Voices Behind the Curtain

by Gordon Zuckerman

  “Manuel, it’s nothing in the contract. As a matter of fact, our review has suggested you are trying very hard to make certain there are no contractual issues that might interrupt our proceeding. We are going to have to find a solution to a far more serious problem!”

  “I don’t understand. A far more serious problem? Maybe you should come right out and explain what it is that is bothering you.”

  Mercedes and Don realized the moment of truth they had so carefully planned had just been placed on the table. After glancing at Don for confirmation, Mercedes decided to answer Manuel’s question.

  “I’m sure you will understand why I don’t trust you and believe my best interests can be served by the terms and conditions of some contract as long as you have that film of Jordan and I stored in your safe.

  “How can I feel confident that the day won’t come when you threaten to expose our intimate conduct for your own selfish purposes? I’m sorry that I have to say this, but under the circumstances, unless you are willing to provide me with that film you were so anxious to show me, there is no way that I will consider working for you!”

  It was past midnight when Manuel returned home. Despite his exhaustion, he went straight to his safe. He quickly found the canister of film in question; it was marked with a red star. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slid the panel back into place, made his way to the screening room, and loaded the reel into the projector. One last viewing won’t hurt.

  Watching the film, he couldn’t help but be impressed by what a superb example of sensuous female beauty he was watching. As he ran the reel a second time, he began to notice Jordan and his aroused animal instincts. This is one reel I’m really going to regret giving up, he thought. What fantastic entertainment! What a valuable piece of blackmail material! Reluctantly, he wrapped the canister in an old Christmas gift box, secured it with a red ribbon, and attached a personal note.

  The next morning, Manuel, his attorney, Mercedes, and Don were sitting around the big table in Manuel’s office when he handed Mercedes the large white box tied with a red ribbon. “I assure you,” he said, “my only intention is to make a great movie. I hope this gift convinces you of my desire to demonstrate that we are starting a new chapter in our relationship, one in which each of us will treat the other with the trust and courtesy normally enjoyed by working professionals.”

  Encouraged by her smiling response, he handed her the revised contract. “To make certain you believe me regarding any matters pertaining to my personal conduct, I have taken the liberty of instructing my attorney to insert some additional clauses. You will note several draconian remedies have been included should you find it necessary for you to protect yourself from any of my disrespectful conduct.

  “To make it easier for you and Mr. Cerreta to inspect the changes I have had inserted, I’ve taken the liberty of underlining and highlighting the new language. Why don’t the two of you take your time reviewing them, and we can meet at my house early this evening over a cocktail and a superb dinner. If everything is in order, we can celebrate the beginning of a new relationship.”

  Four hours later, Mercedes and Don were sitting in the back of a privately chartered government plane headed to Los Angeles. They were leaning against each other, holding hands, sipping champagne, and silently enjoying the moment. The canister of film was safely packed in her suitcase.

  The two were wakened from their trance when the stewardess came by to refill their champagne glasses. Mercedes lifted her glass. “Ever since my parents were killed in the Spanish Revolution when I was 15 years old,” she said, “I’ve been forced to fend for myself. From the minute we left Los Angeles until right this moment, you have no idea how safe and protected you have made me feel. I know it’s been less than a week since we first met, but I feel very drawn to, even indebted to, you. You are giving me a second chance to reinvent my life.”

  They clinked glasses, and Don wrapped his arm around her shoulders as best he could and gave her a reassuring hug. He took her hand in his once again and tightened his grip. “Nothing would give me a greater pleasure than to be a part of your new life, Mercedes.”

  It was all the reinforcement she needed. Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was of Don, wondering what role he might play in her future life.

  CHAPTER 28

  Least Bad Decision

  MEXICO CITY, JUNE 1949

  Three weeks later, Manuel was still trying to understand Mercedes’s abrupt departure and how he was going to salvage his film when the intercom on his desk crackled. “Señor Arena,” his secretary said, “there are three men out here without an appointment asking to see you. A Mr. Stone from Stone City Bank, a Mr. Matthews from the New York Times, and Mr. Cerreta, the same man who accompanied Miss Velasquez on her recent return. May I show them into your office?”

  As the introductions were being made, Manuel, turning on the charm, said, “Mr. Stone, I have been a longtime, loyal customer of your fine bank. Welcome to Mexico. I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a very long time.”

  Turning to Walt Matthews, he said, “I regularly read your articles. For a long time, I have appreciated the objectivity and accuracy of your reporting.”

  Saving Don for last, Manuel said, “I didn’t think I would ever have the opportunity to see you again. Maybe you will help me to understand what went wrong during your last visit?”

  Once they were all seated around Manuel’s desk he seemed to become taller. None of the three men were able to see the six-inch pedestal built to elevate the height of his sitting position.

  Mike Stone started the discussion. “I want to thank you for seeing us on such short notice. We’re here to ask for your cooperation. We need your assistance in finding a way to stop Jordan McWilliams and his military-industrial clients from implementing their plan to escalate the rearming of the American military.”

  Surprised by the statement, Manuel took his time before responding. A calm but cautious moviemaker finally asked, “Why would you believe I would know anything about such an outrageous scheme? I’m afraid you have come a very long way for no purpose.”

  Mike continued. “Señor Arena, I’ll cut right to the point. I have copies of the files we have compiled on your movie house skimming operations, along with the indictments we plan to hand over to an already-impaneled grand jury.”

  Pausing to open his briefcase, Mike took out a thick manila folder and slid it toward Manuel. “In that file, you will find copies of information we have compiled on your movie house skimming operations. Actually, it contains two reports. The first details the difference between the receipts you were observed collecting and what was reported to the state taxing authorities. It was compiled at the direction of Myron Goldman, one of your Hollywood competitors. You will note that the differences match deposits you made to your personal account in Stone’s New York bank.

  “The second report demonstrates the same results conducted by the U.S. Department of Justice.

  “According to our computations, when spread over your hundred theaters during just the last 3 years, you have underreported your taxable sales revenues and pocketed approximately $1,500,000—money owed your Cuban investment partners.”

  Manuel prided himself in not reacting to bad news. Remarkably, he did not give evidence of the tremendous fear he was feeling. “Wait just a minute!” he calmly said. “You expect to come into my office, unannounced, show me some files, and expect me to cooperate? I know my rights, and you have no authority in Mexico!”

  Mike, responding in a similarly calm but firmer manner, said, “Mr. Arena, I assume you understand the procedures banks are required to follow when it becomes evident that acts of fraud have been committed. Once the tax authorities file their suit, Stone City Bank becomes legally obligated to freeze any and all accounts of yours and those of any affiliates. Not only will this action disrupt the transfer of your personal funds, it will also prevent you from making regular distributions of revenues to your Cuban investors.
”

  The three visitors watched Señor Arena pick up a small brass sculpture from his desk and nervously start to rub his thumb and forefinger along its polished surface.

  Walt Matthews had seen such breakdowns many times in his investigative work. He was unmoved by these efforts to bluff one’s way out of trouble. He started his part of the conversation by saying, “Mr. Arena, do you understand once the government files its lawsuits, the information that’s been compiled becomes part of the public record? When that occurs, I won’t have any legal prohibition from reporting this story in the New York Times and the 32 other newspapers that syndicate my columns. News is news!”

  Despite his efforts to appear calm, Manuel had already dropped the small sculpture twice.

  Responsibility for driving in the final nail into Manuel’s coffin was left to Don Cerreta. “While we have been able to successfully document your skimming operations, we still lack the evidence we need to prove how your members have been conspiring to manipulate the military spending and decision- making process of the American government.

  “I hope you will believe me when I tell you that you are not the primary target of our investigation. The Justice Department takes it very seriously when your friends attempt to compromise the congressional process for their own self-interests. If you were to provide us with the information we need to document the identity of the contributors and the recipients of the funds, I think we might be able to dissuade Mr. Stone from turning his evidence over to the Treasury Department and Mr. Matthews from writing the newspaper articles he described.”

  The next 30 minutes would turn out to be the worst half hour in Señor Arena’s life. No matter how hard he tried to argue or convince his three visitors of the fruitless nature of their quest, he knew he had no practical alternative but to cooperate. Once he accepted the reality of the situation, Manuel realized he was being forced to make a least bad decision. While having his hands spanked and losing the patronage of the wealthy American industrialists would be most unfortunate, it would not be nearly as devastating as alerting his Cuban investors and the IRS of his skimming operation. It was at that precise moment when he realized the files that had once represented his “insurance policy” had become his hangman’s noose.

  CHAPTER 29

  Cecelia’s Big Dance

  NEW YORK, MAY 1949

  Once again, Cecelia found herself alone in her New York apartment. Mike had left for Mexico City to join Don and Walt. Claudine and Jacques were living in Geneva. Natalie was in England. David and Juan Pablo were in Riyadh, helping the Saudi government renegotiate their petroleum agreements with the British and American oil companies.

  To fill up her extra time, she began to focus her attention on pursuing the Sentinels’ growing continuity problem. Lying awake at night, she couldn’t get her mind to shut down. Somehow we need to attract and train new crops of qualified and motivated Sentinels. To be successful a new university must have a broader purpose than to train future Sentinels. How extensive might the market be for high-powered doctoral students trained to think and act in terms of identifying and solving Power-Cycle problems. Why have so many people chosen to be of assistance each time we have tried to solve one of our problems? If we knew the answer, maybe we would better understand what the requirements of a new university need to be.

  It was early in the morning. The alarm clock read three o’clock when she suddenly sat up in bed. She had been dreaming of an important idea. Worried if she went back to sleep she might forget what she had concluded, she got out of bed, made her way into the den, turned on the desk light, removed a fresh yellow legal pad from one of the desk drawers, and began to make notes. She had filled almost all the first notepad with her recollections about all the different problems they had solved, who had been involved, and what the particular circumstances were when they interfered with the German industrialists’ attempts to utilize their “fortunes of war” to fund a new Reich.

  Over a strong cup of coffee, two slices of toast, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, she began to study her notes. By the time she poured herself a second cup of coffee, she concluded, she had decided to perform the same exercise with their efforts to prevent seven oil companies from monopolizing control over 90 percent of the world’s oil supply. When she stopped for lunch, she noticed her notes had filled a second notepad.

  Still in her pajamas, she decided to take a shower and get dressed. Standing under the warm-hot stream of water, she thought of the charts Armando had organized to help him analyze the possible meaning of all those scribbled notes. Maybe if I used the same technique, I might discover how much interest our “Friends of the Sentinels” might have in helping us to fund the “Sentinel Institute.”

  To help her organize her thoughts, she decided to visit the local stationary store and purchase several of those corkboard panels she had previously noticed. Lugging her purchase back to their apartment was no easy task for the diminutive woman. Determine to complete her task, she half-carried and half-dragged her precious cargo back to her apartment building. With the help of the doorman, she succeed in unpacking the corkboards and setting them against the wall where she was prepared to hang them. After removing the large paintings, she set about assembling the panels into one very large surface.

  Having completed the assembly of the wall-size cork panel, taking advantage of her notes, Cecelia began to print the names of everyone who had cooperated with the Sentinels, along their two previous journeys. She wrote each name, organized by region, down the left-hand side of her big chart. Four days were required before she could complete the first leg of her project.

  Returning to her files, she began to record her interpretation of the problems they had been asked to solve. Working from her notes, she began to list each of the problems along the top portion of the chart. When she was finished, referring to her notes, she started to make little x’s at the intersection where the solved problem corresponded with the people who were involved. After days of meticulous work, she finished placing the last of her marks in the appropriate space.

  Standing back to study the results of her work, she could easily understand which problems affected the highest number of parties. Armed with the information arranged on her big chart, she had identified the top 10 problems and the names of the principal beneficiaries.

  She now possessed the information she would need to determine the depth of interest of those who had most benefited from their efforts. After removing another painting from an adjacent wall, she taped a large world map in its place. Flipping through the pages of both pads, she began to place colored pins in the map that identified the location of each beneficiary. The color of the pin identified the solved problem. The work was slow and tedious. Two more days were required before she finished the next step of her analysis.

  The next day she visited the camera shop located across the street on the next block. With the assistance of the courteous clerk, she learned how to operate the wide-angle camera, understand what film to purchase, and how to arrange the artificial lighting. An hour later, with the roles of exposed film in hand, she returned to the same shop.

  * * *

  ARMED WITH HIGH STACKS OF DEVELOPED PRINTS DEPICTING THE two charts she had formulated, she began to summarize the results of her findings. Using her conclusions to support the list of objectives proposed for Sentinel Institute, she was now ready to start her world tour. She planned to meet with each of the designated beneficiaries, show them the results of her research, describe her vision of the proposed Sentinel Institute, and discuss their potential interest in participating in its funding.

  CHAPTER 30

  Building a Bridge

  LONDON, ENGLAND, MAY 1949

  From London, Natalie’s friends were calling to inform her that her presence was needed. “You need to meet personally with the leading casting agents before they are willing to seriously consider becoming interdependent with your new program,” they advised.

&nbs
p; The school year was drawing to a close. For the next 3 months, Natalie would be free to devote her complete attention to developing the British segment of her bridge. Making time for David no longer seemed to be of importance. With increasing frequency, he had found new excuses not to accompany her to Los Angeles. On the weekends when she was able to remain home in Berkeley, he would claim to have made “other arrangements.” During the middle of the week when their work required them to remain at home, he appeared to be only politely interested in any of the news she was excited to discuss. Whenever she tried to discuss her concerns with him, he was quick to change the subject or withdraw into his impenetrable shell. After a time, she quit trying. They simply had become two independent people who occasionally occupied the same home.

  * * *

  IN LONDON, THE NEWS OF NATALIE’S PENDING ARRIVAL IN LONDON quickly circulated through the movie and theatrical communities. Curious people were talking. “Why would Natalie after two years’ absence suddenly announce she would be spending her summer in London?” Was she returning to the stage? Was she rehearsing a new show? Was she accompanying David on some kind of a business trip? Her friends were curious to learn what they could do to help her.

  Only her closest friends in England’s motion picture casting community knew of her intention. She needed to test the feasibility of completing the other half of her “Bridge.” She was responding to their suggestion, “Natalie, we believe if you can convince two or three of our most successful producers to sign a few of your best candidates, we think the dam of inertia will be successfully breached, but it’s going to take your presence.”

  Even her friends who knew of her true intentions were confused. They were wondering why Natalie, who never had a political bone in her body, had become so interested in the Hollywood blacklisting problem. Their curiosity was further heightened when they learned she, together with an old friend, Sir Colin Meyer, were planning to hold a reception for her friends, agents, casting directors, and successful movie producers. When they heard she would be accompanied by two traveling companions, Gloria Adams—the much publicized “Heroine of Hollywood” and Mercedes Velasquez, the former Miss Universe, their idle curiosity was transformed into determined interest.