Destiny (116 page)

He stood for a moment, looking up at the empty steps, the closed shutters; then, with a small angry gesture, he, too, climbed into the back of the Partex Lincoln. They were going straight to the airport; since late January he had been in the Middle East, in Canada, and in Japan; the merger negotiations had taken much more time than anticipated. He had been away too long.

706 • SALLY BEAUMAN

I 'm sorry?"

Xxhey were driving alongside the Potomac; the surface of the river gUttered in the moonhght; Edouard, looking out the windows of the car, became aware that Simon Scher had asked him a question.

"I said—I assume you've not had time to catch up on the developments with Sphere—and there have been a number of developments in the last couple of months."

"No, I haven't had time to catch up on Sphere." Edouard sounded annoyed. "I've hardly thought about Sphere. I saw the results of the Oscars, that's all. What's happening?"

"Well, as I say, there've been developments—quite surprising ones. I'm not absolutely certain myself quite what's going on. We've been having a lot of problems with Angehni."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, as you know, there is the question of Ellis II. "

"And Ellis III, you said, if I remember."

"The trilogy. Yes. I was told of that possibility by Helene Harte, not by Angelini, and when Angelini found out I knew, he was very angry indeed. The problems started then. They've been multiplying since."

"I thought it had been agreed that we would deal with the two sequels separately? There isn't even a script for the third."

"It was agreed. It was also agreed, in principle, that the filming of Ellis II would be postponed until later this year. Because Helene Harte was not free to make the picture in April, which was when Angelini wanted to start. And, as it happens, I thought that was no bad thing. There were a number of aspects of Ellis II which were worrying us a good deal. . . ."

"You wanted a budget reworking, if I remember?"

Edouard glanced at him, and Simon Scher sighed. "Correct. We got it completed—finally—after months of stalling from Angelini. It was more than stalling, actually—I would have said he was being deliberately obstructive. He wanted virtual carte blanche, and I think he thought that if he could delay until the Academy Awards ceremony, he'd be in a better bargaining position. He wanted ten million: we got it back to six point seven million, finally, and I still think that's underestimated. There are nonreflected union increases that could take it up to seven, easily. And then there's the question of post-production expenses. Angelini's set himself a very tight schedule: an eighty-five-day shoot; six months from start date to final cut. . . ."

"He's always kept to his schedules before. ..."

DESTINY • 707

"He's never worked to a schedule like that before. Post-production on Ellis took the best part of a year. He sat on that film like a chicken on an egg. And Ellis II is longer, and on an even bigger scale. I don't beheve in the budget—I still think it's made with a crystal ball—and I don't believe in the schedule either. I would have said that Angelini's Napoleonic tendencies are becoming definitely more marked. Those eight Oscars have gone to his head, for one thing. ..."

"Simon. You almost sound as if you disUke the man. ..."

"You know perfectly well that I can't stand him, and never could. However, he makes good films, and the box office returns on Ellis are phenomenal for such a serious movie. The fact that when he sits in my ofl^ice and drinks tea I could cheerfully lace it with strychnine is neither here nor there. ..." Scher paused. "No, the point is, there's something going on, something I don't like the smell of at all, and I still don't know what it is."

"Tell me."

"Well, by late January we were, in theory, all set to go. We had a budget; we had a shooting schedule; we had a start date—July first. We had everything lined up, with one exception, and Angehni started to stall again."

"What was the exception?"

"Helene Harte's participation."

There was a silence. Scher waited. The exact reasons for Edouard's involvement with Sphere had never been explained to him, and he had been careful not to ask. But his closeness to Edouard, over a long period of time, had sharpened his instincts: the question of Helene Harte, he suspected, was key. Which made what he had to stay next all the more difficult.

"Helene Harte's participation is vital." Edouard's voice had become cold. "Without her, the sequel could not be made." He paused. "Before I left I was given to understand that it was more or less a matter of course."

"Angelini has insisted from the first that she will do it. He's unshakable on that point."

"You mean he's wrong?"

"I mean, we haven't had a chance to find out, because every single time we've tried to move on the Harte contract, he's warned us off". As you know," Scher hesitated, "they have a very close working relationship. And Angelini is protective of her. Very. He more or less informed me that if we took matters into our own hands and went ahead with the contract negotiations, the whole thing might fall through. He insisted it was essential that the timing be absolutely right, and that he would know when that was. In normal circumstances, I would have overruled him. But the last few months have been anything but normal."

708 • SALLY BEAUMAN

Something in his voice made Edouard turn, and look at him closely. He said sharply, "What has happened?"

"Well, her marriage broke up, for one thing. That was his first argument for delay."

"I heard that." Edouard looked away. "That was last year. I saw some newspaper item about the separation."

"This year there have been a number of problems too."

"I saw that she did not win the Oscar. . . ." Edouard glanced at him.

"No, she didn't win." Scher's mouth tightened. He hesitated, and then slid an envelope across the seat. "I thought you probably would not have seen these, so I had a sample prepared. These are just a few of them, and not necessarily the worst examples either, I'm afraid."

Edouard opened the envelope. He switched on the reading light to his rear, and pulled the newspaper out. He looked only at the top copy, and only its front page, then he slid them back into the envelope again.

"I make it a point never to read this kind of thing."

"I know that. I wouldn't normally read them either." Scher's voice was slightly reproachful. "However, I think you should look at them, on the plane perhaps. Then you might understand why I saw Angelini's point. It did not seem a good moment to pressure Helene Harte about her contract —indeed, to pressure her about anything at all."

"I see."

"I thought he was concerned for her welfare. I assumed that to be the case. ..."

"And now you have reason to think otherwise?" Edouard looked at him sharply.

"Yes. I'm afraid I do." Scher hesitated. They had reached the airport. He cleared his throat. "I think he was stalling for other reasons entirely. Nothing to do with concern for Helene Harte. Rather the reverse, in fact."

"Come to the point."

"All right. I now think that he may have—quite deliberately—sabotaged the film she was going to make in the spring. And I also think, though I could be wrong, that he's about to take the whole Ellis project to A.I. and Joe Stein."

"You mean—break away from Sphere?"

"Exactly that. With Helene Harte as part of the package, needless to say."

"How do you know this?"

Scher smiled politely. He said, "I've never seen eye to eye with the husband. But I have become quite friendly with Rebecca Stein. We have a lot in common—she can't stand Angelini, and she's always hked Heldne Harte. More important, she doesn't like to see someone being used."

DESTINY • 709

"And is that what is happening?"

"I'm afraid so." Scher sighed. "Yes. I think it is."

The car came to a halt. There was a silence. Edouard looked out across the lights and the building to the runway, where his plane was waiting for him. For an instant, the years telescoped, and he saw himself with Christian, back at the airport at Plymouth, leaving for Rome, thinking the search was over. He saw again Prince Raphael's Ubrary, and its Belhni bronzes. He saw the short plump figure of Thad Angelini, as Angelini explained his film, explained the woman Edouard loved, confident—supremely confident—that he, Angelini, understood and could control her.

A contest had begun then, Edouard knew. It had continued, at a distance, for the past five years, even if Angelini had no inkling of that fact. Angelini was his rival; he had sensed it then, and he felt it acutely now. Not Lewis Sinclair, nor any of the other men Helene might or might not have been involved with: Angelini.

He had hated him on sight; now, standing on the tarmac, he hated him again. Simon Scher touched his arm. His voice was apologetic.

"Edouard. You'd better tell me what you want me to do."

Edouard looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, May 17—Cat's birthday. He hesitated.

"I have to be in Paris tomorrow. I should have been there today. Is there some way you can stall Angelini, prevent his doing anything decisive about the move to A.I. for at least twenty-four hours?"

Simon Scher smiled his small polite smile. "Well, there are his Napoleonic tendencies. There is his megalomania. ..."

He left the sentence adrift in the air; he knew Edouard would understand and he did.

"Call him first thing in the morning, his time. Tell him, in view of the European returns on Ellis, we're considering revising the budget for the sequel. Upward. Tell him we'll maybe go to the ten milhon he wanted. Can you find out what Stein might be offering?"

"Possibly."

"Well, try. And up it by two, or three. As much as you think it'll take. But stop him doing anything for the next day—oh, and Simon. Call me as soon as I get to Paris, when I've had a chance to read these. Early afternoon, Paris time."

He flew into the sunshine of a perfect day. The streets and the boulevards of Paris were filled with people celebrating the spring. The sidewalk cafes were crowded. The Seine ghttered; there was a scent of lime

710 • SALLY BEAUMAN

blossom in the air. Edouard reached the de Chavigny headquarters shortly

before two p.m.. Paris time, and asked for black coffee.

Marie-Aude. his unflappable senior secretary, now married, and \*ith her calm unimpaired by the strain of dealing v^ith a husband and two young children in addition to her responsibilities at de Chavigny. brought him the coffee, and looked at him sternly. She was now inclined, when she dared, to be a httle bossy; a certain matemalism occasionally crept into her manner. She had now worked for Edouard for eight years, and was not easily put off.

"\^'hat day is it?" she said in a firm tone of voice.

Edouard looked at her in exasperation. He relied on her totally; he was extremely fond of her. and of her family; but he did not hke to be mothered, though the sparring between them, when she attempted it, amused him.

"It is May eighteenth."

"Oh, you do know ... I thought you might have forgotten. I thought you might just possibly have lost track. Last night you were in Washington, D.C. Yesterday morning you were in Seattle. The day before that you were in Tokyo. ..."

"I'm well aware of that. I'm now here."

"You shouldn't be here. You should be in bed. You must have jet lag."

"I do not have jet lag. I never have jet lag. I never felt better. Perhaps, some more coffee?"

His secretary poured the coffee. She passed it across the desk, folded her arms, and frowned. 'T have deliberately kept the appointment book clear for this afternoon. ..."

"Excellent." He paused. ".And you may cancel any appointments made for this e\ening. as well."

She began to smile; a gleam of triumph appeared in her eyes. So, for once he %as going to be sensible, she told herself. He would stay here an hour, two hours, just enough to make his usual routine checks, and then he would return to St. Cloud to rest. He would, this impossible man, behave hke a normal man. with normal frailties, just for once. . . .

"Because." Edouard went on. seeing the gleam of triumph. "I have a great deal of work to do here. I shan't be leaving before eight. Probably later. Ah . . ."In the outer office a telephone had begun to ring.

"That will be Monsieur Scher. Put him through, would you?"

His secretary sighed. She left the room, put through the call, and then, on her other hne. telephoned her mother, who could be relied on to step into the breach whenever necessary. Her mother would do the marketing for her. prepare dinner, put the two little ones to bed. . . .

DESTINY • 711

"Maman. A little problem . . . yes, I'm afraid so. I'm not sure. At least until eight ..."

Her mother sighed. "Nine. Let us be realistic." She paused. "So. He's back then?"

Later that afternoon, Edouard left his offices briefly, was driven to the de Chavigny showrooms, and shown straight to the vaults. There, the possible presents for Catharine were laid out for his inspection, as they were every year. This year, for the first time, he was late in making the inspection, and it was perhaps for this reason, he told himself, that the annual ritual seemed emptier than before. He found himself, for the first time, impatient with it. He was eager to return to his office; he was eager to return to the fray.

Her fifth birthday; five years. He chose the present swiftly and with less deliberation than usual: a necklace of pearls—five strands of them, one for each year. They were placed with the other gifts in the safe. Less than ten minutes had passed.

He was tempted, momentarily, to make a detour to St. Cloud, or to send a messenger to collect the small envelope which he knew would be waiting for him there, in George's safekeeping. The annual note from Madeleine; the annual photograph. He wanted to look at them; he wanted to hold them in his hands—but the need was less strong than it usually was. There was another connection now, stronger than the one which they provided him—all his instincts could sense it. For better or for worse, some crisis was approaching. He returned to his office; no messenger was sent.