CORD AIRCRAFT, INC. 2 page

I laid the rod alongside the outside wall of the cabin and went inside. Monica was sitting in a chair near the telephone, turning the pages of a magazine. I picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Mr. Cord?"

"Yes."

"Just a moment," the operator sang. "Los Angeles, your party is on the wire."

I heard a click, then a familiar voice. "Jonas?"

"Rina?"

"Yes," she said. "I've been trying to get you for three days. Nobody would tell me where you were, then I thought of the cabin."

"Great," I said, looking over the telephone at Monica. She was looking down at the magazine but I knew she was listening.

"By the way," Rina said in that low, husky voice. "Congratulations. I hope you'll be very happy. Your bride's a very pretty girl."

"You know her?"

"No," Rina answered quickly. "I saw the pictures in the papers."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks. But that isn't why you called."

"No, it's not," she said with her usual directness. "I need your help."

"If it's another ten you need, I can always let you have it."

"It's for more money than that. Much more."

"How much more?"

"Two million dollars."

"What?" I all but yelled. "What the hell do you need that much money for?"

"It's not for myself," she said. Her voice sounded very upset. "It's for Nevada. He's in a bind. He's about to lose everything he's got."

"But I thought he was doing great. The papers say he's making a half million dollars a year."

"He is," Rina said. "But— "

"But what?" I pulled out a cigarette and fished around for a match. I knew Monica saw me but she kept her nose buried in the magazine. "I’m listening," I said, dragging on the cigarette.

"Nevada's hocked everything he has to make a picture. He's been working on it for over a year and now everything's gone wrong and they don't want to release it."

"Why?" I asked. "Is it a stinker?"

"No," she said quickly. "It's not that. It's great. But only talking pictures are going. That's all the theaters will play."

"Why didn't he make a talking picture to start with?" I asked.

"He started it more than a year ago. Nobody expected talkies to come in the way they did," she answered. "Now the bank's calling his loan and Norman won't advance any more money. He claims he's stuck with his own pictures."

"I see," I said.

"You've got to help him, Jonas. His whole life is wrapped up in this picture. If he loses it, he'll never get over it."

"Nevada never cared that much about money," I said.

"It isn't the money," she said quickly. "It's the way he feels about this picture. He believes in it. For once, he had a chance to show what the West was really like."

"Nobody gives a damn what the West was really like."

"Did you ever see one of his pictures?" she asked.

"No."

A shade of disbelief crept into her voice. "Weren't you curious to see what he looked like on the screen?"

"Why should I be?" I asked. "I know what he looks like."

Her voice went flat. "Are you going to help?"

"That's a lot of dough," I said. "Why should I?"

"I remember when you wanted something real bad and he gave it to you."

I knew what she was talking about. Nevada's stock interest in Cord Explosives. "It didn't cost him two million bucks," I said.

"It didn't?" she asked. "What's it worth now?"

That stopped me for a moment. Maybe it wasn't yet, but in five more years it would be.

"If he's in that much of a jam," I said, ''why didn't he call me himself?"

"Nevada's a proud man," she said. "You know that."

"How come you're so interested?"

"Because he's my friend," she said quickly. "When I needed help, he didn't ask any questions."

"I’m not promising anything," I said. "But I'll fly down to L.A. tonight. Where can I reach you?"

"I'm staying at Nevada's," she said. "But you better let me meet you someplace. I don't want him to know I called you."

"O.K.," I said. "I’ll be at the Beverly Hills Hotel about midnight."

I put down the telephone. "Who was that?" Monica asked.

"My father's widow," I said, walking past her toward the bedroom. "Pack your bags. I'm taking you back to the ranch. I have to go down to L.A. on business tonight."

"But it's only been five days," she said. "You promised we'd have a two-week honeymoon."

"This is an emergency."

She followed me into the bedroom as I sat down on the bed and pulled off my waders. "What will people think if we come back from our honeymoon after only five days?" she said.

I stared up at her. "What the hell do I care what they think?"

She began to cry. "I won't go," she said, stamping her foot.

I got to my feet and started out. "Then stay!" I said angrily. "I'm going down the hill to get the car. If you're not ready when I get back, I'm leaving without you!"

What was it with dames, anyway? You stood in front of some two-bit preacher for five lousy minutes and when you walked away, everything was turned inside out.

Before you were married, it was great. You were the king. She stood there with one hand on your cock to let you know she wanted it, and with the other, tried to light your cigarette, wash your back, feed your face and smooth your pillow all at the same time.

Then come the magic words and you got to beg for it. You got to go by the book. Play with it, warm it up, treat it gentle. You got to rest on your elbows and light her cigarettes and carry her wrap and open doors. You even have to thank her when she lets you have it, the same piece she couldn't stop offering you before.

I pulled the car up in front of the cabin and tooted the horn. Monica came out carrying a small bag and stood there waiting for me to open the car door. After a moment, she opened the door and got in with a grieved expression. And she wore the same expression for the two hours it took us to drive back to the ranch.

It was nine o'clock when I pulled up in front of the house. As usual, Robair was at the door. His expression didn't change when I stayed in the car after he took out Monica's valise. His eyes flicked across my face as he turned and bowed to Monica. "Evenin', Miz Cord," he said. "Ah have you' room all tidied up an' ready for you." Robair looked at me again and turned and went back up the steps.

When Monica spoke, her voice was low and taut as a bowstring. "How long will you be gone?"

I shrugged. "As long as it takes for me to finish my business." Then I felt a softening inside me. What the hell, after all we'd only been married for five days. "I’ll get back as quick as I can."

"Don't hurry back!" she said and stalked up the steps and into the house without a backward glance.

I swore angrily and threw the car into gear, then started up the road to the plant. I kept the old Waco in the field behind it. I was still angry when I climbed into the cockpit and I didn't begin to feel better until I was twenty-five hundred feet up and heading toward Los Angeles.

I LOOKED DOWN AT THE BLUE-COVERED SCRIPT in my hand, then back up at Rina. Time hadn't taken anything away from her. She was still slim and strong and her breasts jutted like rocks at the canyon edge and I knew they would be just as hard to the touch. The only things that had changed were her eyes. There was a sureness in them that hadn't been there before.

"I’m not much for reading," I said.

"I thought that was what you'd say," she said. "So I arranged with the studio to screen the picture for you. They're waiting down there right now."

"How long you been out here?"

"About a year and a half. Ever since I came back from Europe."

"Staying at Nevada's all this time?"

She nodded.

"You sleeping with him?"

She didn't evade. "Yes. He's very good for me."

"Are you good for him?" I asked.

Her eyes were still on mine. "I hope so," she said quietly. "But that doesn't really matter. You don't give a damn whether I am or I'm not."

"I was just curious," I said, getting to my feet and dropping the script on the chair. "I was just wondering what it takes to keep you."

"It's not what you think," she said quickly.

"What is it, then?" I shot back. "Money?"

"No." She shook her head. "A man. A real man. I never could make it with boys."

That touched home. "Maybe I’ll make it in time," I said.

"You just got married five days ago."

I stared at her for a moment. I could feel all the old familiar excitement climbing up in me. "Let's go," I said tersely. "I haven't got all night."

I sat in the darkened projection room with Rina on one side of me and Von Elster, the director, on the other.

Rina hadn't lied. The picture was great, but for only one reason. Nevada. He held the picture together with an innate core of strength that somehow illuminated the screen.

It was the strength I had always felt in him but up there it was larger, more purposeful, and no one could escape it. He started out on that screen as a sixteen-year-old boy and rode off into the hills in the end as a twenty-five-year-old man. Not once during the whole picture was I ever aware of his real age.

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh as the lights came up. I reached for a cigarette, still feeling the excitement of the screen. I lit the cigarette and dragged on it. The surging reached down into my loins. There was still something missing, I felt vaguely. Then I felt the heat in my thighs and I knew what it was.

I looked at Von Elster. "Outside of that small bit about the madam in New Orleans and the convict's daughter in the cow town, there aren't any women in the picture."

Von Elster smiled. "There are some things you don't do in a Western. Women is one of them."

"Why?"

"Because the industry feels that the image of the clean, strong man must be preserved. The hero can be guilty of any crime but fornication."

I laughed and got to my feet. "Forgive the question," I said. "But why can't you just add voices the way you did the music? Why make the whole thing over?"

"I wish we could," Von Elster said. "But the projection speed of silent film is different from sound film. Talking film is projected at the speed of speech, while silent film moves much faster, depending on dialogue cards and broader action to carry the story."

I nodded. Mechanically, what he said made sense. Like everything else in this world, there was a technology to this business and it was beginning to interest me. Without mechanics, the whole thing would be impossible.

"Come back to the hotel with me. I'd like to talk some more about this."

I saw a sudden look of caution come into Rina's eyes. She glanced at Von Elster, then turned to me. "It's almost four o'clock," she said quickly. "And I think we've gone about as far as we can without Nevada."

"O.K.," I said easily. "You bring him up to the hotel in the morning. Eight o'clock, all right?"

"Eight o'clock will be fine."

"I can drop you off at your hotel, Mr. Cord," Von Elster said eagerly.

I glanced at Rina. She shook her head imperceptibly. "Thanks," I said. "Rina can drop me on her way home."

Rina didn't speak until the car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. "Von Elster is on the make," she said. "He's worried. He's never made a talking picture before and he wants to do this one. It's a big picture and if it comes off, he'll be in solid again."

"You mean he's shaky?" I asked.

"Everybody in Hollywood is. From Garbo and Gilbert on down. No one is sure just what talking pictures are going to do to their career. I hear John Gilbert's voice is so bad that MGM won't even pencil him in for another picture."

"What about Nevada's voice?"

"It's good," she said. "Very good. We made a sound test the other day."

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about."

"Are you going to do it?" she asked.

"What's in it for me if I do?" I countered.

"You could make a lot of money," she said.

"I don't need it," I said. "I’ll make a lot of money, anyway."

Her eyes turned to me, her voice was cold. "You haven't changed, have you?"

I shook my head. "No. Why should I? Does anybody? Did you?" I reached for her hand. It was cold as ice. "Just how much are you willing to give to bail Nevada out?"

Her eyes were steady on mine. "I'd give everything I've got if it would help."

I felt a kind of sadness creeping into me. I wondered how many people would say that for me. Right then, I couldn't think of one. I let go of her hand and got out of the car.

She leaned toward me. "Well, Jonas, have you made up your mind?"

"Not yet," I said slowly. "There's a lot more I have to know about."

"Oh." She leaned back disappointedly.

"But don't you worry," I said. "If I do it, you'll be the first one I come to for payment."

She signaled the chauffeur. He put the car into gear. "Knowing you," she said quietly, "I never expected anything else."

The limousine rolled away and I turned and walked into the hotel. I went up to my room and opened up the script. It took about an hour and a half to go through it. It was almost six o'clock before I closed my eyes.

The telephone kept banging away at my head. I shook my head to clear it and looked at my watch. It was a few minutes past seven. I picked up the phone.

"Mr. Cord? Von Elster here. I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I'm down in the lobby with Mr. Norman. It's very important we see you before you meet with Nevada."

"Who's Norman?" I asked, still trying to clear my head.

"Bernard B. Norman of Norman Pictures. That's the company releasing the picture. Mr. Norman feels he can be of help to you in making the right kind of deal with Nevada."

"Why should I need any help?" I asked. "I've known Nevada all my life."

His voice grew confidential. "Nevada's all right, Mr. Cord. But his agent, Dan Pierce, is a very sharp man. Mr. Norman just wants to give you a few pointers before you tangle with him."

I reached for a cigarette. Von Elster hadn't lost any time. He'd run right back to his boss the minute he smelled my money. I didn't know what they wanted but I was damn sure it boded no good for Nevada.

"Wait down there until I can get dressed. I'll call you."

I put down the phone and finished lighting the cigarette. The blue cover of the script caught my eye. I picked up the telephone again. I gave the operator Tony Moroni's home number out in the valley.

"Sorry to wake you up, Tony," I said. "This is Jonas."

His soft voice chuckled over the phone. "That's all right, Jonas. I get up early, anyway. By the way, congratulations on your marriage."

"Thanks," I said automatically, suddenly remembering I hadn't even thought about Monica since I came to town. "Did you bank Nevada Smith's new picture?"

"The Renegade?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, we did," he answered.

"What's the story on it?" I asked.

"Its a good picture," he said. "It would have a bettor chance if it were a talkie, but it's a good picture."

"If you think it's good, why are you calling your loan?"

"Let me ask a question first, Jonas," he said. "Exactly what is your interest?"

"I don't know yet," I said frankly. "Nevada's my friend. I want to find out what's happening. Why are you calling the loan?"

"You know how we work," he explained. "We made the loan to Smith on his collateral plus the guarantee of the Norman Pictures Company. Now Bernie Norman needs credit to remake some of his own pictures, so he's withdrawing his guarantee. Automatically, that means we have to call in the loan."

No wonder Von Elster and Bernie Norman were down in the lobby waiting to see me. They didn't want anybody to interfere with their fingering Nevada.

"Exactly what happens to Nevada?" I asked.

"If he can't pay the loan, we foreclose on the picture, then all his collateral goes into an escrow account. Then we liquidate until we recover."

"What do you do with the picture then?" I asked. "Junk it?"

"Oh, no." He laughed softly. "Then we turn it over to Norman to release. That gives Bernie a chance to get his money out. He has about four hundred thousand in it. After he recovers, the overage is paid to us. When our loan is paid off, we turn over what's left to Smith."

The whole thing was beginning to make sense. By the time any money got to Nevada, he'd have had it. "What's the chances on any overage?" I asked.

"Not very good," Tony answered. "Under the present deal, the distribution fees are very low and Nevada Smith's money comes out first. When we take over, the fees will triple and his share will come out last."

"Who gets the fees — the bank?"

He laughed again. "Of course not. Bernie does. He's the distributor."

Now I had it. The boys downstairs were going to make it real big. Screw Nevada. That way, they could grab themselves off a big one for practically nothing. I wondered just how smart Nevada's agent could be if he let him stick his head into a trap like that.

"One more question, Tony," I said, "and I'll stop bothering you. How much more money should it take to make The Renegade over as a talkie?"

He was silent for a moment. "Let's see," he said. "The sets are still standing, they have all the costumes. That's about half the cost. Maybe another million, less, if they're lucky."

"Is it worth it?"

He hesitated. "I usually don't venture opinions on pictures. Too many things can happen."

"This time, venture," I said. "I need an opinion from somebody who hasn't any ax to grind."

"From every report I've had, it could be a very good gamble."

"Thanks," I said. "Now do me a favor. Hold off any action on the loan until I talk to you later in the day. Maybe I’ll come in on the guarantee in place of Norman."

"You'll still need another million after that."

"I know," I answered. "But my writing hand's still good. I can always sign another note."

Moroni laughed pleasantly as we said our good-bys. He wasn't worried. He knew I could cover the money easily out of the advance I got from the syndicate that leased the patents on my plastic mold. Bankers always were ready to lend you as much money as you wanted, so long as you could put up collateral.

I looked down at my watch as I put down the phone. It was almost seven thirty and I felt fuzzy. I started to pick up the phone, then changed my mind. The hell with them. Let them wait if they wanted to see me. I turned and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

The telephone rang three different times while I was under the shower. I stood there letting the hot water soak into my skin and wash away the weariness. It was almost eight o'clock when I came out of the bathroom and the telephone began ringing again.

It was Von Elster again. His voice was low and conspiratorial. "Nevada, his agent and Rina are on their way up," he whispered. "They didn't see us."

"Good," I said.

"But how are we going to meet?"

"I guess it's too late now," I said easily. "I'll just have to take my chances with Nevada's agent, I guess. Tell your Mr. Norman I appreciate his offer, though. If there's anything I need, I’ll call him.''

I heard his gasp of shock as I hung up. I laughed and wondered how he was going to explain that to his boss. I climbed into my trousers and was reaching for a shirt when a knock came at the door.

"Come in," I yelled from the bedroom. I heard the door open and finished buttoning up my shirt. I looked for my shoes but they were over on the other side of the bed. It wasn't worth walking over to get them so I came out in my bare feet.

Rina was already seated on the big couch. Nevada and another man were standing in the middle of the room. A slow smile came over Nevada's face. He held out his hand. "Jonas," he said warmly.

I took his hand awkwardly. It seemed funny to shake hands with him as one would with a stranger. "Nevada."

There were faint lines of strain in the corners of his eyes, but for a moment they disappeared as he looked up into my face. "You're lookin' more like your pappy every day, son."

"You're lookin' pretty good yourself. Where'd you get them duds?"

A faint tinge of sheepishness came into his face. "That's part of the act," he said. "I got to wear 'em. The kids expect it." He fished in his pocket with that familiar gesture and came up with a package of makin's. He began to roll a cigarette. "I been readin' a lot about you in the papers. Flyin’ from Paris to Los Angeles, gettin' married an' all. Your wife with you?"

I shook my head.

He glanced at me shrewdly. In that moment, I knew he knew how it was with Monica and me. He could read me like a book. I could never hide anything from him. "Too bad," he said. "I'd like to have met her."

I looked at the other man to change the subject. Nevada caught himself quickly. "Oh, this is Dan Pierce, my agent."

We shook hands and I came right to the point. "I saw your picture last night," I said. "I liked it. Too bad you have to make it over."

"I thought talking pictures wouldn't last," Nevada said.

"That’s not the whole story, Nevada," Pierce broke in angrily. He turned to me. "Nevada wanted the picture silent, sure, but by the time we'd started shooting, he saw he was wrong. We tried then to turn it into a talkie but we couldn't."

"Why?"

"Norman wouldn't let us," Pierce said. "He only had one sound stage at that time and he was using it for one of his own pictures. He insisted we start shooting right away or he'd withdraw his guarantee."

The picture was clear now. The whole thing had been a sucker play from the start. I looked at Nevada. I didn't understand it. He was a better poker player than that.

Nevada read me again. "I know what you're thinkin', boy," he said quickly. "But I wanted to make this picture. It said something that none of the other phonies I’d been in even came close to."

"What about Norman?" I asked. "How come they won't advance you the money to shoot it over?"

"They've run out of credit," Nevada said. "That's why the bank is calling the loan."

"That's a lot of crap!" Pierce exploded again. "We're caught in a squeeze play. Bernie Norman makes the bank call our loan and the bank turns the picture back to him. He gets it for peanuts — about a third what it would have cost him to make it."

"How much would it take to make the picture over?" I asked.

Nevada looked at me. "About a million bucks."

"Plus the loan the bank is calling," Pierce added quickly.

I turned to him. "Would you still have Norman release the picture?"

He nodded. "Sure. They've got ten thousand contracts on it an' if it's a talkie, not a theater will cancel out."

"If it’s silent?"

"We'll be lucky to get fifteen hundred," he said. "They all want talkies."

"What do you think I should do?"

Nevada hesitated a moment, then his eyes came squarely on mine. "I wouldn't do it if I was you," he said frankly. "You could blow the whole bundle."

I saw the look that Pierce threw him. It was filled with anger but also with a peculiar sort of respect. To Pierce I was just another sucker. But to his credit, he recognized that I was something more to Nevada.

I stared at him for a moment, then turned and looked down at Rina, sitting on the couch. Her face was impassive. Only her eyes were pleading.

I turned back to Nevada. "I'll take the shot," I said. "But only on one condition. I’ll buy you out and it will be my picture. And when we make it again, we'll make it the way I want it. There'll be no arguments; everybody will do as they're told. You included. If I'm going to lose the hand, at least I want to deal the cards."

Nevada nodded. He'd heard my father say the same words often enough. And he'd been the one who taught me always to reach for the deal when the stakes were high.

"But what do you know about making pictures?" Pierce asked.

"Nothing," I said. "But how many people do you know who have made a talking picture?"

That stopped him. I could see the comprehension come into his eyes. What I had said was true. It was a new business. There were no veterans any more. I turned back to Nevada. "Well?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I'm lettin' you take the whole risk. I can't lose anything."

"You're wrong!" Pierce said quickly. "If it's a stinker, your career is shot!"

Nevada smiled at him. "I got along pretty good before," he said. "I'm a little old to worry about anything I fell into by accident."

"Well, Nevada?"

He stuck out his hand and the worry lines around his eyes lifted suddenly and he was young again. "It's a deal, Junior."

I took his hand and then went over to the telephone. I called Moroni at the bank. "Make arrangements to transfer the loan to Cord Explosives," I said.

"Good luck, Jonas," he said with a chuckle. "I had the feeling you were going to do it."

"Then you knew more than I did."

"That's what makes a good banker," he said.

I hung up and turned back to the others. "Now, the first thing I do is fire Von Elster."

Nevada's face was shocked. "But Von is one of the best in the business," he protested. "He's directed every picture I ever made. He discovered me."

"He's a lousy little shit," I said. "The minute he thought you were in trouble, he tried to sell you out. He had Bernie Norman up here at seven o'clock this morning. They wanted to give me some free advice. I didn't talk to them."

"Now maybe you'll believe me when I say Bernie was behind the squeeze," Pierce said.

"Like it or not, Nevada," I said, "we made a deal. It's my picture and what I say goes."

He nodded silently.

"The next thing I want is for Pierce to arrange for me to see as many of the talkies as possible in the next three days. Then, next weekend, I'll fly you all to New York. We're goin' to spend three or four days goin' to the theater. We might even pick up a stage director while we're there. We'll see." I paused to light a cigarette and saw a sudden look come over Nevada's face. "What are you smiling at?"

"Like I said, you're gettin' more like your pappy every day."

I grinned back at him. Just then, the waiter came in with breakfast. Nevada and Pierce went into the bathroom to wash up and Rina and I were left alone.

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 497