“We have that big patch of poison ivy growing on the back fence. Never could find anyone to do that job. We could have them pull that out with their bare hands. Maybe have them work naked, and they accidentally get pushed into it.”
Jinny liked that idea, but said, “Anything else? Any bigger job?”
The synagogue guys sat thinking until one of them said, “What about the brick? We’ve wanted to clean the yellow brick for years. The building is sixty-five years old, and the exterior has never been cleaned. It needs it.”
The rabbi looked at Stirg and said, “That’s a big job that needs doing, and not a fun one. It may be too big for these guys, and take too long. What do you think?”
“These boys are not the masters of their own time. They sacrificed that privilege when they decided to mess with us. If it’s a painful job that would help you, let’s look at it. They know the alternative, so they should be willing.”
The group left the conference room and went outside, where they stood in back, looking up at the handsome structure. There were places where the brick was almost black from environmental staining. Jinny took the end of the chain over to where the poison ivy was growing, and locked it to the fence. The rabbi said, “The brick looks bad, doesn’t it. Disgraceful, now that I look at it with fresh eyes. Needs cleaning.”
One elder said, “Big job, though. Take a month to do, and requires scaffolding to get up high. And cleaning tools.”
Another said, “Who’s going to watch them? Can’t have them chained together out here for a month. Some members of our congregation might find that objectionable.”
Stirg looked at Nev and Jinny. Jinny said, “That’s a long time. Even if we split the time, you’re talking two weeks, fulltime. That’s too much for me. I gotta get back working on the opera.”
The rabbi said, “What opera? I love opera.”
Jinny said, “Rock opera, by Paul McCartney. Sir Paul McCartney.”
“Never heard of him. Doesn’t sound Italian, and all great opera is Italian.”
Jinny let the subject drop, and the group stood staring at the grimy yellow brick. Then the Polish geezer said, “I hate that black stuff. We gotta get that off, make this place shine again. There may be a way.” He looked at the rabbi and said, “What about Moshe and Shalom? Moshe can use the money. We could pay him to sit out here with Shalom and guard these jerks as they work. I got nothing to do, I’ll sit out here with them. If the jerks to something, I tell Moshe, and he tells Shalom. End of problem.”
Stirg said, “Who are Moshe and Shalom? Sounds like a comedy act.”
“Moshe is one of our members. He was a cop until he lost his sight in a car accident. He’s retired now. Shalom was his dog on the force. They were a K9 team. Now Shalom is his seeing eye dog. Very smart.”
Nev said, “You mean if these guys try to take off, the dog would stop them?”
“The dog will do whatever Moshe orders him to do. Incredible training. Moshe told us stories of what they did as cops. The cops all consider the K9 dogs to be cops, too. They’re very sentimental. If a dog gets killed in the line of duty, it gets full ceremonial honors.”
The rabbi said, “I like it. Mr. Stirg, would you be willing to pay the costs of having Moshe and Shalom sit out here?”
“Sure.”
“Ok, I’ll call Moshe and see if he’s interested. If he is, can one of you go pick him up? He’s close.”
Again Stirg said, “Sure.”
Five minutes later Nev was in the Mercedes and heading for Moshe’s house. Twenty minutes after that, he let the ex-cop and his dog out at the rear of the synagogue. The rabbi, elders, and Stirg came out of the office where they had had tea. Jinny, left on guard, was messing around with the NNs, halfheartedly trying to push them into the poison ivy. The rabbi described the situation to Moshe, who said, “You’re kidding? Three neo-nazi idiots came down here from Idaho to get revenge on Mr. Stirg for something he did forty years ago, and kidnapped two people to do it, and this good looking babe tricked them into playing strip poker, with the stakes being that they not rape her, which was their intention, and then they were rescued by their friends, and that’s them over there, chained to the fence?”
Stirg said, “That’s about it.”
“And these friends never told the police about the kidnapping? Kept it to themselves, did the rescue on their own.”
“Right.”
“That probably was smart. And now we have these guys, and instead of turning them over to the police, we’re going to issue a penalty to them ourselves, something that helps the congregation?”
The rabbi said, “That’s about the size of it, if you’ll help. But there is an alternative if we can’t use them here.”
“What’s that?”
“Mr. Stirg and Nev have offered to take them on a one-way sight-seeing trip out in the harbor, to the deep waters off Fort Sumter.”
“I see,” Moshe punned. “The morons are clear about their options?”
“Not yet. We haven’t made our proposal to them yet. We wanted to see if you and Shalom would assist with the project.”
Moshe patted the one hundred and twenty pound female German shepherd on the head and said, “What do you think? Can we help the cause here, clean up the building?” The dog woofed, yes. “You have any objection to tearing the throats out of those guys over there if I tell you to?” The dog woofed, no. He looked at the rabbi and said, “We’re in.”
“Wonderful. Mr. Stirg has offered to pay you and Shalom a substantial fee. Now, who’s going to inform the nitwits about the contribution to the synagogue they so generously have offered to make?”
Stirg said, “That would be me. But I wonder if Moshe and Shalom could offer them a little demonstration of the consequences of causing any trouble during the project. That would go a long way to establishing the necessary ground rules for getting the work done efficiently, effectively, and peacefully.”
The Polish elder said, “Who said we want things to go peacefully?”
Stirg led the group over to the fence, introducing the BMIBC as Nitwit #1, the MSMIBC as Nitwit #2, and the NSSMIBC as Nitwit #3. Succinctly he told the NNs the story, describing the work they would be doing over the next few weeks, their roles, and the roles of their three keepers, two human and one dog. He said, “You understand? You understand it’s this, or out to the harbor with you?”
Nitwit #3 now made a poor decision, not surprising given his other moniker of NSSMIBC. He said, “Fuck you Jew bastards and your dirty yellow brick.”
Instantly Moshe said to Shalom in Hebrew, “Attack and Hold!”
Shalom closed the twenty feet between her and Nitwit #3 in three seconds. At eight feet from her target she leapt and crashed her hundred and twenty pounds into his chest, knocking him back against the chain link fence, his arms pinned under her. She dropped to the ground and went for her primary target, his crotch. Her targeting accuracy was attested to by the high pitched scream that emanated from his mouth. Shalom’s training had been precise, and her abilities were formidable. After the scream she slightly reduced the pressure of her jaws on his prick. If he went immobile, she would execute the Hold part of her orders, until she received new orders. If he struggled, if he hit her, if he tried to pry open her jaws, her training would make her execute an unspoken order, 'Tear'.
Instinctively, Nitwit #3 turned to stone, which saved him from a fate worse than death. A truism for most guys, anyway. It was good it was instinct that dictated his actions, because his dearth of cognitive abilities might have led him to another unwise decision. He stood with his eyes grinding shut and his hands spread out to the sides, clutching the wire of the fence. Shalom was almost motionless, maintaining a firm but non-destructive pressure on his crotch, growling gently but authoritatively. No one else moved or spoke. They just watched the demonstration, awestruck.
After thirty seconds, Moshe said, “
Heel!” Instantly she let go, turned, went to his side, faced the nitwit, and waited for orders. Moshe petted her in a special way that told her to calm down, and said, “Everything go ok, I gather? Was the demonstration effective?”
Simultaneously, everyone present except Nitwit #3, said, “Very!” And he thought it.
Chapter 73 – The Nitwits Future
The next day Gale was back to her old gregarious self, giving Jinny shit about his clothes. He thought he looked great since he was wearing stuff he’d bought from a tailor Pierre had brought into the salon. But he realized he had poor taste himself, so when either Gale or Gwen talked about his clothes, he listened. Nev listened to this for awhile, got bored, and asked Gale how she’d whipped the nitwits at poker. She said none of them had even the vaguest notion of what a tell was, and she knew what they had in their hands before they did.
Gwen showed up at The Hall about 10am having spent the morning at their lawyer’s office having him update their liability insurance policy for the upcoming production. She went over to the group, silently assessing if any of them had done a lick of work that morning, or not. She looked across the stage at the front row of theater seats, said, “Where are the nitwits?”
Nev let Jinny explain. “They’re at the synagogue on Rutledge Ave., cleaning the grime off of the several hundred thousand yellow bricks it’s made of, using toothbrushes and little dishes filled with Comet sink cleaner.”
Gwen called Roger over from the computer. She wanted him to hear this, and had Jinny repeat himself. Roger said, “Who’s watching them?”
“The rabbi is the one who gave the go-ahead. He’s the boss up there. But the guards are one of the elders, a Polish guy, and Moshe and Shalom.”
Roger looked at Gwen, then asked, “Who are the Polish guy and Moshe and Shalom?”
“The Polish guy was in the war, and came over here in the late ‘40s. He thought we should just take them out in the harbor and dump them. Moshe is a blind guy, and Shalom is his female sidekick.”
Now it was Gwen’s turn to look at Roger. She said, “You left three neo-nazis who kidnapped two of our friends, and wanted to kidnap Anna and violate her out of a sense of revenge; you left them guarded by an eighty-something year old man, a blind guy, and a girl named Peace?”
Jinny said, “Sort of. The blind guy is an ex-cop, and Shalom is his dog.”
“And that’s ok?”
Jinny looked at Nev, and said, “You tell her.”
“Shalom is a hundred and twenty pound, highly trained, beautiful, kickass attack German shepherd. She was an anti-terrorist K9, working with Moshe before he was injured and lost his sight. One of the nitwits gave us some shit, and in three seconds, after a command by Moshe, she had him pinned against a fence and his prick in her mouth. If he’d moved muscle it would have been all over for him. Stirg is paying the three of them to guard the nitwits while they do this job, and, believe me, I’d rather be guarded by a Mossad squad.”
Roger said, “How long is it going to take them to clean the brick with toothbrushes and Comet?”
Jinny said, “There are one hell of a lot of brick in that synagogue. Gonna take them weeks.”
“Then what?”
“Then you decide if we let them go back to Idaho, or take them for a swim, or enroll them in a humanities course at College of Charleston. They’re out of our hair for now.”
Gwen decided she’d cross that bridge when it appeared.
Chapter 74 – The Band
Three days after she sent the email to Ringo, Slev’s phone rang. “Ms. Slev, please. Ringo here.”
“This is Slev.”
“Good-day to you, Slev. I have some news for Paul. Can you talk, luv?”
“I can talk, but hold a sec, let me get the boss here.” She went out of the office at The Hall, looked around, and saw Gwen in the center aisle, looking up at the lighting gantry, where the new lighting director was repositioning some spots. She said, “Gwen, come up. It’s Ringo.”
Gwen said, “Ringo who?”
“What do you mean, Ringo who? How many Ringos do you know. Paul’s Ringo. The Ringo.” There weren’t many people who could chastise Gwen with innuendo, but Slev was one of them. When Gwen was sitting on the stage next to her, Slev said, “I have Gwen here now, she’s the boss of the opera production. Go ahead.”
“Lo, Gwen. Ringo here. Got good news for Paul. Can you put me through?”
Gwen said, “You got Stella’s email letter, right? The one that told you Paul has been kidnapped?”
“Got it, Gwenny. Hard to believe. But it said things aren’t so bad as with normal kidnappings. Is that right, luv?”
“That’s right. He’s fine, and Stella’s fine. But he’s someplace else, so he can’t talk with you directly. We can get him a message.”
“Is this thing all serious, the way Stella’s email said? Is Paul really composing a rock opera, that has to be done in five weeks? Is he really locked up, and needs a band for the gig?”
“Yes, all true. But for him, this is a good thing. He says it’s taken away all the distractions, and is letting him focus on songwriting. And he has Renee Fleming with him. She’s ok, too.”
“I can understand the distractions thing. Well, then, if this is all on the up and up, it sounds really interesting, and he’s asked for help, so I’m in. Tell him that.”
“We’ll tell him. What about a band? Any luck? Time is short, and we need the best. You’re one of the best, Ringo.”
“Thanks luv. And yes, I’ve got some blokes interested. They’re willing to cancel their engagements, if everything is the way it seems, with Paul writing this thing, and only two weeks of rehearsals, and then six performances over three weeks. And Renee singing. I listened to Dark Hope, and so did the others. Fantastic singing. He may be right, she may be the greatest female pop singer ever. Anyway, we want to do this gig with him and her. Crazy timing, but if you don’t help out a friend when he calls, what good are you?”
“Who are the others?”
“The others are some fun people, Gwen, and I hope they work for Paul. I assume he'll play bass, and he’ll let me do the drumming. So I think he needs a guitar player, maybe a couple keyboardists, and some backup singers. I don’t know what this music will be like, but these people can play anything.”
“Who are they, Ringo? I think you’re right about him on bass and you on drums, but who else?”
“Well, I all I could find that can do this short schedule thing are three people, but they can do a lot of things.”
“Who, Ringo?”
“Good guitar player, very cool. David Gilmour. He says he always loved our albums, and I’ve always loved his.”
Slev didn’t recognize the name and looked at Gwen. She said, “He’s the guy from Pink Floyd, wrote lots of their material, and plays that incredible lyrical guitar. Giant.” Gwen raised her arms, emoting like, unbelievable. “Who else?”
“He’s got himself singing, and Renee singing, so I thought we needed two keyboardists, one maybe on piano and one on synthe or clavinet, or maybe organ. And we need some other women. So I got Christine McVie and Alicia Keys. I love their singing and their instrumental work, and I’ll bet Paul will love them, too. They will sing great backup to him and Renee. One can play piano and the other can play something else. I hope Paul puts lots of synthe into the songs.”
Gwen leaned back against the chair and looked at Slev. Again she mouthed “unbelievable”. Slev felt out of it, but trusted Gwen’s taste. Gwen said, “Ok, Ringo, you did good. I love McVie’s singing on Bare Trees, and I’ll get the word to Paul right away. There’s still another big problem, now that you’ve solved this one of the band.”
“What’s that?”
“How’re you going to rehearse. We’re in the theater now where the performances will take place, and y’all can practice here. But Paul and Renee are locked up somewhere here in town, so I
don’t know how that’s going to work. But we’ll figure it out. Opening night is in four and half weeks. Can you have the band here in two and a half weeks?”
“That was the deal I made with them. We’ll be in Charleston on time. How’s the songwriting going? Is he ok?”
“I’ve only heard the two songs, and two covers he did of Fleming songs from Dark Hope. Those were all great, and he’s happy, so I guess things are ok. We’ll get him this great news today. Thank you, Ringo. We’ll see you in a little over two weeks. Bye.”
“Bye luv, buy Slev. Gonna be fun.”
Gwen looked at Slev and said, “Dynamite. He came through, big time.” She looked around, and asked, “Where’s Jinny?”
Slev said, “He’s at Pierre’s. It’s Friday, and he likes looking good for the weekend.”
“Would you call him, tell him to go buy Bare Trees and In the Meantime CDs, and Alicia Keys’ new CD, and On An Island, by David. You’re going to die when you hear him play guitar on that. And McVie’s singing.”
“You’re calling the guy David, and he’s a great composer and instrumentalist, and you’ve never met him?”
Gwen said, “I’m his boss.”
Slev said, “Yes, Gwenny, boss.”
Gwen affectionately pushed her away and said, “I better call Jools and get the message to the musicians.”
She dialed up, and heard, “Jools here, how may I help you?”
“This is Gwen, Jools, and I have news for Paul and Stella and Anna. Put them on.”
“You take your bossy pill this morning, Ms. Gwen? I’m up here, and they’re down there. You know that. It’ll take some time to get them the message. What is it?”
“What it is, Jools baby, is that this thing is coming to a head, four and a half weeks till opening night. And somewhere around there is when you and I are going to meet, and that’s when you and I are going to settle matters. You dig?”
“Gwenny, please, why spoil a beautiful morning with such animus. You sound like Anna sometimes. I’m just the butler. If you have issues with my demeanor, please consult with my supervisor. I’m doing the best I can under trying and strenuous circumstances. It’s not easy being both butler and kidnapper.”