Only then did Valentine turn away and walk Shane over to the outdoor pool bar. He opened the cabinet, reached for an ice bucket, filled it from the ice-maker, then grabbed a chilled bottle of Taittinger from the refrigerator. He worked off the wire that held the cork, accidentally fired it into the night, then poured himself a foaming glass, dropping the open bottle into the ice bucket. 'You want a glass? Help yourself.'
'You got any scotch?' Shane asked.
'Scotch? You know what you're doin' when ya drink that shit? Aside from what it does to your liver and kidneys, it's like you're eating whole wheat. It's all barley grain and rye-carbohydrates. An hour after it hits your system it turns into pure sugar. Scotch is eighty, ninety proof alcohol. Alcohol makes you retain water. You're gonna bloat.'
'Gimme a fucking scotch, will ya?' Shane growled, his nerves still jangled from the gunfight.
Valentine shrugged, began hunting through his liquor supply under the bar, then finally came out with some Ballantine' s. He uncapped it, smelled it, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and finally poured it into a club glass, neat. After he handed it to Shane, they clinked rims and drank.
Shane followed Valentine over to the glass-topped table near the pool house.
'Your doctor friend is going to have to report that gunshot wound,' Shane said. 'It's a state law.'
'He's not a people doctor; he's an animal doctor, a vet. So he can report it to the SPCA.'
'If Gino needs a transfusion, whatta you gonna do, give him a pint of Doberman blood?'
'Look, Scully, get outta my business, will ya? This doc used t' be a people doc, but he got busted for using drugs so now he delivers puppies and cuts off cat balls. NYU School of Medicine, so he oughta be able to handle this. If Gino don't make it, then them's the breaks, but I'm not gonna check him in at County General and have a buncha cops over there asking me why the front of Ciro's Pornpadoro ate ten pounds of lead tonight.'
'Why did it?'
'Business problems.'
And the way Valentine set his jaw, it was pretty obvious that was all he had to say on the subject.
'Anyway, thanks. You hadn't given me that half-second warning, I'd be decorating the inside of a coroner's wagon.'
Shane nodded and sipped his scotch. It occurred to him that if he'd just kept quiet, that would have been it… No more Dennis Valentine. He could forget all this movie B. S., but he had acted out of instinct. Besides, he was a cop. His job was to protect and serve. Even assholes like Champagne Dennis Valentine got full service.
'Now I owe you my life,' Dennis was saying. 'Since I can't very well turn you into fertilizer anymore, I gotta find some way to come to terms with you.'
'I don't want to come to terms,' Shane said. 'What you're selling makes no sense to me.'
Dennis sat down on one of the pool chairs, leaned back, and regarded Shane carefully. The trickle of blood from the cut on his forehead had dried. 'You know what my uncle always says?'
Shane shrugged.
'He says that to know how things can be, you gotta know how they were. 'Nother words, study history and it will predict the future.'
'Your uncle,' Shane deadpanned. The Jersey Godfather. Valentine pointed to the chair opposite him. Shane pulled it out, turned it around, and straddled it.
'So for that reason, I like reading history,' the mobster continued. 'You ever heard of the Browne-Bioff labor union scandal?'
'No,' Shane said.
'Well, it happened right here, in 1933 and '34. It was a successful corruption of the below-the-line IATSE unions-the I. A.'
'Nineteen thirty-three? Guys in snap brims and spats? Can't you find something a little more recent?'
Dennis smiled and sipped his Taittinger. Shane noticed that there was quite a lot of Gino's blood on Valentine's tan pants.
'Back then, George Browne was just some low-level union business agent for one of the showbiz locals. I forgot which one. But with Al Capone and Frank Nitti's financial and physical help, Browne ran for the presidency of IATSE. A guy named William Bioff represented Capone and Nitti's criminal interests out here, channeling money into the right pockets and laying big hurt on anybody who talked against Browne. In 'thirty-four, they finally got Browne elected president. That meant Capone and Nitti controlled IATSE. With Capone's blessings, George Browne starts cutting new deals with producers on an ad hoc basis. If a producer was willing to send a little vig to this thing of ours back East, then he got a sweetheart deal, got to make his movie on the cheap. The scam lasted almost five years till 1940, when the Shaw brothers got thrown out of power here in L. A. and a buncha reforming assholes took over. Then the cops and the D. A. finally shut it down. So what does this tell us?'
Shane shrugged again and sipped his Ballantine's.
'It tells us that history can point us to the future. It also gives us an operational blueprint. If it could be done once, it can be done again. I bought the right people inside IATSE, and the ones who didn't want to play took unscheduled vacations they ain't comin' back from. The election for the IATSE presidency was last month. I don't have to tell you our candidate won. So now I can get you a cut rate on your movie because I'm in a position to make special deals.'
Shane wasn't wearing a wire, so this heartfelt confession was lost in the wind.
'Hypothetically, even if I were to believe you, I still wouldn't want to give up a percentage greater than its dollar-for-dollar value,' Shane said.
'Well, maybe to get this all started, I cut you a deal on this first film because you saved my life tonight and because I'm such a Michael Fallon fan. But you gotta look at this as more than just one movie. It's a business proposition, and if you help me with one last piece of the puzzle, I'll let you be part of it.'
'What piece is that?' Shane asked.
'Once I start cutting special deals, the union hotheads are gonna start bitching. They'll go to the D. A., the D. A. goes to the cops, the cops start an investigation. That means the IATSE hard-liners will probably get a forensic audit from the city or state accounting office. Then I got a lot of troublesome legal and IRS tax bullshit. Maybe somebody I already bought down there gets jittery and decides to sell me out. Once that happens, I got the D. A. up my ass. See what I'm saying?'
'I see.'
'I been lookin' for the right 'rabbi' to help me downtown.' Valentine took a sip of his champagne and smiled at Shane.
'By downtown, are we talking about the police department?'
'Let's say we are. I'm thinkin' maybe you might lead me to my inside man… or woman.'
'A cop who'll take a bribe.'
'Only it needs to be someone up high enough to cut off an investigation once it starts to get troublesome.'
Shane sat there and pondered it. Of course they were both thinking of Alexa, but neither said her name.
'Would have to be somebody in administration,' Shane said, then took another sip of scotch. When he looked up, Valentine was staring at him.
'Let's cut the shit,' the mobster said. 'You willing to ask her?'
'Look, she's upset with the department right now because of what happened to me, and because of the political backlash she's getting on this gang war. I won't deny she's pissed, but taking a bribe… I don't know.'
'You said you wanted to change careers? This could put you on top in showbiz,' Valentine said. 'I'm not just talking about your Mike Fallon movie. You get your wife to cooperate, I'm talkin' about a piece of my piece of the whole scam. A small but significant piece. And your wife gets paid for her risk. Let's say we start with a hundred thousand in good-faith money just for her to say we all want to work something out. If nobody at the union squawks, and there's no investigation, she doesn't have to do anything and she still keeps the money. If there's a problem, and she has to go into action and fix something, I can pay by the job or the year. If she shuts down the right investigation, maybe there's half a mil in it for her.' He sat there staring at his glass of Taittinger, then looked up suddenly. 'But there's one big catch.'
Shane waited.
'If you go to her and ask her, and then she gets froggy and takes what I'm telling you to the OCB, or the D. A… then I'll pull out of L. A. and go back to Trenton, but I'll be pissed, 'cause a lotta time and money got wasted.
