This Other Eden (21 page)

‘Exactly,’
Nathan agreed, ‘I
think
that’s what I was trying to say, but I did not
see it so clearly until you explained it.’

‘You do
recall, I’m sure, that I’m the woman who just tried to shoot the very fellow
you want me to work for?’

‘Ah,
but that’s the point,’ Max chipped in. ‘Plastic thinks he’s going to use you,
but really you’re going to use him. We’re in the driving seat! I’m the star, I
have veto on any director, Nathan here will write it. Don’t you see? We’re in
control. We can do a movie that makes you people look great, that makes
you
look
great. A real hero.’

‘I
never heard such nonsense,’ said Rosalie, and how Max loved the way that she
spoke. ‘I’m sure I don’t know much about Hollywood, but I do know that the only
person in the driving seat on a Plastic Tolstoy film would be the man himself.’

‘Fillum?’
asked Max. ‘What’s a fillum?’

‘Film,’
Nathan translated, ‘Rosalie means a Tolstoy movie.’

‘Oh,
right … Well, sure we’ll have to put the case for Claustrosphere a little
in the fillum too,’ Max conceded, ‘but balance is good.’

‘I like
balance. Balance is sexy,’ Nathan agreed.

‘Damn
balance,’ Rosalie said, adding, ‘Sorry, Granny.’

‘I
agree with the point Rosalie just made about balance,’ said Nathan, ‘I don’t
think we need it. I’m sure Granny agrees with me on this one.

‘Of
course we need balance,’ said Max.

‘Exactly,’
Nathan agreed furiously. ‘We need balance, we don’t need balance. It’s a both
ways thing, it
has
to be.’

‘That’s
right,’ said Max. ‘Balance shows what big people Mother Earth are. People who
are not afraid to see the other guy’s point of view. Vulnerability is very big
right now.’

‘It’s
huge,’ Nathan agreed, ‘believe me, Rosalie. Vulnerability is huge. There was a
new fillum premièred last month: no vulnerability, it
died.
Complete
turkey. You could smell the gravy and the Brussels sprouts from outside the
theatre.’

‘You’re
both completely out of your little minds.’ Rosalie picked up her mobile phone.
‘I’ll give the fellows who brought you here a call
—
they’re only in the
village. They’ll take you back to Dublin.’

‘What?
Now?’ asked Max.

‘Certainly,
now. The sooner you complete idiots go away and stop wasting my precious time
the better. And I might add that I don’t care if I never see or hear from
either of you again.’

‘So
it’s a “maybe” then?’ said Nathan.

‘Rosalie,’
pleaded Max, seeing his chance to get to know her better slipping away. ‘We are
going to make you into a national hero!’

‘We are
talking about a
fillum
here,’ Nathan added.

Neither
he nor Max could begin to comprehend Rosalie’s attitude. They thought it must
be a joke. In the world in which they lived, a green-lighted movie with the
budget in place was
the
life goal. Nobody turned it down.

‘Mr
Hoddy,’ Rosalie asked, ‘if this
movie
goes ahead, how long before it
gets shown?’

‘From
now? Ideally eighteen months. Realistically two years tops.’

‘Yes,
well it’s my belief that there may not be a world to show it to in two years’
time. Perhaps everyone can take a little video of it into their Claustrospheres
when the Rat Run happens! Good heavens, Mr Maximus, when I heard you were
looking for us, I thought perhaps you genuinely wanted to join us.’

‘I do!
I do!’ Max exclaimed.

‘No,
you don’t! You just want to use us, that’s all. It’s a damn shame, that’s what
it is. A figure like you could have helped us with getting through to younger
people and. .

Rosalie’s
voice trailed away. She scarcely liked to admit it even to herself, but she had
been rather excited about seeing Max again. What is more, not for merely
professional reasons. She had liked him the day they met at the DigiMac Studio.
Liked him, even considering that he had had a horn grafted to his head at the
time. He had also, of course, saved her from Plastic Tolstoy. Rosalie liked men
who did that sort of thing. Yes, there was no doubt about it, Rosalie had been
a bit taken with Max Maximus. Now it turned out he was just another shit who
was working for Claustrosphere.

‘I
wouldn’t let you near one of my operations if you were Jurgen Thor himself.’

Max
could see that he had a lot of ground to make up. He was just about to start
the process when events overtook them.

Chapter Fourteen

A standing ovation

Under
siege.

Outside, the Garda were in
position. The Inspector of Police in charge of the arresting party fired his
revolver into the air and informed the occupants of the cottage via megaphone
that they were surrounded. The Inspector added that he and his men were there
in order to arrest the woman known as Rosalie Connolly. If she came out quietly
nobody would be hurt and no other person would be arrested.

Inside
the cottage there was silence for a moment. Rosalie’s eyes burned into Max. She
was wondering why the Garda had come now. Did this American and this Englishman
have something to do with it? Rosalie did not mind Yanks, but she was not big
on the Brits at the best of times, and it did seem strange that the Garda had
followed so hot on the heels of the two movie men. Max shrank under Rosalie’s
gaze. He was a fine actor, he had made a career out of communicating a thought
with just a look. He could also read the thoughts on other people’s faces. He
knew what Rosalie was thinking.

‘Rosalie,
I swear I
—‘
he started to protest his innocence, but Rosalie’s gran cut
him short.

‘This
has nothing to do with you. So shut up, keep your head down and you won’t get
hurt.’

Her
husband was sweeping china ornaments from the beautiful old chest that stood
in the corner of the room. Having cleared the top, he opened it to reveal a
stash of arms.

‘If you
fight,’ said Max, ‘I fight too.’

‘What!’
Nathan gasped.

Ruth
too was surprised, but she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

‘Can
you use a gun?’ she asked. Max gave her a pitying glance.

‘Ruth,
I come from LA. Most times it’s a question of trying to remember how
not
to
use a gun.’

Sean
thrust an automatic rifle into Max’s hands. He offered one to Nathan.

‘We are
here to pitch a
movie,’
Nathan pleaded in horror.

‘Not
any more!’ cried Max. ‘We’re defending the homestead!’

Max was
terribly excited. He loved to do mad things and they did not come much madder
than this. In fact, the only thing he loved more than doing mad things was
doing mad things in front of beautiful girls. Particularly beautiful girls with
whom he would dearly love to spend long romantic evenings, drinking wine,
talking and eventually screwing for an inordinately long time and in a variety
of interesting positions and different domestic locations.

Nathan
could see that trying to reason with Max would be useless, and dived under the
kitchen table. He could think of nothing better to do.

Ruth
and Sean were both armed now. Sean ran out of the kitchen to cover the back of
the cottage, whilst Ruth knocked out one of the kitchen windows and prepared to
fire. Max, taking his cue from the gun-toting granny, also knocked out a window
and then inspected his weapon. He wanted to ensure that he fully understood its
working and would not be fumbling to reload when the heat got hot. Rosalie too
had got her weapon from the wall and for a moment she seemed ready to start
shooting, then however she stopped and her face fell. She stood dejected in the
middle of the kitchen.

‘Gran,’
she said, ‘this is stupid. We’re trapped, we can’t shoot it out, they have us
cornered. Besides, we don’t want to kill a load of innocent coppers. I mean,
that’s no good, is it?’

‘But,
sweetie,’ said her gran. ‘The stuff they’ve got on you, they’ll put you away
for ever. You’ll do thirty years.’

‘There
aren’t thirty years left, Gran.’

‘Exactly,
darling, which is why you have to be free to fight.’ The old lady’s knuckles
were white over the trigger. ‘No copper ever stopped your mother and father
getting shot outside Sellafield, did they? The police may just be innocent
boys, but their job is to defend the things that are killing us all.’

Sean
shouted from the other room. ‘Your gran’s right, Rosalie! They mustn’t take
you. The trail bike’s all ready in the sheep shed. If we cover you, you can get
along the stream gully to the dry-stone wall and be away!’

‘Sure,
and have my own grandparents tried as cop killers.’

‘We
don’t have to hit them,’ Max interjected. ‘We just use our fire to pin them
down.’

But
Rosalie was adamant. The place was surrounded by armed police and, as far as
she was concerned, she was nicked. Outside, the Inspector of Police reacted to
the clear signs that the cottage was preparing to defend itself. He informed
them in no uncertain terms that they were hugely outgunned and that any threat
to his officers would be met with the full force at his disposal. The
Inspector’s point was basically that Rosalie was cornered good and proper so
why should anybody have to get killed? Rosalie agreed with him and decided to
give herself up.

Inside
the cottage Max started to take his clothes off.

The
actor prepares.

Max’s plan was simple. He
was, he reminded them, short and slim and also a brilliant actor. It was still
only half-light outside and, as far as anyone knew, none of the Garda had ever
seen Rosalie personally. Yes, they had probably seen her arrive, but it would
have been at a distance and in the dark. Even if they had used night-sights,
they would really only have been able to make out her clothes. Max explained
all this whilst stripping down to his underwear before the startled group.

‘Come
on, come on,’ he snapped. ‘Give me your clothes! They’ll have seen your
clothes.’

‘Don’t
be bloody stupid. You don’t look a bit like me.

‘Hey
lady! This is my bag, OK? My space. I know what goes down… It’s dark, it’s
cold, the cops want to bust some ass and go home. So, let them bust my ass.
Believe me, acting is about bluff. If you do it with chutzpah people will buy
it, no matter how unconvincing you are.’ Max spoke with conviction, having
recently attended an Arnold Schwarzenegger retrospective at the American Film
Institute. ‘If I go out there with your beret pulled over my ears, a little bit
of make-up and a dress they won’t think Jack Shit about it. Get real, Rosalie,
what are the chances of an American movie star walking out of this cottage
dressed as a babe terrorist? Zilch. The cops wouldn’t believe it even if I
showed them my dick. They saw you go in, they’ll see you come out … Besides
which, what have you got to lose to be sure my little darling?’ This last, Max
delivered in a good approximation of Rosalie’s Irish accent. He also raised the
pitch of his voice a little, not a great deal, just enough. Not all women have
high voices by any means and there is nothing less convincing than a man
squeaking to sound like a woman.

Rosalie
wavered no longer. She pulled off her jumper and dress.

‘What
do I have to lose? If they suss you, which they will, so what?’

‘Exactly,’
said Max. ‘But they won’t.’

‘They
will if you say “to be sure”,’ said Ruth. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard an
Irish person say that in my life.’

‘I’ll
need the bra, I’m afraid,’ said Max, unable to stop himself glancing
appreciatively at Rosalie’s body … It seemed so, he didn’t know, real …
‘and something to stuff it with.’

‘You
won’t need much, I’m not one of your Hollywood types.

She turned
her back to him and took off her bra, replacing it with a T-shirt that her gran
handed her from the clothes-horse by the fire.

Max
began to construct his character. He had shaved only a few hours earlier at the
hotel, and, by adding a little powder that Ruth supplied, he managed to conjure
up an acceptably smooth skin. Some lipstick and a tiny nod towards eyeliner
changed him out of all recognition… although, of course, he still did not
look a bit like Rosalie. Rosalie had been wearing big walking boots with her
dress, long woollen socks, a greatcoat over it all and her chestnut hair tucked
into a black beret. Max’s hair was nearly shoulder-length so he was able to get
away with that and, having borrowed a pair of farmer’s boots from Sean, the
magic was beginning to work.

‘You
know something, Max,’ said Nathan, who had emerged from underneath the table,
‘you might just get away with it.’