Polly said nothing, just sat looking at him, then raised the glass to her mouth, her head shaking a little. “Somebody like who?”
“Brenda Starr,” Ben said, opening his hand to her.
Another silence.
“And how do I back this up?”
“You have an exclusive interview with his brother. On the record. I can tell you how Minot’s files were set up, how they marked the information from him. He ever give you any files direct? I’ll show you how he sourced them. I can fill you in about Danny’s Party membership. Since Germany. How he gave Minot stuff only another Communist could know. Not ex—still. You want to back up further than that, you can source Riordan. Off the record, but he’ll back me up about the files.”
“You can prove this? Documents?”
“If I have to. But I won’t. Look where it’s coming from. His brother. I know. Straight from him. Anybody comes after you, they’re really coming after me. I’ll give you an escape hatch. But who’s going to deny it, the Commies? When I’m the source? Nobody else has this. Interested?”
She looked into her drink, thinking. “You didn’t like your brother much, huh?”
Ben looked away. “Not much. Not now, anyway. That I know what he was. If he hadn’t died, he’d still be doing it. Setting Minot up.”
“How do I know you’re not setting me up?”
“For what? Look, if you don’t want it, I can go somewhere else.”
“But you’re so fond of me.”
“You know you’re the first person I met out here? Union Station.”
“And I have some dirt on your girlfriend.”
Ben shook his head. “Not only that. You hate Communists, everybody knows that, so who better? And it’s your town. Maybe you deserve each other. But here’s a chance to show what the Commies are trying to do to it. Minot uses this net with all these holes in it and who gets away? Who wins?”
“Look at you. The all-American canary.”
“No, Minot’s the all-American. Too bad he’s also a fool.”
“This would— Ken’s a friend of mine.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
She looked over at him, bristling.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Ben said, slower this time, a lead-in. “I was in that hearing room today. Know what I smelled? Blood. You smelled it, too, didn’t you? He’s finished there, he made a fool of himself, even before it comes out how the Commies were using him. Lasner’s going to die, and everybody’s going to blame Minot. The whole town. Including you. The big funeral piece. One of the giants of old Hollywood. You can even throw in that fucking barn where DeMille started. The old days with Rex. You won’t even have to say Minot bullied him to death, everybody already thinks it. They’ll thank you for showing him up before he could go after anybody else. You have a lot of friends in the industry, it’s where you live. He’s just passing through, see what he can get out of it. And he’s already on the floor bleeding.”
He waited another minute while she digested this, her eyes wide, calculating.
“You want to do the interview we should go to your office, not sit in a bar. Tape it, if you want. On the record. I’ve got some paperwork, too. So you won’t be nervous about using any of it. Do you want it? Part one?”
“Part one.”
“There’s more, but we don’t want to throw everything out there right away. It’s all page one, milk it. In fact, that’s part of the deal, you saying there’s more. Even more sensational. What Danny was doing beside feeding Minot. Exclusive from me. I’ll help you write it.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what it is.”
“I will.”
“How do I know?”
“Because I’m promising you. Or another story, just as big.”
“What?”
“A murder.”
“Yeah? Whose?”
“Mine.”
She blinked, then took up her glass. “Ha ha.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good for it. One or the other.”
“You’d better be. You hang me out to dry and I’ll kill you myself.”
“So we lose the Rosemary story?”
“There’s just one little problem with that. I gave it to Kelly. Not all of it, but enough to get him some space.”
“Then pull it back.”
“That doesn’t leave him with much.”
They met each other’s eyes, holding their glasses as if they were looking over cards.
“Dick Marshall and Liesl. Inside the romance. Pictures at her place, by the pool. Exclusive.”
She nodded slowly, still looking at him. “I remember that train. You’re a quick study.”
“It’s an easy place to read.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, finishing the drink. “Union Station. And now here we are at the Formosa. They all go that way, don’t they? All the stories here.”
“Not all of them,” Ben said.
POLLY WORKED for the afternoon paper so Ben spent the morning waiting, trying to keep busy. When he started stacking papers and arranging them in piles he realized that all this methodical make-work was simply a pretense, putting things in order while his stomach jumped, restless with nerves. He checked the gun in the drawer. Somewhere, miles away, paper had streamed through inked drums and been baled, thrown onto trucks. They’d have to come now. How long before they wondered what else Ben would say?
Bunny was already at the gate when Ben went down to check on the afternoon delivery. He glanced up briefly from the paper, then went back reading, handing Ben another copy from the pile.
“The phone’s been ringing,” he said, an explanation.
Lasner had made the front page with the picture of Minot looming over him, but so had Polly, the left lead. MINOT DUPED BY RED INFORMER. STAFFER WORKED FOR COMMIES SAYS BROTHER. Two columns with a jump to page eight, the entire story Polly had filed, including the more to come.
Bunny read through to the end, then folded the page under his arm. “My, what a big tongue it has,” he said.
“Minot had it coming.”
Bunny looked at him. “Every time I think we understand each other—we don’t.” He turned, Ben following. “There’ll just be another one. Maybe worse. It’s not going to stop.”
“It will for a while.”
“At least you kept Liesl out of it. Family feeling?”
“It’s about Danny, not her.”
“She was married to him.” He paused. “If anybody remembers. I gather you promised Polly some pictures. She’s already been asking. I didn’t realize you were running Publicity now.”
“I had to offer her—”
Bunny waved his hand. “Save it. I’m going to move up the release date. Before anybody remembers. So a spread will come in handy. By the pool, wasn’t it?”
“The picture’s ready?”
“Just the prints. I can pull a booking at the Egyptian.”
“Not Rosemary’s.”
Bunny looked over. “No, not Rosemary’s. We haven’t booked that yet.”
“You can. There’s not going to be any trouble.”
“Is that what this is all about? The girlfriend? Not both of you. Double dunking? You don’t find that a little tawdry?”
“I just said—”
“Like one of those loops where they leave their socks on.”
Ben just looked, waiting.
“As a matter of fact, we haven’t booked it because we’re doing some retakes. I think we can fix it.”
“No other reason.”
“No other reason. Now that you’ve chased all the storm clouds away. What else are you going to do for us? Just so I’m ready.”
“Mr. Jenkins?” A secretary came up to them. “The union’s here. About the musicians.”
“Right there,” Bunny said.
“Musicians? I thought Continental didn’t do musicals.”
“We didn’t have Julie before. She’s good. And we signed her cheap. It’s worth a shot.” Alrea
dy head of the studio.
“Sam’ll be happy.”
“Well, there’s that, too,” Bunny said, dismissive, moving away. He opened the paper again, then shook his head. “No more stunts? Please.”
“He lied to you.”
Bunny handed Ben the paper. “Everybody lies to me. Mr. L will be pleased anyway. Like a one-two punch team, aren’t you?” He looked up at him. “Fay said you saved his life.”
“She’s exaggerating. I was just there.”
“He’ll be grateful,” Bunny said, his voice flat.
Henderson turned up an hour later.
“Everywhere I look, what do I see?” he said, tossing the paper on Ben’s desk. “You all over the page.”
The paper had landed with the bottom half faceup. A picture Ben hadn’t noticed before, pushed below the fold by the Minot story: Kaltenbach at a press conference in Berlin, surrounded by men in bulky suits.
“I didn’t know you guys read the papers,” Ben said.
“You’ve got a mouth for brains, anybody ever tell you? Let’s take a walk.”
“You can give me the lecture right here. Don’t worry, there isn’t any more. The Bureau isn’t going to come into it. If that’s what—”
“Give me a preview. Tomorrow’s edition.”
“This is it.”
“That’s not what it says.”
“We don’t need any more. Once they see this, they’ll come running. Look how fast you got here.”
Henderson stared at him. Ben picked up the paper, scanning the Kaltenbach piece.
“So he made it.”
“You didn’t see it? He denounced Ostermann. A real German would come back, build a new Germany. Ostermann’s a ‘cosmopolitan.’ Not even a German anymore.”
“They made him say it.”
“They’ll make him say a lot of things. Drove himself to Mexico. Funny, isn’t it, since he couldn’t drive.”
“Couldn’t he? Who told you that? Danny?”
Henderson motioned his head toward the door. “Show me the lot.”
Ben took him past the sound stages to the New York street, empty today, the brownstone fronts as silent as a ghost town.
“You’re trying to get yourself killed,” Henderson said.
“That was the idea, wasn’t it?”
“The idea was to find your brother’s mailman. Make him come after the list. Not after you.”
“When did you get all protective? They’ve already tried once. We both knew how this was going to work.”
“Not by going to the papers.”
“What are you worried about? That I’m going to embarrass the Bureau? Give away state secrets?”
“What state secrets.”
“That’s right. There is no list.”
“It’s classified,” Henderson said evenly. “It has to stay that way.”
“It will. You think I’d tell Polly? I’m that crazy?”
Henderson turned. “I’m not the one setting myself up as target practice.”
“Look, they know I have the letter. But nobody moves. Still safe. Even with you hanging around. But I go public, they’ve got to stop me. Come out where we can see them.” He opened his hand. “Then you go to work.”
“There’s talk of bringing you in,” Henderson said slowly. “Preventative custody.”
“To prevent what?”
“You talking out of turn.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“I just said it’s been discussed. People are nervous. Kind of thing, nobody ends up looking good.”
“You forget, I came to you,” Ben said. “Well, let’s just say you got to us anyway.”
“Give it one more day. They’ll bite now. We’re on the same side here, aren’t we?”
Henderson had stopped, looking at the street set. “There’s nothing behind that, right? You look at those windows, you think there’s a room there. It’s something, how they do that.”
Ben waited.
“You know, it’s a funny thing, people in the field, I’ve seen it happen. They work so many sides, it gets confusing. They don’t know which side they’re on anymore. I think something like that happened to your brother.”
Ben shook his head. “You didn’t know him. We’re alike.”
Henderson raised an eyebrow.
“He knew. It just wasn’t the right side. That was the hard part, figuring that out.”
Henderson took this in, thinking, then started back. “I’m going to put a tail on you.”
“Somebody could pick us off right now, if he wanted. What good would that do?”
“Might make him work a little harder for it. Find a better spot.”
Ben glanced up at the set. “Unless he’s already found it.”
After Henderson left, Ben drifted back toward the Western set. Some workers were trimming branches off the giant cottonwood, the whine of their buzz saw drowning out the carpenters in the partial saloon, all the noises a comfort now, safety in other people. Beyond the cottonwood there was a stand of live oaks, where posses tied up horses for the night, and then the raised wooden sidewalk in front of the general store and the sheriff’s office, lined with hitching rails. Had the real towns been any more substantial? Thrown together in a few weeks, the same dusty clapboard fronts and fading paint. He was standing now in the street where gunfighters faced off, hands hovering near their holsters. He looked down to the corner, half-expecting someone to appear. But it was too soon. There’d be some better plan. From the top of the building, someone with a rifle could take him with a single bullet. One shot, then glide away in the confusion as the carpenters raced out to the street. But it wouldn’t happen that way, either. A hired pachuco at the Cherokee wasn’t enough anymore. How much did Ben know, what had he already told Polly, how far had the stain spread? What Henderson didn’t seem to understand, one reason Ben had set it up this way—first they’d have to talk to him.
He was still at his desk, waiting for the phone to ring, as the production units closed down for the day. He could hear people outside heading for their cars, the line of idling motors at the gate, the lot thinning out. He tried to imagine the call, wondered where the meeting would be set. Why not Paseo Miramar, a sentimental choice. But too public at this hour. When the door opened, no knock, he jerked his head up, every part of him alert.
“I was wondering how long it would take you,” he said.
Liesl hesitated, still holding the doorknob. “I didn’t think I was going to come at all.” She walked in and put the newspaper on his desk, a presentation gesture, Exhibit A.
“You got all dressed up.”
She glanced down at the bare-shouldered evening gown. “Publicity,” she said, offhand, distracted.
“For War Bride? In that? More like Dick Marshall’s bride. How’s that going? Or isn’t it?”
She stared at him, thrown, not expecting this.
“I told you. It didn’t mean anything,” she said finally.
“Well, neither did I.”
She looked surprised again, slightly lost. “Is that what you think?”
He met her eyes, not moving. “Go on, say it.”
“What?”
“What you were going to say. When you didn’t think you’d come.”
“Bastard. I was going to say what a bastard you are,” she said, emotionless, repeating lines. “To do this to him.”
“He’s dead.”
“And this is the memory you want for him? An informer? So everyone knows,” she said, pointing to the paper, her voice stronger. “And now you’re the good one. It means so much? To be better than him?”
“It’s true. He was an informer.”
“That’s not everything he was.”
“No. Worse.”
She stopped, dropping her hand to her side. “What do you mean, worse?”
“Treason? What every Russian wants to know. What did Henderson call it? Our new order of battle.”
“The list,” she said,
ignoring his tone. “You found out who they are?”
He nodded. “It took a few calls. Of course some of them don’t have phones. They’re nowhere. New Mexico, I guess. Like in the newsreel. That’s when it clicked. I remembered Friedman. The Livermore lab. Berkeley. Bingo. In Danny’s newsreel. At home. Maybe you watched it together.”
“What are you talking about? What treason? You’re going to put this in the paper? Make it worse?”
“That depends on how you read it. The Communists will think he’s quite a guy. You do. Except for his love life. But maybe that was just a get-even screw. He didn’t take her there, you know. The Cherokee love nest. That was your idea. That’s not what it was for. Party business.”
“Party business.”
“You remember the Party.”
“Remember what?” she said, confused.
“You were in it, too.”
She said nothing.
“You came here to talk, didn’t you? Let’s talk. Don’t worry, I’m not running to Minot with it. And Bunny will keep you miles away. Not even a hint of red. No idea what Danny was up to. Somebody else he duped,” he said, looking at the paper. “But not over there. You’d have been a lot closer. Somebody he could trust. Doing what he was doing. You’d have to be one of them. I should have got that right away. Anyone from the outside would have been too risky. A death warrant. You’d have to be. Is that how you met?”
She looked down, shaking her head. “It was for him. A card even,” she said, her mouth suddenly crooked, almost in a smile. “He couldn’t. Too incriminating. They weren’t so worried for me.” She looked up at him. “I threw it away. A little ceremony. A new place, new start. For both of us. I thought it was anyway. He lied about that, too.”
“And not you? ‘Everybody was a little like that.’ Isn’t that what you said? The first night we went to bed, come to think of it. The first lie. One of them.”
“You think there were so many. It was—in the past. Why bring it up again?”
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