Anne Hath-her-way

I guess the main reason that I, 29 year old Blake Thorsten in the summer of 2011, was picked to provide security on this trip was because I was fairly fluent in Armenian. That's not a language taught in many schools in the United States, but I picked it up since one of my best friends in High School was from an Armenian family and his parents delighted in trying to teach me the language. My decent knowledge of Armenian actually got me an entry into the CIA after I graduated college, and there I had an immersion course. However, the CIA culture and I just didn't click, nor did I like living near Washington, D. C., so I went elsewhere and somehow ended up in executive security work. I first worked in an office planning course materials, and then as a hands-on instructor including in wilderness terrain, which I was familiar with all of my life. I guess it helped that I was six three, two hundred thirty pounds, and at one time considered to be a contender for a spot on the US Olympic team for the 25 meter rapid fire pistol event (I never made it), because I was successful.

What I was told about my trip was that I was travelling by private jet (a Gulfstream GIVSP, range 4,900 nautical miles) from Washington, D. C. to Yerevan, Armenia (over 5,800 miles), with a refueling stop in Rome, to shoot many scenes for a movie. The plane was luxurious, but unfortunately the cabin height was only 6 feet 2 inches so I couldn't stand up straight.

Of the plane's thirteen seats twelve were occupied (one left open) by two male and two female actors who I wasn't familiar with, the director and his 1st assistant, the location manager, the director of photography, the female production designer, the star (Anne Hathaway, born in 1982 just like I was) and her makeup artist, and me - security. Since it was a private plane I brought several weapons with me, a Glock 18c (often considered the fastest firing rate handgun in the world), a Walther SSP .22 pistol (the type that I used in the Olympic trials), a ballistic knife, an Ontario MK 3 knife (commonly used by Navy Seals) and brass knuckles. The only person I knew before the trip was the location manager, who was the person who was responsible for hiring me on the recommendation of my boss.

One of the female actors, and the female makeup artist, were (being as charitable as possible) very plain looking. I unknowingly made a good impression on the female production designer and Anne Hathaway when I was as solicitous of the two plain looking women as the production designer and Anne. I loaded their gear onto the plane, made sure that they were properly situated, and worked with the steward to bring them drinks.

During the long plane ride everybody switched seats at various times to have discussions about the shoots with others. This meant that at one time or another I was sitting next to or across from every single other person on the plane. I was surprised at how friendly and unpretentious all of the passengers were, and I felt that I got to know each of them a little bit on the trip. I can be the meanest son-of-a-bitch you've met, or the most charming, depending upon the circumstances; on this trip I was the most charming that I ever was.

One thing that surprised me was how hot Anne Hathaway was in person. I tried hard not to stare at her and believe that I was successful. When I sat next to her she "interrogated" (too strong a word because she was nice about it, but she had the skill of a prosecutor when doing it) me about my qualifications for providing security and even asked to see my weapons (I didn't show her the ballistic knife, which is illegal in the U S), and seemed to be somewhat impressed.

****************

Camera and sound crews met us in Yerevan. After a couple of days to get over jet lag shooting started in earnest. I was surprised at how hard everyone worked on a movie set; there were no slackers, including all of the actors, and especially Anne, who always seemed to be doing something to improve her performance or the script.

I was able to ensure security without in any way interfering with filming by working behind the scenes, including with a couple of Armenian policeman who were assigned to work with us and who facilitated me getting a special use permit for my firearms since handguns are generally illegal in Armenia.

Because I was always pleasant and accommodating, because the two Armenian policemen were in plain clothes and no one else knew who they were, and because I made sure that the security was almost invisible, for some reason the 1st assistant director got it in his head that either I, or my position (after the fact he was vague about that), was worthless so he decided to run a "test." Bad mistake!

Three scar-faced rough -looking Armenian men showed up one day and in broken English told the location manager that we had not received a "permit from the neighborhood" in a back street of Yerevan where we were filming that day, and he exposed a handgun in his belt asking for a payment of 500,000 Drams (about $1,000 US). The location manager was literally shaking in his boots. I was monitoring the situation and within seconds of when the guy exposed the handgun in his belt I hit him square on the jaw with my brass knuckles, kicked the guy on his right in the groin, and shot the spring-loaded ballistic knife into the right shoulder of the guy on his left.

Within seconds after that I had a zip tie on the guy I had kicked and the two Armenian cops had zip ties on the other two, the lead guy still unconscious and the guy with the knife in his shoulder clearly needing medical attention.

The two toughs not unconscious were screaming alternately in Armenian and poor English that their shakedown was a fake. A chagrined assistant director approached the fray and confirmed that he had hired them to act the part and even wiped the made-up scars off the faces of the two conscious fake toughs, and exposed the gun as a prop and not a real weapon. The two Armenian policemen - who were now known to be cops and not low level stage hands - weren't pleased, but I went ballistic.

Shooting was interrupted for a good 90 minutes while we sent the guy with the knife wound to the local hospital, revived the unconscious dude and sent him along for observation in case he had a concussion, released the guy who had been kicked, who was still grimacing but otherwise OK, and settled down the disruption on the set.

The director did not like his schedule being interrupted, and Anne did not like the delay because in the scene being shot she was in significant physical discomfort.

I was almost ready to quit; instead the director and Anne settled me down and the director promised to suspend his assistant without pay for two days and if he didn't figure out a way to effectively apologize would send him back to the states even though that was not in the budget.

Fortunately, after the 90 minute delay and the re-doing Anne's makeup, things got back to normal and we finished shooting before it got too dark to be effective.

After shooting was finished for the day, while calm on the outside I was still seething inside when Anne - her makeup and costume now removed - came up to me and with a smile and chuckle said "I didn't realize that you were such a bad ass, Blake. I'm glad that you're around, and handled the situation without having to shoot someone." That really lifted my spirits and got me out of my funk.

While that entire scenario had really upset me, after that I definitely was treated differently by everyone on the set. Everyone had always been friendly, but somehow now they showed me more deference and at least five actors or crew came up to me and said something like "I have worried about safety since we got here because this city seems sketchy to me - thanks for alleviating my concerns."

Also, Anne gave me a big smile whenever we crossed paths.

The assistant director was suitably chagrined, sincerely apologized to everyone especially me, and was allowed to get back to work once his suspension was lifted.

*************

Things went smoothly, and we were actually ahead of schedule, until 4-5 days before we should have completed shooting some significant problems came up. Somehow - I was never sure how - two of the cameras were damaged enough to be worthless, all of the sound people came down with something (probably food poisoning), and there was a problem with the permit for the area where we were to film the final Armenian scenes. Therefore filming was going to stop for at least two days, probably more.

I was thinking about what I was going to do during the break when Anne knocked on my hotel room door. "Hi Blake; I have a job for you," she smiled.

"OK," I smiled back.

"Cheryl [a bit part actress], Dane [the location manager], and I want to go to Lake Sevan but Jack [the director] won't let us unless you come along. So, are you coming or do I hate you for the rest of my life?" she chortled.

"I can't have that, can I?" I smiled. Actually, I had wanted to see Lake Sevan myself, the largest and most picturesque lake in Armenia and only about 70 kilometers away. "Will we be staying overnight?"

"Probably at least one night and maybe two," she replied.

"I'll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes," I replied and we said our temporary goodbyes.

The Armenian driver seemed to be a nice, competent elderly gentleman. I sat in front seat of the old but large Mercedes that he was driving while Anne, Cheryl and Dane sat in the back seat. We had a pleasant conversation in the roughly 90 minutes that it took us to get to where we were going on the West side (the side closest to Yerevan) of the lake.

The four of us enjoyed ourselves all morning, jet skiing, taking in the scenery, and having lunch. After lunch Cheryl and Dane wanted to go up North a little, while Anne wanted to go sunbathe on a beach a little south of us given that the day was the warmest since we had arrived - about 80 degrees F. Anne turned to me and said - "You probably don't know it but my name is really Anne always Hath - her - way, so you're coming with me Blake."

"How can I argue with that, even though I will need to cover-up - I don't like sun bathing," I replied.

We changed into our bathing suits, Anne with a knee-length cover-up and me with a T-shirt, and me carrying a small knapsack that had other clothes, sun screen, and my weapons in it, and got a taxi to the beach.

When we got to the beach I found out that it was a cloistered nude beach. "What the fuck!" I exclaimed. "You didn't tell me this was a nude beach; and I can't believe there even is one in Armenia."

"Don't be a prude or party-pooper," Anne snickered. "Get with the program."

I really didn't like it - I'm not ashamed of my body but am very conservative when it comes to showing it off - but I didn't really have any choice because as she so succinctly put it, because since she is the star "Anne Hath-her-way."

When Anne disrobed I turned red and my cock instantly saluted. "I...I...really wish that...you'd...uh cover...uh...up," I stammered.

"Why?" she smiled?

"Because you're too fucking hot and I've sprouted a boner," I blurted out before I could control myself.

"Really, I'd like to see," she snickered.

"Not on your life - I'm keeping a towel over my crotch until it settles down - which means I can't look at you so don't expect me to," I snarled.

"Party-pooper," she snickered again while sticking out her tongue before laying back on her towel.

I wasn't having much luck in suppressing my boner, especially since it was hard to take my eyes off Anne's awesome tits and hairless crotch, so when I was sure that her eyes were closed I hopped up and ran naked into the lake even though I knew that the water temperature was only 65 degrees F. It was really chilly, but I could stand it enough to swim a couple hundred meters. The lake was more buoyant than I had expected, even though I had been told that it had a high salinity level for a lake (0.7% whereas the ocean is typically 3.5% and the Great Salt Lake in Utah can have salinity as much as 25%). One good thing about the cold water - my cock shriveled up, no longer trying to simulate a steel rod.

When I walked back to our towels Anne had covered up because two guys were there talking to her, and she didn't look comfortable. In bad English I heard one of them say "Come to party with us - is fun."

I came up beside him and in Armenian said "Sorry, she's not interested. Please leave."

"I'm talking to her, not you dipshit," he replied (there really is no word in Armenian for "dipshit" but his use of "khoramankut'yun" was close). Even though he was nude he had a knife in his right hand.

As he was staring at Anne's tits - she was only able to cover up the lower half of her body - I quickly reached into my knapsack, pulled out my brass knuckles, and hit the asshole holding the knife so hard that some of his teeth landed in another time zone.

His friend also produced a knife and slashed at me. I parried his trust and hit him too, knocking the knife from his hand but not knocking him out. I got him in a rear naked choke hold and applied pressure until he went unconscious, then dumped him on top of his groaning half-conscious buddy.

"We need to leave Anne," I barked.

She didn't object. I was embarrassed when my member started saluting again when I got a look at her naked body when she stood up, but I quickly covered it by putting my bathing suit and T-shirt on. She dressed quickly, including her cover-up, and we got the hell out of there before anyone came to investigate the pile of assholes.

We didn't speak until we hailed a taxi to meet Dane and Cheryl at a guesthouse in Gavar where we were spending the night. Once we entered the taxi Anne held my hand and said "I'm sorry for putting you in that position."

I sighed and then said "No more nude beaches."

"OK," she smiled. Then she poked me in the ribs and said "I didn't realize the effect my body would have on you; my body ain't that great."

"You're delusional," I laughed. "Your body is a ten."

She turned away from me but I could see that she was smiling. We just chit chatted the few kilometers back to Gavar.

The next day we confirmed that shooting was still on hiatus, but Dane and Cheryl wanted to go back to Yerevan. Anne wanted to go to the east side of the lake; as usual Anne Hath-her-way, so after we sent Dane and Cheryl back in the Mercedes we looked for a ride to the east side of the lake. The pickings were slim, and I was all for calling it off but Anne insisted. She hired a guy that I thought was sketchy - I was suspicious because his Armenian was almost as bad as his English.

The car that Yusif - the driver Anne hired - drove was a Corolla. It would never have fit the four of us, but Anne and I were able to fairly comfortably squeeze into the back seat. We made a pit stop and when we returned Yusif had some water bottles for us in the back seat. Anne and I each took a big gulp; and that was the last thing I remembered until the car jolted so badly on back roads that I awoke.

When I first woke up I was a little disoriented; I looked at Anne and she was out - I shook her awake. When I looked around I knew that we were nowhere near the east side of Lake Sevan. I yelled at Yusif "Where the hell are we?"

"Got lost; soon back on track," he smiled into the rear view mirror.

I was about to pull out by Glock 18c and put it to his head when we rounded a bend and six mean looking dudes with rifles or AK-47s were staring at us as Yusif pulled the car to a halt. He got out and in a language I did understand - but suspected was Azerbaijani - had a nice friendly conversation with the thugs.

"You gets out - hands up," was the obvious leader's heavily accented bad English instruction to me. Two of the thugs were pointing weapons in the general direction of my window, the other four were holding their weapons more leisurely; Yusif had a big shit-eating grin on his face.

I mumbled to Anne "As soon as I open the door hit the floor and stay there until I tell you different."

I opened the rear back door with my right hand but then immediately got a grip on my Glock with it. I held my left hand up in the air and said in Armenian and English "No problem; no resistance; don't shoot" trying as hard as I could to sound scared. After I had my right foot on the ground I ducked behind the door except for the part of my head with my eyes in it and my right hand and emptied the magazine within three seconds. Only one of the thugs got off a shot, and it was stopped by the door. All six of them were dead from the 33 rounds that were fired from my Glock 18c in those three seconds.

I hopped out of the car and saw a terrified Yusif staring at me. He turned and started running. I pulled out my .22 and when he was almost 25 meters away - the distance for the handgun rapid fire Olympic event - I shot him in the back of the head. "Looks like I still have it" I chortled to myself as Yusif hit the ground, as dead as the six thugs.

"You can sit up now, Anne," I said to her.

She sat up, terrified. She got out of the car and saw the seven dead guys. "Wh...wha...what happened? Who...who...are they?" she stammered.

"I strongly suspect that they are Azerbaijani militia; now looking at them more closely, however," I continued, "I see degraded military uniforms on them so they probably are actual Azerbaijani military. They have had a war with Armenia for years, although supposedly in 1994 a cease fire was negotiated. The cease fire is tenuous at best. They probably would have held us for ransom - and maybe killed us regardless. I wasn't willing to take a chance," I replied.

"How did we fall asleep for so long?"

"I'm positive that Yusif spiked our water bottles."

"What do we do now?"

"We get the hell out of here - but first I have to see if they have a vehicle nearby with some supplies," I replied.

We looked around an area about 50 meters in radius, until Anne found a couple of Jeep-like vehicles parked behind a set of large rocks. We rummaged through them, found three liter bottles of water that appeared to unopened, and a stack of what looked like facsimiles of K-rations.

We went back to Yusif's car and I told Anne to get in the front seat as I picked up one of the AK-47s and put it in the back seat; I thought that I might need it since I had no more rounds for the Glock and only four bullets left in my Walther SSP .22.

We had no phone service, and I really didn't have any idea where we were, although I hoped that it was near the Nagorno-Karabakh region of Azerbaijan since that has a primarily Armenian population.

As we drove in what I hoped was the right direction suddenly a military helicopter appeared overhead. "Shit," I exclaimed. Fortunately it was a reconnaissance chopper not one with missiles and machine guns, but since they hovered over us for a while and had what I was sure were Azerbaijani military markings it meant that we were toast. The chopper left after trailing us for about ten minutes but there was no doubt that it had radioed our position to ground troops. Our fate was sealed when fifteen minutes after the copter disappeared we ran out of gas. Apparently Yusif's fuel gauge wasn't working because it registered half a tank. At least we were able to coast between a couple of boulders.

As Anne and I ate what was likely to be our last meal she requested honesty and she deserved to get it. "We're really screwed, aren't we?" she rhetorically asked.

"I have to be honest with you, Anne; there's a better than 90% chance that the Azerbaijani military will find us tomorrow morning and when they do will kill us; in fact, being as honest as I can I urge you not to let them take you alive." With that I handed her my .22 and instructed her on how to use it. I was absolutely shocked by how stoic she received the news and the gun, although a small tear draining from her left eye gave her away.