The Movie (48 page)

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ring. But she was looking at him with hatred, and the sense of fear emanating from her was so strong he could practically smell it.

‘Mademoiselle Delors?’ he enquired blandly.

‘My name is Barbara Fransen,’ she hissed. ‘What do you want?’

Duvall hefted up his briefcase. ‘Information, Mrs Fransen. Nothing else. May I come in?’

Wordlessly she held open the door for him, and Duvall walked into the lower reception room of a magnificent duplex. Furnished in soft cream and butterscotch tones, it had great views over the city, antique mahogany furniture, what looked like a Ming vase on the mantelpiece, and a top-of-the-range speaker system. His eye fell upon some Baccarat crystal tumblers, one of which would have cost him a month’s wage a year or so back, when he was schlepping overtime for the NYPD. Things were different in private work, but then he’d fallen on his feet. He would always be aware of the value of things, of the difference m.oney could make in a person’s life. You have to be a self made person to really appreciate wealth, that’s what he reckoned. And to truly fear having it taken away from you.

That was why he was so good at his job. And that was

why Mrs David Fransen was about to open her beautifully made-up mouth and sing like a canary. Because there was no way on God’s green earth, Duvall congratulated himself, that this lady was ready to swap the Baccarat for the back streets. She was standing inthe centre of her Persian rug, twisting her hands nervously and not speaking.

‘May I sit down, ma’am?’ he asked, nodding towards the high-backed ebony chairs ranged around one of the ornate glass coffee tables.

‘If you have to,’ she said ungraciously, and then added, ‘I don’t know what you want. If it’s money, I can’t take too much out of David’s account before he notices, and I only have a little of my own’

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‘I’m sure,’ Duvall interjected smoothly, cutting her off. He didn’t want the bitch getting hysterical and doing anything dumb. ‘Like I say, Mrs Fransen, this is not about blackmail. We aren’t interested in you, ma’am. Just what you can tell us.’

He laid the briefcase flat on the shiny glass table top and clicked open the lid. Inside, neatly ranged in order of importance, were typed notes from every subject they’d interviewed around the world. A Parisian hostess. A sheik’s favourite wife, safely ensconced in a luxury Cairo penthouse for over ten years-a modem take on the harem, he guessed. An impoverished policeman from Kansas City who wasn’t quite so impoverished any more. A retired social worker, ditto. A court stenographer. Several ex models, all of them current wives of wealthy, powerful men. It was a bizarre collection, but a useful one - like the oddly shaped pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, they made a very clear picture when you slotted them all together. Joey Duvall had been the operative responsible for finding three of those pieces, more than any other agent. And Mile Delors was going to make four.

He grinned as he fished out the clear black and white photographs, chose the relevant pictures and handed them across to her. This was going to mean more than a pat on the back for him;. If he read the excitement at headquarters correctly, the bonus on.this baby would be the biggest payday of his career.

‘Do you recognize that woman?’

She glanced at him, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And did you have dealings with he in Paris, eight years ago?’

The answer was so low he could barely hear it.

‘Yes.’ The woman was biting her lip, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

‘Don’t upset yourself, Mrs Fransen, my firm is extremely discreet,’ Duvall told her softly. ‘I’m just gonna ask you for

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a few details, and you’re gonna answer me, and then I’m gonna get out of your life and you’ll never see or hear from me again. Right?’

‘Right,’ she said, nervously, gratefully.

Duvall pulled out a silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her, smiling. ‘Everything’s gonna be just fine, Mrs Fransen. Ne vous inquidtez pas.’

Eight a.m. Tom Goldman spun in his chair, gripped with misery and self-doubt.

Should I go into her? he wondered. Normally that’s what I do in the mornings. But for something like this, is that wi “s? I should get her in here. But it’s not formal-it’s a warning…

, Despairingly he passed a hand through his hair. I do not want to do this, he thought desperately. But he had to. It was now or later, and later would be worse. He just could not allow her to walk into the production meeting unprepared, to face Jake Keller’s point-by-point demolition of her work on See the Lights in front of everyone else. Eleanor had to be allowed time to write a good exit speech, something that would let her leave with dignity. Keller would hate him for doing it, but he could go screw himself.

I’m going to warn her, Goldman decided. I owe her that much.

Reluctantly, he lifted his handset and punched in Eleanor Marshall’s extension.

Eleanor hit her office by six a.m., adrenalin still racing through her veins. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door of her secretary’s office; despite the lack of sleep, she looked better than she had done in years, her hair newly dry and full-bodied, her make-up bold and confident - God, when was the last time I bothered with mascara? she wondered - and her eyes were bright, lively and alert.

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After the conversation I just had with Alex, they should be, Eleanor told herself. She logged in to her computer, pulled up a word-processing package and started to type the list of points losen had dictated to her. Then she turned on the printer, accessed her private back-up files for the See the Lights memos and began to run off labelled, dated copies.

Her fingers were flying over the keyboard, racing to get everything done in time. Eleanor didn’t bother with coffee, she was already totally wired. Next up, e-mail, she told herself, punching in another set of codes and commands. A list of memos and letters, scanned by date and subject, appeared on the screen. Silently, Eleanor blessed Bill Burton, Artemis’s resident systems boffin, for forcing her to take the computing proficiency course last year. She’d wanted to refuse-who had the time? - but Bill had steml told her that it was senior management’s duty to set an example to the other staff. So she’d allowed him to lock her away for two days and show her the basics - ‘There you go, princess, you’ll never have to rely on your assistant again,’ Bill had told her proudly. Eleanor had shaken her head - the techno kids lived in a world of their own - but he’d insisted: ‘You’ll be kissing my ass for this one day, Marshall, I’m telling you.’

God. I have to send that boy flowers, she thought gratefully as she punched inJake Keller’s codes and told his machine to search for, and print out, discrepancies it found against her own original memoranda.

I’ve got Keller’s codes, but he doesn’t have mine, Eleanor exulted. Privilege of office! Read this and weep, you son of a bitch. I’m still the president here. And whatever you may have thought, it’s gonna stay that way.

The phone on her desk shrilled. Eleanor picked it up with her left hand, her right hand continuing to speed across the keyboard, her eyes fixed on the screen.Jesus, this. was unbelievable. Except for the fact that Jake Keller was

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behind it … except for the fact that the proof was unfolding before her eyes and shooting out of her colour printer at four pages a minute. Eleanor’s lips tightened. Maybe they should invent a new proverb - hell hath no fury like a male executive scorned. Especially if it’s in favour of a woman.

‘Marshall,’ she said.

‘Eleanor, this is Tom.’

‘Hey, Tom. Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something here.’

‘No. I have to see you now.’

There was an urgent note in his voice that Eleanor did

not miss. ‘OK. I’ll be there in five minutes,’ she told him,

and hung up. Then she took her small gold powder

‘ compact out of her purse and checked her make-up, reapplying a dab of lipstick as the printer spat out the last of her fdes. Once it was finished, she picked everything up and shoved it in her briefcase, locking it shut. She grabbed the neatly typed list of Alex losen’s contractual points, spritzed a little scent across her neck - Chanel No. 5, Eleanor was in a classical mood this morning - and set off briskly for Tom Goldman’s office.

Isn’t it ridiculous? Eleanor thought. I’m fighting for my career and in a couple of hours I’ll need to be on a plane to the Seychelles. I ought to be worried sick, but I’m not. Face it! I’m feeling terrific!

As she careered into Goldman’s office, Eleanor felt a minor twitch of guilt at the exhilaration surging through her. After all, she was about to hangJake Keller out to dry. His career was over once she did this, not just at Artemis but anywhere else. And if Tom didn’t like it, too bad. She had him by the balls, and she knew it. Was it unfeminine to feel such a thrill at the prospect of revenge? Eleanor wondered. But screw that. It had never stopped Queen Boadicea.

‘Eleanor, come in,’ Tom Goldman said, rising to meet

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her. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. ‘How’s Paul?’

‘Asleep,’ she replied irreverently, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. And what was the personal small talk? Tom had never wasted time on polite preliminaries before.

‘You look great,’ Goldman said truthfully, gesturing at her crimson Donna Karan suit and bright red lipstick. ‘Married life must be agreeing with you.’

Eleanor strolled over to Goldman’s desk and took the chair in front ofit,confident and relaxed. ‘Not so far,’ she said levelly. ‘But you can cut the banter, Tom. You said you had to see me. What do you want to discuss?’

He sat down heavily. ‘I don’t want to discuss this, Eleanor, believe me. But I have to. We - we’ve been working together for a long time, long enough for me to owe you a warning.’ Goldman sighed heavily, hating what he was forced to sdy next. ‘Jake Keller is going to bring up all the disastrous production decisions that you made about locations, casting, unions or whatever on See the Lights, and contrast them with the objections he lodged in that memo you made him write. We’re facing a bath on this movie, Eleanor, and if word gets out it could affect the stock. That would be the end of the studio.’ He glanced at her, then looked away again. ‘Keller says he has a detailed plan for completing this film at a minimal further cost, but the price he’s demanded for giving it to me is that he replace you as the executive in charge of the project, and that I announce it publicly. He wants me to do it at the meeting this afternoon.’

Goldman paused, took a breath. Why had he put it like that? He’d meant to say, I’m going to do it at the meeting this afternoon. I’m sorry… I have no choice. He’d meant to sit here and break it to Eleanor Marshall as gently as he could; he was sacking her.

It was his duty as CEO.

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There was no other way.

It would be nothing personal. Right?

She gazed back at him, those sparkling eyes calm and unfazed. Tom felt his heart contract with respect and love. Eleanor was as brave now as she’d been when he first met her fifteen years ago. He flashed back to those same eyes, warm and brilliant, looking up at him in bed in New York, ftlled with sweet love and hot desire.

Now he had to look into those same eyes, look at this woman who’d been his friend and p:rtner for fifteen years, and tell her she was fired.

‘And are you going to, Tom?’ Eleanor asked quietly.

For.a second she held her breath. So this was it. He was

about to break faith with her, for the sake of business, for ‘ the sake of his job. And even though she knew that Alex

Rosen could save her position, there would be no saving

her love for Tom Goldman. Not after this.

Once he said the words, it was all over.

Tom Goldman looked at Eleanor Marshall, and suddenly, irrationally, felt a great weight lifting off b-is chest. Fie couldn’t do it. It was that simple.

‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I’m not. I can’t do it to you, kiddo. Not that it’ll help you any; the Artemis board will have you out in a heartbeat. But I’m not gonna point you at the exit sign. I’ll resign first.’ He shrugged. ‘What the hell? We came in together, we’ll go out together.’

Eleanor stared at him, a thrill of exultant love rushing through her. My God, she thought. If I’d waited one more day to do this, it would have been too late.

Goldman misinterpreted her silence, and felt a surge of pain and compassion. ‘Look, I do know how hard this must be for you. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, just name it.’

Eleanor shook her head, smiling. ‘Tom, I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.’ She cleared her throat, held up Alex Rosen’s list in front of her and said coolly, ‘Now, let

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me tell you what’s actually going to happen. My lawyer is taking the first plane out of New York, and he should be here by lunchtime, so he can go over it with you then. But I thought I’d give you a little rundown first. Number one, my contract as president of Artemis states that nobody can be hired above me or below me without my approval, unless the company is sold. I would regard Artemis placing Jake Keller in charge of production on my movie as placing him above me. And so would a court. They’d be in breach of contract, Tom, and I’ll fde a suit against the studio this

afternoon. And I’ll announce it at a press conference.’ ‘Eleanor- ‘

She held up a hand. Tm not done. Furthermore, I cannot be dismissed without three written warnings, none of which I have received, and a review with the board in New York. Again, if Artemis violates these conditions, I will sue. And I-have the guaranteed right to see my first green-lighted project through to completion and release.’ She smiled gently. ‘If you recall, Tom, you advised me to have that clause inserted in the deal, so they couldn’t do to me what they tried to do to Martin Webber. And Alex tkosen, my lawyer, is very hot on this issue. He says if Artemis tries to get out of it we’ll sue for millions. Moreover, this bin& any future owner of the studio. So Howard and his buddies can’t just ship me off to the Japs and let them fire me, either.’