Get Real

32

DOUG WATCHED them go down the stairs, listened to the fire door slam, then closed this upper door and turned to the group, to Babe and Marcy and Ombelen and Muller, now on their feet in the Combined Tool living room, and beamed as he said, “That went very well.”

Babe said, “You notice, the first thing John asked about was the lock on this door here.”

“Well, it is pretty elaborate, Babe. Anybody’s likely to notice it.”

Muller said, “They were all very interested in this place. They wanted to know, what are the secrets here?”

“Well,” Babe said, “what we told them is almost completely true. Secrets that don’t concern any of us here.” Nodding at Muller’s wheelie suitcase, he said, “Except for a little cash going through, every once in a while.”

Muller said, “They might very well be interested in that cash, if they knew it existed.”

“Well, it’s leaving with you today,” Babe said. “And the next time there’s our cash in here is when the Brits wire the gang their payments and we draw it out of the New York bank.” He grinned and spread his hands. “If they want to steal their own pay, they’re welcome to it.”

“But something like that,” Marcy said.

They all looked at her. Babe said, “Something like what?”

“What if,” Marcy said, “they were going along with all this only because they wanted to steal something else?”

Babe frowned. “Like what?”

“I don’t mean for real,” Marcy said. “I mean, in our story line. Could we get that in, get an audience to understand that the gang is agreeing to be filmed only because they really intend to steal something else entirely?”

Babe said, “I keep asking, steal what from us? We don’t have anything useful to them.”

“I don’t know,” Marcy said. “A camera truck? Those are very valuable.”

Scoffing, Babe said, “What are they gonna do with a camera truck? Peddle it under the table to NBC?”

“I don’t know,” Marcy said, “but it would be a nice complication if they meant to steal from us as well as from the storage place. Okay if I think about it a while?”

“Think all you like,” Babe told her.

Doug said, “But, Marcy, I’ll tell you what you do have to think about. Factions.”

Marcy looked abruptly guilty, as though suddenly realizing she hadn’t prepared her homework. “I know,” she said. “I’ll work on that, Doug, I really will.”

Muller said, “Excuse me, I am only an outsider here, but if you do not object to the question, factions? What factions?”

Doug gestured at the television screen where they’d recently watched the snippet of their still-unnamed show. “In that footage,” he said, “they’re all agreeing with one another all the time. There’s no factions, there’s no arguments, there’s no choosing sides. You can’t have drama that way.”

“I see,” Muller said, though he sounded doubtful.

Marcy said, “Doug’s right. They have to struggle toward a consensus, it can’t all be too easy. The only problem is, it seems as though they do all get along. It’s up to me to find a way to get them to disagree about something.”

“You have to,” Doug told her. “We want them fighting with each other. We want some yelling, people waving their arms around. They’re all too happy with one another. We need some conflict.”

“If possible,” Marcy said.