Down Among the Dead Men Read Online Free Page A

convinced us. Not that we needed much convincing. And since he signed up the buzz has been building – admittedly that's got a lot to do with our marketing – but I spoke to an agent in LA about something else and Ben's name came up, unprompted. She knew all about him – or more than we'd been pushing – and she's a serious player. You know what it's like in this business. Heat is everything. Don't you think he's working, Dean?'
    'He's great,' says Quinner. 'Perfect. I just wish I liked the twat.'
    Everyone laughs and Quinner takes a drink.
    Conroy and McElway and the others chat and smile about tomorrow's shooting but after the evening's over and Quinner's outside on the street, he can't shake the thought that Noone, the focal point of
his
movie, might be up to something naughty.
    Walking back to his flat, it's not a comforting thought.

Five
    For Quinner, this is the week when the movie feels like it's shifted into another gear. They've been shooting for almost three weeks but now they're in the tunnels. He's been down here many times before in preparation but now, filming right where he first got that electric crackle and the idea for the story sprang into his mind, the whole enterprise makes sense.
    It'll work, he thinks.
The Tunnels
will work.
    He makes his way through the location trucks parked outside the visitor's centre and heads down to the first set-up of the day. Despite the late night at Maxie's and the ongoing rigours of the shoot, Quinner feels energised, positive.
    Just inside the location barriers he sees Terry's nephew, Nicky. The boy, carrying a loop of cable, waves a shy hand in Quinner's direction and he winks back. For the first time, Quinner notices Nicky's wearing a jacket like his own and wonders if the kid bought it deliberately. Teenagers do that, don't they, Quinner thinks. He can remember aping Liam Gallagher's walk during the Oasis years. The memory still makes him blush.
    But if Nicky's trying to look like Quinner – like the script writer on the set, not the actors, or the director – that's interesting. Although he and Nicky Peters have greatly differing backgrounds, Quinner senses the kid might have some of the fire you need in this business.
    Quinner reaches the large gallery in which Soames and his team are going to be shooting a conversation between Noone's character, a slaving ship sailor who has drifted into Williamson's orbit, and Williamson himself. An older, dependable character actor, Dave Losey, is playing Williamson. Quinner's worked withLosey before on a TV soap and waves although doesn't approach him.
    The technical crew have been setting up overnight so that time isn't wasted. Today's schedule is heavy, technical and demanding, and by seven the atmosphere is already jagged. Nerves are frayed and Quinner stays in the background. On set he is no more than a sounding-board for Josh Soames and his team. It might be Quinner's baby but he is not a technician. He gets a coffee from the catering truck and wanders inside, finds a brick ledge some metres back from the action and checks his notes.
    He already knows Noone's late. Josh had texted as much half an hour ago.
    Like I could do anything about it, thinks Quinner. You cast the fucker, you deal with his shit. He can feel his stomach knotting and fights to keep calm. You can only do what you can do.
    And then, here he is, the main man, smiling, charming, apologetic and ready to work. Noone, in costume and make-up, looks brighter and more alert than anyone else.
    Quinner doesn't look up as Noone walks past.
    'You all right, la?' says Noone in a perfect Liverpool accent and pats Quinner on the upper arm. 'Can't hang about here all day, there's a fucking movie to be shot, right?'
    Quinner smiles but says nothing.
    'Gentlemen!' says Noone as he steps into the pool of light. His accent has changed again; a Victorian Englishman. 'To work, by God!'
    Josh shoots a look at Quinner and shrugs. 'Places,' he says. 'Let's get moving.'
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