Thomas Sherred: E for Effort

“Ed Lefko, have you gone crazy?”

I guess it didn’t sound very sensible, at that. “Maybe I have. But those languages are essential. If you run across any who can work in any other language, hang on to them. I might need them, too.” I could see him sitting in front of his telephone, wagging his head like mad. Crazy. The heat must have got Lefko, good old Ed. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, I heard you. If this is a rib—”

“No rib. Dead serious.”

He began to get mad. “Where you think I’m going to get lip readers, out of my hat?”

“That’s your worry. I’d suggest you start with the local School for the Deaf.” He was silent. “Now, get this into your head; this isn’t a rib, this is the real thing. I don’t care what you do, or where you go, or what you spend—I want those lip readers in Hollywood when we get there or I want to know they’re on the way.”

“When are you going to get there?”

I said I wasn’t sure. “Probably a day or two. We’ve got a few loose ends to clean up.”

He swore a blue streak at the iniquities of fate. “You’d better have a good story when you do—” I hung up.

Mike met me at the studio. “Talk to Johnson?” I told him, and he laughed. “Does sound crazy, I suppose. But he’ll get them, if they exist and like money. He’s the Original Resourceful Man.”

I tossed my hat in a corner. “I’m glad this is about over. Your end caught up?”

“Set and ready to go. The films and the notes are on the way, the real estate company is ready to take over the lease, and the girls are paid up to date, with a little extra.”

I opened a bottle of beer for myself. Mike had one. “How about the office files? How about the bar, here?”

“The files go to the bank to be stored. The bar? Hadn’t thought about it.”

The beer was cold. “Have it crated and send it to Johnson.”

We grinned, together. “Johnson it is. He’ll need it.”

I nodded at the machine. “What about that?”

“That goes with us on the plane as air express.” He looked closely at me. “What’s the matter with you—jitters?”

“Nope. Willies. Same thing.”

“Me, too. Your clothes and mine left this morning.”

“Not even a clean shirt left?”

“Not even a clean shirt. Just like—”

I finished it. “—the first trip with Ruth. A little different, maybe.”

Mike said slowly, “A lot different.” I opened another beer. “Anything you want around here, anything else to be done?” I said no. “O.K. Let’s get this over with. We’ll put what we need in the car. We’ll stop at the Courville Bar before we hit the airport.”

I didn’t get it. “There’s still beer left—”

“But no champagne.”

I got it. “O.K. I’m dumb, at times. Let’s go.”

We loaded the machine into the car, and the bar, left the studio keys at the corner grocery for the real estate company, and headed for the airport by way of the Courville Bar. Ruth was in California, but Joe had champagne. We got to the airport late.

Marrs met us in Los Angeles. “What’s up? You’ve got Johnson running around in circles.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Sounds crazy to me. Couple of reporters inside. Got anything for them?”

“Not right now. Let’s get going.”

In Johnson’s private office we got a chilly reception. “This better be good. Where do you expect to find someone to lipread in Chinese? Or Russian, for that matter?”

We all sat down. “What have you got so far?”

“Besides a headache?” He handed me a short list.

I scanned it. “How long before you can get them here?”

An explosion. “How long before you can get them here? Am I your errand boy?”

“For all practical purposes you are. Quit the fooling. How about it?” Marrs snickered at the look on Johnson’s face.

“What are you smirking at, you moron?” Marrs gave in and laughed outright, and I did, too. “Go ahead and laugh. This isn’t funny. When I called the State School for the Deaf they hung up. Thought I was some practical joker. We’ll skip that.

“There’s three women and a man on that list. They cover English, French, Spanish, and German. Two of them are working in the East, and I’m waiting for answers to telegrams I sent them. One lives in Pomona and one works for the Arizona School for the Deaf. That’s the best I could do.”

We thought that over. “Get on the phone. Talk to every state in the union if you have to, or overseas.”

Johnson kicked the desk. “And what are you going to do with them, if I’m that lucky?”

“You’ll find out. Get them on planes and fly them here, and we’ll talk turkey when they get here. I want a projection room, not yours, and a good bonded court reporter.”

He asked the world to appreciate what a life he led.

“Get in touch with us at the Commodore.” To Marrs: “Keep the reporters away for a while. We’ll have something for them later.” Then we left.

Johnson never did find anyone who could lipread Greek. None, at least, that could speak English. The expert on Russian he dug out of Ambridge, in Pennsylvania, the Flemish and Holland Dutch expert came from Leyden, in the Netherlands, and at the last minute he stumbled upon a Korean who worked in Seattle as an inspector for the Chinese Government. Five women and two men. We signed them to an ironclad contract drawn by Samuels, who now handled all our legal work. I made a little speech before they signed.

“These contracts, as far as we’ve been able to make sure, are going to control your personal and business life for the next year, and there’s a clause that says we can extend that period for another year if we so desire. Let’s get this straight. You are to live in a place of your own, which we will provide. You will be supplied with all necessities by our buyers. Any attempt at unauthorized communication will result in abrogation of the contract. Is that clear?

“Good. Your work will not be difficult, but it will be tremendously important. You will, very likely, be finished in three months, but you will be ready to go any place at any time at our discretion, naturally at our expense. Mr. Sorenson, as you are taking this down, you realize that this goes for you, too.” He nodded.

“Your references, your abilities, and your past work have been thoroughly checked, and you will continue under constant observation. You will be required to verify and notarize every page, perhaps every line, of your transcripts, which Mr. Sorenson here will supply. Any questions?”

No questions. Each was getting a fabulous salary, and each wanted to appear eager to earn it. They all signed.

Resourceful Johnson bought for us a small rooming house, and we paid an exorbitant price to a detective agency to do the cooking and cleaning and chauffeuring required. We requested that the lip-readers refrain from discussing their work among themselves, especially in front of the house employees, and they followed instructions very well.

One day, about a month later, we called a conference in the projection room of Johnson’s laboratory. We had a single reel of film.

“What’s that for?”

“That’s the reason for all the cloak-and-dagger secrecy. Never mind calling your projection man. This I’m going to run through myself. See what you think of it.”

They were all disgusted. “I’m getting tired of all this kid stuff,” said Kessler.

As I started for the projection booth I heard Mike say, “You’re no more tired of it than I am.”

From the booth I could see what was showing on the downstairs screen, but nothing else. I ran through the reel, rewound, and went back down.

I said, “One more thing, before we go any further read this. It’s a certified and notarized transcript of what has been read from the lips of the characters you just saw. They weren’t, incidentally, ‘characters,’ in that sense of the word.” I handed the crackling sheets around, a copy for each. “Those ‘characters’ are real people. You’ve just seen a newsreel. This transcript will tell you what they were talking about. Read it. In the trunk of the car Mike and I have something to show you. We’ll be back by the time you’ve read it.”