Teddy was on alert driving to the set. Mason Kimble and Gerard Cardigan weren’t the type to give up. There was no indication that they’d pierced the Mark Weldon disguise, but he hadn’t survived this long by assuming the best-case scenario.
Today was a day of maximum exposure. They weren’t filming in the studio but were out on the street on location, and anyone could watch. The police would keep the crowds back, but anyone with a sniper rifle could take him out and he’d never see it coming.
Particularly when he was up on the beam, all alone, totally exposed. It was a city block with tall buildings on both sides of the street, a zillion places a gunman could be hiding.
Of course, he would have to know the shooting schedule, the location, the shot, and the script. They would have to know what actor was in which position at what time. True, Mason Kimble and Gerard Cardigan were movie people and would be familiar with location filming, but they would need to have someone on the inside feeding them the specifics.
Teddy realized he was being paranoid, but these guys had sent a hit man after him and burned down his house.
Teddy parked on the street, where production assistants were manning the four blocks with NO PARKING signs that the police had posted in accordance with their permit. He got a coffee and a scone from the catering truck, and took them to the actors’ trailer.
Tessa and Brad had their own trailers on location, but Teddy shared his with the other actors. Today that was only George, the stuntman who’d be playing Brad on the high beam. George was sitting at the makeup table with a paper cup of coffee.
Teddy slid in next to him. “Hey, George, how’s it going?”
George grinned. “Ah, the man I get to shoot.”
“Assuming your aim’s good.”
“It should be. We’ve rehearsed the scene enough.”
The scene was simple. George, trapped on top of the construction site, runs out on a girder to escape. Teddy follows, stops, and shoots. The bullet whistles by George’s head. George spins and shoots Teddy in the chest, knocking him off the girder.
Peter had built a mock-up of the girder in the studio to work out the moves for the gunfight. Teddy and George had run it enough times to be as confident on the twelve-inch-wide beam as any Olympic gymnast.
“We’ve rehearsed it three feet off the ground,” Teddy said. “This is a little different.”
“No kidding. Have you ever done stunt work on a high bar?”
“No, but a job’s a job.”
“I still don’t get why you’re doing your own stunts. You have a featured part, you don’t have to do this shit.”
“This shit is what I do. The acting’s the stretch.”
Peter stuck his head in the door. “Hey, guys. Ready to get your feet wet?”
Teddy grinned. “Ready when you are, C.B.,” he said, paraphrasing the famous response of a cameraman to Cecil B. DeMille when asked if he had gotten the million-dollar action sequence that had just taken place on film.
“Okay,” Peter said. “The landing balloon is all filled. Let’s go jump.”
“You realize I don’t fall off the beam,” George said.
“Not in the scene,” Peter said. “But if you slip and fall, I’d rather you weren’t killed.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“If you’re thinking about the height, it will inhibit you. And then you could fall, because you’re afraid you will. All we’re doing is taking away the fear, showing you that if you do fall, it’s all right.”
“All right with you,” George said.
Teddy and Peter laughed.