

  I shook my head.

  "You have to, Geof."

  "I didn't carry a gun in 'Nam. I'm not starting now."

  "Yeah, right-you only carry a camera. Well, we'll have to think about that," he said.

  I drove to Lami, checked out the railroad station, then followed the Pecos River into the Sangre de Cristo range. There was a Benedictine monastery up there. I looked at it. But when I came to a settlement called El Macho, I did a U-turn and drove back to Galisteo.

  I found Mai in her studio, an open-walled building set behind the house. She was wearing a welder's mask, cutting steel with an oxyacetylene blowpipe. She had an old stereo going full blast back there, Maria Callas as Norma, barely audible above the roar of her torch.