Chapter 26 – Before I Go to Sleep Begins Filming
"Anthony!" José barked.
"Send Winnie down to the lower club and put her back on client duty. Let Lucy take her place on set.
"And you—use your damn brain for once!"
He flicked ash from his cigar, then turned sharply.
"And you, Ramirez. How's your learning coming along? When can you shoot on your own?"
José leaned back into the sofa, lighting another cigar as he spoke.
"Don't worry, cousin," Ramirez replied confidently, patting his chest.
"I've memorized the entire process. As long as we get our hands on the equipment, I can shoot films of the same quality."
José burst into laughter and slapped his cousin hard on the shoulder, clearly pleased.
---
At the Same Time
In Fairfax District, inside a traditional Russian restaurant.
William sat across from three men. Katya was seated beside him.
Katya began the introductions.
"This is Sergei Valeryevich Kuznetsov.
This is Dmitry Alexandrovich Vorobyov.
And this is Alexei Viktorovich Lebedev.
"Sergei is… formerly KGB—retired," she corrected herself smoothly.
"Dmitry and Alexei are former military.
"They don't want to join my father's organization and are currently looking for work."
William studied them carefully.
Alexei and Dmitry were tall, broad-shouldered men—intimidating at first glance.
Sergei, on the other hand, looked completely ordinary. The kind of face you'd forget five minutes after seeing it. The most dangerous kind.
"Good," William said calmly.
"If you have any conditions, state them. As long as they're reasonable, I'll do my best to meet them."
The three exchanged glances.
Then Sergei spoke.
"Our demands are simple.
"First—wages must be paid on time.
"Second—we need help obtaining legal status in the United States.
We don't want to be deported back to the Soviet Union."
William found their requests refreshingly straightforward.
At this point in history, the Soviet Union had already betrayed its ideals. People fleeing it was hardly unusual.
He nodded.
"I can guarantee timely pay.
As for legal status—I can assist through proper legal channels only. No shortcuts."
Sergei smiled faintly.
"That's enough."
William raised his glass.
"Then welcome aboard."
Although pulling a few strings with immigration officials wouldn't have been difficult, William didn't think three bodyguards were worth burning that kind of political capital.
"Thank you, boss," Sergei said, reaching out to shake William's hand.
Alexei and Dmitry remained seated, silent and impassive.
William spoke directly, his tone decisive.
"Sergei, Alexei and Dmitry will answer to you from now on.
"Your responsibilities are simple. Wherever I go, at least one of you must be with me at all times.
"At the same time, someone must always be guarding the studio.
"Can you manage that?"
Sergei frowned slightly at the request.
"That depends, sir. How large is your studio?"
He paused, then added honestly, "To give you an accurate answer, I'll need to conduct an on-site assessment."
Professional. Thorough.
William nodded.
"If manpower is your concern, don't worry about it.
"If you have former comrades already in the U.S., you can bring them in to work for me.
"And if you know people still in the Soviet Union who want out, that's fine too—
but I won't be responsible for getting them here."
The line was clear.
Sergei nodded again.
With security matters settled, William, Katya, and the three men finished dinner at the Russian restaurant before driving back toward the Santa Monica apartment.
---
After Sergei's Arrival
The atmosphere at the studio subtly changed.
Most of the staff barely noticed the three Russians.
But for Anthony and Ramirez, it felt like a thorn lodged in their throats.
Uncomfortable. Impossible to ignore.
José learned about it soon enough.
But their partnership was still in its honeymoon phase, so he didn't confront William directly.
Instead, he quietly instructed Ramirez to start memorizing every piece of equipment the studio used.
Camera models. Lighting rigs. Dolly tracks.
José had fully set his sights on the profits of the Adult Valley market.
---
Filming Day
Outside a large house in suburban Los Angeles, the crew bustled with set construction and final preparations.
Inside a nearby trailer, Nicole Kidman sat in the makeup chair.
"Christine isn't young," William said, comparing Nicole's reflection to the image of Christine from Before I Go to Sleep in his memory.
"Her makeup needs to lean more mature."
"Understood, Director," Nicole replied calmly.
On set, her professionalism was impeccable—no diva behavior in sight.
Of course, she wasn't a superstar yet.
"Sir," a low voice suddenly spoke beside William.
"May I report something?"
It was Sergei.
At first, Sergei's habit of appearing out of nowhere had startled William more than once. The former agent treated his new job like a counter-intelligence operation.
But William didn't mind.
The more meticulous Sergei was, the safer he felt.
"What is it?" William asked.
Sergei didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Nicole.
William understood and followed him to an open area nearby.
Once they were far enough that no one could overhear, Sergei leaned in and spoke quietly.
"Sir, I've observed a man named Ramirez secretly recording information."
William frowned.
Today's shoot was a legitimate film, not Valley content. He had assembled a brand-new crew for it.
Ramirez wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this set.
"What kind of information?" William asked.
Even if the equipment meant little to him, someone snooping around his operation was unacceptable.
"This," Sergei said, handing over a small notebook.
"I found it on him. It appears to list equipment models—cameras, lighting units, rails. I wasn't sure whether it was some kind of coded language."
Sergei had been cautious. Properly cautious.
William flipped through the notebook.
Camera bodies. Light panels. Stabilizers. Track systems.
No code.
Just theft.
"Tch."
He closed the notebook, instantly understanding what Ramirez—and by extension, José—were planning.
"So, boss," Sergei asked quietly, his tone edged with something dangerous,
"Do you want me to take care of it?"
The Russian clearly valued this job. He didn't want any loose ends.
William looked back toward the set, his expression unreadable.
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