The Long Take by Robin Robertson

Author:Robin Robertson
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

1953

Looking down through the night on the way to Los Angeles

he heard this noise over his tinnitus,

over the plane’s engines: a screaming.

The stewardess was standing over him – frightened,

it looked like.

Someone in his seat was screaming.

Seen from above,

the city was a network of hot, red wires

like a grill;

a geometry of grid and parallel lines

all the way to a vanishing point.

The headlights on the freeway

a lava thread through the Hollywood hills.

‘She’s a real beauty, ain’t she?’ The guy across from him had said,

nodding at the view. They’d passed over downtown –

City Hall, like a white crucifix

up-ended in the ground –

but there was a giant tangle of freeway

knotted up north of there, lit up like Christmas,

and that’s what he meant. ‘The Four Level Interchange.

Makes you proud to be an American.’

‘You live downtown?’

‘Hell, no. Me and my family, we got a nice place in Orange County:

Yorba Linda, home of Richard Nixon. Decent white town.’

*

It was like watching a ciné-film from the future:

things familiar but wrong.

He noticed the yellow smog, thin and bitter; desert grit in the air.

Going up the 3rd Street steps the palms were even blacker

from the traffic going through the tunnel,

the paintwork on the windows of the Belmont

more cracked than ever.

The Sunshine a little shabbier: older, just like him,

but pretty much the same.

The desk-clerk didn’t recognize him at first,

then grinned: ‘You want your old room back? It’s just come free.

Pretty much most of them are free, now I think of it.’

He took a walk up the Hill, dropped some shoes off at Varney’s

to get re-heeled, some shirts next door at Mr Yee’s.

Got a haircut at the barbers next to the pharmacy.

‘Shave, mister?’

‘Yeah, why not.’

‘You got it!’

Bing Crosby on the radio.

*

The Press the next morning, and it hadn’t changed: the clatter

of Teletype and typewriters, the calls of ‘Copy!’

He was due to see Overholt first thing, in his office.

‘I like what you’ve done, Walker. Interesting stuff.

I want you to bring yourself up to date with how it is here,

on the street, then we’ll run the whole story over a couple weeks.’

He looked up from his sheaf of papers:

‘Oh, by the way, I promoted Pike.

He’s joining you on the City Desk.’

He caught up with Sherwood and Rennert in their bar on 2nd,

and the end of one of Rennert’s speeches:

‘I mean . . . dinner, a bottle, a bed an’ a girl – that too much to ask?’

blowing a long stream of smoke at the ceiling.

‘Ah, Mr Walker! Back from the boondocks! Welcome.’

‘Thanks. So, what’s the dope?’

‘Well, the bad news is that we’ve gotten real busy.

There’re a lot more people in this city and a lot more getting killed.

When you were here – ’50, ’51 – it was mostly strong-arm stuff,

muscle jobs, knives occasionally. Right? Now it’s shooters.

The Mob’s into everything, including the cops.’

‘And the good news?’

‘There ain’t any. Except Overholt’s still got all his buttons.’

‘And Pike?’

‘He’s got his eyes open.’

‘For buttons?’

‘Lighten up, Walker. Have a smoke.’ Sherwood dug in his pocket,

threw a pack of Kent across the table. ‘They’re new. Filtered.’

‘No thanks,’ he said, ‘I’ll stick to what I know.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.