Hitchcock, Altman and Me

It’s May 1972. I’m at Nice airport in the south of France.

“Stefan, what are you doing here?”

Behind me is the towering figure of Clyde Packer with a new GF. I went to school with Clyde and his younger brother, Kerry. The Packers own Australian newspapers, magazines and a network of TV stations.

“Going to Juan-les-Pins, shooting a TV series with Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet. It’s called The Wet Set and I’m booked to spend a year on his boat sailing around the world.”

“Cool. This is Julie. Stefan makes documentaries for Channel 9. We’re staying at the hotel Eden Roc. Here comes our driver, give him your bag.”

JET SET TO WET SET

It’s only a short trip from Nice to Graham’s boat. As we clamber aboard, Graham goes into hyperdrive. The 71-foot yacht is his baby and he’s keen to show her off.

They leave but their chauffeur soon returns.

“Bon soir, Monsieur Packer would like you to join him tonight at Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc.”

“I’m sorry, tell Mr. Packer we have a previous engagement.”

“Why did you say that?” snaps Treena, Graham’s wife. “I really want to go. We’re doing nothing tonight.”

I want to go, too. The Eden Roc is probably the best and most expensive hotel in the world.

Graham has a solution, “Phone Tricia, tell her to fly down. We’ll go for a sail around Cap d’Antibes, drop into the hotel and book a table.”

NEXT MORNING

I catch a bus to Nice airport to collect Tricia. Oh no, it’s not the highway bus but a slow one that goes to all the local villages. I’m late, very late.

As the bus pulls into the airport, I spot Tricia in a bright yellow open sports car with a young man. I shout, scream, run after the car. They stop. I throw myself into the narrow backseat.

“Hi! I’m David Whiting, showbiz correspondent for Time magazine. My card. The Striped Shirt Company, Chicken on Sunday. We’re going to the Cannes Film Festival!”

“No, we’re not! We’re going to Juan-les-Pins near Antibes.”

“Nope. Cannes it is. Once around the Croisette and I’ll take you to Antibes.”

FOLLOW THE YELLOW SPORTS CAR

Hitchcock is in town for the premiere of Frenzy.

David seems to know everyone. He drives slowly, shouting over the Croisette footpath.

“Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, David! We’re going to Altman’s boat! Why don’t you and your friends join us?”

Minutes later we are on board. There’s a party going on. Robert Altman is sitting alone at a small, round table. He’s pleased to see us; total strangers. We chat. He tells us about making MASH and his troubles with the studio.

“I really like you both. You must come to my party tonight at the Mantel in the old town—and tomorrow, the premiere of my new film, Images.”

The hotel Eden Roc can wait. I must phone Graham. Little do I know what’s in store.…

To be continued next month.

Adam and Eve

No, not that Eve. I mean the one before the new year. Today is New Year’s Eve 2013 and it’s my neighbor’s birthday. Happy birthday, Patrick.

So who’s Adam? He is Patrick’s daughter’s husband’s brother’s son. Confusing, isn’t it? Adam is 17 and the geekiest geek you’ve ever met.

Adam has been flying my DJI Quadcopter all day; now, at night, my precious baby has her top unscrewed and Adam is performing brain surgery.

“The motors need tuning. You really should do this all the time. It’s flying much better.”

I Want to Shoot Aerials in 3D

I really do. I’m making a 3D stereoscopic documentary and I want every shot in 3D.

My lightest 3D camera, a Sony HDR-TD30, weighs in at just over 1 pound. I race next door and bring mine back to show Adam.

“No problem. A DJI S800 could easily lift that. It would fit into the Sony NEX-7 gimbal. I could build it for you. That would be fun.”

And in a moment of madness, I say, “Yes. Let’s do it! Send me a shopping list.”

Adam tweaking the DJI S800

Sunday Bloody Sunday

It’s spring break and Adam is with us for a week. On Sunday, he flies the S800 over the nearby marina. Seagulls take flight, boat owners complain, people walking their dogs lose control. Disaster.

Monday is even worse. We are inside the shipyard tent. On takeoff, the S800 kicks up thick clouds of sawdust. The noise attracts curious folk from nowhere. One of the carpenters is directly underneath and taking flash photos. Richard, number two in charge, is making rude signs and coughing from the dust.

Total, total failure. You can’t fly an S800 indoors. Now I know.

Flexible Friend

No more S800; the idea now is to mount two GoPros on the lightweight Phantom 2 quadcopter. Not possible; the GoPros are bulky and too heavy. Let’s try the lighter, sleeker Sony POV Action Cam (HDR-AS100).

I buy two and Adam attempts to mount them parallel, side by side. Nope, they’re too long for the gimbal.

“Can I experiment? I’d have to completely rebuild the cameras.”

“They’re $299 each—yeah, go smash ’em up.”

He works through the night. By morning he has stripped the cameras bare and mounted them back to back—and here’s the genius trick: he has removed the lenses and their flexible cables and bent the cables around a full 90°. The result is two forward-facing lenses. Brilliant!

Cameras of mass destruction: leftovers from three Sony AS100s.

And destroy is right. In the process of creation, one of the flexible cables gives its all. A wire is broken. No matter. A quick trip to Best Buy, $299 on the card and we have a third Sony AS100 to smash up.

Adam opens it and unplugs the lens cable. A spot of Super Glue here and there. It works!

We go back to the shipyard and take amazing 3D aerial footage, which you can see (in boring 2D) here: http://webuiltaship.com.

My DJI Phantom 2 fitted with RageCams 5.4mm lenses on two Sony AS100s

Adam, you are a 17-year-old evil genius. What will you do next?

DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN

July 14, 1995. Tricia and I arrive at Bordeaux  airport. André, the local ICI rep., is there to meet us. He takes us to our hotel. It’s huge. Long, white terraced gardens and an Olympic sized swimming pool.

“Don’t worry, we’re paying for it and I’ve booked you in for dinner tonight.”

Sod filming, I’m staying here all day. I wish…

We dump our bags and André drives us to the first body shop. It’s a modest family business; Pierre has three spray painters, his wife, Ellie, runs the office.

I’m up a ladder taking top shots with my 9.5 mm Angenieux lens. It’s hot and the air is thick with paint fumes.

“Like a drink?” calls Ellie.  “Sure anything, tea, coffee, wine…”

SIMPLY RED

I climb down the ladder; Tricia takes me into the office. A bottle of Bordeaux red is open and glasses are waiting. Not only that, there’s a selection of local cakes and pastries.

Back in body shop, I shoot André and Pierre walking around chatting. Both have radio mikes, I’m on telephoto. It looks real and natural.

“ICI Autocolor – C’est magnifique!”

That’s it. We pack up. I take some shots of the river, cobbled streets, anything that’s says Bordeaux. We pass a vineyard. I jump out. Shoot it. We drive off.

LOST IN FRANCE

“Where are we going André?”

Finally, a clearing in the vineyards and a stone building – it’s an old winery. We enter and go downstairs into the cellars. And guess what? It’s a restaurant. Not just a restaurant but a restaurant gastronomique!

LET THE WILD EATING BEGIN

One course after the other, each separated by a small plate of culinary diversions.

“Is this the main course, André?”

He just smiles and refills my glass. Some plates need red wine, others white. The food and wine doesn’t stop. People join us. Lots of laugher and jokes in French.

After a few hours, I say, “Aren’t we shooting this afternoon?” André smiles and pours more wine.

Four hours later, the desserts arrive. Time to leave for another body shop.

DOWNTOWN BORDEAUX
Late afternoon. It’s bigger, more modern body shop. Do I film it? I guess so. I’m beat, working on auto-pilot. Shoot over; they bring us (oh, please God no) – yes, more Bordeaux wine.

“André take us home, SVP.” The hotel manager is pleased to see us.

“Bon soir, the restaurant is waiting. You have a table booked. We have a treat for you: a menu gastronomique.”

“We can’t. Please forgive us. Charge a cancellation fee. A big one.”

He hates me. The entire restaurant staff hates us.

ALONE AT LAST

The sun has set. It’s dark. It’s France’s National Day. The sky is filled with fireworks.

We sit around the swimming pool with our gifts of wine and a brown paper bag full of little cakes. Nibble. Sip.

Pipistrelle bats are circling and dipping low over the water. The pool and gardens look incredible; le quatorze juillet fireworks exploding above us.

We slip out of our clothes and slide into the warm water. Watch fireworks from under water. Unreal.

We have died and gone to heaven.

Where There’s Always Beer and Popcorn
“Hi, Alan, glad you made it. Hope you didn’t park outside. Our neighbors, they think they own the road. They’ll put a note under your wipers:

Don’t park here—I bet you voted for Bush.

“No, I’m fine; parked right outside. Looking forward to seeing the lead pouring rushes.”

“All set up downstairs—but first, the guided tour!”

Enter the Living Room
“Love it. Amazing table. Hi, puss.”

“A Himalayan, Shibui.

“Come on out to the deck. You’re lucky, it’s high tide. This was a duck hunting shack.”

“You shoot ducks from here?”

“Me? In Marin County? I’d be lynched!”

Go Down the Stairs
“When we bought it in 2002, there were tenants under the house; their rent paid our mortgage. They moved out in 2012 and our Rough Linen business moved in; four ladies sewing, Tricia cutting and an assistant taking orders. Orders poured in and we moved the linen biz out to an industrial condo. I moved my editing rig out too. The rooms down here were empty.

“Then a few months ago Tricia suggested bringing the editing rig back—and it kind of grew from there.”

Enter the Man Cave
“It’s so dark inside….”

“On the right, a Windows computer for Sony’s Vegas Pro 13 to crack open files from my 3D Sony HXR-NX3D1 camera.

“Over here, where we used to cut linen, is my main editing setup. I’m on the new Mac Pro. I work in FCP X 10.1 using Tim Dashwood’s Stereo3D Toolbox plug-in. For final cleanup and output, it’s Blackmagic DaVinci Resolve 11.

“QuickTime files from my little Sony Action Cams and Panasonic GH4s are processed through a Blackmagic Teranex 3D box. It aligns and genlocks the left and right streams.”

“You’ve lost me. Isn’t it time for the rushes? It’s 4K?”

“Nope, not really. I don’t shoot Cinema 4K but what’s called Ultra HD. It should really be called 2160p as it twice HD’s 1080p. 4K sounds sexier than UHD.”

Show Me the Movie
“Can’t wait to see the lead pouring, Stefan. Pleeeaaase….”

“Sure, relax, sit here. Exactly 10 feet from the screen will simulate the correct 3D volume on a 40-foot movie screen. Just like being at the movies.”

“I’m waiting….”

“At my desk is a JVC 24-inch 3D monitor. It’s great but really too small to judge parallax, depth bracketing and convergence. You need a much bigger screen. I lashed out and bought this Sony 65-inch 4K monster.”

Lights-Off Time
“Your beer and popcorn, Alan.”

“At last. Roll film. Pour that crazy hot lead….”

“Sorry about my constant stream of chatter—just thought it might make a good article for Digital Video magazine. You know, “A visit to the man cave.”

“Boring. No one would read it.”

“You’re right—silly idea. I’ll think of something else for DV. Enjoy the movie.”

I started with a Bolex 16mm camera. Over the years my Bolexes were accidentally smashed or stolen and replaced, but effectively I owned the same camera for 35 years.

With video it’s a different story. I have moved from updating every ten years to five, three, two and finally, this year, a new camera every few months!

FILM—Bolex 16mm film: 50+-year lifespan—and still a current model. I’m shooting Bandstand in ’63.

I’m an addict and I need help. Unexpectedly, it came from my sponsor, George, who has kicked his annual new car upgrade addiction. George has made a five-year pledge. He’s been sober for three years—another two to go before he can trade in his Prius.

San Francisco Updaters Anonymous

Hi, I’m Stefan. I’m an addict.

(UA GROUP) Hi Stefan.

I make corporate videos and TV documentaries. Like anyone my age, I started with 16mm film cameras. I had two cameras: a Bolex and a more expensive Éclair.

Here’s the interesting thing. The upgrades in the days of film cameras came not from the camera manufacturers but from improvements in camera film stock. “Upgrading” consisted of buying rolls of the new and improved film stock; the cameras stayed the same.

My first video camera was an Ikegami HL-79A. It came out in 1979 and cost around $35,000. It wasn’t a camcorder, as it needed an expensive add-on videotape recorder like the Ampex VR3000.

Upgrade or Die

VIDEO—Ikegami HL-79A, from new to junk in five years. Jim and Simon at my facilities company in ’79.

In 1984 Sony brought out a revolutionary camcorder, the Betacam.

My HL-79 and its companion Ampex recorder were both impossible to update and became instant junk. Five years and finished.

The Betacam was the one-piece machine we’d all been waiting for. Sadly, its lifespan was even shorter than the HL-79’s.

How come? Sony changed the cassette tape formulation, vastly improving picture quality. The new tape stock couldn’t be used in the original Betacam camcorder. Bye, bye, Betacam, been good to know ya—long live Betacam SP. Early adopters were left with a two-and-a-half-year-old useless camera.

These days, Sony and other video camera manufacturers bring out a new model almost every year. Panasonic’s 2009 GH1 was out of date in a just a year. The GH2 had two years, outdated by the GH3 in 2012—and now, this year, the GH4. Trust me, there will be a GH5, 6, 7 and 8—but not for me.

Just Say No to Upgrades

I have decided that enough is enough. Today I am saying NO to upgrades.

VIDEO—The original Sony non-SP Betacam: scrap metal in less than three years.

This is my pledge:

(UA MODERATOR ASKS EVERYONE TO STAND)

I, Stefan Sargent, do solemnly pledge not to sell or replace my Panasonic Lumix DMC-GH4 camera for a period of five years. I will not buy a GH5 (or subsequent upgrade) or any other still or video camera until 2019.

(UA GROUP) Yea Stefan!

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author.

Digital Video magazine recommends you keep your cameras up to date.

– See more at: http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/news/shoot/production-diary-updaters-anonymous-i-sign-pledge/602427#sthash.c14hDfh5.dpuf

LOST
I regret losing my very first documentary, Portrait of an Adventurer. I made it in ’61 on spec. It was about Ron Flockhart, who was in Australia to fly his plane solo from Sydney to London. Crazy Guinness Book of World Records stuff. I filmed his preparations and his fears. “I couldn’t look myself in the face if I backed out.” Sadly, Flockhart died in the risky venture.

Ron Flockhart and Mustang, ready for the record attempt.

I sold the doc for £15 to Australia’s TCN9. It was broadcast and then junked. “Oh, did you want it back?” Why didn’t I buy another copy? I don’t know. I suspect I thought the lab would always have it. Wrong. Come back, Kinelab.

VIDEO: THE BILLION DOLLAR BATTLE
That’s the name of a TV documentary from producer Julian Aston. It’s about my company, Molinare. Like my Flockhart film, it’s lost too.

One night, before bed, I mused: Where is it? I’d love a copy. I did nothing and fell asleep. Maybe I dreamt about it.

Friends, trust me, this 100 percent true. The next morning an out-of-the-blue e-mail from Julian, “Just thinking about you, it must be 30 or 40 years since we last met.”

Quick, play the theme from The Twilight Zone. Do-dee-do-dee…

We do good e-mail. Julian finds a copy in his woodshed and pops it onto Dropbox.

CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER
I watch Julian’s 1979 TV program. There I am, 35 years younger. There’s Bob Parsons, Phil Stone, Roger De Freitas and many more. I find e-mail addresses for both Roger and Bob.

Roger replies from London: “Vicki and I are going to a wedding in SLC. Can we stay with you in SF after?”

Whoosh! They arrive at Chez Sargent and begin the guided tour.

MY MAN CAVE
Pride of place is my Sony 65” 4K 3D monitor. Why 4K? Easy: 3D on a regular 1080 HD monitor with passive glasses is really only half res. The interlaced lines are split left and right. You’re watching 540 lines. Why, it’s almost SD. With 4K, you’re back to HD.

Roger and Vicki watch The Life of Pi in 3D scaled up to 4K and are blown away.

Next day I take them to Sausalito, where a brigantine tall ship is being built.

Go grab your anaglyph 3D (red and cyan) glasses. I’m far left with Sony Action Cams. Vicki is on the right.

Neither Roger nor Vicki has ever shot video, let alone 3D. I give them each a Sony HXR-NX3D1U. Roger climbs a ladder for a top shot. Vicki starts shooting. I can see she’s framing up, shooting and hitting the stop button.

END OF A PEFECT DAY
We come home, pour the wine, open the popcorn and watch today’s shoot in glorious 3D 4K (kind of). Their rushes are brilliant.

An old movie found, reunited with lost friends, 4K and 3D.

Life can hold no more

“DE-CRUCIFY THE ANGEL!” *

Behind the camera, the world is one removed – you’re not really there; all that matters is inside the viewfinder.

And so it is with Keith. He has setup his heavy, clockwork Newman Sinclair camera way down at the end of a grassy plain in the New Guinea highlands. The Cessna is now accelerating towards him. Sure, the pilot will take off and fly right over his head. It will happen, won’t it …

No, it doesn’t. The Cessna’s wheel hits the solid metal camera and smashed it into his face. The camera is destroyed. Keith is knocked unconscious, his right eyeball dangling loose.

This amazing 1961 photograph was snapped by production assistant, Chris McCullough, a split second before the wheel hit Keith and missed Chris. The hand at the bottom left is director Ian Dunlop, who was meant to pull Keith down in case of trouble.

INSIDE THE EVIL EMPIRE
Seven years after the accident, I’m called to the Australian Commonwealth Film Unit, the home of government movie propaganda.

“Dick, don’t do this to me. I don’t want a one eyed cameraman.”

“Keith is our senior cameraman. You’ll like him.”

“Let me shoot it myself. I’m good. I don’t need a cameraman – especially a blind one.”

“Want the job? Take Keith,” says Dick.

It’s a deal breaker. Fine, I’ll bring two cameras – Keith can do his boring, 5 ft. high tripod, 10-1 zoom thing, I’ll do my own shooting.

KEITH
I don’t like Keith. He’s a rough and tumble, much married, ex-communist turned filmmaker, while I’m a brilliant, young filmmaker. He smokes Gitanes non-stop and he makes leery eyes at my production assistant, Rosemary.

Not only that, he’s half-blind.

ROSEMARY
She doesn’t like Keith either. Rosemary is a gently-reared country girl who felt out of place in the country. She moved away as soon as she could, left Australia, studied television in Seattle and then worked in London as a PA.

“He touched me!”

“Where?”

“On the leg, here. I was in the passenger seat, Keith was driving. He told a joke and patted me. Tell him to stop. I don’t like him.”

THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT
It’s ten days later and I’ve had my talk with Keith. Things have calmed down.

We are in Darwin, the most northern city in Australia. “Barbarella” is showing at the local movies. The night is hot. The air smells of frangipanis.

“What was Barbarella’s mission?”

It’s a fun game we’re playing in the hotel’s swimming pool.

“To find Doctor Durand Durand and destroy the Positronic Ray.”

We splash around in the pool laughing. Keith is swimming with Rosie.

“The name of the city?”

“Sogo, built above the Mathmos.”

With a cry of “De-crucify the angel!” both Keith and Rosie disappear under the water.

* “OR I’LL MELT YOUR FACE”
Things change. I get to like and admire Keith; the way he has overcome his accident, his willingness to try new camera techniques, his knowledge of film history (especially early Russian), his enthusiasm for Buckminster Fuller. We are friends.

But best of all, he loves my Rosie and she loves him.

1968 - Keith, squatting/shooting with left eye, me - pretending to direct, Rosie with Sennheiser rifle mike

We are a happy crew, doing good work.

EVER AFTER
Keith and Rosie are engaged and a year later, married.

1969 - Their Wedding Day

Keith and Rosie, I love you both. Miss you terribly.

LORS IN TRANSLATION

Frappe! Frappe! (knock, knock)
Qui est la? (who’s there?)
Lors (Lors: short for Loraine)
Lors Qui (Lost Key)
Exactement (I’ve lost my key, let me in!)

STUTTGART GERMANY
It’s all been organized: letters, phone calls, faxes. We are coming to shoot a story about Mercedes repair shops using ICI Aquabase paint for re-finishing. We want to see damaged cars being repaired and spray painted – but most important, we need an interview with the head of the paint shop.

What do we get? Say hello to straitlaced Dieter. He’s been told by his gruppenfurher not to give any interviews to no one, no how.

“Please Dieter.”

“No, sorry, impossible.”

“But we can still film, can’t we? It was organized weeks ago.”

“Yes, you may film but no interviews. My gruppenfurher has given strict orders.”

I shoot his guys spray-painting a car with our client’s paint.

JUST CHATTING
“Great, I’d like a shot of the two of you chatting in German.”

“OK in German but no interview.”

The ICI sales guy is wearing a radio mike. He stands close. Dieter talks about the benefits of ICI Aquabase: it’s the best paint, so environmentally friendly.

“Sorry I couldn’t give an interview, I have my orders.”

“No worries.” Did he know we were recording his every word? I guess not.

We make a hasty retreat to the waiting taxi. “Stuttgart airport and hurry!”

NORTHERN ITALY
We enter the Ferrari repair shop. Are we in the right place? It looks like a showroom. A row of sleek, bright red Ferraris stretching back to infinity. There’s no one here except Roberto, the owner, and he doesn’t speak English.

I turn to the local ICI Autocolor rep., “What’s going on? Where’s the repair shop? The spray booths are empty.”

“He says they worked all of last week to have these cars finished and ready for you.”

“No, no, no. It’s a terrible mistake. I need to film repairs and spray painting, not a static row of cars.”

Heated exchanges in Italian follow. I throw in, “I NEED TO SHOOT SPRAY PAINTING!”

A SOLUTION
Roberto agrees to spray paint a Ferrari that’s already been painted. One is wheeled out of the lineup and into the booth. I gown up and film inside. Roberto is not happy.

“Tell him that was perfect.” Then, thinking there is a workshop full of damaged Ferraris, I add, “It’d be nice to see the repair shop.”

“You want to film damaged Ferraris?” queries the ICI rep..

“Yes, please, damaged Ferraris.”

Roberto gets a hammer and smashes some holes in a Ferrari’s hood.

Suddenly he can speak English. “Happy now?

“Not really, looks like hammer blows. I’d imagined damage from a traffic accident.”

ROBERTO FLIPS
He grabs a sledgehammer. Whack! The Ferrari’s hood caves in. Now it’s the turn of the headlights. Whack! Crunch! Breaking glass…

“Want an accident? Film that!”

I am in shock. He leans over and taps me on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, they can repair it next week. “

I’m Just A Soul Whose Intentions Are Good:
Oh Lord! Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood…

Was it 1977 or ’78? I don’t remember. I’m in a small office in the British Treasury. “Anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence….”

You’ve heard it all before, but this time it’s me, Stefan, the very talented filmmaker.

British Treasury

“What am I accused of?”

“Nothing. This is just an investigation.”

“Then why read my rights?”

“In case we find something. You arrived in this country in January 1969. Did you bring in any money?”

“No, not really. Maybe a few thousand pounds, not more than three. I really can’t remember. My assets were my movie camera and a tape recorder.”

“Soon after, you bought a castle in the South of France on a Mediterranean island.”

“It was a run-down fort built in 1812.”

“How much did that cost?”

“I really don’t remember.”

Me, The Money Launderer

“Then a few years later you and your wife have a video company in the center of London with how many employees?”

Stefan and Tricia at the fort

“It changes. Maybe 60, 70 at this time. I can’t remember.”

“We want to know where all that money came from.”

“Leases, hire purchase—my mother lent me £5,000.”

“Forty thousand square feet in Soho, a fort in the South of France, all in just a few years. Come on, can you understand why we’re suspicious? Let’s start with the fort. How much?”

“Well, it’s confusing, as Dr. Durville quoted in old francs and his notaire had a different figure and the French/UK pound sterling exchange rate kept changing. I can’t give you a figure in either pounds or francs. It was a few years ago and, I hate to say this, but I really…”

“…can’t remember. Why don’t we start at the beginning, with the fort?”

Where Do You Go To, My Lovely?

“I was in Juan-les-Pins with Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet. Tricia and I were booked to sail around the world on his boat. I had rigged up the ship’s galley with three Éclair ACL 16mm cameras….”

This interview with the Treasury continues for an hour and there are many more to come.

Three Years Later

I’m in London, running Molinare. There’s a man in reception who wants to see me. It’s the interrogator from the Treasury.

“Can we talk in private?”

We go up four flights to my apartment at the top of the building.

“Am I being arrested?”

The Molinare loft apartment

“No, it’s over. The department has decided to drop the case. I just wanted to come and say good-bye. It’s been a long haul.”

“You’ve been on it for three years?”

“Four, in fact.”

He’s standing at the window looking down at the street.

“Here comes your wife.”

“How did you recognize her? She’s a redhead now.”

“Before that a blonde, a brunette; long hair, short hair. We have a lot of photos. And your place in the South of France—amazing, magnificent….”

“You went there, to my fort on the Île du Levant!”

“Fort? Île du Levant? I really can’t remember.”