The Trusted Professions - Chapter 8

This is your more regular love story, which happens, every day. It happens when one person falls in love with some other person?and that other person takes that love and uses it to drive their lover to the absolute depths of misery, lower than they?ve ever been. Why do they do this? What possible motivation could one person have for taking something given so freely, so openly, and twisting it to make that person suffer? There?s no answer. Because they can. Because it?s human nature to push at limits, and love knows no limits, so they keep pushing, and pushing, until they push someone off a cliff. That?s a love story.

So, until Max got Colmes to the hotel room, we only had her brooch-camera and earring-mics to know what was going on around her. Her suit didn't really have any space for a brooch, but she somehow transformed it into a choker for her tie in a couple of seconds- it was pretty impressive, it looked great. Jez had to agree with me, once she?d left the room, that she looked pretty damned good, albeit a little odd.

Me and Jez shared the same computer monitor. You'll no doubt have seen movies of surveillance teams in a van with bank after bank of rolling tape and endless tiny closed-circuit monitors with ill-defined purpose. Nowadays a single laptop can co-ordinate multiple audio and visual feeds simultaneously, whilst also recording all incoming data to the appropriate searchable directories for later cross-reference. We had a second laptop in the room as well, just in case the first one failed, or if one of us got bored and wanted to play Doom III.

The appointment was at eight-thirty, and we sent Max down to the restaurant ten minutes early to make sure she was there to greet Colmes- you don?t leave a man like that waiting. But Max walked straight past the restaurant and into the bar, and ordered herself a vodka martini. Eight thirty came and went. Max ordered another drink and a bowl of olives.

?What the hell is she doing?? Jez said.

?Jez is freaking out, isn?t he?? Max?s voice came up over the pickups almost immediately after he said it, even though we had no audio feed from us to her. Some ops like to have a receiver in the ear of the operative, but in my experience it just causes people to look like they aren?t paying attention, plus it?s an easy tell if you know where to look. Once someone is in the field, you have to let the dice roll where they lay, not confuse them with further instructions.

?Tell him not to worry, Cowboy. Who do you want in control of this situation, me or our man in there??

She slowly finished her Martini, and her olives (Jez whining: "She'll ruin her breath!") at eight forty-five and went to the maitre d', who directed her to a table on an elevated, glass-walled area at the back of the restaurant. At the table sat Saul Colmes. Larger than life. Saul Colmes had black, tightly curled hair. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses. He wore a relaxed, unassuming suit that nonetheless probably cost more than a vintage sports car. His face was slightly pock-marked from teenage acne. If he wasn?t worth several million he probably would have been a fairly ugly little man. As it was, he seemed to radiate great authority. He stood up as he realized Max was heading for him, and he took her proffered fingers in his hand.

?Mr. Colmes,? Max said briskly, professionally, in an accent she hadn?t yet used. She was apparently quite the actress. ?Karen Ellis. Pleased to meet you.?

?Ms. Ellis, a pleasure.? Saul replied.

?Karen, please.? She turned to the maitre d': ?Vodka martini.?

?Gin, rocks.? Saul said.

?Thank you.? Max said to the departing waiter.

?So, Karen. I don?t have a lot of time, I believe you have a proposition for me??

Max sat down in her chair, our computer-generated vision readjusted its focus to Colmes as she stabilized into one position.

?Yes, Mr. Colmes. A proposal that we think you will find both enhancing to your career and not at all financially unrewarding.?

I sensed Jez relax beside me as it seemed that Max was going to go with the script, after all.

?Sounds intriguing. I?m all ears.? Unlike our teleconference with Mrs. Colmes, his voice came through with crystal-clear fidelity. Like he was in the room. Like she was, too.

?We?d like you to be the host of a new game show we?re planning.?

Jez slapped his hand to his forehead. Twice.

?A game show??

?Yes. We?re going over different titles at the moment, but our current working title is ?Who Wants to be Exonerated?? We think you could be the new Chris Tarrant. Or Anne Robinson, if you like. Your profile will be exponentially multiplied.?

?I didn?t think it could be any bigger. What?s the concept behind the show??

?At the moment we?re thinking it could be the first true synthesis of game show and reality TV. I mean sure, they say Big Brother has game-show elements, but they?re all within the Reality TV context. We want our show to be a true melange- half-in-half. The premise is: for the first half of the show, we follow nine convicted prisoners around their daily lives, get to know them in a way that you can?t get to know contestants on regular game shows.?

Jez groaned and started to whisper something horrible to himself.

?That?s the first half of the show, getting to know the contestants. The second half is a more regular game-show format, where all the prisoners answer law and crime-themed questions in competition with the other inmates in order to gain an early release from their sentence. That?s where you come in. You ask the questions, take the answers. You just have to be yourself. One afternoon?s work a week for six weeks.?

Colmes? response was sharp. ?That sounds diabolical.?

?Ah, but here?s the twist: The prisoner with the lowest score at the end of each episode is the one who is released, because he knows the least about crime! The inmate who scored highest has time added to his sentence, since he?s obviously such a criminal master-mind.?

Jez got up from his chair and went to lie down on the bed, running his hands over and over through his hair.

?My political beliefs are wholly at odds with the idea of giving a prisoner early release, particularly under false pretences. How could you possibly think I would be interested in this insane idea? It?s a parody.?

?That?s exactly right. It is a parody. That?s the point. That?s why you?ll do it. It highlights the ludicrousness of the modern British penal system. I believe you?ve written several columns on the subject. ?Lethal injection- a cultural rejection?. ?Why does hard time seem so soft?? Your columns are what inspired us to come up with this concept. It?ll only run for a season anyway, since once the secret of the show filters down to the prisoners themselves, they?ll rig the games. But for that season, oh, Saul! You get to pontificate on the emptiness of British justice whilst talking to prisoners themselves. We get to take our cameras inside the prisons, to reveal the incompetence from within. The press spotlight will fall on the many flaws in the modern penitentiary system via the show, and actual change might occur. Because of a game show. Because of you. What single episode of your talk show has wielded that much power? And in the meantime? We both make a lot of money.?

Saul stared at Max for a few moments, considering her. His eyes held a great deal of gravity and thought. I thought for a second that he?d see through Max right then and there.

?You might be on to something.?

?It?ll be controversial, sure. But I don?t think you are a man to shy from controversy. Particularly if it can bring attention to real issues.?

?That?s true.? Saul said. ?Okay, but even if I think the idea might have some merit, there are still a great many issues to be considered. Surely the prisons board would never agree to this??

?We?ve made some initial contact with them and we think they could be made amenable.?

Jez was saying: ?No, no, no, no, no?.? over and over on the bed, while rolling from side to side with his hands to his face.

?Hmm. An interesting proposal- but I?d still need to give it careful consideration. Look, can you forward a brief to my office for me to look over? I?d really have to discuss it with my lawyer.?

?I have a brief in my room right now, if you?d like to come up and get it.?

?Actually, I have to go. Could you just have it sent up to my office please, Karen? I?m sure you have the address.?

?Saul?? Max reached out and put her hand on his forearm. ?I don?t think you quite understand me. It?s up?in my room.?

From our perspective through the monitor, Saul appeared as through a fish-eye lens, stretching upwards towards the top of the screen. For a moment I thought the feed had jammed, because it seemed that Saul had just frozen in one place, staring at Max. The monitor was colour, but it seemed as if Saul was slowly getting paler, his tan fading as he sat there, Max?s hand on his arm.

The pain in my throat suddenly made itself known again. A giant brick in my neck. If I could have reached through the monitor and punched Colmes in the mouth, I would have.

Saul continued to stare at Max for what seemed an inordinately long period of time. Jez sat up from the bed and stared at the monitor, which still seemed fixed in one single frame.

We both stared at the frozen monitor, frozen ourselves. The feed seemed to be coming in okay, all the bars were in the green. Then all of a sudden, Saul stood up.

?I?m very sorry,? he stammered, ?but I really must be going. Thank you so much for your time.? He seemed in an incredible rush to get away. Max let him go. She didn?t even get up.

?Be seeing you.?

?Y-yes.?

Saul stepped out of our camera?s field of vision. He was gone.

Max had failed.

?You fucking stupid, idiotic bitch!? Jez screamed.

?Chill?the?fuck?out.? Max said, very slowly, very seriously. We were back in the hotel room we were using as our base of operations.

?Chill out? You didn?t even proposition him!?

?I did exactly what was needed. It?s under control.?

?You did nothing! You royally humped the bunk is what you did. You think you?re getting paid for this??

?I think?hey, one of the veins on your forehead is pulsating. You should calm down before you do yourself a damage. I think that when I get you footage of the guy in a compromising position, you?ll give me what we agreed. And I will. Don?t?worry. And don?t swear at me, either. It?s very rude.?

?I?ll swear at you as much as I fucking well want to, you fucking headcase! Do you even know what the outlay for this operation was? And you just shat it all out the door. You didn?t even hit on him? What the hell was that??

?Really James, I?m worried about you. What?s your blood pressure??

?I blame you for this.? Jez redirected his venom at me. ?I told you this whore would fuck things up. Well you can fucking explain it to the client. I?ll see you to-god-damned-morrow.? He slammed the door of the suite behind him.

?That boy is so far up stress street I wonder if he'll ever find his way back.? Max said, disengaging the camera from her tie and giving the tie one long, sharp tug, so that it whipped out from around her neck with a whoosh of silk against cotton.

?Well, I can?t say I blame him. It went pretty disastrously, you have to admit. Maybe if you?d just stuck to the script??

?You think the script is the problem? Oh, dear. Let me tell you a little something about men, and I can?t believe I have to tell you this. If a man wants a woman, everything else around her is utterly irrelevant. I could have tried to sell him fucking drain cleaner, and that meeting would have been just as much of a success.?

?You call that a success??

Max considered me for a moment in her odd, angled-headed manner, before rolling her head around her shoulders and yawning loudly.

?How long you been watching this guy??

?I dunno. A month, I guess.?

?And I still figured him out more in a minute than you guys have in a month. Figures.?

?What do you mean??

?Saul won?t relinquish control of a situation very readily. It?s written all over his face, his body movements, his voice. No-one was going to walk up and start telling him what to do. No-one. If it?s gonna happen, it?s going to be on his terms. You can?t force this on him.?

?So what, we just?wait??

?Waiting can be fun.? She took off her suit jacket and threw it on the bed I was sitting on.

?How do you mean??

?I absolutely refuse to believe you are this dense.? She walked up to me and put one knee onto the bed on either side of me, straddling my lap, while facing me. ?I know you?ve figured it out by now.?

It took me about half a second to make up my mind. I grabbed the back of her neck with my left hand and pulled her face towards me to kiss her, hard. She tasted hot, like cinnamon. And maybe a bit like olives. We held the kiss for several minutes, I guess. I honestly don?t remember. Happiness seared my memory engrams right out of my brain, along with every other thought I might have been having. I just remember being utterly, stupidly happy. And, well, horny, obviously.

I remember the first thing she did after she broke away was to laugh a little to herself, and then say: ?Let?s go into the other room.?

?Why??

?It?s got cameras. It?s got mics. Could be instructional.? She grinned.

I picked her up and we headed for the door.