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ambassador had chosen to use a gadget as ridiculously hard to understand as
the
RebuScope for his messages to us was a mystery, but most of us had gradually
developed a sort of resigned acceptance for the procedure. Fogerty, who dealt
with the gadget more than anyone except Angus, roundly hated the thing, and
seemed to be running systematically through his vast repertoire of
multilingual curses in regards to it. "All right, fine," he said. "We'll take
him to a Broadway play.
Smith, get on the horn and find out who the hell we talk to about doing that."
I cleared my throat. "You don't need to call the White House, Mr. Fogerty," I
said. "I know some people on Broadway."
"We're not interested in pretzel venders, thank you," Fogerty said tartly,
gesturing at Smith. "We need a producer or theater manager or "
"I know all of them."
Fogerty stopped, his gesturing hand still poised in midair, and turned his
head to look at me. "You what?" he asked.
"I know all of them," I repeated. "Up until a year ago I was working with one
of the top set designers on Broadway."
It was, and I'll admit it, an immensely soul-satisfying moment. The whole
bunch of them just stood there, professionals and wonks alike, staring at me
like something that had just crawled out of the primordial ooze and asked
whether
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the
Metro Blue line stopped here. All except Angus, that is, who had a faint but
knowing smile on his face. Obviously, he was the only one in the group who'd
bothered to read the FBI's rundown on me after I was booted aboard.
Fogerty recovered first, in typical Fogerty fashion. "Well, don't just stand
there, Lebowitz," he said, waving Smith forward with his phone. "Let's get to
it."
The first step, I decided, would be to figure out which Broadway offering
would be the best one to take the ambassador to see. I put in a call to Tony
Capello, theater critic, and we spent fifteen minutes discussing the current
crop of plays and musicals in town.
Actually, the first twelve of those minutes were spent talking over the old
times when I was a lowly carpenter and Tony was chief gopher for a succession
of minor choreographers. I would have cut off the reminiscences earlier,
except that the delay so obviously irritated Fogerty. When I finally got Tony
down to business, his advice was instant and unequivocal: "And Whirred When It
Stood
Still," currently in previews at the St. James.
"So what's the play about?" Fogerty asked when I relayed the recommendation.
"According to Tony, it's pleasantly harmless froth," I assured him. "Nothing
that'll confuse the ambassador or put human beings in a bad light. At least,
not in any worse light than plays typically do."
"Assuming he understands it at all," Fogerty growled, gesturing to his
overworked secretary. "Lee, better have someone vet it anyway, just to be on
the safe side. All right, what about this St. James Theater? It's on
Broadway?"
"Well, actually, it's on West 44th Street," I said. "But it's "
"West 44th Street?" Fogerty echoed. "He wants a Broadway play."
"It is a Broadway play," I told him stiffly. "The St. James is in the theater
district, half a block off Broadway itself. It counts. Trust me."
He glowered, but apparently decided he'd shown enough ignorance for one
conversation. "Fine," he grunted. "Let's just hope it counts with the
ambassador."
The manager at the St. James, Jerry Zachs, was less than enthusiastic about
the whole thing. "You must be joking," he said, looking back and forth between
Fogerty and me. "Bring that behemoth into my theater? Who's going to pay for
the fifty seats it's going to cost me?"
"Oh, do try not to go off the deep end here, Mr. Zachs," Fogerty said, his
voice hovering between imperious and condescending. "We won't have to remove
more than nine seats at the most to fit him in."
"Sure to fit him in," Jerry shot back. "What about these seats in front of him
you want left empty?"
"That's only another twelve seats," Fogerty told him. "Four rows by three
seats "
"I can multiply, thank you," Jerry growled. "I can also multiply by ticket
prices and see I'm already out about a grand and a half. And what about all
the seats right behind him where no one's going to be able to see? Huh?"
Fogerty shrugged. "Fine. We'll put his entourage there."
"At full price?"
Fogerty lifted his eyebrows. "Don't be silly. They won't be able to see the
show from there. How do you expect to charge full price?"
Jerry's complexion was edging into a soft pink, which from my experience with
him was a dangerous sign. "I'm sure we can work something out," I jumped in
before he could say anything. Fogerty had a virtually unlimited budget to work
with, but he could go all chintzy at the oddest moments. "What's important is
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that the ambassador be treated like the VIP he is."
"That's right," Fogerty said, apparently believing I was on his side here.
"The
Fuzhties have a great deal to offer humanity, Mr. Zachs, and the more favors
he owes us, the sooner he'll start coming across with some of this magic
technology of theirs. This is just one of those favors."
" 'The play's the thing,' " I said in my best soliloquy voice, " 'Wherein
I'll catch the conscience of the king.' "
Fogerty frowned at me. "What?"
"Hamlet," I said.
"Shakespeare," Jerry added acidly. "He's done some plays and poems and stuff."
"Thank you," Fogerty said, matching Jerry's acid pH for pH. "I have heard of
the man. The point is that I can requisition your theater, no questions asked,
like it or lump it. So you might as well like it. Anyway, you should be
honored to have their first ambassador in your theater."
"Besides, think of the great publicity," I reminded him. "You'll be able to
use photos of the ambassador in all your future ads and "
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