Maestro

Author's note: I now have a p-word as you all know, so if you feel like reading 5 advanced chapters at the measly price of $3, then do join. The link is in this book's bio, or you can just search 'Archonstine' followed by p-word on your browser.

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11th June 1997 (Wednesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"Our unknown subject is a paperhanger who started working on the East Coast. In the last few weeks this unsub has developed a new form of check fraud which I'm calling 'The Float'. What he's doing is he's opening checking accounts at various banks then changing the MICR ink routing numbers at the bottom of those checks. Next slide, please. Next slide, please." Having said it twice, but not seeing the next slide, 'Carl' turns back to look at the projector only to see special agent Finch examining it from the behind.

He finishes checking the machine before saying, "The remote thing is broken, you'll have to do it by hand."

"You gotta-"

"No try the- not that-"

"Just give it a little slap-"

His fellow colleagues 'helpfully' contributed, clearly finding the faulty projector far more interesting than his hastily drawn up, but detailed presentation.

As more agents got up to check it out, 'Carl' speaks out, "Agent Mullen, it should be the square button there by the side." He said, pointing his stick towards the button in question.

"This carousel doesn't work."

"It's a bad carousel."

"No- you gotta move it like- yes Thank You." 'Carl' says, as the next slide appears, and everyone takes their respective seats, focus finally shifting back to his presentation.

"This a map of the 12 banks of the U.S. Federal Reserve. Slide." A click resonates throughout the room, as the slide changes again.

"MICR Scanners at every bank read these numbers at the bottom of the check. Slide. And then ship that check off to its corresponding branch." 'Carl' turns back to his colleagues, only to see confusion reflected in the eyes of his fellow colleagues.

Special Agent Watkins finally interrupts him, "Carl, for those of us who are unfamiliar with bank fraud, you mind telling us what the hell you're talking about?" He asks.

'Carl' inclines his head slightly before turning back to the projected map. "The East Coast branches are numbered 01 - 06, the central branch is 07 - 08, so on and so forth."

"You mean those numbers on the bottom actually mean something?" 'Watkins' interjected in jest, dead set on not taking this 'financial mumbo jumbo' seriously.

'Carl' ignored the remark and continued on, " All of this was in the report I filed 2 days ago. If you change," 'Carl' moved forward towards the projected map to point out precise locations, "a 02 to a 12, that means that check, which was cashed in New York, does not go to the New York Federal Branch, but is rerouted all the way to the San Francisco Federal Branch. The bank doesn't even know the check has bounced for 2 weeks. Which means our unsub can stay in one place, paper the same city over and over again, while his checks circle the country."

"You know, you want to talk to my wife." 'Watkins' cut in yet again, "She's the one who balances the checkbook at our house." He finished, this time his jest garnered a few chuckles across the room, exactly the outcome he was looking for.

'Carl' purses his lips briefly in mild irritation, before turning back at the projector, "Next Slide." The sound of a snap echoes through the place, and for a few seconds, all is silent.

Right then I yell, "CUT! We got it!" I yell enthusiastically, as I signal a thumbs up to the actors.

That very moment, the bubble of silence popped like a balloon, giving way to a cacophony of random noises, assistants, stagehands, prop artists, and tech consultants entered the field of the wide-angle camera, as it finally stopped rolling.

The scene which introduces Carl Hanratty as a dedicated, well-versed, no-nonsense antagonist was shot in a single take.

A single fucking take was all it took… that's how well the chemistry between the cast members was after a few bonding sessions initiated by me.

"Poly! Tell me we got it!" Ed shouted, his commanding intense voice pierced through the noise like a knife carving out a particularly soft piece of cake.

Ed Harris, that is. The guy who I finally cast as my co-star, after an extensive search which involved comprehensive background checks, and tiring screen tests, and auditions.

In the OTL, he was an immensely acclaimed, but a lesser-known character actor, who has played prominent supporting roles in several mainstream films like Apollo 13, The Rock starring Nic Cage, The Truman Show, A Beautiful Mind, and most recently, Top Gun Maverick.

I always found his roles to be lacking in screen time, but his sheer screen presence coupled with his nuance and emotional depth, always made him a memorable addition to the main cast.

His role as the antagonist in 'The Rock'… his commanding and authoritative voice, his physicality, and the authenticity and relatability of his character, still send shivers down my spine whenever I think back to it.

And frankly I had narrowed it down to 3 people, and the other 2 were found lacking in several factors.

Bernie Washington, a veteran action star of the 70s, who was good, but his emotional range was found to be lacking in retrospect. Ed Harris, and the last option being someone whose acting ability almost made me cast him right then and there… but my morality eventually won out and made me choose Ed.

It was Kevin Spacey.

He exists here… and he's just as good if not better than in the OTL. When I read his name on the call sheet, I still called him to the audition, desperately hoping he turned out different here… that his deviant tendencies and criminality were not carried over.

A quick use of 'Observe' quickly smashed my hopes to pieces with a fuckin' sledgehammer. Sometimes I still hear the sound of glass shattering into a bazillion pieces… the sound of my heart breaking as I came across yet another sexual predator and a substantiated pedophile who was too powerful… too well-established for me to do anything about.

All of a sudden, I can't wait for the awards season to arrive fast enough… for this year to end, so that I earn the acclaim and inevitable influence that I know I am going to be showered with.

Only when I produce corroborated evidence, and my word actually fucking matters, will I then be heard.

Otherwise? No-one will give a flying fuck, and simply label me as another loony.

After all, before the age of social media, Hollywood was notoriously protective of its fraternity, even high profile actors who were famous for being good natured gave a standing ovation when Roman Polanski won an Oscar all the way back in 2002.,, While he was a convicted rapist on the run. 

And that's not even the worst of it.

"We got the cut Ed. You can rest easy, you're done for the day… Also stop calling me Poly!"

He smirked, before scoffing lightly, "You brought this on yourself boy. I knighted you that day, and I'm never taking it back… Poly."

I sigh in exasperation before swiftly changing the topic to prevent further mockery.

As it turns out, in a promotional event for the movie, a reporter had asked if I really spoke multiple languages, essentially shedding doubt on my capabilities.

And so I calmly disseminated his argument in a thorough manner, effectively roasting him to a point of no return. Realizing the deep dark pit awaiting him at the end of his line of questioning, he changed tracks, and laughed off his questions, before asking me to expand on my multi-linguism.

He extended an olive branch, and seemed pretty young for a reporter. It was clear he was just starting out, and I wasn't cruel enough to try and end his career before it even began, so I took the peace offering and answered his question earnestly, diving deep into what it meant to be a multi-linguist.

I ended my 3 minute explanation by calling myself a polyglot… but it was too late. For Ed, had apparently dozed off midway into my explanation, and woke up with a jerk, only to hear the last word. So he jokingly remarked, "That's enough out of you Poly!"

And the rest… was history.

The 'nickname' caught on quickly enough, and by the end of the day, the cast knew me no longer as Richmond 'Ricky' Stirling. To them, and a number of crew members, I was Poly.

"Okay Ed, now the next scene we shoot with you will be in the car, the fun banter between your two partners, and your no-nonsense, but comedic deadpan, shining through. I checked with Darla, and the boys are still busy with things. So you're needed all week. Tell me that works for you?" I ask in the end with a pleading tone.

He nods, "Yeah ok. So the car scene, and then our first tryst with each other right? I almost catch you in the act, and you bluff your way out?"

"No-No, not that scene man. Sorry, actually, that set won't be prepared for another month at the very least, some leasing issues apparently. So the car scene, and the meeting with your boss where you tell him you fucked up."

"Oh… I-I did not expect to shoot that so soon actually. Still need to cram a few dialogues in my noggin for that one, if you know what I mean. No wait, you don't. Idiotic memory or something you got, right?"

"... Eidetic memory… Why would it be idiotic? Tha- I refuse to believe that was a Freudian slip Ed, you just wanted to call me an idiot didn't ya?"

"First of all Poly… you are goddamn right, I did want to call you an idiot. Also, frodo what? The fuck you on about Poly?"

I shake my head in regret, "Forget it, jus- forget it Ed. Head back home Ed, have a cigar, fuck your wife, cram your lines, I don't care. Just get outta my sight."

"... I'm not married Poly… not anymore. That crack whore broke my heart into pieces... tearing into my bank account like that. I had to sell my house…" He said somberly, his eyes full of vindictive rage and heartbreak.

"Oh…"

"Got my cat though. Oh she tried, but Trixie chose me so… screw that bitch."

… What the fuck did I stumble onto?!

…

…

20 minutes.

Less than 2 weeks, and we had already shot 20 minutes worth of footage, all of it edited to the very last camera angle.

Well… the video was edited. The audio on the other hand… I was working on it.

If I contracted an independent composer, then his score wouldn't match the tone and tempo of my vision for the movie, so I had to write the score myself. It was a piece of cake really, for me, musical notation was just another language, I could write, read, and sometimes even 'talk' in it if required.

But that written score has to be created and recorded from scratch, and so me, my dad, and the remaining producers came up with a plan. We hired a famed composer and his orchestra to record the score… and in turn, he will be paid a handsome remuneration for his efforts, far above the norm.

But in turn, the composing credit goes to me, and all the man and his team will get is a shitload of money, for him that is. For me? A drop in the fuckin' bucket.

Every time I wasn't occupied by the shoot, I squeezed in every minute of rehearsal, and practice, not only effectively leveling up my skill in the process, but also connecting with the core of the character I'm playing.

Frank Abagnale Jr… the charming lowlife, who tried his level best to win his father's approval throughout, while at the same time leading the FBI on wild goose chases effortlessly… until his heart finally settles on Char- Brenda! Her name is Brenda.

...

Shit, I've got it bad haven't I?