LITMIR.BIZ

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fearlessness. But he wasn’t French. Nick had read somewhere that Lazarus was of German-Jewish extraction, like himself. Or had his family been Russian-Jewish émigrés? Now he was not sure. Notwithstanding, the man was brilliant. He had to be, to have created a multinational conglomerate of the magnitude of Global-Centurion, whose claws were embedded in the surface of the entire world. More or less. And he was only forty-five or thereabouts. Funny, Nick mused, despite the millions of words written about him, I’ve never read much about his personal life, or his early beginnings. They are shrouded in mystery. He wondered, absently, how much Hélène Vernaud knew about Lazarus’s past. He must ask her some time.

      The two men facing each other across the small tea table had not begun to skirmish yet, but were skirting each other warily, and with great adeptness, using verbal thrusts and parries, testing each other. He smelled the tension between them. It hung in the air like a curtain of gauze. He knew that Victor detested Lazarus. But it was difficult to ascertain Lazarus’s feelings for Victor. The man had adopted a posture of geniality. A constant benign smile played around his mouth. But the eyes were alert and watchful and chilling in their deadliness.

      The two men droned on about the stock market, and Nick turned away, stifling a yawn.

      Lazarus made a remark about trouble brewing in the Middle East, and spoke for a few minutes about oil, and the attitude of the Arab states eventually changing; and then unexpectedly, and abruptly, he switched from this topic.

      Suddenly, Lazarus said, ‘Well, Victor, you’ve procrastinated for days about this meeting, presumably because you were having the contract dissected by your battery of lawyers. Since you’re sitting here, I assume all is in order. And I trust you brought the contract with you. Signed. I can’t delay my return to New York any longer. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I want to wind things up with you before doing so.’

      ‘Yes, I’ve brought it,’ Victor responded in a pleasant, easy tone. He moved in his chair, crossed his long and elegant legs, and leaned back, on the surface relaxed. Observing him quietly, Nick knew he was as taut as Lazarus.

      ‘Ah. Good,’ Lazarus said. ‘Seemingly we are making progress at last. I’d like to give you my ideas, and my conditions, now that we’re partners. Or at least about to be, after I’ve signed the contract. First of all, I cannot sanction the budget of this movie. It’s excessive. Three million dollars is, in my estimation, exactly one million dollars too much.’

      ‘Agreed,’ Victor said with a small cool smile.

      If Lazarus was surprised at this ready acquiescence, he did not display it. Not an eyelash flickered. ‘How do you propose to cut production costs, might I ask?’ There was a sarcastic edge to his voice but he was seething inside. Victor Mason wasn’t very much different from the rest, in spite of his reputation for honesty. They were all trying to steal from him, in one way or another, when they came with their elaborate schemes and questionable deals. But none of them were a match for him. Inevitably he outsmarted them all.

      ‘There are ways and means to do it,’ Victor replied, sounding and looking enigmatic.

      ‘I see.’ Lazarus remained motionless in the chair, holding his annoyance in check. Mason was such a fool, being evasive, and wasting his valuable time. The man would have to reveal his plans eventually. But Lazarus decided not to press. Instead, he drawled softly, ‘How much can you save?’

      ‘About a million dollars.’

      Lazarus regarded Victor closely, with those keen and assessing eyes. A cynical smile touched his mouth fleetingly. ‘Then I feel justified in my assumption that the budget was padded. That’s the trouble with the motion picture industry. Too much waste, too much fat. An inefficient business in my opinion.’

      ‘You’re wrong. About the budget. It wasn’t padded, merely erroneous,’ Victor shot back sharply, sheathing his irritation. ‘An easy mistake for a production man to make when he’s sitting in Hollywood.’

      ‘Obviously you picked the wrong production man, Victor. A shame.’ He made the last word sound ominous, even though his voice was soft. Lazarus sighed lightly and took a sip of his tea. ‘A good production man doesn’t make mistakes, Victor, wherever he’s sitting. Poor judgment on your part. I hope it will be less flawed when it comes to other areas of our project. I also sincerely pray we’re not going to have the pleasure of his company here in England, when we start shooting.’ Lazarus laughed thinly. ‘Otherwise, we might find the budget escalating to four million dollars. Perhaps even five. And why not!’

      ‘He was not hired on a permanent basis,’ Victor answered, ignoring the sarcastic jibes. ‘As a matter of fact, the entire production team will be English.’ He lit a cigarette, furious with himself for even bothering to justify his actions to Lazarus. But Lazarus had a way of putting everyone on the defensive.

      ‘Well, that’s a step in the right direction,’ Lazarus responded, his tone patronizing. ‘Let’s talk about casting. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, analysing, and I’ve decided on the female lead. Ava Gardner. She would be marvellous as Catherine Earnshaw, and I –’

      ‘No.’ Victor’s voice was even but emphatic. ‘I’m testing Katharine Tempest. And if she tests the way I believe she will, then she gets the part.’

      Lazarus stared at Victor, and his lip lifted slowly, disdainfully. ‘And who in hell is Katharine Tempest? If I’ve never heard of her, then you can bet your last dime the American public hasn’t either. I don’t want an unknown in my picture. I want an established movie star, who is an international name. I want a few box office guarantees, my friend.’

      I’m not your friend, Victor thought, bristling. But he contained himself, and he chose not to remind Lazarus that he was one of the biggest box office names in the world. If not the biggest. Aloud he remarked, ‘Katharine Tempest is a brilliant young actress who’s starring in the West End play, Trojan Interlude, at the moment. And she is the perfect Cathy. You have to agree, she certainly looks right for the part.’

      ‘I told you, I don’t know who she is,’ Lazarus responded, coldly impatient.

      The lazy smile eased onto Victor’s mouth. ‘You couldn’t take your eyes off her on Monday evening. At Les Ambassadeurs,’ he rejoined swiftly. ‘Much to the annoyance of your female companion. If looks could’ve killed, you’d be dead, my friend.’

      Nick’s eyes swivelled between them alertly. He didn’t remember seeing Lazarus on Monday evening. But then he had arrived late, when Victor and his other guests had already moved into the restaurant. Mike Lazarus had leaned forward slightly, and Nick detected a faint flicker of sudden interest in those inscrutable eyes. Lazarus was silent for a split second, regarding Victor unblinkingly, and then he said slowly, ‘You must be talking about the very dark girl with those extraordinary eyes.’ Remembering the girl’s beauty, he felt a flare of internal excitement, but took care to conceal this behind a façade that was expressionless, adding, ‘I can’t imagine you are referring to that insipid blonde, the debutante type, who was with you.’

      ‘Dead right,’ Victor answered. He was angered by the disparaging reference to Francesca, but instantly clamped down on it. ‘Katharine has quite a face, hasn’t she? She’s as beautiful as Ava Gardner.’

      There was no response for a moment. Lazarus seemed thoughtful, and then he said, ‘I’ll reserve my judgment until after I’ve seen the test. And even if the test is good, I’m still not sure we can use an unknown. I’ll have to consider it carefully. Yes, very carefully. Now, I’d like to discuss the script with you. Frankly, it has to go. It’s far too arty for my liking. Not commercial enough by any stretch of the imagination. We’d better get a new screenwriter on the job. Immediately. We’ve no time to waste.’

      There was an awkward silence. Nick, who had flinched, thought: The lousy son of a bitch. He’s behaving as if I’m not here. I guess I’m not, as far as he’s concerned. He was on the point of exploding from frustration. He wanted to defend himself, and his work, and even jab Lazarus a swift right hook. But Victor had asked him to keep silent, whatever ensued, and so

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