Stardust (53 page)

“You ever ask him why he changed it?”

“Just in a kidding way. Made things harder to pronounce, the places.”

“In a kidding way. And what did he say?”

“Well, at the time we were trying to show how all the Allies were in it together. He said this was a way of bringing Russia in.”

“Including a new Russian character.” He looked down at his notes. “Andrei Malinkov. Soviet Naval attaché. Dick Marshall couldn’t get through the Baltic himself, is that it?”

Dick smiled. “The idea was, we were working together. He knew the mine fields.”

“Americans and Russians side by side. Just like they were any folks. Let me read you something.” He picked up a paper. “‘We’re not just carrying food. Equipment. We’re carrying hope. They’re taking a terrible
beating. We have to help. How can we eat if they’re going hungry?’ Recognize that?”

“I said it. In the picture.”

“It’s in the book, too. Of course then you’re saying it about London. Now it’s—what? Leningrad? You think it’s the same thing? London, Leningrad? Is that what Mr. Schaeffer said?”

Dick gave a side glance to his lawyer, who nodded, a cue.

“He said the suffering there was even worse, in Russia, but nobody was doing pictures about it. This would help draw attention. That we needed to help the Russians.”

“Help the Russians,” Minot repeated. “Well, that we certainly did. The ships in
Convoy
—excuse me,
Convoy to Murmansk
—were carrying Lend-Lease. Millions and millions to help those people Mr. Schaeffer said were suffering so much. Know how much of it they’ve paid back? Not one cent. Not one kopek.” He looked up. “Did you ever suspect at the time that Mr. Schaeffer might be a Communist?”

“No, sir,” Marshall said, appalled.

“No, you don’t find that word in the script, not once. Just those friendly Russians. But they must have been, mustn’t they? Why not call them Communists?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you’d have found that harder to say. Maybe everybody would have found it harder to watch. Better not to tell people what the picture is really about. That’s how they work. How would you feel now about
Convoy
? Knowing what you know today?”

Another glance to his lawyer, Bunny still, staring ahead.

“I guess I’d ask to be taken off the picture. If, like you say, it wasn’t good for America. All my pictures, I’ve always thought they were a hundred percent American.”

“Mr. Marshall, no one here is questioning your loyalty. We’re just concerned that some people might use it for their own ends. Maybe you need to be a little more careful in the future. Not just say the words. Think a little bit about what’s behind them.” A school principal to a truant.

“Yes, sir.”

Dick lowered his head slightly. Ben thought of him climbing into the fighter cockpit, eager to take on Japan, and saw that the nod had been the real point of the testimony, a kind of salute to the new commander at the long table.

“Anyone else on the committee have a question? If not, I think we can take a short break. You’ll be available to us later, if we need you?” he said to Dick.

“Congressman, I’m here to help. I believe in fighting for America— and not just in the pictures.”

Ben glanced across at the press section. Everyone was scribbling but Ostermann, his eyes fixed on Minot.

“That was fine,” Bunny said to Marshall. His lawyers were gathering up papers from the witness table.

“Nice to say that about my pictures. Seeing them over there.”

“What he
said
was that he was in the Pacific and you weren’t. That’s all anybody heard.”

“Still.”

“Never mind, you were fine. The fight line was good. They’re all going to use it.”

“I meant it.”

“That’s what makes it so convincing,” Bunny said, not missing a beat. “I didn’t know where he was going with the 4-F, but it was fine.”

“Where he was going?”

“Well, we don’t want anybody poking lights in your ears, do we? Anyway, it’s done.” He put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Polly,” he said, spotting her.

“Dick, that was wonderful. Wonderful. Read the column tomorrow,” she said, patting him. “You’re going to be very pleased.” She turned to Bunny. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh, Polly, a very small bone, I hope.”

“You promised me an interview with Liesl.”

“And you’ll get it.”

“When, after the picture opens? I thought she’d be here today. Why
isn’t she?” she said, her voice pointed now. “You’d think she’d want to be here with Dick.”

“Polly, she’s
shooting
. Some of us have to work. Of course she wanted to be here. She also wants to get the picture out.”

“You mean you do.”

“Because I’ve seen it. You won’t believe how good she is. Bergman.” He held his hand up, being sworn in. “Have I ever lied?”

Polly laughed. “You? No. You don’t have it in you.”

“A heart to heart, I promise. The kind you like. Just let her finish.”

Polly waved this off. “See where I’m sitting? Right next to the Other Mann. Maybe I’ll get him to ask. Somebody with influence.”

“Call my office in the morning. I’ll have Wendy set it up. Anyway, I thought you were doing Dick.”

“A companion piece. You should want this,” she said, tapping Bunny’s arm. “It makes her more American. Especially after today. I could tell Ken was pleased. It’s a great thing he’s doing.”

Bunny watched her trail after Dick, then turned to one of his assistants. “Where’s Rosemary? I thought she was supposed to be here.”

“Rosemary?” Ben said.

“She hasn’t been served yet,” the assistant said.

“That’s funny,” Bunny said, frowning, a detail out of place. “Go call and see what’s up.”

“Why Rosemary?” Ben said, walking out with Bunny.

“He can’t lean on Schaeffer all week. Where’s that going to get him? Murmansk?”

“Where’s Rosemary going to get him?”

Bunny looked at him. “Stay out of this.”

In the hall, people huddled in groups, smoking. Dick Marshall posed for a few more pictures. Ben made a circle, looking for Ostermann, and instead saw Henderson, leaning back against a fire extinguisher.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sure,” Henderson said, reaching into his pocket. “Right here.”

Then, in a lower voice, “Take out a cigarette. I thought you didn’t want us to talk.”

“I thought you weren’t going to follow me,” Ben said, leaning forward for the light.

“I’m just watching.”

“What?”

“Things. See who’s watching you. It’s a good place for it. Who’d know? I figure he’d like to keep tabs. I would, I was him.”

“And?”

“It’s early. Now you got your light.”

“Clearance come through yet on those names?”

“I’m working on it. You’re welcome,” he said louder, nodding.

Ben stood for a minute, stymied. “Don’t ruin this,” he said.

Henderson smiled. “What? Your unexpected demise? I’m looking forward to it. As long as I see who does it.”

He moved off, leaving Ben to watch the crowd. Could he really be here? Someone on his way to the men’s room. The photographer who wasn’t. Anybody.

When the hearings reconvened, Ben had Dick next to him, Bunny on his other side.

“Why start with you?” Bunny said to Dick, still preoccupied with the order of things.

“I’m just glad to get it over with.”

“But there’s no build. Here they come.”

This time Minot did look at them, an unexpected anger. At first Ben thought it was directed at him, the Kaltenbach grudge, but when Carol Hayes was called, a Fox contract player, Minot’s eyes were fixed on Bunny, gauging his reaction. Bunny, clearly surprised, shrugged back.

“He’s doing this wrong,” he said. “Why her?”

“Picture in the papers?”

“Below the fold,” Bunny said, dismissive.

Ben watched the newsreel cameras track her as she moved to the table, motors whirring. “Who is she?”

“Priscilla Lane. Diana Lynn,” Bunny said, casting.

“I mean here.”

“Probably a Schaeffer picture at Fox. But he just did that. There’s no build. Carol Hayes.”

“The cameras like her.”

Bunny frowned. “Something’s wrong.” He leaned across again to one of the publicity staff and whispered, sending him out of the room.

“And you talked to Mr. Schaeffer about the script?” Minot was saying.

“I didn’t want to,” she said. “You know, you don’t like to make trouble. But I just didn’t feel comfortable with some of the lines.”

“On the seventh take,” Bunny said under his breath.

“And why was that?”

“They didn’t seem— I don’t think it’s like that in this country. I mean, my dad was a businessman and he just wouldn’t have done that, what happens in the picture.”

Ben thought at first that Minot was heading somewhere with this, but after a while saw that he was just treading water. Everything Hayes said, her fear of being used to promote an underlying message, had been said. After she stepped down, another break, Bunny caught Minot as he passed.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” he said quietly, a private conversation as people passed around them.

“No? Not exactly what we agreed, is it? I don’t like sloppy seconds, either. You people,” Minot said, an undisguised contempt. “Look at that.”

Off to the side, Carol was smiling, her face lit up by flashbulbs.

“Then why did you—”

“You want to protect your property? That it? And I get this. So the surprise is on me. Live and learn. Who’d you use? Him?” He jerked his finger at Ben. “Handy Andy. No, he wouldn’t have the balls. One of your studio goons probably. But I’ll tell you something. The next surprise is on you. I can’t call her without the file—that’ll take a while to put together again. But there’s always another way. A little whisper and
there’s no end to the shit they can stir up.” He turned his head toward the reporters. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Minot dropped his voice. “Who do you think you’re playing with? You fix parking tickets. You don’t fix me. Not me.”

“I still don’t—”

“No? Then maybe she did it herself. Such light fingers,” he said, wriggling his. “It doesn’t matter. You’re both fucked.”

“Ken—”

“Can I get a word in edgewise?” A voice behind them.

“Polly,” Minot said, rearranging his face, stepping back. “You there all this time?”

“Now don’t run away. I’ve been trying to get you all morning. They’re running the column out front.”

“As the news?”

“In addition. Two stories. And a picture.”

“That’s a mighty good start,” Minot said, smiling.

“Mm. I’m doing the color. Bunny, you don’t mind, do you? I’ll bring him back in a minute. Who else are you calling? Schaeffer?”

“You bet.” He looked at Bunny. “And that’s just the first day.”

“What was that about?” Bunny said when they left. “Light fingers?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, a little shaken, back in the supply closet, waiting to be caught. But she wouldn’t be called. Something for Danny.

“I’ve never seen him like that.”

“That’s who he is.”

Bunny’s face, ashen just a minute ago, hardened. “He’s not going to do a thing about the consent decree.”

“Then make it harder for him. Don’t give him people.”

Bunny looked up. “Well, now I haven’t, it seems. This isn’t your doing, is it? Is that what you were— But why would you?” he said, talking to himself. “You know what he’ll do now.” He turned toward the door, watching Minot leave. “He’ll feed her to Polly. Before we go into release.”

Henderson seemed to have disappeared, now just another hat in
the crowd, but Ostermann was there, standing alone by a window, looking out.

“It’s usually gone by this time,” he said, nodding to the fog. “Not today. No sun. Dark times, eh?”

“You haven’t been taking any notes. Are you really going to write about this?”

“If he calls Germans, then it’s something for
Aufbau
. Brecht, at least, I would think, wouldn’t you? He’d make an interesting witness.”

“It’s a farce.”

Ostermann nodded. “It always begins that way. Nothing to trouble about. Then each day a little more. Well, that’s not so serious, either. And then one day—”

“You’re writing your piece,” he said, one eye still looking for Henderson.

A short man with wire-rimmed glasses, surrounded by lawyers, was crossing the hall, drawing photographers away from Carol Hayes. Schaeffer, he guessed.

Ostermann smiled. “Just thinking out loud.” He looked at the crowd. “They don’t see it. It’s new to them. But it’s the same. A farce. So say nothing and then it’s too late. Like us.”

In the hearing room, Bunny was still talking to the lawyers at the witness table so Ben was forced to take the open seat next to Dick. Their shoulders touched as he sat down, a slight brush, then a quick drawing away, and suddenly Ben was aware of him as a body, the height of his shoulders, his bulk filling the suit, hands placed on his knees, waiting. His tanned face oblivious to any change in the air around him, Ben invisible.

What had it been like? Had Dick stood by the pool’s edge, watching her legs open and close? Or had that scene been just for him? The sounds, the way she clenched him. Ben turned, facing the long table. Something that only happened to you, what everybody felt, each time. Was it over? Someone else she hadn’t loved. Still Danny’s wife.

The sound of the newsreel cameras made him look up. Minot was
calling Milton Schaeffer. The tone in his voice, with its hint of blood sport, almost gloating, had made everyone sit up. Carol Hayes, even Dick, had just been there to set the stage—Schaeffer was actually a Communist. But as the cameras followed him, Ben’s attention shifted to them, the familiar whirring sound suddenly distracting, like someone whispering in his ear. Newsreel cameras.

Minot shuffled through papers, a promise of evidence to come, as Schaeffer approached the long table and was sworn in. He seemed slighter than he had in the hall, wiry and pale. Minot kept putting his papers in place, letting a hush fall over the room before he pounced.

“Mr. Schaeffer, are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?”