Excerpt from    LOVE  SCANDAL  KILL

 

 

The L:S:K company was setting up for the duck hunting sequence. Senator Kane is on a recreational outing with some friends. They are surprised by a bear and some shots are fired in defense. Congressman Whitley sustains multiple bullet wounds from the accident and is rushed off to the hospital by helicopter. It was one and a half pages, or about a minute and a half of screen time.

​

Julian was working on the truck setting up the squibs in preparation for the scene. The small explosive packs could be detonated by an electrical current supplied from different wireless remote devices or a wire from a battery carrying electrical charge. They can be manufactured (or purchased) with varying composition to simulate different explosive effects or enable discharges of substances to occur. Some examples are wood splinters, sand and dust, sparks on metal, or bursting a blood bag. 

​

There were many prepared varieties of squibs available for production use, but Julian preferred to make his own. His father had taught him how to do it, and he had the knack for it, and knew some special insider tricks. Most importantly, he was also a number one card. Being a number one card in California meant you were able to operate and possess explosive devices of the highest caliber and potency permitted by law— for film use, demolition or other. California had more stringent rules than most other states due to it’s particularly dry climate and susceptibility to fire. There was also a high demand for pyro and explosives in the entertainment industry, and for that reason and the opportunities presented, it was a coveted card to have.

​

Julian knew it was a potentially dangerous position to be in. He had been around the stuff his whole life, and he often recalled the mantra of pyrotechnic personnel: “You are only allowed ONE mistake, and that is your decision to work with explosives. Your next mistake will hurt you or someone else.”

​

He dwelled on it momentarily. What was his father Jules thinking that day on TARGET:WARSHIP? He was dealing with live loads, which Julian and Corrine had set. Of course they were going to detonate— they always did. Julian manufactured the loads to his father’s specification. They all knew they were hot and potentially lethal. Fisk liked to see big explosions in his movies, Jules knew that, and he made them that way. They all new that. So why did he go in?

​

Then there was that idiot Klaus. Julian remembered him from T:W. A meat puppet with no skills or common sense who’ll do anything to get in front of a camera. He had no timing and couldn’t hit his marks. Another expatriate foreign national from the outside world who came to cash in on Hollywood. Like Tanner from Wisconsin, another guy who was moving in on his turf.

​

Julian cut some eight-inch paper squares for the small paper folds he was constructing, known as a “flat pack.” He was making several flat packs which would be affixed to an internal vest with blood bags attached that Congressman Whitley would be wearing. When the squibs discharged, it would appear that Whitley had been struck by some shotgun scatter and small amounts of blood would discharge from the sustained contusions, enough to partially soak the shirt he would wear.

​

He put a crease across one of the paper squares and measured some of the potassium perchlorate and aluminum flash powder into it, gently. Like weighing out cocaine, he thought as he parceled it, only far more volatile. It was exciting, and it brought a smile to his face.

​

Then that idiot Klaus jumped into his mind’s eye, that carpetbagger, and asked— “Hey, you got some coke? Can I do a line?”

​

Julian’s smile turned to a scowl, with an obvious distaste for Klaus who spoiled his happy moment. Klaus, who Tara wanted to see dead. Klaus who had no business being here in Hollywood. Klaus who had no timing.

​

Julian folded the flat pack with his special origami style, something his father had shown him, to which he added his own special bend. By his experience, with differing combinations he could get a specific explosive snap that was difficult to achieve.

​

He prepared the next paper and again measured the flash powder. He thought about the upcoming stunt for the finale scene. Tara would pull the trigger on Klaus, the way it was scripted, and that would be a snap and jerk. Squib go pow and blood bag go splash.

​

It really required an experienced hand to fabricate these, Julian thought. A number of things could go wrong and they could fail to detonate, or they could be contrived to be more volatile and pose a hazardous risk. Fisk wanted a collarbone hit that would blow out the aortic jugular— if the blast didn’t kill the bodyguard, then he would bleed out in seconds. A dangerous hit indeed.

​

Maybe it was time to put that neophyte Tanner to the test. He had only recently gotten his number two card, so Julian knew his appetite was wet. He needed another two hundred hours before he could become a number one card. Julian remembered what it was like to be a journeyman, to want those hours and the responsibility. You think you can handle it but you’re still cutting your teeth.

​

What if Tanner helped him make the flat packs for the finale assassination scene? Would he even know the difference between potassium perchlorate and a more unstable compound like sulfur hexafluoride? What if there were some foul play involved?

​

Thoughts came rushing to Julian quickly. Tanner would want to log the hours and get him to verify them, as proof for his one card exam— the perfect alibi. It would be documentation that Tanner made the packs. It was still foggy but he began seeing a way he could implicate Tanner in a botched special effects gag which would gravely endanger that sap Klaus.

Julian smiled to himself. It was a dangerous game he was playing. He knew it would make Tara excited.

​

He hadn’t seen much of her since their last night together a week and a half ago. Just the passing furtive glance on set, but there was still some sparks between them. He knew she was new to the biz, but there were still certain lines that weren’t crossed in plain view. He was sure she didn’t want everyone to know she was fucking an SPFX tech, and he was fine with that.

​

Still, they had said some things which formed a bond between them. Did she anticipate that he could help her get what she wished for? Was she manipulating him? He might be giving her too much credit to be that clever. You could never be too sure though.

 

He wouldn’t mind another bounce in the hay with her, that much he did know. She had a scene later this week when they were back on stage. He could gauge her temperature then, and if she was still hot, then it was on.

​

 

COMING SOON

​