“When is this?”
“As soon as the subpoenas-” He stopped. “Get out of here, okay? You don’t have to warn anybody. They’ll know soon enough. Maybe nobody’ll connect the dots.”
“To me. The dots in his head.”
The other car had pulled up.
“Hey, Kelly,” Ben said. “Still picking up Polly’s laundry?”
Kelly took the envelope from Riordan, a little embarrassed.
“Anything yet on Ray?”
“I just put out a feeler yesterday.”
“And then you got busy,” Ben said, looking at the envelope. “Is Polly getting a lead this time or still playing shill?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I like to see you get ahead.”
Kelly looked at Riordan, a thanks for the envelope. “I’m doing all right.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Riordan said.
“I can find it,” Ben said. “You’re busy.”
They watched Kelly drive away.
“So who were they? In the letter,” Riordan said.
“I don’t know. They wouldn’t say.”
“They wanted to find you in a hurry.”
“You know what I think? They don’t know. They were looking to me to tell them.”
Riordan made a face, skeptical. “Communists?”
“Haven’t you got enough?” Ben said, cocking his head toward the office.
Riordan didn’t bother to answer. “Maybe we’ll run into each other some time. Lunch at the Market.”
Ben headed for his car, then turned, watching Riordan go in. So who were they? Friedman. Someone the San Francisco operator didn’t have. A few names lodged somewhere in the back of his mind, the rest in a drawer, unavailable. He looked at the building, the guarded back door. Minot’s office would face the side street. He followed it toward the front entrance on Wilshire, trying to guess which windows were Minot’s. There, both open now, but locked tonight. High enough to require a jump to catch the sill. And then what? He saw himself dangling in the street, pulling himself up, breaking the window, the sound of smashing glass-impossible, something even the Partners would find absurd. The way into any office was through the door.
He skirted the building, going in through the Wilshire entrance. Also locked at night, presumably part of Frank’s rounds. He walked down the long hall to Minot’s office, then stood near the door. Behind the translucent glass he could hear voices, Dennis and the secretaries. Did they all go out to lunch together? But then they’d lock it. He looked at the doorknob, the keyhole in the middle. Something Frank could open with a master key, but not Ben.
A man came out of the next office and crossed the hall to the restroom, looking at him. Ben took the knob, pretending to enter, until he heard the men’s room door close, then noticed Frank turning the corner down the hall. He jerked his hand away and went into the next office. Statewide Insurance. An outer room with three secretaries.
“Yes? Are you here to see Mr. Herbert?”
“No, I–I think I’ve made a mistake. Congressman Minot?”
“Next door, on your right.”
“Thanks,” he said, hesitating, listening for Frank, then saw that she was waiting and that he had to move. He opened the door, and looked down, hiding his face. But Frank had passed. He hurried back to Wilshire, the files still behind him.
At the studio, people already knew Minot was going to make a move. The power of Hollywood gossip, Ben thought, impressed again, no warning flares needed.
“Bunny’s been with lawyers all day,” Hal said.
“But nothing’s happened.”
“It’s going to. Polly’s got a column tomorrow. She says it’s about time.”
“For what?”
“Housecleaning. Makes you think of a duster. Joan Leslie doing a little tidying up.”
Ben glanced at him, surprised at his tone. “But you’re all right. I mean-”
Hal nodded, smiling a little. “But you had to ask, didn’t you? Take a walk around the lot. You can feel it, people just waiting to see.”
Bunny came in without knocking.
“Oh good, both of you. How’s your head?” he said to Ben and then, at his expression, “You made the papers. Well, the burglar did. Some building.”
“Still a little sore.”
“Can you work? We need to get this wrapped up.”
“Sure. Why?”
“You think you’ve got a headache? Wait till the messengers get here with their little papers. Tomorrow? The next day? The suspense is killing us. Except it’s not going to. We stay on schedule.” He turned to Hal. “Two things. The overrun was not authorized. It’s an Army film, let Fort Roach do the processing.” He stopped, taking in Ben, too. “We bring it in on budget or we bail. I mean it. Second, I need to see you. In the office.” This to Hal, his voice lower.
“Me?”
“I want you to talk to the lawyers.”
Hal took a step back, his whole body a question mark.
“What’s going on?” Ben asked for him.
“You know Schaeffer, over at Fox?”
“We made a picture together,” Hal said, suddenly hoarse.
“Well, they’re going to want to know everything he ever said to you. The lawyers need to prep you.”
“Slow down a minute,” Ben said. “What’s going on?”
“A run-through,” Bunny said. “Rehearsal for taking on the majors. Minot wants to show them how disruptive this can be, what it can do to your business. Encourage them to be friendly. Just like we’re going to be,” he said, looking now at Hal. “All friendly witnesses. We understand the gravity of the situation. And he goes away and we close the door and we’re still here. Then it’s Jack’s turn and Zanuck’s and-and they won’t even have to be told. They watched him do it to us. Now, okay? My office. They’re waiting.”
Hal left without saying a word.
“Who else is going to be called?” Ben said.
“We’re not sure. We’re trying to anticipate.”
“Talk to him. I thought you were pals.”
“And what would I offer him? You? I gather you annoyed him. Even wounded.” He pointed to Ben’s head.
“I don’t want to make trouble for the studio. Do you need me to take a walk?”
“You’re not making trouble, he’s making trouble. We’re easy, the first bite. Small enough to chew and spit out. He thinks. You notice he’s not taking on Warners. Or Metro. Yet. Just somebody he can push around.” He looked up at Ben. “He wants to tear this industry apart. To make himself a star. So we help him. And then we help him move on.”
“You’re going to cooperate.”
Bunny glanced at his watch. “Now look at the time.” He raised his head, Ben’s eyes still on him. “I’m going to keep things going. Call Liesl, by the way, and get her in here. Sick day. We send somebody over there, and she’s off on some joyride with you. Don’t bother.” He held up his hand. “It wouldn’t even be good. The point is that we have to move up the picture. Tick, tock. We may have a hole in the schedule. We can’t go into Christmas without an A.”
“Why would you? Have a hole?”
“In case a picture’s in trouble,” Bunny said, turning away. “In case we had to shelve it.”
