Araluen (54 page)

‘I don’t agree, Grandfather. Surely I can’t be held responsible for every crazy zealot running around New York City.’

Michael had continued to call Franklin ‘Grandpa’ well into his adult years – it was a measure of his affection. He no longer did so. His grandfather’s constant disapproval had placed a strain on their relationship and Michael was tired of having to continually monitor his behaviour, tired of being treated like a child. The fondness he’d felt towards the old man was a thing of the past.

Franklin was aware of this, and it saddened
him. Apart from Helen, Michael was the most important thing in his life. Nevertheless he could not relax his authority over the boy. Michael had to learn to discipline his actions.

‘The "crazy zealot" to whom you so glibly refer would never have been afforded such a perfect opportunity if you hadn’t gone public,’ he growled. ‘It was – ’

‘I know: irresponsible – you’ve already said it twice. But the deed is done, Grandfather. It can’t be undone.’ Michael wasn’t going to let the old man get away with it this time. He wasn’t going to say ‘Sorry, Grandfather’ and look penitent. He knew it was what was expected of him. But not this time. This time he was going to come out on top.

‘And just think of what it’ll do for business,’ he said eagerly. ‘The movie will skyrocket.’ He was rewarded by the look of sudden shock in Franklin’s eyes. It took a lot to shock Franklin Ross. Michael felt a surge of power. ‘It was a regrettable incident, I agree,’ he added. ‘But you’ve always said yourself, Grandfather – when an opportunity offers itself, it’s foolish not to take advantage of it.’

Franklin stared at him, appalled. He said nothing. ‘For the past two weeks,’ Michael continued, with a glint of madness in his eyes, ‘every news, current affairs and chat show has been airing footage of Marcel’s murder. It’s the death of the decade, the death that shocked a nation – as big as Kennedy’s. If I can speed up post-production it’ll still be headline news by the time we premiere
Earth Man
… ’

It was true the media exposure of Marcel’s death had reached epic proportions. The gruesome footage had been shown so often that even the milder chat shows were cashing in on it under the guise of human kindness. Was it fair on the actor’s family and friends, they debated, to show such horrific film? And then, to up their ratings, they themselves showed the same footage.

The whole thing had become a tasteless circus and even those closely connected and deeply committed to the making of
Earth Man
were shocked when Michael demanded they speed up post-production so the film could premiere while the topic was still hot.

T think we should do exactly the opposite, Michael,’ Emma argued. ‘I think we should postpone the film a year as a gesture of respect.’

Stanley agreed. ‘It’s sick to cash in on it,’ he said.

Even Derek, whose career would skyrocket with the movie’s success, was in agreement.

Only Mandy was on Michael’s side. ‘I think Michael’s right,’ she said. ‘This is a business, after all. We have to do what’s best for the movie.’ It was no secret that Mandy idolised Michael.

He grinned at her, pleased by the support. She was a feisty little thing. ‘I respect your humanitarian instincts,’ he said to the others, ‘but we’re speeding up post-production – and that’s an order.’ The smile vanished and the voice hardened. ‘I want this movie released by March in time for the Academy Awards.’

Emma looked at Michael. What was happening to him? There was a madness in him these days.
It was no longer the craziness of creative genius, it was the destructive madness of a megalomaniac.

Now Franklin was looking at Michael in the same way. What had gone wrong with the boy? He was sick. Was it the drugs that had done it? ‘I strongly disapprove of your using this tragic event to in any way promote your film,’ he said evenly. ‘But I take it my disapproval means nothing to you.’

‘No, Grandfather, it doesn’t.’

Franklin nodded curtly. End of interview. And when Michael had left the room he pressed the intercom buzzer. ‘Get hold of Karol Mankowski,’ he said to his secretary. ‘I want him in here immediately.’ Franklin did not intend to give up on Michael yet. Karol must intensify the surveillance, he must use every means at his disposal. If Michael’s mind was becoming deranged through drug abuse then they must prove it and get him committed as soon as possible. It was the best thing for the boy. Franklin’s only grandson was not going to go off the rails if there was any way he could prevent it.

Michael felt elated when he left Franklin’s office. He’d stood up to the old man at long last. He’d even shocked him and he remembered with pleasure the revulsion in Franklin’s eyes as he’d spoken of ‘the death of the decade’.

The truth would have shocked the old bastard even more, Michael thought, and he could have laughed out loud. Jesus, the truth would probably
kill him. Not that anybody would ever know it of course, which was a pity in a way. It had all been so very clever. Easy too. Surprisingly easy.

It had been easy for them to persuade Marcel that the ‘Earth Man’ should die a martyr’s death. Well, they hadn’t had to persuade him at all, had they? Emma had done it for them. Michael remembered Derek’s words – ‘Marcel will do anything she says’.

Of course Marcel would do anything Emma said, Michael had thought impatiently at the time, they were lovers, weren’t they? At night, when Michael was lying awake thinking of Emma, or when he was driving himself into a woman’s body fantasising it was Emma’s, Marcel was doing the real thing. It was Marcel who was caressing Emma’s breasts, it was Marcel for whom Emma was parting her thighs, it was Marcel’s name Emma was crying out in the heat of her passion.

Michael had suspected it when they’d first come back from Fiji. He remembered the night he’d followed Marcel and seen him go up to Emma’s apartment where he stayed for nearly two hours. When he’d seen her kiss him goodnight at the front door, he’d known it was true. And the knowledge had tormented him.

They were clever at keeping their assignations a secret; he hadn’t been able to catch them out again, but he knew they were doing it. Emma denied the affair, of course, and he didn’t dare force the issue for fear of alienating her but his mind screamed to him each night as the images of them together infected his brain with the demons of madness.

There was only one way out. Marcel had to die. Just as Malcolm O’Brien had had to die. If Michael couldn’t possess Emma, then no one else could. And, once the decision was made, it was amazing how quickly the torment disappeared. Michael even felt sorry for Marcel. It was a pity and a waste, but it had to happen.

Even the way it had to happen was easy. Judd Weinberg III. Judd’s widowered father had left him a luxury apartment in the block on the corner of 70th and 5th and Judd was very much in debt to Michael. Of course Judd was in debt to a lot of people, which was why his father had so totally given up on him. ‘Good money after bad,’ Judd Senior had said when he’d settled his son’s debts for the third time. ‘You can have the apartment on 70th and 5th, boy, and that’s the last you’ll get out of me.’ And Judd Weinberg II had retired from the banking business and moved to Switzerland with his secretary who was thirty years his junior.

His wastrel son had continued to throw good money after bad, mainly in support of his drug habit. Which was how he’d got into debt with Michael.

When Michael had first arrived in New York, he’d been impressed by Judd’s aristocratic lineage, the luxury apartment and the apparently endless supply of ‘old money’, and he’d believed Judd’s request for a loan was perfectly valid. ‘Just to tide me over for six months, old man. My money’s all tied up till the end of the fiscal year.’

It was a hefty amount, but worth it to Michael. Judd Weinberg III was an excellent introduction to many an elite New York circle. Now, three
years later, with accrued interest, the amount was even heftier and Judd was more than happy to grant a simple favour to Michael in order to cancel the debt.

‘The key to your apartment for an hour, Judd, that’s all,’ he said. ‘A friend of mine wants to watch the movie procession from a good vantage spot.’

‘Anything to oblige, old man,’ Judd had agreed hastily. ‘I’ll lay breakfast on if you like.’

‘No, he wants to watch it on his own,’ Michael said. ‘It should be very impressive – why don’t you watch it yourself? You’d have an excellent view from your girlfriend’s apartment.’ He knew Judd was screwing the middle-aged widow on the next floor down.

Judd didn’t like Michael’s tone and the suggestion sounded very much like an order to him, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. ‘Good idea,’ he smiled.

Michael knew that, after the event, he could always pretend that he’d wanted Judd to have an alibi. ‘I was looking after you, old man,’ he could hear himself saying. But it wasn’t that. He needed Judd to be aware of his own complicity. Judd was a coward and a wimp and if he knew he was involved in a murder there was no way he would ever come forward.

But Michael’s assumption had been incorrect. Judd hadn’t kept quiet. He’d telephoned the following morning. Three times he’d telephoned. ‘Tell him I’m in a meeting, Mandy,’ he’d instructed.

And then, the third time, when Mandy had said,
‘The guy sounds hysterical, really off the planet, he keeps saying "You should have told me" over and over’, Michael started to worry.

‘Tell him to hang up and I’ll ring him back,’ he snapped. And when Mandy had left, he dialled Judd’s apartment on his private line.

‘I believe you’re trying to reach me, old man,’ he said, his mind racing. It was a pity Judd was overreacting like this. Something would have to be done about it.

‘We have to talk, Michael,’ Judd said. ‘We have to talk.’

‘And we shall, we shall, just calm down, take it easy.’

‘We have to talk – you should have told me -we have to talk.’

‘Tell you what,’ Michael said, ‘I’ll send you something over to calm you down and then we’ll talk a bit later, all right?’

‘No, Michael, please, don’t hang up.’ Judd sounded desperate. ‘Talk to me, I need to – ’

‘I will, I will, I promise. You just sit tight for a while and everything’ll be fine. You have my word.’

With Michael’s contacts, organising the delivery wasn’t difficult, but it was expensive. Very expensive. Pure heroin always was. But it would do the trick. The death of Judd Weinberg III hadn’t been part of his plan. But it was necessary.

Michael worked around the clock on
Earth Man,
consumed by his plan to premiere the movie in early spring. Much as the others may have disliked
the notion, they could do little else but obey his orders.

Michael played as hard as he worked. He didn’t want to give his mind a moment’s respite. He didn’t want thoughts to creep in like snakes in the quieter moments of the night, reminding him of his guilt about Judd Weinberg. Poor old Judd, all he’d had to do was lend a bloke his key.

For the first month after the shooting, Michael had felt no remorse over Judd’s death. But when it became apparent that no connection was going to be made between a heroin overdose in the same block of apartments from which the assassin had fired, he had time to reflect. It had all been so easy. The police were now assuming the bullet had been fired from the rooftop of the building and that the assassin had made his or her escape via the connecting rooftops. Perhaps if Michael had seen Judd and simply calmed him down there would have been no necessity for his death after all.

Strangely enough, Michael never felt a shred of remorse for the deaths of Malcolm O’Brien and Marcel Gireaux. They had been violating his property, his shrine. They had known Emma. They had to die. But Judd? Judd had committed no crime. He was a party animal, like Michael. They had shared many a fun night together. It didn’t bear too much contemplation, he decided. In the spring, when
Earth Man
hit the screens, all would be vindicated. He would have created a movie classic, an historic masterpiece to live forever. He had to focus solely upon that.

And so Michael worked. And when he didn’t work he partied. Clandestine parties in his new
home. He was fully aware that Karol Mankowski was watching his every move. He knew that, on his grandfather’s instructions, Karol had been ‘keeping an eye’ on him ever since the Rebel Wav-erley rape allegation. He’d even seen the man openly observing him at the China Bar one night and asking questions of the barman. What the hell was Mankowski doing at the China Bar? He didn’t drink, for Christ’s sake.

Michael’s new home became his haven. It was every bit as luxurious as he’d planned it would be. He’d acquired the three-storey brownstone terrace in uptown Manhattan while the unit was filming in Fiji and he’d started immediately on his massive renovations. The pool was completed by the time they returned and he’d proudly given Emma, Stanley and Mandy a guided tour.

‘My God, I don’t believe it,’ Emma had said as he ushered them through the front door and into the living room where half the floor was carved away and lined with a marble balcony and columns over which one looked down on the indoor heated pool in the basement below.

Michael laughed, delighted by her reaction. ‘I always said I’d have a place with a pool.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly done just that,’ Emma agreed. The pool dominated everything. To the left of the living room a large semi-circular staircase led to the two bedrooms on the first floor and there was an open landing at the top which also looked down over the pool two floors below. ‘It’s actually quite attractive,’ she added. ‘A bit over the top,’ she laughed, ‘but attractive.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ Mandy breathed admiringly.

‘It’s goddamn decadent, that’s what it is,’ Stanley said, but there was a touch of grudging admiration in his voice as well. ‘So when do we get to christen the thing?’

‘I’m shifting in next week,’ Michael said. ‘They haven’t finished upstairs yet.’ The bedroom was going to be his true masterpiece. He’d promised himself the circular bed and the surrounding mirrors. ‘And I’m having a security system installed. There’ll be cameras covering the main entrances, the interiors, the works.’ He didn’t add that he was also having a camera installed in the air-conditioning vent of the master bedroom as well.