Kubrick's Game Read online

  As the event wound down, they made a quick break inside one of the building facades, hid up in the rafters, and peered out the window below.

  When security had completed their final sweeps, the three climbed down from the rafters.

  It was now just after 11:30 p.m, and the backlot seemed far spookier in the dark of night. Walking down the empty city streets evoked a feeling of paranoia in Shawn.

  “Stay close and keep quiet,” said Wilson. He halted the team and peered around a building corner. “Security,” he whispered. “He’s facing the other way. Tiptoe.”

  The team snuck across the intersection, then took a shortcut through a courthouse façade, which led them straight to Spartacus Square.

  The irony of Spartacus Square lay in that Kirk Douglas’s Spartacus never actually set foot there in the film. It was built to represent the Roman Senate, where Laurence Olivier addressed the frightened Roman populace about the advancing slave army. The surrounding buildings used to be uniformly ancient Roman, but now the facade stuck out like a sore thumb between a block of unremarkable facades.

  Perhaps like a marker?

  They entered the Spartacus structure through a large front doorway sandwiched by columns, only to find that three other people were already inside.

  “Well, look who it is,” said a familiar face.

  It was the spiky red-haired kid and his USC teammates from the Fantastic Race.

  “We were wondering who the competition was,” he continued. “Now that we see it’s you, I’m feeling much more confident in our chances.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Sami. “We kicked your ass in the race.”

  “If I hadn’t had a brain fart at the last second, we would have destroyed you.”

  “Look,” said Shawn. “We’re both here now. It’s not a race, and there are no rules. I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t work together, at least for tonight.”

  The kid thought for a moment, and said, “Let me discuss it with my team.”

  Spiky red hair, the short black girl with dreads, and the extremely tall lanky guy huddled together, spoke briefly, and turned back. “We agree to work together tonight under the condition that any clue found by any person be immediately divulged.”

  Shawn, Wilson, and Sami looked at one another and nodded.

  “Agreed,” said Shawn.

  “Good.” The short kid approached Shawn and shook his hand. “My name is Danny Jacobs. This is Austin and Desiree.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Shawn. This is Wilson and Sami. Perhaps this is the start of an... alliance?”

  “Alliance? What do you think this is, a cheesy reality show? We don’t need any help.”

  Shawn had thought Danny must be Djacks, but his off-put reaction to the alliance suggested otherwise. Strange.

  “Let me guess,” said Wilson to Austin. “Volleyball player?”

  “No,” said Austin. “Sound mixer and engineer. Let me guess. Washed-up actor?”

  “Future director,” Wilson replied.

  “So where’s your gear?” Danny asked.

  “What gear?” said Sami.

  That’s when the team noticed that Austin carried a satchel filled with shovels and pickaxes.

  “Didn’t you hear Kubrick’s message? He said, ‘dig deeper,’” said Danny.

  Shawn jumped in. “We assumed it was metaphorical.”

  “Well then you’re morons. It was obviously a hint that we would have to dig up the next clue. But since we’re working together this once, I suppose you can borrow our equipment and we’ll supervise the dig.”

  “How generous of you,” said Wilson.

  “We Trojans are always generous to the less fortunate. Speaking of which, how did you guys even get into the studio?”

  “We pretended to be staff at the event,” said Shawn.

  “Clever,” said Danny. “We didn’t need to resort to such trickery. My dad produces two television shows for Universal. This lot is kind of my home away from home. And hey, play your cards right, Wilson, and maybe I can convince my dad to throw you a bit part.”

  Sami had to hold Wilson back, who had been seething the entire time.

  “He’s not worth it,” Sami whispered to him. “Beat him at the game.”

  “Well, let’s start looking,” said Danny. “Split up and we’ll cover more ground.”

  The groups broke into teams of two and started scouring the interior of the structure. Like the other facades on the lot, it was practically empty inside.

  Shawn searched with Desiree.

  “Sorry about Danny,” Desiree said. “I know he’s a douche, but he’s sort of funding this whole operation.”

  “I understand. Can’t judge your financiers, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Shawn and Desiree shined their flashlights over every inch of the place, looking for some kind of message or anything out of the ordinary. The only thing inside the structure was a stash of lights attached to c-stands, which seemed to be common inside each façade Shawn had seen that night.

  “What about our clues?” said Shawn. “Maybe we’re supposed to use the photo with the bullet hole.”

  “Interesting. But how?”

  He racked his brain but came up with no answers. As Desiree kept looking, he could feel her growing frustrated as well. Just as they were about to move on, the beam from Shawn’s flashlight picked up a movement—a breeze caused a tag on one of the lamps to sway. None of the other lamps had tags.

  “Desiree, look here. This might be something. That one light in the middle has a tag on it.”

  Desiree stepped between the lamps and pulled out the tagged one. The tag read:

  D = 40/2tan (1/2 90)

  Shawn recognized the formula immediately.

  From the look on Desiree’s face, so did she.

  “It’s a cinematography formula,” said Shawn.

  “That’s right. It’s for calculating proper focus when operating a dolly. D equals the distance the camera needs to be from the subject to stay in focus.”

  “Interesting.” said Shawn. “Kubrick was considered the all-time greatest when it came to long, intricate dolly shots. This would be the type of formula he would often use.”

  “Well, then let’s solve it!” Desiree pulled out her phone’s calculator and started punching in the numbers.

  Shawn examined the lamp more closely. Something was off about it. The lens was shaped differently and the bulb seemed to be far stronger than a normal scenic light.

  “Desiree, this isn’t the usual open-faced tungsten. This is a projector lamp. Its beam will be much brighter.”

  “Hold on,” she said. “Almost got it. The solution is D equals... twenty meters.”

  Together, they grabbed the c-stand and bolted out of the Spartacus structure.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” shouted Danny.

  “We found something,” said Desiree. “Come on.”

  Moments later, using a distance-calculating app Desiree pulled up on her phone, both teams had gathered around a spot exactly twenty meters from the bottom steps of the Spartacus structure.

  They searched the ground, but no X marked the spot this time. It could be anywhere along a parallel line at the twenty-meter mark, but they were unsure of where to place the stand.

  “We have another problem,” said Austin. “Unless one of you brought a crazy long extension cord, there’s no way to plug the light in to turn it on. This doesn’t seem like we’re on the right track at all.”

  Austin was right. There was no way to turn the lamp on.

  Shawn walked over the cobblestones slowly along the parallel, tapping his foot on each as he went. One of the stones made a different sound. It sounded... plastic. He bent over and touched it. It wasn’t a cobblestone, but it was made to look like one. The top of the stone was a plastic flap. He pulled it open and underneath was an A/C outlet.

  “Guys! Over here! This must be the spot!”

  The team p
lugged the lamp into the power source, and it came to life, shining a bright flooded beam all over the Spartacus structure.

  Wilson practically dove to unplug it. “Are you nuts? You’re going to attract every guard in the studio! That thing could light a stadium.”

  Shawn had to admit the light wasn’t particularly helpful.

  “Do you think Kubrick meant this to indicate that we’re just supposed to look inside the Spartacus structure?” said Danny. “It lit up the entire building.”

  “That seems odd, doesn’t it?” said Sami. “We were just in there and found the light. Going back in seems redundant without guidance.”

  “Hold up!” Desiree suddenly exclaimed. “The photograph! Did you guys bring yours?”

  Shawn pulled out the photo, still in its envelope.

  Danny pulled out the photo from his jacket, though theirs seemed to have gotten bent.

  “Check this out,” said Desiree. “I just noticed that there’s a frame for a filter in front of the light.”

  “Of course!” said Shawn. “That’s probably why there’s a hole in the photo.”

  “Only one way to find out,” said Desiree.

  “Ours is a little worse for the wear,” said Danny sheepishly. “Think we could—”

  Shawn was already placing their photo into the frame—a perfect fit.

  Austin grabbed the plug.

  “Cue the projector,” said Desiree.

  “Wait, what did you say?” said Shawn.

  “Cue the projector? It’s what they say in a theater. ‘Cut the lights. Cue the projector.’”

  “That’s the connection!” Shawn held up the envelope that said Q’s Project. “Kubrick was using a play on words. We all thought he meant a project, like a task, but Kubrick was implying the verb form of the homonym to project! He was coyly telling us to cue a projector the entire time.”

  They made sure the coast was clear before giving Austin the go-ahead to plug the lamp back in.

  The light hummed back to full brightness and a fine laser beam, no more than a quarter-inch in diameter, shot across the field, landing straight onto a spot on the front steps of the structure.

  “Bingo!” Austin grabbed the sack full of digging equipment and followed the beam to the spot.

  “Well, I guess this is where we start digging,” said Danny. “Men, grab a pickaxe.”

  “Get out of the way,” said Austin. He raised the pickaxe high above his 6’7” frame. He was about to bring it down on the stone step when Shawn jumped in front of him.

  “Before we try that, remember that Kubrick wanted more players to continue after we’ve left. Wouldn’t destroying this step essentially end the game for those after us?”

  “Yeah, but who cares about them?” said Danny.

  “Kubrick did,” said Shawn. “I wouldn’t be surprised if destroying something like this would sabotage the whole game for us. Let’s at least check it out first.”

  Shawn inspected the step. It seemed to be a thick, heavy stone slab.

  Desiree bent down next to him. “Remember the last part of the clue,” she said. “The cobblestone was fake. Is this too?”

  Shawn knocked on the stone. “Nope. It’s real stone, too thick to tell whether it’s hollow.”

  “Can we move it out of the way?” said Wilson.

  “The whole step is at least fifty feet long,” guessed Shawn. “It would be impossible... unless....”

  Shawn shined the flashlight along the step, walking parallel just as before. Ever so faint, he saw a crack along the stone and another one not five feet away.

  “You’re right! This section of the step is its own separate piece. Help me move it.”

  Each person grabbed an end of the stone slab and pulled. It budged. With one more tug it slipped off its platform, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.

  They shined their lights inside and waited for the dust to clear.

  As the object inside came into view, they said nearly in unison, “Oh my God.”

  Shawn gaped at what he saw. “It’s a chessboard!”

  Under the step rested a marble board with the pieces arranged in position, as if in mid-game. The pieces were glued in place and the board was mounted on the ground.

  “Quick,” said Desiree. “Let’s take snapshots of the board and replace the step before we’re seen.”

  The team broke out their cameras and took shots from all angles, documenting the position of the pieces.

  Shawn, Sami, and Desiree had an immediate inkling about what the chessboard could be referencing, but would have to check to be sure.

  Once satisfied, the guys lifted the slab to put it back, but Sami stopped them. “Wait! There’s more here.”

  She wiped away a thick layer of dust to reveal two plaques where the players of the chess game would have been sitting.

  One read:

  At least I got something out of shooting Spartacus for Universal.

  The other read:

  Solve the dual chess puzzle of 8 to find the next Q.

  Shawn could only laugh. “Do you see? Kubrick is telling us how he set up this clue. He always demanded that the sets from his films be destroyed after he was done using them. However, Spartacus was one of Universal’s biggest hits of all time, so leaving the set standing would be a tourist attraction. Perhaps not wanting to upset a money-making director more than they already had by recutting his film, they must have made a deal with Kubrick that granted him access and control of this structure.”

  “Very interesting,” said Wilson sarcastically, “but what does the chess puzzle mean?”

  “Wait just a second,” Danny blurted. “Once we replace the step, this buddy-buddy stuff is over. In between puzzles we are on opposing teams, and it needs to stay that way to uphold the integrity of the game. No hints and no alliances. When we win this thing, I don’t want anybody saying I needed the help of UCLA dweebs.”

  “Whatever, man,” said Wilson.

  They replaced the slab, but when they turned to retrieve the light, two other lights were shining right in their faces.

  The female security guard from the front gate hopped out of a golf cart. “Well, well. Little Danny Jacobs and his cohorts. Stay right where you are.”

  She spoke into a walkie-talkie. “We have trespassers at Spartacus Square. Over.”

  Danny stepped forward, “Angela, it’s no big deal. I was just showing my friends around the lot.”

  The guard approached. “I am sick and tired of you acting like you own the place just because your daddy is a hotshot producer. You have no right to be touching studio equipment.” She indicated the light still shining on the step.

  “We were just about to put everything back and go home. I promise,” said Danny, sounding innocent, the attitude of a minute ago completely gone.

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” said Angela. “I have all your names in the record log. Once backup gets here, you’re all under arrest.”

  “That would be a big mistake,” said Danny.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “I’ll tell you why. The reason is... CHEESE IT!”

  In a flash, Danny took off running.

  “Hey! Get back here you little....” Angela turned to the others and yelled, “Stay put!” She jumped in her golf cart and chased after him.

  The others looked around and saw flashlights rounding the corners in the distance.

  Desiree and Austin took off.

  Wilson quickly turned to his friends. “To hell with this. ‘Cheese it’ is right!” He took off running.

  Shawn and Sami quickly followed after him.

  The out-of-shape male guard ran in pursuit, but couldn’t keep pace.

  Shawn said a silent prayer that he didn’t have a Taser gun.

  “Hurry up!” Wilson yelled back at them. “I can’t afford another tabloid fiasco!”

  They made it to Wilson’s BMW, but the guard was only fifty yards behind.

  “Stop! Do not enter your veh
icle!” he shouted.

  They flung open the doors and piled in. Wilson started the engine and pulled out of the spot before Shawn even had a chance to close his door. They sped out of the parking lot, forcing a guard to dive out of their way, and zoomed toward the gate.

  The arm bar was lowered and a guard stood in front of it with his arm in a stop position.

  Wilson yelled out the window, “Beef, get out of the way!”

  Wilson backed up the car, then slammed on the gas pedal. The car surged forward.

  Beef dove back into the guard booth as Wilson busted through the arm bar, snapping it in half and cracking the car’s windshield.

  They sped down the home stretch of Lakeside Plaza, but then a security cart pulled up and blocked the exit.

  “Hold on!” Wilson vaulted over the island median, landing on the wrong side of the street and skidding out onto Barham Drive.

  Then he took off.

  “Yes!” Wilson shouted. “That’s what I’m talking about! Who’s baller?”

  Shawn reclined back in his seat as Wilson entered the safety of the 101 freeway.

  “Oh no,” said Shawn to himself.

  “What?” said Sami.

  “I left the photograph on the light.”

  “Do we still need it?” said Wilson.

  “I guess not, but—”

  “Then to hell with it! We’re on to the next puzzle!”

  The following afternoon, after a class screening of A Hard Day’s Night, followed by a discussion of the movie musical, Shawn sat in Mascaro’s office.

  “So,” said the professor. “What happened in New York? Oh, and last night? You said you were in the middle of a puzzle.”

  “You could say it was a hard day’s night,” said Shawn.

  “And what did you discover?”

  Shawn was under orders from Wilson and Sami not to reveal anything to Mascaro. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be an option.

  “What did I discover?” Shawn looked down. “You were right, for one thing. There are other groups playing this game.” He raised his head. “Groups far better equipped, and far better funded than us.”

  “This is not new information to me.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear that? I think there’s a lot of information you haven’t been sharing with me.”