The trite answer is that everything is true but none of it and happened. It is emotionally true, but the events, the plotting, the narrative, isn’t true of my life, although I’ve experienced most of the emotions experienced by the characters in the play. (Marber)
The following night, I asked a few friends to participate with me in my nightly dance performance at the NoName. Our performance was superb, and we got a gratifyingly enthusiastic audience response. In fact, the number of encores that we were called back to do enabled another one of my friends, dressed and bewigged just as I, to slip into my place unnoticed by anyone.
And I simply — disappeared.
For all intents and purposes, “I” was still at the cafe in the days that followed, carrying on our regular routine as always, with Neville. Where I really was shall remain unspoken, but suffice it to say that a great deal of reconnaissance took place during this time, as well as gleaning information from former colleagues, and calling in some old debts.
What I learned seemed to point to the strong probability that the assumption that Neville and I had come up with — that our former employers were trying to lure us back into the field by making us think that a vendetta was in the works — was almost a certainty.
Pleased with my findings, I returned to the NoName, slipping in and exchanging places with my friend, again with no one the wiser.
Neville and I then proceeded to put Phase Two of our plan into effect by calling our former handler and supervisor at The Company, and telling him that we had learned of a vendetta existing that had brought about a vicious attack upon us and our cafe, and we wanted to re-enter the network temporarily in order to take care of it. Following a lot of idiotic questioning and bogus hemming and hawing, he agreed, and suggested a meeting.
Aha! The stage was set. The players were in place. All I had to do was get the cooperation of my old friend Matilda, who just happened to be the long-time paramour of our Company contact. And as I had suspected she would be, she was as indignant as I over what had happened to us. The fact that she was the former owner of Cuddles, of whom she was inordinately fond, didn’t hurt in gaining her cooperation. Nor did the fact that Cuddles knew all her secrets, and didn’t hesitate to babble them freely, naming names and telling tales.
With the last piece in place, we were ready for Phase Three.
(to be continued)