Dylan was assigned to traffic control. He wore a headset and had a walkie-talkie, and was one of the production assistants in charge of keeping the crowd behind the rope line.
When the camera rolled, he would be responsible for stopping pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk that Tessa and Viveca had to cross in order to get into the bank.
Down the block the cameramen were lining up the shot, and Peter was coaching Tessa and Viveca on how he wanted the scene. The electricians were setting up reflectors, grips were placing sandbags, and the assistant directors were instructing the extras who would be on the sidewalk.
A propman walked by and headed for the caterer’s table, where coffee, bagels, and doughnuts had been laid out. Dylan wondered if he had time to get a cup of coffee himself. He’d been there since early morning, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep, what with hanging out at the hospital with Sandy. He glanced over at the catering table and saw—
Billy Barnett.
There he was, large as life, holding a paper cup of coffee and talking to the head electrician. The gaffer, Sandy had called him. Dylan had a flash of guilt, thinking of Sandy. He pushed it from his mind. He needed to focus, save himself, and get out of this nightmare.
Dylan whipped out his cell phone and called Sylvester. “He’s here.”
“Billy Barnett.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At the caterer’s cart, talking to the gaffer.”
“The who?”
“The head electrician.”
“Good. Don’t do anything to tip him off. I’ll take it from here.”
The line clicked dead.
Take it from here? Sylvester would take it from here. What the hell did that mean?
Dylan had a feeling he didn’t want to know.
Sylvester called Max. “Where are you?”
“Hanging out on the sidewalk with everybody else. Just another starstruck tourist.”
Max’s account was not entirely accurate. Most of the tourists were in shirtsleeves. Max wore a suit jacket to hide his shoulder holster.
“Good. Barnett’s there, at the catering table.”
“I’m closer to the camera. It’s gotta be down that way. Hang on, let me see.”
Max pushed his way through the crowd. He saw several of the crew standing around a table on the sidewalk.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. There’s some guys drinking coffee. Yeah, that’s him. He looks just like his picture.”
“Take him out.”
“That’s a problem. There’s too many people around.”
“They won’t see what happened. You lose yourself in the crowd.”
“You’re not hearing me. There’s too many people. I’d have to be standing right next to him. Don’t worry, he won’t be at the coffee cart forever. I’m on him.”
“Just get it done.”
Max clicked the phone off, moved in closer to his prey. His gun was still in his shoulder holster. He wouldn’t take it out until he was ready to shoot.
The crowd thinned out. Billy Barnett crumpled up his cup and tossed it in the garbage. Max eased his gun out of his shoulder holster.
A cop walked up, attracted by the doughnuts. He startled Max, made him miss a beat. Billy Barnett began walking away. Max hid his gun under his jacket and started off after his prey.
Billy Barnett was headed for the spot where the camera was set up, right where Max would have been if Sylvester hadn’t told him to move.
There came three blasts of a loud buzzing sound, as if someone were ringing a giant telephone. A kid in a headset stepped out on the sidewalk and blocked Max’s path.
“Quiet, please. We’re on bells. That means were about to shoot a scene. Stay where you are. No talking, please.”
Billy Barnett hadn’t stopped. He walked right down the sidewalk and greeted the director and the two actresses. Max could see him joking with them a bit before putting up his hands, clearly saying sorry, he knew they were about to shoot, he’d be a good boy, though no one appeared upset at the interruption.
Once again they were ready for the shot.
The assistant director said, “Roll it!”
The sound mixer said, “Speed!”
An assistant cameraman stepped out with a clapboard, said “Scene 46A, take one,” and clacked the slate.
The assistant director yelled, “Background, action!”
A few extras walked down the sidewalk.
The director yelled, “Action!”
The two actresses crossed the sidewalk and went into the bank.
“Cut!” the director yelled.
One long bell rang, signaling that the shot was over and people could move again.
Max pushed forward, but he lost sight of Billy Barnett in the crowd. By the time he got to the camera, the producer was gone. So were the actresses, who had been escorted back to their trailers by the assistant directors assigned to their care. Only the director remained. He seemed to be talking to the cameraman about lining up the next shot.
But the producer was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell had he gone? There was a lot of activity around the coffee cart. Max checked it out, but Billy Barnett was not there.
Max’s cell phone rang.
It was Sylvester. “Is it done?”
“No, it’s not done. They shot a scene and no one would let me get close.”
“Are they still shooting it?”
“No, but when it was over there was a huge scrunch of people, and the guy isn’t there.”
“Find him.”
Max never did. About twenty minutes later they had the camera moved, and were ready to film another shot. The actresses came back, along with an actor who was in the scene with them, but the producer never showed.
Teddy, rehearsing the scene as character actor Mark Weldon, kept an eye on the goon in the crowd. He’d spotted him back at the coffee cart, and done his best to keep away from him and avoid making a scene. An ugly incident during the first day’s shooting was not the type of publicity Peter needed to launch his movie. Teddy probably would have been able to handle the situation, could have lured Max away from the set and overpowered him when no one was looking, but it wasn’t necessary. Teddy knew who he was and who he worked for. It was easier to leave him frustrated than to deal with him right now.