Araluen (44 page)

Once again, there was a change of lens and lighting and more close-ups. Emma could see the tension in the three faces as the sound of the guard’s footsteps receded, then stopped. Was he coming back? Unbearable suspense. The guard walked on. Jonathan’s eyes darted to Gussy. She stepped out of the shadows, he turned on his torch, and she continued her work.

It was a long and tiring shoot with many different set-ups and lighting changes, but it all went smoothly and Emma found every minute of it fascinating. So did Michael. In fact, Michael found it exciting. He kept talking her through the plot, whispering the script into her ear. As if she didn’t know it! She’d written the damn thing with him. It had been her idea, the shoe shining in the moonlight. But, as usual, his excitement was contagious. It fed her sense of involvement and she found herself watching through the eyes of the camera. Seeing it as it would appear up on the screen. Suspenseful. Real.

By two o’clock in the morning they’d finished the interiors. They were nearly an hour ahead of schedule and only the exterior shots of the beginning of the car chase remained.

‘We’re filming the entire chase sequence and the stunt stuff tomorrow night,’ Michael explained to Emma while the crew set up. ‘This is just where they’re seen leaving the building and the security guard radios through to the police.’

Twenty minutes later Michael called ‘Action’ and Emma stood watching with the rest of the crew as the actors crept out of the building. Gussy appeared first, keeping watch, with Jonathan and Ben following behind carrying the Cup. Suddenly Gussy muttered something. Too late. A cry rang out. ‘What the hell’s going on there!’

In an instant, everything happened at top speed. No panic. Just action stations. Gussy raced forward, opened the door of the waiting van and was in the driver’s seat with the engine revved up and ready to go by the time the men had reached the vehicle. They piled the Cup into the back, Ben with it, and Jonathan leapt into the front passenger seat. Before the doors were closed, Gussy had taken off. Behind them, the security guard fired a warning shot in the air and grabbed his walkie-talkie.

‘My God, she can drive,’ Emma muttered to Michael as they watched the car scream around the bend and head off down the road at breakneck speed. Michael nodded to the First Assistant Director, who was carrying a two-way radio.

‘Thanks, guys, that’s fine,’ the First said into his walkie-talkie. In the distance, the car slowed down.

‘You’re not wrong she can drive,’ Michael grinned. ‘Now aren’t they a pair, Gussy and Ben? Didn’t I do right? Admit it.’

‘OK, OK,’ she smiled back. ‘You did right. You’re a genius.’

They set up for the reverse shots on the guard and by three-thirty all was completed. That’s a wrap, boys and girls,’ Michael called an hour ahead of time. ‘Well done.’

The caterer put out a light supper and there were wrap drinks for all, but at four o’clock Michael suggested to Emma and Stanley that they come back to the house. ‘I have an announcement to make,’ he said eagerly. ‘And there’s a whole crate of Dom there – we can toast ourselves with the real stuff.’ Michael had slipped into the men’s lavatory for a quick snort and now the prospect of announcing his news, the thrill of anticipation, was becoming more than he could bear.

‘To Jonathan, Gussy and Ben,’ Michael announced when their glasses were charged. They were comfortably settled in the upstairs sitting room which had been allocated to Michael as his personal office. The dummy trophy had been placed in a position of honour on the large centre coffee table. Michael raised his glass in salute. ‘They did a fantastic job.’

Stanley and Emma joined Michael in the toast. And then he continued. ‘Particular congratulations to Gussy and Ben,’ he said as he picked up the open bottle of champagne and poured the remaining half into the Cup, ‘for doing it so well the second time around.’

As Emma and Stanley exchanged a puzzled glance, Michael leaned down, tilted the Cup to his lips and drank. Then he gestured for Emma to do the same. ‘Drink from the America’s Cup, Emma,’ he said.

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, puzzled. He was jumpy again, feverish in his excitement. Bloody cocaine, she thought.

‘I’m talking about the fact that we have just stolen the America’s Cup.’

For a moment they stared at him, dumbfounded. Then Stanley leapt up and grabbed at the Cup, the champagne spilling everywhere as he searched for Lou’s distinguishing mark. It wasn’t there. It should have been towards the bottom of the handle, on the inside of it – the distinctive looped ‘L’, the engraver’s insignia Lou always incorporated in his imitations to ensure they could never be mistaken for genuine forgery attempts.

‘Jesus Christ, Michael, what have you done?’

‘I told you. I have stolen the America’s Cup. Or, rather, we have. We three. We talented three. We band of brothers.’ Michael’s grin was one of sheer elation. ‘Emma co-wrote the plot, you researched the feasibility and technique and we’ve done it.’

He started to open another bottle of champagne. ‘With a little help from Gussy and Ben, of course.’ Michael looked down at the drenched carpet and the pool of champagne on the coffee table. ‘What a waste,’ he said.

‘He’s serious, isn’t he?’ Emma asked. She pointed at the Cup. ‘That’s the real thing.’

‘Yes,’ Stanley answered. ‘It is.’ He turned to Michael, shocked. ‘How the hell did you do it?’

‘Exactly the way you told me to, Stan. I followed your instructions to the letter. Well, Ben and Gussy did. And there were no foul-ups like there were in the dramatised version. No shoe in the moonlight, no security guard seeing them leave the building. But of course they’re pros – they wouldn’t make such dumb mistakes. I was very proud of them. They’re an odd little pair but they’re bloody good at their job.’

‘Ben and Gussy are the genuine article?’ Stanley asked, astonished.

‘Too right they are: the best in the business. Safe-cracking, lock-picking, cat-burglary, you name it – and they cost a fortune. Of course, Ben and Gussy aren’t their real names.’ Michael refilled the Cup from the freshly opened bottle. ‘I watched the whole thing last night. Christ, it was exciting. They didn’t want me to and I had to double the fee for the experience but it was worth it, I can tell you.’

‘You mean, last night they exchanged the real Cup for the dummy?’ Emma asked, still trying to figure it all out. ‘Well, the night before last,’ she added looking at her watch. It was half-past four in the morning. ‘And the dummy trophy the security guys put in the case for the shoot was the real thing?’

‘Yeah. Fantastic, isn’t it?’ Michael grinned. ‘We stole it all over again. And the Cup they’re carefully guarding at the Yacht Club is the fake. Isn’t that hysterical?’

‘It’s insane,’ Stanley said. ‘And you’re crazy,’ He stared at the Cup, shaking his head. ‘You’re out of your fucking mind. That thing’s the Holy Grail to the sporting world. They’ll lock us up and throw away the key if we’re caught with it.’

‘So?’ Michael giggled. He was enjoying himself immensely, ‘We make sure we don’t get caught with it. We’re the only three who know about it except for Ben and Gussy and they’re certainly not going to talk. They’re on a plane to Mauritius in a couple of hours.’ Stanley tried to interrupt but Michael continued. ‘It was your idea to use stun-ties for the car chase, Stan, remember? “Can’t use actors for car chases,” you said. All of Ben and Gussy’s stuff’s in the can; Jonathan’s the only one we need any more.’

‘But why?’ Emma asked. She stared at the trophy, fascinated. ‘Why did you do it?’ Stanley was right, Michael was crazy. But it was thrilling. Last night she’d wanted to touch the America’s Cup and here it was sitting in front of her on a coffee table and it was filled with champagne and she was going to drink from it. Yes, it was insane. But it was also thrilling. Wildly thrilling.

To Michael, Emma’s reaction was the most thrilling thing of all. He could sense her excitement and he delighted in it They were two of a kind. There was a madness in her too and he loved her for it.

‘Why not?’ he answered. ‘I suppose I just wanted to see if it could be done to start with. But then it hit me … if we really could do it, just imagine the hype! I could announce it at the New York premiere: “Hey, world, this is the real thing. You’re about to watch the real live theft of the genuine America’s Cup.” Everybody and his dog is going to want to see this movie after that.’

‘Did you plan it right from the beginning?’ Stanley asked. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t approve but the insanity was contagious and, now that the initial shock had worn off, he was intrigued. ‘Right from the initial script stage?’

‘It was always in the back of my mind,’ Michael nodded. ‘But it was only when I saw how good the dummy was that I thought we could actually pull it off. You’re right, Stan, Lou’s a genius.’

‘What are you going to do with the damn thing?’

‘Oh, give it back, of course. They’d be bound to find out eventually.’

‘You’re just going to hand it back tomorrow?’ Emma asked. ‘ “Here’s your cup, sorry we stole it"?’

‘Exactly. The Yacht Club’ll be furious, but what can they do about it? It would be far too embarrassing if the news got out. I’ll tell them we were testing their security system. Hey, that’s a good idea,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve done them a favour – they should consider it a very valuable exercise. Now drink. Come on.’ He tilted the cup in Emma’s direction. ‘We’re the only people in the world who’ll ever have a chance to do this, Emma. You first.’

Emma looked at Stanley, who shook his head, gave a wry smile and shrugged back at her. Then she leaned over, took the Cup in her hands, and drank deeply.

It became a ceremony. One by one they drank from the America’s Cup. Two more bottles of Dom Perignon and two joints later, they started to get the giggles. Mildly hysterical giggles.

‘Didn’t you ever wonder why I made all those dialogue changes from the original script?’

Michael asked Emma. ‘I gave Jonathan virtually all the vocal stuff in the baddies’ scenes.’

‘I didn’t question it for a minute,’ Emma replied. ‘I thought it was because Jonathan’s agent had demanded a larger role.’

‘Nope.’ Michael passed the joint to Stanley. ‘Ben and Gussy’s specialised training didn’t include acting technique. I was playing it safe.’

Stanley threw back his head and roared with laughter. It was uncharacteristic of him but the marijuana and the champagne had gone right to his head. ‘Poor Jonathan,’ he said. ‘Imagine the show he’d have put on if he’d known he was working with amateur actors – he’s such an old queen.’

They all started laughing, very very loudly. ‘Oh, I did the right thing,’ Michael protested when they’d calmed down, ‘I signed Ben and Gussy up as members of Actors’ Equity.’

The three of them burst out laughing again. ‘They were terribly good,’ Emma said when things were once again under control. ‘Both of them.’ The booze and joints had gone to her head too and she felt awfully silly. ‘You never know, they might win AFI awards for Best Support.’ She’d meant it quite seriously but it started them all off again and eventually Michael, the first to recover, suggested they open another bottle and throw themselves in the pool to sober up.

It seemed a good idea. It was seven o’clock in the morning, they had a production meeting at midday and it would be wise to get a bit of sleep before then.

It would also be a good idea, Emma suggested,as they started stripping by the side of the pool, to keep their underwear on. It was a bright summer’s morning, the entire household would soon be awake and the landscaped garden was overlooked by two other houses. She jumped into the water in her bra and panties and the boys did as they were told and joined her in their underpants.

The shock of the cold water had a particularly sobering effect on Michael and he watched the other two as they splashed about childishly in the shallow end of the pool.

Emma had never looked more desirable. The white panties were stark against her lithe, tanned body and the lace bra accentuated the swell of her breasts. Without a trace of make-up and with her wet hair plastered back from her face she looked like a healthy, vibrant young animal at play.

Emma herself was completely oblivious of her appearance. She’d only been stoned twice in her life before and she’d certainly never drunk so much champagne in one sitting. The combination was a heady experience and she felt like a naughty, liberated ten-year-old.

Stanley too was feeling the effects. But he wasn’t feeling like a ten-year-old. He was also aware of Emma’s near-nakedness. God, she was a beautiful looking creature, he thought admiringly. But he didn’t dwell on it. He never let himself dwell on the deep admiration and affection he felt for Emma. What was the point? She was unavailable and anyway, she obviously didn’t feel the same way about him. Stanley had long since decided that any pursuit of Emma would be a useless, painful and destructive exercise. So he joined in the games and the two of them splashed each other and raced each other and ducked each other until they were thoroughly exhausted.

Michael was enjoying the sensation of the water caressing his body. He glided around the edges of the pool feeling the occasional contact of the smooth cold tiles against his skin and he basked in the sensuality of the moment.

He looked at Emma and longed to touch her. The thought of that firm flesh beneath his fingers. The nape of that neck. The curve of that back …

‘I’ve had it.’ With her last ounce of remaining energy, Emma hauled herself out of the pool. ‘I’m going upstairs to pass out,’ she said, gathering her clothes together.

Stanley also climbed out of the water and started drying himself with his T-shirt. ‘Me too,’ he agreed.

Michael floated on his back and looked up at the two of them.

Emma struggled into her shirt, still dripping wet. ‘Well, that has to be the most wonderful and indulgent night of my life,’ she grinned. ‘You are wicked men the pair of you.’ She blew a kiss to both of them as she turned to go. ‘But most of all you, Michael,’ she laughed as she disappeared inside, ‘you’re a danger to be near.’

When Stanley had gone inside, Michael floated for a few more minutes then collected his clothes and went up to his rooms. He had to be with Emma. Alone. It was the right time now. The time he’d planned for so long.