Screen Savers

Chapter 57

The next few days were spectacular. The news blackout was lifted at two o’clock that afternoon, at a press conference in Whitehall no less, at which the star performers were Miles, Dawn, me. . and the Prime Minister, determined to milk every last drop of publicity from the story.

He took the lead in telling the story of the kidnapping, of our turning to Detective Inspector Michael Dylan, a rogue Scottish policeman, only to be betrayed by him, of Miles turning in desperation to his Friend in a High Place, and of our insistence on being involved in the rescue mission ourselves.

He ended with an account of the confrontation in Amsterdam Airport, of the two fugitives’ attempt to use human shields to escape, and of their being shot by a Dutch Special Forces officer.

A few of the details were a bit fudged up; I didn’t like Mike’s name being blackened any further, but I knew that the PM could hardly tell the world that he’d been executed, on his orders, to save embarrassment. I was pleased though, that no mention was made of earlier events.

As you can imagine, the media went absolutely apeshit. Questions flew at us from all corners of the room. Miles was asked about his feelings when he realised that his wife had been taken, and his relief when we found her safe. He dealt with them with dignity and with eloquence. . although he said nothing about almost blowing Dawn’s brains out, or even about shooting the shit out of the galley kitchen.

They asked me about Dylan, and about what happened in Amsterdam. I told them that he had been a good friend to me, that there had been many times in my past when he had been there for me when I had needed him, and that his betrayal of us all for nothing other than money was one of the saddest things I had ever known. I also asked everyone to spare a thought for his girlfriend, who was at that moment under sedation in Glasgow.

I went along with the official version of the events in the airport restaurant as best I could. I didn’t say outright that Mike had threatened anyone, simply that ‘they’ had attempted to take a woman hostage, and that my Dutch companion had been left with no choice but to shoot them.

They asked me about Stephen Donn too; I told them that I had only ever known him as Stu Queen, movie electrician. I resisted the urge to add that Miles was disappointed that we hadn’t found him on the rig, since he would have taken great satisfaction from shooting his lights out himself.

Dawn didn’t take any questions. Miles told the crowd that she was still unable to speak about her ordeal, and they respected that. As our limo drove across Westminster Bridge on the start of the journey back to Surrey, he told me that their agent had sold the rights to a world exclusive interview to CNN for three million dollars.

Prim was with us in the car; she had stood at the back of the room during the press conference, unnoticed and anonymous.

‘Poor Susie,’ she said at last, as we headed south. ‘I can’t imagine what this will do to her.’

I looked at her. ‘At a time like this,’ I told her, ‘a girl needs her father. Why don’t you tell that to old Joe Donn?’

We drove back up to Scotland next morning. I had to team up with the GWA — for a trip to Amsterdam. You wouldn’t believe the pop I got from those Dutch fans when I stepped up for my first announcement — and Prim wanted to spend the weekend with Susie.

Then on the following Monday, I was back at work on the movie. Miles did re-shoot the ending to make it more like our real-life adventure; we got into wetsuits again and filmed some scenes in a big tank. But Dawn and I were still the surprise bad guys, he still got zapped, and I still went to my fiery doom in the blazing chopper. All in a day’s work — or in this case, a week, for by Friday we were finished, and Snatch, subject to editing, special effects, and adding the music score, was a wrap.

‘What do you think?’ I asked Miles, as he drove me to Heathrow to catch the shuttle to Glasgow. ‘How’s the movie going to do? Will I ruin it?’

He chuckled. ‘Nothing and no one could ruin that now,’ he said. ‘You remember that half-point of yours.’

‘How could I forget it?’

‘Well, it’s a point now. I owe you; that was a big thing you did, backing me up on that rig. In money terms, you can start thinking two million dollars and work up from there. Just one thing, though. Take my advice and don’t say anything to that money-grabbing bastard of an agent of yours!’

He dropped me off at terminal one, and I rushed for the plane. In the lounge and en route for Glasgow, I must have signed thirty autographs. Was this what life was going to be like from now on, I wondered? If so, I decided, it might be time for a sharp exit.

As I stepped off the 757, and out into the grey, drizzly Glasgow night, where Prim was waiting for me, I found, to my total surprise, that I was whistling Bali Hai — a bloody sight more tunefully than Dylan ever did, I might add.