Attention to Detail

Writer’s Block

“Here’s my problem,” she started to explain to Jim Preston, her literary agent and business manager. “In the new book I have a chapter where the female protagonist manages to escape from the prison van. She hides out in a farmhouse, contacts her friends, finally goes on to clear her name, et cetera, et cetera. The catch: she has her ankles shackled together along with the handcuffs. How far can she go in half a day of walking? And how well does she make out in the farmhouse? Can she find some way to get the chains off? It can’t be that easy or the cops wouldn’t use them.”

Jim shrugged. “You and your obsession with realism. I have no idea how far your character can walk, maybe a mile or two? What difference does it make anyway? It’s fiction, make something up.”

Alice Keller shook her head. “No, and that’s why I’m the bestseller author and you’re the agent. If something isn’t believable it ruins the whole story. There are only so many plots available. It’s the attention to the detail that puts the Keller Mystery series onto the bookshelves. Look Jim, I need to know. It’s a crucial point in the book that’s bugging me. I have to get this right or I can’t finish it. I have to capture how she feels and put it on paper: the adrenalin rush of her escape, the fear of being discovered as she hides out, the edge of panic that sharpens her wits as she hides out trying to clear her name, all that has to grab the reader at a visceral level. I’ve tried to imagine it but I can’t get it right.

“I need your help. You’ve come to the rescue before when I’ve had writer’s block. I’ve hit a wall with the new story and like so many times before I decided to turn to you for help. Find me a way to get the realism I need. It doesn’t have to be exactly the same circumstances, just some way for me to get into the character’s head.”

Jim leaned back in his chair and looked across the desk at Alice. She was his premier author, the biggest moneymaker he had ever represented. A steady producer too, and that was something rare in the publishing business. Whenever he had a new Alice Keller manuscript in hand the big publishing houses came to him, called him for lunch, asked when he was Free for dinner at one of the way, way upscale restaurants, even invited him to the company stadium box for the next game. Quite a turnaround from the days when he would come begging at their door. If she needed something his job was to ensure she got it, even if he had to skirt laws a time or two to keep her satisfied. He still had nightmares over the time she wanted to get the feel of shooting a 1920’s submachine gun from a speeding Model T car in the middle of the night…with real bullets on a real city street.

Yet for all her quirks he was forced to admit she had found a winning formula. Six major books in the last nine years, and she was still going strong. He would be the last one to tell her to change her style. “Alright, I assume you have the relevant pages for me? Let me make some calls and I’ll see what I can arrange. You come up with some wild requests Alice, but you’re the one with the talent for getting it right. Have you worked in one of your famous filter themes yet?”

What gave Alice’s books their distinct cachet was the way she provided the clues to solve the mystery. Not only would she tell the reader everything to solve the crime, but she would throw in far more misleading but seemingly consistent clues. Only when the overwhelming numbers of hints were “filtered”, as she put it, with a special theme did they come together and point out not only the perpetrator but the secret motive as well.

She slid a USB stick across the desk toward him. “This is what I’ve outlined so far. I don’t have a filter theme yet, and that’s part of the problem. Help me become her, Jimbo, so I can come up with something clever to make us both another pile of money.” She put her hand on the stick when he reached for it. “The usual too, no one knows it’s me, no one sees this, no one has a clue as to what I’m doing. It’s our secret. I trust you but no one else. Tell me the date and time, and where I have to be but nothing else except the essentials. I can’t go into this with preconceptions. Surprise me. We’ll do the usual press release, in seclusion to concentrate on the book et cetera, et cetera. No one knows where I am or when I’ll be back.”

“A done deal,” Jim replied, “I’m sure I have the usual boilerplate somewhere on the computer. No comment from this office, no appointments or appearances until you finish. I’m sure your friends are used to this by now.”

Alice snorted. “My friends, yeah, like I care about them. They just want to be seen in the company of the famous. Any of them show up tell them to take a flying…”

“Now, now, try to be civil,” Jim interrupted her. “I’m sure there’s one or two who sincerely enjoy your acerbic company.”

Alice sneered at his comment. “Acerbic, moi? Why Jim, I try to be just the sweetest thing. I’m devastated.”

“Yeah, right. Okay, I’ll need a few days for this. Why don’t you plan to start on Saturday morning? Leave all next week open. I’ll get back to you with details when I know more.” Jim picked up the stick and put it in his shirt pocket. She was right about the secrecy. Her manuscripts were easily worth their weight in gold. An excerpt in some magazine would be a real coup for some unscrupulous editor. The USB drive would stay with him or in his safe until it was erased, with a hammer.

Halfway to the door she stopped and turned to face him again. Her expression and tone of voice switched from bantering to serious. “I’m counting on you Jim. Writing is my life. You are the one person that makes it possible. You’ve never let me down when I needed help.” She turned back to the door and left his office.

Jim spun his chair around to the office window. In the distance he could see the San Gabriel Range, the mountains that separated Los Angeles from the deserts. An office on the top floor with picture perfect scenery came with a premium rent. If he wanted to keep that view he’d have to get to work. Opening up his laptop computer from the desk he inserted Alice’s drive and brought up her outline on his display. Even as he began reading he already had some idea of how he would approach her problem. Isolation, panic, desperation, the emotions of being trapped and hunted combined with rage at being unjustly put in a position of danger, her character needed all of that and more. The complicated part would be keeping his prize talent out of real danger without her knowing about it.

The Setup

The following morning Jim told his receptionist to hold all but the most important calls, and not to make any appointments for the next two days. He needed time to work on Alice’s project without interruptions. Inside his private office he went to the safe in the closet and took out his address book of special contacts. These were the people who could, for a relatively expensive fee, provide products and services not normally advertised to the general public. One advantage of being a freelance literary agent was the unique people who came to him to help shop their books around the publishing houses. Not all of them sold their story but in a few cases Jim did help to sell their dubiously legal but unique skills. Considering the size of the last contract he negotiated for an Alice Keller book the high costs to employ those contacts would not be an issue.

At his desk he brought up on his computer the working list he had prepared after going over Alice’s notes. These were the items he needed to make her request become reality. At the top of his list was location. That was also the easiest to cover. He knew just who to contact.

Dialing the number in his book he prayed it was still good. Fortune smiled on him as a voice with a familiar accent answered on the third ring. “Tonio? It’s Jim, Jim Preston. Are you available for some consulting?”

“Sure thing Jimbo. Your money’s always good with me. Whatcha looking for?” Antonio Vanzetti was an exclusive travel agent who specialized in finding hideaway places for the rich and famous to vacation in privacy. Jim had arranged several trips for his clients with Antonio, without a single complaint about his ability to deliver. Unproven rumors also circulated that he had a side business providing the same service for people who were not too popular with law enforcement agencies.

“I need a place that’s isolated, and I mean really isolated. No one in or out except by air. It has to have a small house with all the basics, power, water, that sort of thing. But I don’t require any luxuries. I want it starting this Friday, for a week.” He would need a day to set up what he had in mind at the site before she arrived. “I’ll take care of stocking it with food and anything else it might need. No weather extremes either, shirtsleeve temperature during the day. What’s critical is a guarantee no one can possibly show up uninvited, and no one is around. What can you do for me?” If anyone could find such a place Tonio could. If he could deliver it then the rest of Jim’s scheme would fall neatly into place.

“One second Jim, let me check something.” The phone went to music on hold. Italian opera, something by Verdi, a nice touch to feed those rumors, Jim thought, I bet real mafia dons listen to the Beatles. Antonio came back on the line. “Okay Jim, here’s what I have. It’s a privately owned valley in central Nevada. No roads, and mountains on all sides. Only way in or out is by helicopter or a grueling 50 mile hike over rough terrain. There’s an A-frame cabin with solar panels for power and LP gas for heating or cooking. It has well water and a septic tank. It sleeps four, two in the bedroom loft and two in the fold out sofa in the main room. Complete kitchen, though you have to watch the batteries at night. You’ll have to stock it with food and LP gas, and put in a satellite phone if you want communications. No TV, telephone or radio. No cellular service either. This time of year it’s warm during the day but not Hot. It is desert so it cools off at night, jacket at least. It’s open for the next month.”

It was exactly what he was looking for. “Perfect Tonio, I knew I could count on you. Sign me up for a week starting Friday morning. This deal is discrete, no names, no middlemen and no paper, any problem with that?”

“No problemo, Jimbo. I’ll send over the details by courier, my cousin. Most days he can’t even remember his name, much less where he’s been making deliveries. Let me give you the numbers,” he paused before reading off the rate and total amount. “Any problem with the bottom line?”

It was steep but within what Jim expected. “Not an issue. Tell your cousin there will be a return envelope. You made my day Tonio, go have a nice big spaghetti dinner on me tonight.”

“Thanks Jim, but I hate the stuff. Olive oil and oregano keeps me up all night. You can owe me lunch. Look for my cuz by 3pm. Later Jim, always a pleasure to hear from you.”

Jim hung up the phone and ticked off the first item on the list. Now that he had a location, he could arrange the transportation. Pilot, Alice, and the supporting cast, make it four passengers total, he added up mentally. A medium sized helicopter with some range would work best given the proximity to the Nevada border. He turned to his book of special contacts once again, looking for a particular name.

The phone rang about six times before someone picked it up. Better than average, Jim thought, it usually takes a dozen or more. “Here And There Aviation, this is Doug.” Just the man Jim was looking for. Douglas Lumumba could fly just about any type of aircraft anywhere in the world. He didn’t care where he was going or what was in the back of the plane either. No drug smuggling, but otherwise he didn’t ask for names or demand to see inside the shipping crates. He only did business by reference, with people he knew. The story was he occasionally did some favors for unnamed government agencies, usually in his native central Africa, and in return they looked the other way as long as he didn’t get involved with the drug cartels. If he had the right kind of copter then he would be perfect for the trip.

“Hey Doug, this is Jim Preston. I have a job coming up, thought you might be interested in it. Someone well known wants to get away from it all for a few days. The place isn’t too far away, central Nevada. You interested?”

“Hi Jim, haven’t heard from you in a while. Nevada? I don’t see a problem. Any info on conditions at the landing site, and what can I expect for weight?”

Jim read off the coordinates of the valley from Antonio’s information sheet. “There’s no landing strip or road so it’ll take a helicopter to get in there. I’ll need for you to make multiple round trips, to different parts of the valley. Cargo will be three passengers who will not wish to be disturbed.” That was a tactful way of saying no conversation and no questions. “It will be necessary for one passenger to not have a view outside. I’ll need a preliminary trip for supplies and an inspection, then the main trip on Saturday, and a pickup sometime later on the following week. The first two trips there might be a stop in San Francisco on the way back. And Doug, the client specified a cash deal.” That was the code word for an under-the table transaction.

“I don’t think there will be any difficulties with that. One minute while I check the charts.” Jim heard a rustle of paper over the phone. “Flying in Nevada is complicated with all the military zones. Is radar or following the flight plan a consideration? Will you need a package?”

Jim almost laughed before he realized Doug was serious. A “package” referred to electronic countermeasures equipment, designed to avoid tracking and evade interception. “No, it’s just a simple charter job. You can fly at altitude. The destination is confidential but you don’t have to conceal the landing.”

“That makes it simple. Okay, a few detours to get there but nothing major. Figure three round trips, is it gonna be day or night?”

“All flights will be during the day. There are no lights at the destination for night landings. It may be dark by the time you get back to L.A.”

“Good, landings with night vision goggles can be dangerous. I can get you there, assuming there’s a flat spot to land and no high winds. You want a number now or just the total at the end?” Doug was casual about his rates but Jim knew he was fair. Business was just a way for him to afford his flying. For Doug the profit was being in the air.

“Let me know what you need and I’ll bring it with me. I’d like to make the preliminary this Friday morning, just myself and a few crates. There’ll be some time on the ground while I get things ready. And there’s one more detail about the trip on Saturday.” He went on to describe the rest of his travel plans.

The phone was silent for a moment before Doug answered. “I know someone who can handle that, Jim.” From the tone Jim could tell he wanted to ask the reason behind his odd addition on Saturday, but Doug had a reputation for discretion to protect. Jim didn’t volunteer any more details, a signal for Doug to move on. “Weather permitting, and it looks good so far, we can go at dawn on Friday. I’ll bring a book to read so you can take all day if you need it. Unless you hear from me I’ll look for you at the hangar early Friday morning. I’ll have everything ready. See you then.” Doug hung up.

Now he had both location and transportation. There were only two more items on his list: special equipment and some assistants. One last time Jim flipped through his contact book, looking for the name of someone he had met who might be able to handle both requirements. He dialed the number in San Francisco, hoping she was still at the same place.

“Villarosa Enterprises, can I help you?” A soft feminine voice answered the phone, deceptive given Olivia Villarosa’s “enterprise”. They had first met when he shopped around her tell-all book to moderate success, earning Olivia’s friendship in the process though he had never taken her up on the offer to visit her facilities.

“Hello Olivia, this is Jim Preston, the literary agent. I hope you remember me.” And not mistake me for a customer, he added silently.

“Jim! It’s been quite a while since we last had lunch. Are you in San Francisco? The invitation to come by is still open, you know.” Jim shook his head silently. Mistress Olivia’s Dungeon was legendary for the variety and effectiveness of her furnishings, and in the way she used them to service the thriving bondage and sadomasochism community in her home town. Jim had read the book and seen the pictures. He had no intention of acquiring any first hand experience as one of her willing victims.

“No, I’m still in L.A. Listen, I have a small project in the works and I’m hoping I can hire your assistance. It’s pretty tame by your standards but I’m sure you can help me out. I remember in your book you mentioned that fantasy role playing was a big part of your profession. Let me explain what I have in mind.” He went on in detail about what he would need. “And it all happens this Saturday morning.”

“So you would need two of us, and the necessary accessories. I can get the uniforms and the rest of the equipment. I also know someone who would be perfect for the big muscle character. You wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley. Let’s see, two of us for a day, travel and expenses, a full setup for one person that you get to keep…” Jim heard the beep of a calculator and a pause before she gave him the total. Not cheap but in line with what he expected.

“You have a deal Olivia. By the way, I have a private aircraft chartered for this. The pilot can pick you up Friday afternoon and drop you off in San Francisco on the way back Saturday afternoon. I’ll set you up in a hotel here in Los Angeles for the night. Consider it a perk. I hope you don’t mind a helicopter instead of a plane.”

“Sure Jim, I’ve never been in a helicopter before. I’ll expect to hear from you on Friday. Get the dress size to me and I’ll have everything ready.”

Hanging up the phone, Jim marked off the last two lines on his list. Alice’s adventure was ready; now all he had to do was ensure she was in the right frame of mind to appreciate it.

The Time Limit

Alice showed up at Jim’s office early Saturday morning. She had no idea what he had planned, but she trusted him. “Don’t bring anything but yourself” was all she got in his email, along with the time. When she opened the door to go in she expected him to be there. What she didn’t expect was to see Beth Tanaka, her lawyer, and Jerry Goldberg, her stock broker. Both were in Jim’s conference room. Jim motioned for her to join them.

“Before you ask, Alice, let me explain what’s going on,” Jim began. “You set up a real challenge for me. How in the world could I give you a realistic sense of desperation if you knew in advance I’d see to it you weren’t in any real danger? Then I got this idea. Maybe you wouldn’t be risking life and limb, but there is a way to raise the stakes.

“Before I tell you the details, don’t worry that I’m spoiling your surprise. I think I have everything you asked for, and I’m not going to tell you about that. What we’re going to do first is establish the risk. You are going to be working against the clock, with real consequences if you don’t overcome certain obstacles in time. Jerry?”

Alice sat down at the table, puzzled as to what Jim was doing. All three of these people had been friends of hers for many years, though they rarely saw each other outside of business. They comprised the small trusted circle in her life. She turned to Jerry as he began.