Chapter 5 #2
"Because he has no experience dealing with the brothel. You do. You've talked to her, and you know what she asks."
He didn't look embarrassed by her pointing out his experience in the brothel.
"I never call. I just show up."
"You are a smart man." Mattie smiled indulgently at him. "I'm sure you can improvise."
"Fine." Petrov made a show of crossing his knees and assuming a bored, pouty expression. He cleared his throat and, in a passable falsetto, said, "Good afternoon. How may I help you?"
Mattie lost the fight.
She laughed so hard that she doubled over and had to press her hand against her stomach and wait for the wave of it to pass.
Dimitri was grinning, but the Eight seemed not to get the humor of Petrov's attempted imitation.
"Okay," she said, wiping her eyes. "Okay. That was good. Keep the voice. Just less."
"Less what?"
"Less theatrics and make her sound old and bored. She's answered this phone a thousand times. Nothing excites her."
"This I can do."
He opened his notebook, pretended that his pen was a cigarette, and once again assumed a bored expression.
"Good afternoon. You have reached the House of Pleasure. How may I assist you?"
"Better. I'll play Number One for one round, and then he's going to take over." She glanced at the soldier. "Pay attention."
Number One inclined his head. "Go ahead."
"Good afternoon," she said in a monotone, low voice. "We are calling to make an appointment."
"Certainly," Petrov answered in a bored voice. "Any special requests? Kinks? Fetishes? A particular look?"
"Yes. We would like to request Anita."
"Anita," Petrov repeated. "What's your number, soldier? I need to verify how many credits you have available."
Mattie hadn't expected that question, but Number One seemed to know exactly what was needed.
He rattled off a long sequence of numbers.
Petrov pretended to type the number on his keyboard. "Oh," he said in a surprised voice. "You have plenty of credits. You can order eight girls, one for yourself and one for each of your friends. You can even do two for each."
That was good. Petrov was a better actor than he had given himself credit for. He'd made it clear that the woman knew who she was talking with.
"One will suffice," Mattie said. "Doctor Petrov recommends Anita for what we need."
"I see." Petrov-as-madam repeated it with the practiced disinterest of someone who had heard the name often. "For which evening?"
"Tonight, if she's available."
"At what hour?"
"Nine."
"Where shall I send her?"
Mattie gave a fake hotel room and then listened to Petrov-as-madam pretend to write it down and confirm the booking.
She smiled at Number One. "Easy, right?"
"Only if she doesn't ask more questions than Doctor Petrov."
"She won't," Petrov said. "She's too busy."
"One thing before you give it a try." Mattie lifted a finger of her good hand. "Don't sound like a robot if you can help it."
"What should I sound like?"
"A soldier who is a little embarrassed and trying not to show it. Polite but firm."
She sucked as a director. The only way she could show him was to demonstrate, and she had.
"I don't know how to sound like what you are describing," Number One said.
"I'll show you." She cleared her throat once in the middle, stumbled on Anita's name, caught herself, didn't apologize for it, but let the rhythm wobble. She let a pause hang after the reference to Petrov, as if she was waiting to see whether the madam would react to it.
When she was done, Number One nodded. "We can do this."
"Give it a try," she said. "Not the real call yet. We are still practicing."
Number One delivered the lines, and it was just as bad as she'd expected.
He'd said every word she'd told him to say. He'd placed his throat-clearing where she'd placed hers, had stumbled on Anita's name at exactly the same beat, and the whole thing had come out of his mouth like a machine recording with none of the hesitation she'd demonstrated.
"Okay," she said. "Not bad for a first try."
"It wasn't good."
"It was your first try, but a guest who's a little embarrassed doesn't say the embarrassed words.
He says the regular words and lets something hitch inside them.
Like this." She said Anita's name again, and this time the hitch was inside the first syllable, not across the whole word.
"One extra beat in the wrong place. The madam hears it and classifies you as a slightly uncomfortable caller and moves on.
That's the goal. Be boring enough not to arouse suspicion. "
"We are boring."
That was true.
"The Eight do not show emotion," Petrov said. "Everyone knows this. If you pour too much nervousness into the call, the madam will wonder why one of the Eight sounds like a schoolboy. A little uncertainty is plausible. More than that, and it's not believable."
Once again, Mattie had to concede that Petrov was a better director than she was.
"He's right," she admitted. "Subtle. You're still you. One crack in the flatness, no more."
"One crack," Number One repeated.
"Yes."
Number One did it again. Still not great, but better.
Mattie pushed him through a third round and told him to let the sentence trail at the end, and not to punch the final word.
She had him drop the volume on Petrov's name instead of raising it.
She told him to let himself sound younger.
She told him to forget, just for this one call, that there were eight of him.
He tried.
Each pass got better by increments that she could hear only because she was listening for them. On the fifth pass, she caught Dimitri smiling faintly. On the sixth pass, Petrov started to lose patience.
"Yes, sir, we can accommodate that," he said, still doing his madam voice.
More repetitions weren't going to make this any better.
She sighed. "I guess that's as good as it's going to get."
"Finally," Petrov said in his own voice and uncrossed his legs. "Make the call."
Number One did not answer immediately, and the silence stretched.
"Perhaps later," Number One said after a long pause.
Petrov shifted forward in his chair. "Now. You are ready."
"We are not certain the delivery is there yet."
"The delivery is not going to get any better and it doesn't need to. You are not auditioning for a part in a movie. Make the call. We can't drag it out any longer."
Number One looked at Petrov for a long moment. Mattie couldn't tell what was happening behind his eyes, but if she had to guess she would have said seven other minds were in a conversation with him that she couldn't hear.
Evidently Petrov had applied exactly the right amount of pressure, because Number One reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and looked at Mattie.
"Repeat the instructions one more time," he said.
"Drop your volume on Petrov's name. Let the sentence trail at the end. Don't punch the last word. One tiny hitch on Anita."
"Got it."
He dialed.
She heard the tone on the other end, two rings, three, and then a voice answered. The woman sounded just as bored as Petrov's imitation, and the rasp in her voice made Mattie suspect that she was a smoker.
Petrov was right on that as well. He must have known the woman despite claiming that he didn't.
"Good afternoon," Number One said. "I'm calling to make an appointment."
Mattie held her breath.
He stumbled on Anita's name. Not too much. A beat. A small course correction. He recited his soldier number, and the pause on the other side was exactly like Petrov's.
If she was ever going to make films, she would hire the guy as her assistant.
Number One dropped his volume on Petrov's name. He gave his hotel room number in the same tone. The voice on the other end said something, and he listened, and nodded once for her benefit even though the madam couldn't see him, and then he said, "Nine o'clock. Thank you."
He ended the call.
Mattie let out her breath.
"Anita will be in the room tonight at nine," Number One said.
Petrov tapped his flask against his knee.
"Devochka," he said. "You have a future in this business."
She grimaced. "Only if you agree to be my assistant director. You did better than I did."
He laughed. "Thank you for the offer, but I have to graciously decline. I'm too old for a career change."