The City’s Silent Howl

The Sierra Nevada country retreat that Hap had promised Will and Evan Zagame, director of

the film now called Party Town Terror (to avoid confusion with a Spanish film called Party Town),

turned out to be a nondescript timber house on the edge of a small settlement called Mystery Valley.

"I thought you said water views and near Lake Tahoe," said Evan, as he unfolded his lanky

frame from Hap's car. About the same age as Will, he was taller than the swimmer but a lot thinner,

with dark, lank hair hanging down either side of a pair of large, black-framed glasses. His

appearance and usual garb of black tee shirts of varying designs and jeans meant that he was often

underestimated, although Will thought he detected a fierce intelligence and willingness to learn that

had intrigued him enough to recommend the director to Hap.

Both Evan and Will agreed that there seemed to be little mystery about Mystery Valley.

Unlike its namesake in Arizona, the valley had no ancient ruins or anything much apart from a few

houses spread along the road with a general store and gas station in the centre. Surrounding hills

and forests which showed evidence of logging blocked any view of the mountains.

"Lake Tahoe is two hours that way," said Hap pointing into the woods at the other end of

the valley.

"You're pointing East," said Will. "Lake Tahoe would be north of here."

"Whatever," said Hap. "Two hours is close in California. The water views are this way." He

led the others to one edge of the unfenced property and, sure enough, a small creek ran past the

house then through a culvert under the settlement's sole, paved road.

"Looks clear at least," said Will. "Were there any fires near here?"

"Place got logged out of most stuff that could burn, decades ago," said Hap. "There were

fires in the next valley across but not here."

"You said you fell in love with the place," said Evan accusingly, looking around, "but this

must be the most un-scenic part of the Sierra's."

"The price tag on this place is to die for," said Hap, unabashed, "and it's quiet. What more

can you want?" The multi-millionaire led the way back to the house which, Will noted, was

equipped with security cameras and a satellite dish. A sign said the place was under twenty-fourhour CCTV surveillance. The front door, which looked strong, had a key code lock.

"You keep an eye on the place," said Will.

"Have to," said Hap. "Logging camp up the road."

Inside was comfortable enough but hardly luxurious, with a small stove powered by bottled

gas and an ancient ice box that had to be turned on. They settled into the three bedrooms, unpacked

the groceries and computer equipment they had brought with them and got to work.

After a brief discussion both Mia and Emma had decided simply not to mention Will,

dealing with the writer by email for the matters they had to handle while he was away, and Mia paid

Will for the time he spent on those matters. Meghan saw the payments in the list she always

reviewed but said nothing.

The assistant had a request of her own.

"Can Jake stay with me in our suite in New York?"

"Okay, I guess," Meghan said. "Can't see any harm in it. Have you two gotten that far?"

"Seems so," said Mia, coyly. "There's been talk of moving in together, even if only to stop

our respective roomies from complaining that three people should be paying rent. He'll also be

taking pictures of you on-set and around New York for the online material."

"You've got words to go with these pictures?"

"We've got templates," said Mia, carefully, "and Emma can adjust to suit."

"These templates have been set by Will?" said Meghan frowning.

"Well, yes."

"How dare he go away, like that!"

"Okay," said Mia.

When Meghan got to New York with Mia and Jake in tow she found that filming included a

lot of starts at sunrise, when the streets were mostly still clear of all but the inquisitive homeless.

Meghan would have preferred late nights partying in fashionable night clubs with Robin and did not

do mornings well, but they were part of the job and she took her job seriously. This time, however,

the early morning starts were made worse by confusion over the script and conflict between director

Ephron Pereira and the male lead, Morten Dyke. The woman scriptwriter, who had also written the

original book, vainly tried to referee between the two men. Meghan thought that Morten was a

slease bag always trying to get into her pants and Ephron was an idiot and took no part in the

arguments. Instead, she spent a lot of time on a director's chair, yawning, flicking through her

phone messages, ignoring stares from early bird New Yorkers and resisting the urge to call Will to

hassle him.

Finally, they would shoot a couple of scenes then there would be too many people about,

and film production would move to interior shots. On the third day of this, Meghan was dragged

into one of these fights over, of all things, how fast she should move up a staircase. Ephron wanted

her to move slowly, Morten thought she should move quickly.

"Isn't that right, Clar?" Morten asked her, as she was standing ready for the shot. He was not

close enough to his co-star to call her Meghan or Meg.

"It's a directorial decision," said Meghan, exasperated.

"Now you're taking his side," snapped Morten.

"I'm not taking anyone's side," snapped Meghan. "I'm just doing my job which includes

this scene. I'm doing it not you, and if the actual director of the picture says to go slowly then I'll

go slowly. In any case, I've just discovered my husband's body and I'm dreading the fact that you,

as my lover in the film, has killed him. Slowly doesn't seem out of place."

The film crew would have clapped and cheered if they had dared, especially as Morten then

allowed the next couple of scenes to be shot without throwing a tantrum. Instead, the youthful

female assistant who brought Meghan coffee spoke to the star.

"The crew really appreciate you standing up to Morten, Ms Chalmers," she said. "He was

less of a pain after that for a while, anyway."

"Oh right, thank you," said Meghan. "This film promises to be a nightmare all round."

"It does," agreed the assistant.

Then there was the problem of Robin who spent a couple of nights with her but was

otherwise mostly missing in action. When he was present, he would pressure her to invest in the

Non-Fungible Token scheme, upping the ante to two million dollars.

"Are you crazy?" retorted Meghan. "I'm not giving two million dollars of my money to two

guys in an office. I don't know what they're supposed to be doing to earn these big profits and I

don't care. I'm not giving them any of my money."

"Is it that coffee guy? You're taking investment advice from him over me."

"He's got nothing to do with this," said Meghan. "I don't want to put money into schemes I

don't understand. It's as simple as that."

Robin stormed off, not to be seen for the rest of the day and the night. The thought that the

relationship might have reached its use by date drifted through Meghan's mind, only for her to put it

to one side. Then the next morning she was walking through the hotel lobby with Mia for one of the

early starts when they met Henry coming through the main entrance.

"Good morning, Henry," said Meghan, cheerfully. The bodyguard had always been nice to

her. "You've already been out this morning?"

"Staying in the hotel up the road," he said. "Just coming in to get the boss."

"You'll be disappointed," said Meghan, puzzled. "He's not with us, and I thought you were

staying in this hotel."

"No, I'm down the street," said Henry, after a moment's hesitation. "Not with you? Thanks,

I'll check my phone."

He held the door open politely for the two ladies and then went in, reaching for his phone.

Meghan waited until they were a few steps further on before speaking to Mia.

"You arranged for a room for Henry, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Check on what's happening with the room. Try to get the number then see if you can find

out who's staying in it. Maybe Jake can check it out." Meghan already had deep, dark suspicions

about who might be in the room but thought that she should at least check first, before confronting

Robin.

A little later Jake knocked on the door of the room which Mia had arranged with the

producers of Meghan's film. He was a man of middling height in jeans and tee shorts with a short

beard, carrying a top of the line camera. Eventually, the door opened, still on its chain, and a female

voice said "Yes?"

"I had an appointment with Mr Robin Hawke I'm taking a few studio shots."

"Oh, okay," said the woman. "Sorry, but he's gone out for a while. I'm not sure when he'll

be back."

"Hmmm! Okay," said Jake. "Maybe I got the time wrong. I'll get the studio to check.

Thanks."

The woman was sufficiently reassured to open the door fully. She was a young, pretty

brunette, dressed to go out.

"I'm just going out myself. Do you want me to tell him you were here?"

"Don't worry," said Jake. "The people who want this will get hold of him or that bodyguard

Henry, was it? And find out where he is. Hey, you're worth a few shots yourself. You're a friend of

Mr Hawke's?"

"Yes, I am," she said, smiling.

"Can I grab a couple of pictures for the producers, so my visit is not a total waste of time? If

you're going out, maybe by the fountain out front. Won't take a moment." Jake was fairly

comfortable in his role as a photographer to the stars, as he was a photographer and had been taking

shots of the famous Clarise Chalmers.

"I suppose I can do that," she said. "I've had parts as an extra."

"I don't doubt that," said Jake, getting into the lift with her. "You got an agency?"

"Turners," she said.

"They're supposed to be one of the best," said Jake. "I am sorta curious about one thing, I

thought that Mr Hawke was with that star um.."

"Clarise Chalmers. Yeah, that was a thing but it's over. It just hasn't hit the media yet."

Jake spent a couple of minutes taking the girl's picture by the fountain. Just as he was

leaving, Henry, who had come to pick up the girl, drove up to the hotel's entrance in Hawke's

limousine. Henry saw the photographer, whom he knew, but Jake did not see Henry.