“No.”
“No, he didn’t discuss it with you?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, now, that’s interesting, because we have testimony, and we’ll get it sworn in later, that Mr. Schaeffer actually reshot scenes—a pretty expensive proposition I’m told—after consulting with you. Do you recall that?”
“We didn’t have enough reaction shots. He took a few more, that’s all.”
“Reaction shots of who?”
“Brian Hill.”
“That’s the fellow playing the Russian. Make his part bigger, that the idea?”
“In that scene, yes.”
“Quite a bit bigger, in fact. That’s where he talks about the Russian people, isn’t it. How they’re hungry because the Nazis took over their farms. Now some of us were under the impression that all started a little earlier, when the Soviets did it, forced them into collectives, but we’re not here to give history lessons and neither was Convoy to Murmansk, I guess. Just make the Russians look like all-around good guys. That was more the point, wouldn’t you say?”
Hal said nothing.
“Wouldn’t you say?” Minot repeated.
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Well, not so much a question. More a general impression.”
“Of the picture? I thought Schaeffer did a good job, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“He had to shoot it in a tank. Technically, it’s a headache, Navy pictures.”
“I meant your overall impression of the story line. What the movie was saying.”
Hal shrugged. “It was a U-boat picture. A war picture.”
“Did Mr. Schaeffer ask you to feature the Russians, when you edited scenes?”
“No.”
“But you did in this scene.”
“You cut to whoever has the dramatic moment. Who the audience would want to see.”
“And in this case, they’d want to see Lieutenant Malinkov, our friend from Murmansk?”
“What the hell is this about?” Lasner said, his voice low, but loud enough to be heard in the row. Fay put a hand on his arm, shushing him.
“Were you aware at the time of Mr. Schaeffer’s political affiliations?”
“No.”
“I’ve been told that the editor is the unsung hero on a picture, the one who makes the real decisions. What we see up there, that’s pretty much what you want us to see. How you want us to feel about it. You agree with that?”
“You can only work with what they shoot.”
“A modest man. But Mr. Schaeffer put a lot of trust in you. From what I hear, he gave you pretty much a free hand. Easier when somebody knows what you’re after. Heart in the right place, so to speak. I’d like to return for a minute, if I may, to Mr. Stein. Your comrade, if I can use the word, in that little dustup on Gower Street. Was that the first time you’d met him?”
“No.”
“Oh, you knew him, then.”
“I’ve met him, I wouldn’t say I knew him.”
“Where’d you meet?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Somebody’s house. Socially.”
“Come now, Mr. Jasper, it was a little closer to home than that, wasn’t it? Would you like to identify the name Elaine Seitzman for the committee?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Seitzman’s her married name?”
“Yes.”
“A housewife. And a secretary. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“A paralegal secretary. Howard Stein’s secretary for a while, isn’t that so?”
“Her firm did some work for him once. That’s a lot of years ago.”
“Got arrested with him, in fact. A public disturbance. Or maybe she was just on her way to work, too,” he said, smiling to the audience. “It seems to be an unlucky family that way. She introduce you to Howard Stein?”
“She may have. I don’t remember. I only met him to shake hands.”
“Even though she was working for him.”
“Her firm worked for him.”
“All right, I’m not here to contradict you. Her firm. She stay with them?”
“No, she left after she got married.”
“But she kept working. This time for the government. Care to tell us in what capacity?”
“As a paralegal.”
“I meant which branch of the government. Turns out it was the NLRB,” Minot said, picking up a note. “That’s the National Labor Relations Board, for anyone here doesn’t know. Is that where they’re recruiting now? Howard Stein’s office?”
Ben noticed Ostermann raising his head at this, interested.