The Silver Screen

by The Silver Screen (retail) (epub)

  CHAPTER XV

  Fred Raymond was relieved that Jack was able to lasso the unidentified transfer. He was not in the least surprised it was a press photographer. Unquestionably, a crazy bunch. In the daily mail Margaret Mitchell’s note had arrived. It helped to settle his nerves regarding the conclusion of their business transaction. There was no room for error or delay as the clock was ticking. He had just closed the small talent scout office in Hollywood that they had since 1928. He made sure the small staff got a nice severance and good referrals. Having hired local people in the end made it easier to close things out. No loose ends.

  Mildred, his secretary, was already packing the documents, important scripts and books that were to go into storage in the valley. Tyme Productions had purchased several properties there that would be the final location in the future. Then there was the small office in Grauman Chinese Theater that had an ironed clad lease that expired at midnight in the year 2000. It would revert to the current owner. It had been a convenient location that no one questioned overtime. That was exactly how Fred Raymond needed it. He took a drag on his cigarette, then rested it on the heavy crystal ashtray, reflecting a moment on his future personal plans. He and his wife Betty were moving back east to Connecticut. He would retire, of course, and financially, he was set for life. He knew it was time not only to leave the film industry, but to leave the LA lifestyle. His wife Betty, a bit reluctant to leave, got over it when he showed her the grand historical mansion they would live in. She was currently busy and happy back east working around the clock to redecorate the home, dreaming undoubtedly of the soirees she would bring to the folks of Connecticut.

  He smiled for a moment, remembering how Howard Hughes had talked him into this crazy time travel idea and then letting him manage it. It had been the most outrageous concept, but he couldn’t deny he had enjoyed it immensely. And there was, of course, the matter of the salary. No sane person could have refused it. Fred would have been the soul of discretion through the entire process. He had met some of the greats of the film industry from silent to talkies. Now he would go out knowing the future would be fortunate enough to enjoy the sequel to “Gone with the Wind” by Margaret Mitchell. It would all be a mysterious discovery during a renovation in Grauman’s Chinese Theater. In truth, he would have liked to have lived to see it all. The excitement and the buzz. In truth, just securing the work and making sure it got to 1999 he considered a major accomplishment. It gave him pride with his contribution to the film industry.

  A knock on the office door brought Fred Raymond out of his thoughts with a jolt. Now what was this? He wondered.

  Mildred stuck her head in and said, “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Hughes is here.”

  As Howard Hughes nodded to Mildred and brushed past her saying, “Raymond, good to see you,” as he extended his hand in greeting.

  Fred Raymond stood, surprised, and shook his hand, but he wasn’t due until next week. Howard was such an independent cuss, doing pretty much what, how, and when he wanted. “Howard, come on in. Sit down. You are a surprise.”

  “Well, couldn’t sleep. Left Kate to her own devices and just flew out here to Minefield. Figured we could wrap up a few things a little early.”

  “Of course. Can we get you anything?”

  Howard Hughes waved his hand to dismiss the need for a beverage. “So how are things coming along in closing out Tyme Productions?”

  Fred Raymond sat down quickly, gathering his thoughts. He hated being surprised and Howard always did it better than anyone. “Well, pretty good so far,” Fred said, omitting the fact that Hawk and Kate had arrived unexpectedly.

  “The manuscript,” Howard said. “Where’s Mitchell?”

  “She’s on the way. Should put ink on the paper first of next week.”

  “Cutting it a bit close.”

  “Granted. But still, don’t think it will be a problem,” Raymond said. “It’s an iron clad deal.”

  “Better not be,” Hughes remarked.

  Fred noticed Howard was a bit more edgy than normal. He wondered if his personal relationship with Kate Hepburn was taking its toll or the early time travel was catching up with him. “We just closed out the Hollywood office,” Raymond continued. “And we will be gone from here in less than two weeks. No loose ends.” Raymond paused for a minute. “It’s been quite the ride.”

  Howard nodded. “Indeed it has.”

  Then Raymond said, “Kate is well, I hope?”

  “Oh, you never know with Kate. She’s looking at a few film projects. And me, you know I love my planes. I’m tinkering with a few ideas.”

  “Really?” Raymond said. “Anything interesting?”

  “Yeah. My friend Jack Frye is trying to get me to buy Trans World Airlines. I’ll be looking at a fleet of Boeing 307 Stratoliners.”

  “Sounds like something right up your ally,” Raymond remarked.

  “We’ll see. I’m having lunch with him on my way back to the airport this afternoon.” Howard paused a moment and then added. As he reached into his breast pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s the account number you can transfer the final funds when you close out everything.”

  He tossed the piece of cream paper onto Fred Raymond’s

  desk.

  “Fine. I’ll take care of it. It will be maybe another week or two.”

  “That’s fine,” Howard said. He adjusted the hat on his head and stood up. “I want to thank you, Raymond, for all you’ve done. You’ve done a bang up job.”

  “Thanks, Howard. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

  They shook hands as Mildred knocked softly and entered with a hand full of papers for Fred to sign.

  “Give Betty my best regards, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will,” Raymond said.

  Howard turned then, lifted his hat, nodding to Mildred, “Nice to see you again, Mildred.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Hughes,” she smiled. Then Howard turned quickly and left the room. Mildred said, “These are for you, sir, to sign.”

  “Thank you, Mildred.”

  But she paused a moment looking at the now empty doorway. “Mr. Hughes looked like he was in a hurry.”

  Fred Raymond chuckled. “Howard is always in hurry.”

  * * *

  “Over here, Kate.” Jack’s voice reached her as she entered the hotel lobby.

  She marveled how he looked like he had always been in 1939. Relaxed and yet well put together. She smiled, “Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No. I just got here. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” Kate nodded. “I was thinking Musso Franks.”

  “Oh, I love that place. It was one of my mom’s favorites. Still good in our time.”

  “Yes, it is,” Jack agreed as they walked out the front door where a car and driver waited.

  “A chauffeured car for Musso Franks?”

  “Well, I don’t have a driver’s license here in this time. Saves trouble and time all around.”

  “Oh, of course. That makes sense,” Kate said as she stepped into the car and Jack joined her on the other side.

  “Musso Franks Restaurant looked the same, if not a bit fresher.” They settled into their table, made a selection from the menu. It was busy, alive with voices talking and laughing. It was odd in a way, Kate observed, as little had changed in 50 years. Jack watched Kate’s eyes move over the restaurant and the red-jacketed waiters, almost as if reading her thoughts he said, “Not much changed in 50 years.”

  “I know. I was just thinking that. But it’s still a bit odd. Well, at least for me.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jack said.

  The waiter brought them one of the Musso Franks martinis.

  “God,” Kate said. “I haven’t had one of these in a long time. Thank heavens we’re eating or I would be out cold.”
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  Jack laughed.

  “I’m just not much of a drinker,” Kate finished.

  Jack nodded, wondering how to break the subject of her father. He decided to wait until after they had dinner.

  As they left the restaurant and Kate stepped into the car, she realized they had had such a lovely evening, but she was equally aware that the subject of who her father was had not been broached yet. “Where are we going?” She asked as the car started to move away from the curb.

  “I thought Santa Monica. It’s a pleasant night.”

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  “It’s a bit of a drive. No major freeways, I’m afraid, but worth it. So Kate,” Jack said, “. . . tell me about what you do for a living.”

  It was so unexpected she paused for a moment. She was certain he was going to give her 20 questions about who her father was. “Well,” she said. “I design websites.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I enjoy the creative process.”

  Jack’s facial expression, even in the shadow of the car, showed genuine interest as she rambled on about her website design career. He asked her other questions about her mother, how they had worked with Sherman in 1999, and she in turn asked him how he ended up with Tyme Productions and the array. He shared easily, but did not reveal a speck of what was going on now. Kate was fascinated with the concept of time travel and wasn’t the least surprised to discover that Howard Hughes had engineered the whole idea.

  “Did Howard Hughes do any time travel?” Kate asked.

  “Yes, but I think he overdid it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This was set up for creative project retrieval and Hughes wanted to go straight to Elizabethan England, to Shakespeare.”

  “Wow. No kidding.”

  “Yeah. Actually, he succeeded in getting a manuscript, a piece of work that was discovered back in-”

  “Oh my god,” Kate cut in. “Was that about ten years ago? I remember it was all over the news.”

  “Yes, that was us.”

  “Wow. Amazing.”

  “Yes. But I have a feeling that when Howard Hughes went off the rails in the end, you know, the long hair and nails and a boatload of crazy, this definitely contributed to it. The public of course never knew, but it sure does make sense.”

  “Yes, it does,” Kate agreed. “Are you going to have problems from time travel?”

  “Not that we know. I have only traveled back and forth in this century. It was decided it was too hard on the body no matter how well prepared we were.” Jack continued, “The best example is if you took a plane ride from LA to San Francisco. It’s short, not really taxiing. Now, a plane ride from LA to London is a whole other story.”

  “I get it,” Kate said. But she still looked at his premature gray hair with a whisper of concern. “Can you travel into the future as well?” She asked.

  “Yes, but again, it was more tricky. None of us have tried it.”

  Just then, the driver interrupted them and said, “Mr. Baldwin, we have arrived in Santa Monica.”

  “Come on,” Jack said. “Let’s take a walk down to the beach.”

  “I’m really lost. Where are we?” She asked.

  “Not far from what you would know as the Rose Cafe.”

  “Oh, yes. I know it well.” But she still felt a bit lost. The blast of fresh sea air was wonderful. It was a moonlit night.

  “So,” Jack began. “You know, we have to talk about who your father is.”

  “I know,” Kate said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. They had reached the cement sea wall and sat down facing the ocean. “So I suppose I should get to telling you about this.”

  “Start anywhere you like, Kate.”

  “Well, it all started a year after my mother died. A mysterious package arrived from my mother’s attorney. It had a VHS video which revealed her secret life and the truth about my father.”

  “And?” Jack prompted her.

  “Oh, okay. He’s Errol Flynn,” Kate spat out.

  Jack released a low whistle. “No kidding.” Jack couldn’t say he was completely surprised, considering how attractive Kate was.

  “But there’s more,” Kate said. Jack didn’t like the sound of that at all. “I went to see them at the Brown Derby the other day.” Kate made it all sound so simple, like she had gone to the market to get eggs.

  “My god, Kate. What have you done? You know the rules.” His face was clearly stamped with irritation and frustration. The kind compassionate expression had been wiped off his face.

  Kate sighed. “Honestly, I did not do anything. It was barely minutes. Of course my mother didn’t recognize me, but-” She paused. “She looked wonderful. So vibrant and healthy. But then, she was having lunch with Errol Flynn.” Even her small attempt at humor did not change the expression on Jack’s face.

  “What did you say to Flynn?”

  “Nothing really. He bumped into me. I was almost speechless and, oddly, so was he. He didn’t flirt with me, but I really felt there was a moment when we connected. It was very quick.”

  Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Kate, you take too many chances.”

  “I know, but you don’t understand. I had to do this. It was just a moment for me that would have to hold me over for the rest of my life.”

  The silence between them was like an elephant in the room. Finally, Kate said, “You don’t have to tell Fred Raymond, do you? I mean, what difference would it make?”

  Jack remained silent for a few more moments, trying to work through an answer that was kind and honest. Finally he said, “I have to tell him who your father is, but your little jaunt to the Brown Derby, maybe it could slip my mind.”

  Kate sighed in gratitude. She looked at Jack. She was stone sober now as fatigue was beginning to settle in when she said, “It means a lot, Jack. It means a lot to me.

  “You know I won’t be able to discuss this with anyone except for you.”

  Kate digested that. “Well, it could be worse. But it’s all this. This whole trip. So I have to come and bug you.”

  Jack chuckled. “Pretty much.”

  “Well, I can live with that,” she said.

  Jack didn’t know whether he should strangle her or kiss her. However, the second idea was his favorite.

  As they stood, someone opened a bungalow window and said, “Turn up the radio, Frank.” The final notes of “In the Mood” drifted through the air. Then the radio announcer said, “From the Long Island Casino, the Glenn Miller Orchestra and The Modernaires with Moonlight Serenade.”

  “That song,” Kate said. “It’s my favorite of Glenn Miller’s.”

  A rakish smile flickered across Jack’s handsome face. Jack held out his hand, “Come dance with me, Kate. We’ll share a little 1939 moonlight.” Taking Kate in his arms he started to slow dance as the musical notes of Moonlight Serenade swirled around them.

  Kate felt the breeze warmed by the Santa Ana winds creating a sensual sensation. She allowed herself the luxury to drink in this compelling elixir where reason became blurred by desire.

  Jack knew he was on the edge of a vortex where if he crossed it there would be no return. He reminded himself why he was there, how much was riding on the outcome of this trip to 1939. He had to keep his priorities straight, but the closeness of Kate and the magic of the Glenn Miller song, it tested him to his limits.

  As the song winded down neither of them spoke, as Jack slowly released Kate and stepped back, looking into her moss green eyes at his own risk. Then he reached for her hand and kissed it. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Kate.”

  Kate’s heart skipped a beat. She smiled and looked at him for a moment longer when she said, “I have something to ask you.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  “
I know this is going to sound a little crazy, but have you ever thought of staying in 1939?”

  The silence that followed her question made Kate frown with concern. Finally, she said, “Jack?”

  “Sorry. That was so unexpected. But, yes. I have in fact thought a lot about it before I agreed to this final trip.”

  “Really?” Kate said intrigued.

  “Yeah. This time. It slowly seduces you in unsuspecting ways.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Kate said. “Could we talk to Fred Raymond about this?”

  “Possibly, if it doesn’t give him a heart attack.”

  Kate chuckled and nodded. Then she looked back out over the ocean and then back to Jack. Her thoughts tumbling one over another. “Maybe we should just sleep on it.”

  “Maybe we should,” Jack said as he reached to take her hand and they turned to walk back to the car. “So are we friends now?” Jack asked.

  “Could be,” Kate replied, trying to keep a straight face, but her heart was doing the happy dance.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Hawk learned two things very quickly after Jack Baldwin had absconded with him in the hotel lobby that night. First came the meeting next morning with Fred Raymond. He learned he was the director of Tyme Productions, the front for the Array in 1939. Hawk quickly assessed he was a man in control of his authority. He had made it very clear to Hawk his tolerance level for nonsense was next to zero. He had given him two choices. He could work for them for the brief remainder of their time in 1939 and be returned to 1999, or they would cut him loose now in 1939, and he could fend for himself. He quickly accepted the work offer, which included Jack Baldwin as supervisor. They needed historical photography before they closed the office.

  Sitting through the reprimand by Fred Raymond had been a surreal experience for Hawk. If anyone had ever told him he would end up in 1939 working for the Array, he would be convinced they were smoking some very special weed. The second thing he discovered was Jack Baldwin was a decent guy. He never talked down to him, he listened to what he had to say, and left him with the feeling they could go for a beer sometime and it would be fine. But Hawk realized he still didn’t know why they were closing the Array and why 1939 was their last trip. He decided to keep his eyes and ears open. Maybe time would tell.