The Violin Conspiracy(86)
Alicia: Just to win the competition? I know it’s a big deal but is that really a motive?
Ray: I seriously think it is. Can you at least check it out?
Alicia: This is really interesting. There’s a violin rumored to be for sale in Serbia. Black market. I was having contacts check it out but its one of several leads. Now will dig in more thoroughly asap
Ray: Theres a black market violin in Serbia????????? Seriously??
Alicia: Dont get your hopes up. I heard of violins for sale in Qatar and China too
He lay awake for another hour, vibrating with exhaustion, listening to Nicole’s breathing, unable to stop thinking about Mikhail Lezenkov, those knowing blue eyes. Would his family steal the violin, sell it on the black market, and get the ransom money? And their son would win the competition to boot. Why hadn’t Ray thought of it himself?
Finally he wrapped himself around Nicole and at last fell asleep, not waking until the alarm went off three hours later.
The day was slated for practice, with a schedule and practice room assigned before the prequalifying round the next day; but at the Conservatory all the musicians distracted him, and he ended up returning to the hotel and running his prequalifying program with Janice and Nicole. In the afternoon he returned to the Conservatory to look for Mikhail Lezenkov but couldn’t find him.
He did find the medici.tv camera crews, however. The Russian classical music scene was on an entirely different level from America’s. Both up-and-coming as well as established musicians held rock star status, primarily because medici.tv broadcasted all types of classical music performances: opera, small ensembles, choral, soloists, orchestras. The station’s logos and banners were prominent in the hall and in the programs.
An interview couch sat right inside the small auditorium’s foyer. On it, a correspondent interviewed one of the piano contestants. Ray lingered. The young Japanese pianist batted her eyes at the camera and at the fans who loosely circled them. She was really excited to be playing the second Ravel Piano Concerto: “I feel the second movement will really speak to the souls of anyone who has ever been in love.” Okay then. Sure.
Here goes nothing, he thought.
He straightened his blue blazer, waded through a group of Russian and Asian fans, made eye contact with the interviewer as the pianist’s interview concluded. The Japanese pianist was barely off the couch before the interviewer—a young woman with shaggy hair and round John Lennon–style glasses—was up and shaking her hand, her smile as wide as the couch she’d been sitting on. “Rayquan McMillian, welcome to Moscow! How are you feeling? Are you ready to take on the competition? Do you have a few moments? We’d love the chance to talk to you.”
Ray was careful to smile as he shook her hand. The camera’s enormous eye glittered at him, but he’d done his share of media interviews: after 60 Minutes, this didn’t seem particularly terrifying. “I’m really happy to be here. I’m so excited to be a part of the competition.”
He was focused on the camera and the interviewer, but could sense the crowd around and behind him: people were gathering, listening.
“Rayquan, you have such an interesting story—so inspiring and so heartbreaking.”
“Please, call me Ray.”
“We’ve all heard about the devastating loss of your instrument, but we’ll get to that in a moment. What made you decide to enter this competition?”
The trick, he knew, was to first make your audience sympathize with you. Then you could make the ask. “I’ve always loved music,” he said. “I’ve always loved playing. This is the most prestigious musical competition in the world. Of course I want to be part of it.”
“The world is glad you are a part of it. We have all been following your journey, which is so unconventional and so inspiring. No formal instruction until college, I believe? And you play at jazz clubs? How have you managed to balance these aspects and make it this far in the classical music world?”
Ray talked about how music was a strong influence in his life, how he’d made music on a cheap school rental, how people surrounding him had supported him, saw something in him that he hadn’t even known existed. “I learned to accept help and encouragement in every form it comes in,” he said.
The crowd let out a collective “Awwww.”
This was his chance.
“Which is why I’m hoping your viewers can help me. As you know, my violin was stolen a month ago.”
“We’ve heard. So terrible. And it hasn’t been recovered.”
“No, it hasn’t been recovered. Yet. But your viewers can actually help. You may know that there’s a five-million-dollar ransom, due in less than a month. July fifteenth. I don’t have the money but I’m trying to raise it myself. So part of the reason I’m here, part of the reason I’m actually competing, is to make an appeal to your listeners to help me get my violin back.”
“How can we help?”
“I’m doing everything humanly possible to raise the money. I know there are millions of people watching this competition right now. Imagine if five million of you sent me one US dollar. I could pay the ransom and get my violin back. Everyone would have a chance to hear it.”
He looked directly at the camera, imagining that it wasn’t a cold round lens but the face of a little old Black lady in a pink housecoat, her blue-tinted hair in curlers. “Please,” he said, and the emotion was raw in his voice. “Please help me get my violin back. My crowdfunding page is Ray’s Fiddle. Please help me.”