by Stuart Woods
“It takes a lot of money to make a motion picture.”
“How much?”
“This is not some fly-by-night production. You’re talking about a major motion picture.”
“How much?”
“Five million dollars,” Mason said. He was careful not to look at Gerard Cardigan. To date, their biggest budget had been half a million.
Teddy frowned. “That’s more than I invested last time. Quite a bit more. I’m not saying it’s not doable.”
“Was your last production successful?”
“My last movie was a pain in the ass. I put up the money, and they didn’t want me on the set, said I made this actress nervous. I’m paying her fucking salary—what right has she got to be nervous? That’s the first thing right up front. There’s girls in this picture. Cute girls. And I wanna be there when you film them.”
“Is there nudity in the script?”
“What’s that got to do with anything? The cameraman’s there, you’re there, the soundman’s there. Are they wearing blindfolds? You got an actress doesn’t want to do it, don’t hire ’em. You got a clause right in the contract, don’t you?” Teddy pointed to the movie posters of Star Pictures productions, many of which featured scantily clad young ladies. “I suppose none of these pictures have nudity.”
Mason took that as his cue to brag about his own work.
Teddy tuned out and sized up the young men. Mason Kimble was pretty much what he expected—an arrogant young blowhard pumping himself up by pretending to be something he could never be.
Gerard Cardigan was the wild card. Teddy hadn’t expected Gerard, but meeting him cleared some things up. Mason was a lightweight, but Gerard was dangerous. There was something cold and calculating in his look that gave Teddy a chill. He had seen that same look in the eyes of a serial killer once, just before he shot him dead. The young man was proof, had Teddy needed any, that Vanessa Morgan drowning in her bathtub had not been an accident.
Teddy was particularly interested in the young men, and had been ever since he walked into their studio. A DVD player was connected to the TV in front of the desk.
Teddy asked a few more bullshit questions, familiarized himself with the layout of the office, and got the hell out.
* * *
—
What do you think?” Mason asked Gerard, after Teddy left.
“I think we’re in the middle of something big. Why do you want to jeopardize it for five million? Do you really believe this guy’s going to come up with that kind of money? I couldn’t believe it when I heard you say it.”
“I said five million to scare him off. He didn’t scare.”
“Exactly,” Gerard said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Maybe. But do me a favor, just forget about him.”
“Why?”
“This is a guy you normally wouldn’t waste your time with, but you are. I’ll tell you why. The takeover bid failed. You had a big letdown, and you need a big rush to make yourself feel better. Well, that guy isn’t it. I know it, and you know it, so forget about him and get back to the task at hand. The girl fucked with us, and we need to take action.”
“Send her a cell phone.”
“How?”
“Leave it in her trailer and watch to see when she gets it. It scares her when she picks it up and it rings.”
“Fine,” Gerard said. He got a burner cell phone from the cabinet and slipped it into a mailer. “And do me a favor, will you?”
“What?”
“Take the DVD out of the safe and lock it up at home.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
43
Teddy broke into Star Pictures at two in the morning. He didn’t expect security to be much, and it wasn’t. He was through the downstairs door in minutes. The upstairs hall boasted a camera aimed at the ceiling. Teddy ignored it and picked the lock on the door.
Working with a small flashlight, Teddy made his way around the office, peering behind every hanging movie poster until he found what he was looking for—a concealed safe. He was out of practice. It took him nearly ten minutes to open.
Teddy found a couple of contracts and some money, but no DVD.
Teddy searched the desk and found nothing of interest.
Not to ignore the obvious, he popped the tray on the DVD player. It was empty.
Fifteen minutes later Teddy left the office empty-handed. Either the DVD had never been there or somehow he had tipped his hand.
Teddy went home to get some sleep. Things would be hopping in the morning. Not only did he have to be on the set, but he expected they would start feeling the repercussions of the stockholders’ meeting.
44
Tessa wasn’t surprised to find another mailer containing a new cell phone. After the board meeting, she expected it. Once again, it rang as soon as she found it in her trailer, indicating that someone was watching her. She hadn’t noticed anyone outside, and she had been looking.
“Hello?”
“You’ve been a bad girl, Tessa.”
“I have not.”
“And now you’re talking back. That’s a very bad girl.”
“I’ve done everything you asked.”
“Now, you know that isn’t true.”
“I went to the meeting.”
“You brought someone.”
“I had to. I’ve never been to a stockholders’ meeting. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I told you what to do.”
“You told me how to vote. You didn’t tell me how to conduct myself in a meeting. It’s complicated.”
“And now you’re making up excuses. You must want to be a viral star.”
“You know I don’t or I wouldn’t be cooperating.”
“Cooperating? I am very unhappy with this man you brought to the meeting.”
“He’s a producer who knows the ropes.”
“He knows how to stall. I don’t like being stalled. He won’t be at the next meeting.”
“Won’t people think it strange if he isn’t?”
“Do you really think I care?”
“You want the meeting to go smoothly.”
“You really like to argue, don’t you? That could be one of the captions with your pictures, like they used to have with the girls in Playboy. ‘Likes to water paint in her spare time.’ Mr. Barnett will not be at the next meeting. Just you, nobody else.”
“How can I keep him from going?”
He chuckled. “You won’t have a problem in that respect.”
“Why not?”
“You just won’t.”
* * *
—
Tessa pulled Teddy off the set. “He called again.”
“Was he angry?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did he make threats?”
“Against you.”
“How did he threaten me?”
“He said you won’t be at the next meeting. I asked how I’d stop you from coming, and he said that won’t be a problem.”
“That’s a rather oblique threat.”
“Yes, but it’s a threat.”
“And that’s good.”
“How is that good?”
“He’s threatening me and not you, and he didn’t post the video.”
“He threatened to.”
“Of course he did, but he can’t follow through or he loses his leverage. I bought us two weeks. He doesn’t like it, but there’s nothing he can do about it.”
“He implied he’s going to kill you.”
“Aw, well, he’s not the first person to have said so.”
“You’re not worried?”
“I’m worried, but I’m worried about a lot of things. An unidentified v
oice on the phone implying that he’d like to kill me is not at the top of the list. Anyway, the guy called you up to piss and moan. That’s good, it means that’s all he can do right now. I doubt if he’ll be calling back. He’s more or less forced to wait for the next meeting to take place. There’s not much he can do until then.”
“I hope you’re right,” Tessa said.
She didn’t sound convinced.
45
Pete Genaro sent Jake to check up on Sammy Candelosi. Two more of Genaro’s employees had defected, and he wanted to find out what type of coercion Sammy was using.
Genaro didn’t know it, but Jake had gone over, too. When Pete sent him to see how Sammy was handling the death of his two employees, Slythe had held a straight razor to his throat, and Sammy had offered him the choice of becoming a counterspy or a corpse. Jake had opted to remain among the living, and had been spying on both men ever since.
So far Genaro hadn’t noticed that everything Jake told him was something he already knew.
Sammy Candelosi was not so gullible. “You’re giving me shit. You’re giving me things I already know. What you’re giving me as intel is absolutely worthless. It makes me think you’re still working for Genaro. That’s the trouble with this double-agent shit—you can play either side. Well, I don’t intend to be played. If you don’t give me something I can use, then I will believe you’re working for him, and if you’re working for him, you are a large liability. You are something that I cannot afford to deal with. I would be forced to cut my losses. And my loss is not going to be Genaro’s gain, if you know what I mean.”
Sammy cocked his head in his henchman’s direction. “I’m sure Slythe knows what I mean.”
Slythe’s expression never changed, but his reptilian eyes seemed to be sizing Jake up.
Jake swallowed hard. “I’ve told you everything I know. It’s not that I’m holding back. It’s that you got his number. He doesn’t know how to handle you, or, believe me, he would.”
“I’m not surprised he doesn’t tell you things, but you must hear shit. Aren’t you ever in his office when something’s going on? Or are you telling me nothing’s going on? If you tell me nothing’s going on and something’s going on, you are going to be the sorriest individual who ever lived.”
Jake gasped. “Oh, shit!”
“I had a feeling this conversation would jog your memory.”
“An out-of-town hitter.” Jake nodded in agreement with himself. “Pete hired a bar girl to replace one of the ones he lost to you, and she suggested this out-of-town hitter. Christ, what was the name?”
“You better have the fucking name.”
“I wasn’t there when he made the call. It’s a guy in L.A., works in the movies.”
“Works in the movies?” Sammy said skeptically.
“He works in the movies now. He didn’t always. He used to be here in Vegas, and made trouble for Pete.”
“Then why would Pete want him?”
“It’s complicated. But the bar girl suggested it and he said maybe he’d give him a call.”
“Who?” Sammy said. The edge in his voice was frightening.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake could see Slythe pull out his razor.
“Wait! Wait!” Jake cried. He was thinking hard. “It was just before I took the girl out to meet the floor manager. And Pete picked up the phone and asked his secretary to find an L.A. listing for a . . . Billy Burnett! That’s it! Billy Burnett!” Jake frowned. “Only that wasn’t right.”
“What?” Sammy said ominously.
“No. That’s what Pete said. He said it wasn’t Burnett anymore, the guy changed it to Barnett. It was Billy Barnett. A producer in Hollywood.”
“He asked for the listing of Billy Barnett?”
“That’s right. The secretary was going to try to find his number, and that’s when I left.”
“And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me about?”
“Nothing came of it. He never mentioned it again.”
“Did he get the guy on the phone?”
“I don’t know. He never said.”
“And you couldn’t ask?”
“Pete’s sharp. If I start pumping him for information about his dealings, he’ll be suspicious and I’ll be in trouble.”
“More trouble than you’re in now?”
Jake said nothing, hoped it was over.
It wasn’t.
“This guy is supposedly good?” Sammy said.
“To hear Pete tell it, he was one of the best.”
Sammy nodded imperceptibly. Slythe slipped the straight razor back into his pocket. “Okay, good to know. Keep your ears open. If you find out anything, anything at all, about Billy Barnett—without blowing your cover,” Sammy conceded in a mockingly ironic tone, “you bring it straight to me.”
* * *
—
Slythe watched Jake go out. “When are you going to let me kill him?”
“When he stops being useful.”
“How will you know?”
Sammy chuckled. “Patience,” he said. He frowned thoughtfully. “I’m concerned about this Billy Barnett.”
“You want to know what he’s doing?” Slythe said.
“I don’t care what he’s doing,” Sammy said. “I just don’t want him to do it.”
Slythe’s face relaxed. Without changing expression, he resembled a contented cat. “Then he won’t.”
46
Slythe flew into L.A. He waited impatiently at baggage claim. He had no clothes, but there was no way his straight razor would make it through security. He collected the small bag he had checked for that purpose, rented a car, and drove into town. He stopped at the first closed gas station he came to and put a rock through the window. He went in and stole every gas can he could find. It took him two more gas stations to get as many cans as he needed.
He drove to an open self-service station and managed to fill the cans while pretending to fill his tank.
He stopped at a news kiosk, bought a couple of newspapers, and drove out to Billy Barnett’s address.
The Barnett residence was a two-story house set back from the street. The lights were on, and there was a car in the drive.
Slythe drove by slowly. As he passed the house, he could see someone in the living room. He checked the time. Ten-fifteen. Good. Billy Barnett shouldn’t be up long. He was a movie person, and movie people had early calls. A producer would want to be on the set, parading around like a big shot and impressing the actresses.
Slythe began driving irregular patterns through the neighborhood, occasionally passing Billy Barnett’s house in different directions at varying speeds.
By eleven-twenty the light was out and the car was still there.
Perfect.
Slythe found an all-night diner and ordered French toast. He sat sipping coffee and reading the papers he had bought. Around one-thirty he availed himself of the bathroom, paid his bill, and took one last swing around Billy Barnett’s neighborhood. By now all the homes were dark.
He parked two houses down and began the laborious task of lugging the gas cans to the house.
47
Teddy woke up and smelled smoke. He was sleeping upstairs, which saved his life. By the time he leaped out of bed, the downstairs was a blazing inferno. He grabbed his gun off the nightstand. If the fire was due to natural causes, he wouldn’t need it, but if it had been set on purpose to drive him out in the open, he’d be a sitting duck.
Teddy touched the doorknob and found it warm but not hot. When he opened the bedroom door, the hallway was ablaze, the stairs were blocked, and flames were licking up from below. Teddy slammed shut the door and rushed to the window. It was worse. The window was engulfed and already too hot to get near.
Teddy backed into the center of the room, thinking ha
rd. He ran back to the door. The knob was heating up, but still cool enough to turn. He wrenched it open again. There was no way to get to the stairs, but at the other end of the hall there was a spare bedroom he never used. There was no furniture in it to burn, and the floor was covered with linoleum, which might be flame retardant. It was a long shot, but a long shot was all he had.
Teddy held his breath to avoid the smoke and sprinted down the fiery hallway. He wrenched the spare bedroom door open and plunged in.
The linoleum appeared to be fireproof, but it was peeling up from the floor, and the boards beneath it were glowing embers.
The window was engulfed in flames, but he had to get to it. He darted gingerly across the room, careful to step on what linoleum still clung to the floor. He tried for the window, but it was already too hot to touch. He took a step back into the middle of the room and glanced around desperately for another way to escape.
Teddy heaved a huge sigh, breathing in what was now largely carbon dioxide, in helpless frustration.
There was no way out.
* * *
—
Slythe approached through the bushes. There was no danger of being discovered. He would hear the sirens long before the police and firemen arrived on the scene.
It would be fast. He had taken pains to ensure it would be fast, drenching the house in gasoline on all four sides, and pouring gas through the windows to make sure the interior went up as fast. He just had to see with his own eyes that no one got out. No one could get out. Even so, it was important to know for sure.
The house was ablaze, and it had taken only seconds. Billy Barnett could not even have gotten up that fast. Most likely he would be overcome with heat and smoke and die in his bed. Every second that passed made escape less and less possible.
Slythe worked his way around the house, making sure that each and every direction was blocked. It was. The flames had enveloped the upstairs windows and reached the roof. Still, should a hopelessly charred figure stumble blindly from the house, his razor was ready for the coup de grâce.
