Last Don

by Mario Puzo

  “Too bad you couldn’t help,” Claudia said to Cross. But he didn’t answer her.

  All during the trip from Malibu, Cross had been thinking hard. That this was the opportunity he was looking for. It would be dangerous, but if it worked he could finally make a break from the Clericuzio.

  “Skippy,” Cross said, “I have a proposition I want to make to you and the Studio. I’ll buy your picture right now. I’ll give the fifty million you’ve invested, put up the money to complete it, and let the Studio distribute it.”

  “You’ve got a hundred million?” Skippy Deere and Claudia both asked in astonishment.

  “I know people who have it,” Cross said.

  “You can’t get Athena back. And without Athena, there’s no picture,” Deere said.

  “I said I’m a great persuader,” Cross said. “Can you get me a meeting with Eli Marrion?”

  “Sure,” Deere said, “but only if I stay on as producer of the picture.”

  The meeting was not so easy to arrange. LoddStone Studios, that is to say, Eli Marrion and Bobby Bantz, had to be convinced that Cross De Lena was not just another big-mouth hustler, that he had the money and the credentials. Certainly he owned part of the Xanadu Hotel in Vegas, but he had no personal recorded financial worth that indicated he could swing the deal he proposed. Deere would vouch for him, but the clincher was when Cross showed a fifty-million-dollar letter of credit.

  On the advice of his sister, Cross De Lena hired Molly Flanders as his lawyer for the deal.

  Molly Flanders received Cross in her cave of an office. Cross was very alert, he knew certain things about her. In the world he had lived all his life, he had never met a woman who wielded power in any way, and Claudia had told him that Molly Flanders was one of the most powerful people in Hollywood. Studio chiefs took her calls, monster agents like Melo Stuart sought her help on the biggest deals. Stars like Athena Aquitane used her in their quarrels with studios. Flanders had once stopped production of the top miniseries on TV when her star client’s check had been delayed in the mail.

  She was much better looking than Cross had expected. She was large but well-proportioned and dressed beautifully. But on that body was the face of an elfin blond witch, the aquiline nose, the generous mouth and fierce brown eyes that seemed to squint with intense, intelligent combativeness. Her hair was braided into snakes around her head. She was forbidding until she smiled.

  Molly Flanders, for all her toughness, was susceptible to handsome men and liked Cross as soon as she saw him. She was surprised because she had expected Claudia’s brother to be homely. More than the handsomeness, she saw a force that Claudia did not have. He had a look of awareness that the world held no surprises. All this, however, did not convince her that she wanted to take Cross on as a client. She had heard rumors about certain connections, she didn’t like the world of Vegas, and she was dubious as to the extent of his determination to take such a horrendous gamble.

  “Mr. De Lena,” she said, “let me make one thing clear. I represent Athena Aquitane as a lawyer not an agent. I’ve explained the consequences she must bear if she persists in her course of action. I’m convinced she will persist in it. Now, if you make your deal with the Studio and Athena still doesn’t go back to work, I will represent her if you pursue legal action against her.”

  Cross looked at her intently. He had no way he could read a woman like this. He had to put most of his cards on the table. “I’ll sign a waiver that I won’t sue Miss Aquitane if I do buy the picture,” he said. “And I have a check for two hundred thousand dollars here if you take me on. That’s just for openers. You can bill me for more.”

  “Let’s see if I understand this,” Molly said. “You pay the Studio the fifty million they invested. Right now. You put up the money to complete the picture, minimum another fifty million. So you’re going to gamble a hundred million that Athena goes back to work. Plus you’re gambling that the picture will be a hit. It could be a flop. That’s an awful risk.”

  Cross could be charming when he wanted to be. But he sensed that charm would not help with this woman. “I understand that with the foreign money, video, and TV sales, the picture can’t lose money even if it’s a flop,” he said. “The only real problem is getting Miss Aquitane back to work. And maybe you can help on that.”

  “No, I can’t,” Molly said. “I don’t want to mislead you. I’ve tried and failed. Everybody tried and failed. And Eli Marrion doesn’t ever bullshit. He’ll close down the picture and take the loss, then he’ll try to ruin Athena. But I won’t let him.”

  Cross was intrigued. “How will you do that?”

  “Marrion has to get along with me,” she said. “He’s a smart man. I’ll fight him in the courts, I’ll make his Studio miserable on every deal. Athena won’t be able to work again but I won’t let them take her to the cleaners.”

  “If you represent me, you can save your client’s career,” Cross said. From the inside of his jacket he took an envelope and handed it to her. She opened it, studied it, then picked up the phone and made some calls that established the check was good.

  She smiled at Cross and said, “I’m not insulting you, I do this with the biggest movie producers in town.”

  “Like Skippy Deere?” Cross said, laughing. “I invested in six of his pictures, four of them were hits and still I haven’t made money.”

  “Because you didn’t have me representing you,” Molly said. “Now before I agree, you have to tell me how you can get Athena back to work.” She paused. “I’ve heard some rumors about you.”

  Cross said, “And I’ve heard about you. I remember years ago when you were a criminal defense lawyer, you got some kid off a murder rap. He killed his girlfriend and you got an insanity plea. He was walking the streets less than a year later.” He paused for a moment, deliberately letting his irritation show. “You didn’t worry about his reputation.”

  Molly looked at him coldly. “You have not answered my question.”

  Cross decided that a lie should carry a little charm. “Molly,” he said. “May I call you Molly?” She nodded her head. Cross went on. “You know I run a hotel in Vegas. I’ve learned this. Money is magic, you can overcome any kind of fear with money, so I’m going to offer Athena fifty percent of any money I make from the movie. If you structure the deal right and we’re lucky, that means thirty million for her.” He paused for a minute and said earnestly, “Come on, Molly, would you take a chance for thirty million?”

  Molly shook her head. “Athena doesn’t really care about money.”

  “The only thing that puzzles me is why the Studio doesn’t give her the same deal,” Cross said.

  For the first time in their meeting, Molly smiled at him. “You don’t know movie studios,” she said. “They worry that all the stars will pull the same stunt if they set such a precedent. But let’s go on. The Studio will take your deal, I think, because they will make a great deal of money just distributing the film. They will insist on that. Also, they will want a percentage of the profits. But I’m telling you again, Athena will not take your offer.” She paused, then said with a teasing smile, “I thought you Vegas owners never gambled.”

  Cross smiled back at her. “Everybody gambles. I do when the percentages are right. And besides I plan to sell the Hotel and make a living in the movie business.” He paused for a minute, letting her look into him to see the desire to be part of that world. “I think it’s more interesting.”

  “I see,” Molly said. “So this is not just a passing fancy.”

  “A foot in the door,” Cross said. “Once I do that, I’ll need your help further on.”

  Molly was amused by this. “I’ll represent you,” she said. “But as for us doing business further on, let’s see first if you lose that hundred million.”

  She picked up the phone. She spoke into it. Then she hung up and said to Cross, “We have our meeting with their Business Affairs people to set out the rules before then. And you have three days to reco
nsider.”

  Cross was impressed. “That was fast,” he said.

  “Them, not me,” Molly said. “It’s costing them a fortune to tread water on this picture.”

  “I don’t have to say this, I know,” Cross said. “But the offer I plan to make Miss Aquitane is confidential, between you and me.”

  “No, you didn’t have to say it,” Molly said.

  They shook hands, and after Cross left, Molly remembered something. Why had Cross De Lena mentioned that long-ago case when she had gotten that kid off, that famous victory of hers. Why that particular case? She had gotten plenty of murderers off.

  Three days later Cross De Lena and Molly Flanders met in her office before going to LoddStone Studios so that she could check over the financial papers that Cross was bringing to the meeting. Then Molly drove both of them to the Studio in her Mercedes SL 300.

  When they had been cleared through the gate, Molly said to Cross, “Check the lot. I’ll give you a dollar for any American car you see.”

  They passed a sea of sleek cars of all colors, Mercedeses, Aston Martins, BMWs, Rolls-Royces. Cross saw one Cadillac and pointed it out. Molly said cheerily, “Some poor slob of a writer from New York.”

  LoddStone Studios was a huge area on which were scattered small buildings housing independent production companies. The main building was only ten floors and looked like a movie set piece. The Studio had kept the flavor of the 1920s when it had started up, with only the necessary repairs being done. Cross was reminded of the Enclave in the Bronx.

  The offices in the Studio Administration Building were small and crowded except for the tenth floor, where Eli Marrion and Bobby Bantz had their executive suites. Between the two suites was a huge conference room with a bar and bartender far off to one side and a small kitchen adjoining the bar. The seats around the conference table were plush armchairs of dark red. Framed posters of LoddStone movies hung on the wall.

  Waiting for them were Eli Marrion, Bobby Bantz, Skippy Deere, the chief counsel of the Studio, and two other lawyers. Molly handed the chief counsel the financial papers, and the three opposing lawyers sat down to read them through. The bartender brought them drinks of their choice, then disappeared. Skippy Deere made the introductions.

  Eli Marrion, as always, insisted that Cross call him by his first name. Then told them one of his favorite stories, which he often used to disarm opponents in a negotiation. His grandfather, Eli Marrion said, had started the company in the early 1920s. He had wanted to call the firm Lode Stone Studios, but he still had a severe German accent that confused the lawyers. It was only a ten-thousand-dollar company then and when the mistake was discovered, it didn’t seem worth the trouble to change it. And here now it was a seven-billion-dollar company with a name that didn’t make sense. But, as Marrion pointed out—he never told a joke that didn’t make a serious point—the printed word was not important. It was the visual image with the lodestone attracting light from every corner of the universe that made the company logo so powerful.

  Then Molly presented the offer. Cross would pay the Studio the fifty million it had spent, would give the Studio distribution rights, keep Skippy Deere as producer. Cross would put up the money to finish the picture. LoddStone Studios would also get 5 percent of the profits.

  They all listened intently. Bobby Bantz said, “The percentage is ridiculous, we would have to have more. And how do we know that you people and Athena are not in a conspiracy? That this isn’t a stickup?”

  Cross was astonished by Molly’s reply. For some reason he had assumed that negotiations would be much more civil than he had been used to in his Vegas world.

  But Molly was almost screaming, her witchlike face blaz-ing with fury. “Fuck you, Bobby,” she said to Bantz. “You have the fucking balls to accuse us of a conspiracy. Your insurance doesn’t cover you on this, you take this meeting to get off the hook and then insult us. If you don’t apologize, I’ll take Mr. De Lena right out of here and you can eat shit.”

  Skippy Deere broke in, “Molly, Bobby, come on. We’re trying to save a picture here. Let’s talk this through at least. . . .”

  Marrion had observed all this with a quiet smile but did not say anything. He would speak only to give a yes or no.

  “I think it’s a reasonable question,” Bobby Bantz said. “What can this guy offer Athena to make her come back that we can’t?”

  Cross sat there smiling. Molly had told him to let her answer whenever possible.

  She said, “Mr. De Lena obviously has something special to offer. Why should he tell you? If you offer him ten million to give you that information I’ll confer with him. Ten million would be cheap.”

  Even Bobby Bantz laughed at this.

  Skippy Deere said, “They think Cross wouldn’t be risking all that money unless he had a sure thing. That makes them a little suspicious.”

  “Skippy,” Molly said, “I’ve seen you lay out a million for a novel that you never made into a picture. How is this different?”

  Bobby Bantz broke in. “Because Skippy gets our studio to put up the million.”

  They all laughed. Cross wondered about this meeting. He was losing patience. Also, he knew he must not look too eager, so it wouldn’t hurt if he showed his irritation. He said in a low voice, “I’m going on a hunch. If it’s too complicated, we can just forget the whole thing.”

  Bantz said angrily, “We are talking about a lot of money here. This picture could gross a half billion worldwide.”

  “If you could get Athena back,” Molly shot in quickly. “I can tell you I talked with her this morning. She already cut off all her hair to show she’s serious.”

  “We can wig her. Fucking actresses,” Bantz said. Now he was glowering at Cross, trying to read him. He was pondering something. He said, “If Athena does not come back and you lose your fifty million and can’t go on to finish the picture, who gets the footage already done?”

  “I do,” Cross said.

  “Aha,” Bantz said. “Then you just release it the way it is. Maybe as soft porn.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Cross said.

  Molly shook her head at Cross, warning him to keep quiet. “If you agree to this deal,” she said to Bantz, “everything can be negotiated on foreign, video, TV, and profit participation. There’s only one deal-breaker. The agreement must be secret. Mr. De Lena only wants credit as a coproducer.”

  “That’s OK with me,” Skippy Deere said. “But my money deal with the Studio still stands.”

  For the first time Marrion spoke. “That’s separate,” he said, meaning no. “Cross, do you give your lawyer full discretion on negotiations?”

  “Yes,” Cross said.

  “I want to go on record on this,” Marrion said. “You must know we planned to scrap the picture and take the loss. We are convinced Athena will not come back. We do not represent to you that she may come back. If you make this deal and pay us fifty million, we are not liable. You would have to sue Athena and she doesn’t have that kind of money.”

  “I would never sue her,” Cross said. “I’d forgive and forget.”

  Bantz said, “You don’t have to answer to your money people?”

  Cross shrugged.

  Marrion said, “That is a corruption. You can’t let your personal attitude betray the money people who trust you. Just because they’re rich.”

  Cross said, straight-faced, “I never think it’s a good idea to get on the wrong side of rich people.”

  Bantz said in exasperation, “This is some kind of trick.”

  Masking his face with benign confidence, Cross said, “I’ve spent my whole life convincing people. In my Vegas hotel I have to convince very smart men to gamble their money against the odds. And I do that by making them happy. That means I give them what they really want. I’ll do that with Miss Aquitane.”

  Bantz disliked the whole idea. He was sure his studio was being screwed. He said bluntly, “If we find out Athena has already agreed to work with you
, we will sue. We will not honor this agreement.”

  “I want to be in the movie business for the long haul,” Cross said. “I want to work with LoddStone Studios. There’s money enough for everyone.”

  Eli Marrion had been studying Cross all during the meeting, trying to come to an assessment. The man was very low key, not a bluffer or a bullshit artist. Pacific Ocean Security could not establish any real link with Athena, there was no likely conspiracy. A decision had to be made, but it was not really as difficult a decision as the people in this room were pretending. Marrion was so weary now he could feel the weight of his clothing on his skeletal frame. He wanted this to be over.

  Skippy Deere said, “Maybe Athena is just nuts, maybe she’s gone over the edge. Then we can bail out with the insurance.”

  Molly Flanders said, “She’s saner than anyone in this room. I can have all of you certified before you get her.”

  Bobby Bantz looked Cross directly in the face. “Will you sign papers that you have no agreement with Athena Aquitane at this point in time?”

  “Yes,” Cross said. He let his dislike for Bantz show.

  Marrion, observing this, felt satisfaction. At least this part of the meeting was going according to plan. Bantz was now established as the bad guy. It was amazing how people almost instinctively disliked him, and it really wasn’t his fault. It was the role chosen for him to play, though admittedly it suited his personality.

  “We want twenty percent of the profits of the picture,” Bantz said. “We distribute it domestic and foreign. And we will be partners in any sequel.”

  Skippy Deere said in exasperation, “Bobby, they are all dead at the end of the picture, there can be no sequel.”

  “OK,” Bantz said, “rights in any prequel.”

  “Prequel, sequel, bullshit,” Molly said. “You can have them. But you get no more than ten percent of the profits. You’ll make a fortune on distribution. And you have no risk. Take it or leave it.”