by Stuart Woods
Sylvester considered. “I suppose you could get into the film business,” he said facetiously.
Gino cocked his head, and pointed at him. “Let’s do that.”
* * *
Bradley Finch wasn’t glad to get the call. Carlo Gigante had helped him out way back when, when Bradley was first trying to get into movies. Bradley owed a lot to Carlo Gigante. But Carlo Gigante was dead, and while Bradley would never say it, it was a bit of a relief now that he was well established in the movie industry as an independent producer who had worked at the major studios. Gigante was a bit of an embarrassment to have in the background, the type of connection a gossip mag might be inclined to publish. So Bradley was glad to be rid of the obligation.
It never occurred to him it might be inherited.
The summons to Gino Patelli’s had come as a shock. So had the pat down before he was permitted to enter. Now he sat in the mobster’s den with a cigar and a glass of cognac, chatting with Patelli as if they were the best of buddies.
“Of course I knew your uncle,” Bradley said. “Great man. Shame what happened to him.”
“Yes, it was,” Gino said. “But I’m happy he was able to help you get where you are. That’s true, isn’t it, not just one of the stories people tell?”
“When I was first coming up, Carlo was very helpful.”
“I know he was. The way I understand it, he didn’t know that much about the business, but he still had influence.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t know that much about the business,” Gino said. “I’d like to, only I don’t have my uncle to teach me. But I have you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know the industry inside and out. If I wanted to get into producing, what would I have to do?”
“Are you serious?”
“Do you think I brought you here to fuck around?”
“No, no, of course not. You want a shortcut?”
Gino smiled. “Now you’re on my wavelength. What would I have to do?”
“Put up money.”
“What?”
“You want to become a producer, put up money. I happen to know of a film being financed by an independent studio that’s short of cash.”
“How much money?”
“Depends how much work you wanna do.”
“I don’t wanna do any fucking work at all.”
“A million dollars. Give them a million dollars, they’ll kiss your ass, call you a producer, welcome you on the set. You want a shortcut into the movies, that’s the way.”
Gino smiled and pointed at Bradley. “I’m beginning to see what Carlo saw in you. So, here’s the favor you will do for me, in exchange for the favor my uncle did for you.
“You will find me a movie to invest in. Introduce me to the people I need to know, and help me make it happen.
“Then you will check out the people throwing Oscar parties. Find one who’s invited the producer and director of the Centurion movie, Desperation at Dawn. That shouldn’t be hard, it’s an Oscar nominee. Get me an invite to that party.”
Bradley stared at Gino, his mouth open. “Are you serious?”
“You do that, and we will consider the debt paid.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley said. He hoped Gino wouldn’t consider that sarcastic. “This will take some time. When do you need it done?”
Gino shrugged. “How’s tomorrow?”
42
There’s another Oscar party?” Teddy said. “How many of these damn things are there?”
“You knew about it,” Peter said.
“That doesn’t mean I like it. Couldn’t we skip this one?”
“We have to go,” Peter said.
“Robert Vincent? I’ve never even heard of the guy.”
“That’s why we have to go. He’s not on the A-list. If we snub him, it will look like we think we’re too big for him.”
“Do people really think like that?” Teddy said.
Peter looked at him.
Teddy spread his arms. “What am I saying? Of course people think like that.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
“So who’s he inviting, Mark Weldon or Billy Barnett?”
“Both.”
“So who’s going to snub him?”
“Well, it’s a problem either way. A no-show will be noticed by Oscar voters.”
“It’s easy then. Billy Barnett will go. Mark Weldon couldn’t care less if he wins an Oscar.”
“It all reflects on the picture.”
“I think you want to win an Oscar.”
Peter grinned. “Bite your tongue.”
“Okay, I’ll go as Billy Barnett. I’ll catch a ride with you to the party because my car’s still in the shop.”
“It is?”
“Well, it’s probably done, I just haven’t picked it up. Have a production assistant drop off a car at the party and give you the keys. You slip me the keys when no one’s looking. Then after every Oscar voter in Southern California has a chance to see that Billy Barnett is just a regular guy, I’ll take off in the car, change into Mark Weldon, and come back.”
“That sounds complicated,” Peter said.
“Yeah. It would be easier if Billy Barnett had a cold.”
“Not that complicated.”
* * *
It was quite a party. Cars were parked by the side of the road for a hundred yards in both directions. Policemen had been hired to direct traffic, as cars were allowed to pull up to the front door momentarily to let off the rich and famous.
Teddy caught a ride in Ben Bacchetti’s limo, along with Ben, Tessa, Peter, and Hattie. Teddy was there as Billy Barnett. He figured it was easier to put in an appearance as the producer first, and let the actor come fashionably late.
Robert Vincent met him at the door. They had never been introduced, but that didn’t stop Robert from greeting him effusively as if they were old friends.
“I have to congratulate you on your success. It must be wonderful to have an Oscar contender.”
Teddy smiled. “It’s easy to produce a hit picture. Just let Peter Barrington direct.”
“Ah, Peter Barrington,” Robert gushed, continuing to fawn over everyone in the group.
Teddy couldn’t recall what Robert Vincent had produced himself. He had a feeling the man was more successful at producing parties than movies.
Viveca Rothschild was already there. Teddy spotted her across the room. He made his way toward her and greeted her warmly. She was in the company of a muscular young man she introduced as her boyfriend, Bruce. Teddy would have known he was ex-military without being told. Bruce had a look he sometimes recognized in soldiers who had been under fire.
“Glad to see you,” Viveca said. “You’re so seldom around.”
“One of the drawbacks of success,” Teddy said. “I find I’m working on more than one project at a time. Believe me, though, I’m keeping tabs on your film. If I’m not on the scene all the time, it’s actually a good thing. When a movie’s going well, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“All her movies go well,” Bruce said.
It was an aggressive comment, about what Teddy would have expected from the young man, and it almost forced Viveca to say something self-deprecating to mitigate it.
Before she could, Teddy said, “I’ve seen her movies, and I quite agree. Nice to meet you, young man.”
* * *
On the other side of the room, Gino Patelli and Sylvester were sipping drinks and keeping an eye on Billy Barnett, whom they had spotted when he came in. As Billy moved away from Viveca and Bruce, Gino weaved his way through the crowd and intercepted him.
“Billy Barnett. An Oscar contender.” He extended his hand. “Allow me to offer my congratulations.”
>
“Thank you,” Teddy said. “Pardon me, but have we met?”
“No, we have not. Gino Patelli. I’m a producer myself.”
Teddy’s CIA training allowed him not to react to the name, but it was certainly interesting. So, this was Carlo Gigante’s nephew, the man who had tried several times to have him killed. Instinct told Teddy he had nothing to fear from him here. Gino wouldn’t do his own dirty work, and the man with him wouldn’t do anything that might reflect on his boss. Teddy was safe at the party.
He was sure he wouldn’t be when he left.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Patelli. What have you produced?”
“I’m doing a picture now for Allied Films. Looks like a winner. This is my associate, Sylvester. We’re relatively new to the business. I was hoping you might have some advice.”
“Start with the script,” Teddy said. “Most people say get a star. Line up a big-name actor, build around that. But for my money they’re wrong. You put a star actor in a turkey, you got a movie no one wants to see. Start with the script, let the script attract the star.” He smiled. “Sorry, that’s more than you want to hear. It’s just one of my pet peeves.”
“Not at all,” Gino said. “That’s very helpful. You’ve given me something to think about.”
Teddy drained his glass, which gave him an excuse to move away to get another drink.
Gino had given him something to think about, too. For all of Gino’s macho posturing, he struck Teddy as a little boy, dressed up in his uncle’s clothing, trying to be a man. He cared very much about his image. He did not want anyone to get the impression he had failed. Having gone after Billy Barnett, he could not let the vendetta go, even to the point of dabbling in the motion-picture industry to accomplish his ends. The man was irrational, psychotic, and extremely dangerous. Eventually, he would have to be dealt with.
The tinkling of a piano piece cut through the conversation and gradually quieted the crowd. Hattie Barrington had been prevailed upon to grace the company with a selection from her Oscar-nominated score. It was gorgeous. Even the bare piano notes hinted at the arrangement the full orchestra could deliver. Her piece was greeted with appreciative applause.
Teddy mingled for about an hour, worked his way over to Peter, and said, “It’s time. See you later.”
They shook hands, and Peter palmed him the car keys.
Teddy thanked his host and headed for the door. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gino Patelli talking on his cell phone. He had a feeling he knew what that was about.
43
Teddy came out the front door. He couldn’t see Gino’s men, but he knew they were there. He figured they wouldn’t try to take him out in the doorway. The police presence was enough to keep him safe, unless he walked alone to his car.
One of the cops was waiting in the driveway to deal with the late arrivals. Teddy waved him over.
“Can you do me a favor? A production assistant left a car for me to get home with. It’s parked up the road to the right. I got a bum leg, and I’d rather not walk. Could you drive it up here for me?”
Teddy extended the keys and a fifty-dollar bill.
The cop smiled. “To the right, you say?” He took the keys and the bill and set off.
Teddy stepped back inside and waited for the car to drive up. He doubted if Gino’s men would risk a long shot, but he saw no reason to give them a chance.
The cop drove up with the production car. Teddy hopped in, perhaps too athletically for someone with a bad leg, not that it mattered. A producer might well tell a white lie to disguise that he was too lazy to get his own car.
Teddy drove quickly out of the Hollywood hills to a commercial strip alongside the highway. He built up a lead, then turned abruptly into a cheap motel. Instead of parking in front of the units, he pulled into the shadows on the far side of the lot, hopped out, sprinted across the parking lot, and went in the door of unit 10 just as headlights turned in off the road.
That was cutting it close, but even so. With luck they wouldn’t know what unit he was in.
Teddy double-locked the motel room door, went to the closet, and took out the change of clothes he’d left there earlier that afternoon when he’d rented the unit. He slipped off his suit jacket, hung it on a hanger, and changed into the sportier but still dressy attire he’d chosen for Mark Weldon. He took his makeup kit out of a dresser drawer, went into the bathroom, and began the transformation. Minutes later, Mark Weldon’s face stared back at him. Teddy shot him with his finger, a jaunty gesture suitable for the stuntman actor.
Teddy opened the motel room safe and took out his gun and shoulder holster. It would have been inappropriate for Billy Barnett, but for bad boy Mark Weldon it was a signature prop. On the off chance anyone spotted it, they wouldn’t even be sure it was real.
Teddy went to the window and peered out through a crack in the blinds. He could see two men skulking behind his car. That was unfortunate. He could ditch them, but they might have seen him go into the room as Billy Barnett. When they saw him come out as Mark Weldon, it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Teddy went in the bathroom and checked the window. It was large, as motel bathroom windows go. He unlocked it, pushed it open, and carefully lifted out the screen. He stepped on the toilet seat and climbed out the window.
Behind the motel was relatively dark. Only two of the bathroom lights were on. Teddy faded back into the shadows and detoured around the building.
He reached the end of the row farthest from the road. Here the motel angled into an L. Teddy worked his way to the end of the units, and peered around the corner.
The two thugs were still crouched in the darkness behind his car. One was of average height, the other was short and stocky. Short and Stocky already had his gun out. He would be nervous and apt to fire at the slightest provocation. Average Height would be less apt to miss.
Teddy took his gun out and screwed on the silencer. He kept in the shadows and tried to work his way around behind them.
A twig snapped.
Short and Stocky reacted as if it were a gunshot. He whirled around, leveled his gun.
Teddy shot him in the head. He went down in a heap.
Average Height went for his gun. Too late, way too late. Teddy put two in his chest as he turned, one in his head before he could shoot.
Teddy searched their pockets. Average Height had a set of car keys. He zapped them. Lights flashed on a car parked on the same side of the lot just two spaces away.
Teddy grabbed Short and Stocky under the shoulders, dragged him to the car, popped the trunk, and dropped him in. Then he went back for his partner.
* * *
Max was crouched between the cars parked in front of units 7 and 8. It was a perfect vantage place. If Billy Barnett came out of the motel, Max would be able to sneak up behind him. Billy Barnett might be smart, but he would never know what hit him.
It was a shock to realize Billy Barnett hadn’t done that.
Max was focused on the motel when he heard the unmistakable pop of silenced gunshots somewhere behind him. He turned just in time to see his cronies going down.
Lights on their car flashed. Billy Barnett had their keys. Shadows moved in the dark, then a light flared as he popped the trunk. Max saw a clump of figures as Billy rolled a body inside.
It was time to make his move. Billy Barnett clearly didn’t know he was there. He would be dealing with the second body, and wouldn’t be alert for an attack, particularly from the direction of the motel.
Max slipped from between the cars and crossed the lot. There was one car parked between Billy Barnett’s and the one with the open trunk. Max crept to it, flattened his back against it, and waited. He felt good. Another minute and the job would be over. He’d lost his partners, but that wasn’t his problem. Gino would be pleased.
Max raised his gun.
Billy Barnett did not appear. It took a moment for it to register on Max that the footsteps had stopped. His eyes widened with the realization just before the bullet tore into the back of his head.
44
When Teddy got back to the party Gino Patelli was making frequent phone calls. They appeared to be going straight to voicemail. He didn’t look happy.
Teddy greeted the host, then headed for the Centurion contingent, where Viveca and Bruce had joined Peter and Hattie and Ben and Tessa.
“You’re late,” Viveca said with a smile. “Is that part of your bad-boy image?”
Teddy grinned. “Hey, I’m not pretty like you. I have to work to get attention.”
Viveca laughed. She got along well with Mark, and was comfortable kidding him.
Her boyfriend stiffened at the familiarity. Teddy allowed himself to be introduced to Bruce again. “Oh, firm handshake. You’re a vet, aren’t you? Can always spot a military man. Pleased to meet you. Well, you guys got a head start on me. I’m going to get a drink.”
Teddy wandered over to the bar.
Tessa followed him. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure. What’ll you have?”
“Oh. A martini.”
“One martini and one bourbon on the rocks,” Teddy said.
The bartender mixed the drinks.
“You took your time getting back,” Tessa said.
“I was in no rush to be here.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Teddy just smiled.
Tessa leaned in close. “Hey, it’s me. I know when something’s going on. What is it?”
“Nothing to do with you. And nothing to do with Mark Weldon. So there’s no reason not to enjoy ourselves.”
Teddy accepted the drinks from the bartender. He handed Tessa the martini. “There you go.” He raised his glass. “To the Oscars,” he said. “Someone’s gotta win ’em. Might as well be us.”
