Stardust(176)
“It wasn’t about Russia when we hired him. That came later.”
“Why did you hire him, then?”
“He was available and he works fast. We had a deadline. You hire somebody like Wyler, we’d still be on the convoy.”
This brought enough laughter to make Minot bang his gavel.
“Mr. Lasner,” he said, wearily.
“All right. Why? He knows his way around a set. I liked his work. And I like him.” He turned his head slightly toward the row where Schaeffer was still sitting. Behind Lasner, the lawyers huddled.
“There were no political considerations, then?”
“What political considerations? It was a picture.”
“Now, Mr. Lasner,” Minot said, switching tack, “you may not think about politics, but Continental’s a big place. I don’t imagine you do everything yourself. Who exactly decided to hire Mr. Schaeffer? The line producer, wouldn’t it be?”
“A thing like that, it stops with me. It doesn’t matter who the line producer was. You think I wouldn’t know? You’re just trying to get me to say—”
“Mr. Lasner, I’m not trying to get you to do anything but answer the question.”
“No, you’re saying I didn’t know what was going on in my own studio. A bunch of Commies come in and pull a fast one, that’s where you’re going with this. Well, nobody pulled anything. Nobody was a Communist. Not that I knew of. Milt, I don’t know, he says ‘no’ under oath, I believe him. You make a big deal he requests Hal. Everybody requests Hal. He’s the best cutter in the business, something you’d know if—” He stopped, hearing himself, but only for a second, rushing now. “And Gus Pollock, you try to bring him in, make it seem—”
“Mr. Lasner.”
“Wait a minute.” He took up one of his papers with notes. “Passed away, you said. I hope it was just a mistake, your staff didn’t tell you how. Gus came home in a box. A Silver Star. You think he was working against this country? But you don’t mention that. And what’s all this business with Hal’s sister? We’re after the steno pool now?”
Minot banged his gavel again. “Mr. Lasner, you’re out of order.”
“I’m out of order?”
One of the lawyers rushed up to Lasner’s table, signaling at the same time to Minot, whose head had swiveled upward, as if he were literally scenting a change in the air. One of the cameras had moved closer, its motor drowned by the buzzing in the public section. Minot nodded to the lawyer.
“The witness’s counsel is requesting a recess.”
“We don’t need a recess,” Lasner said, his voice louder. “Let’s get this over with.”
Minot banged again. “We’ll recess for ten minutes.” He turned to the rest of the committee, who looked disoriented by the unexpected outburst, and shuffled some papers for the camera.
Sol’s table was now surrounded by lawyers, blocking him from sight. “Are you crazy?” one lawyer said.
“He’s an anti-Semite,” Lasner said, still boiling. “You think I don’t know when I see it? I know it like air.”
“So what?”
“So what?” He stared at the lawyer.
“You never met an anti-Semite before? Had to deal with one?”
“All my life. I never elected one.”
“You didn’t elect this one, either. Now listen to me—”
Sol held up his hand. “I’m listening to you. Are you listening to him? You don’t want to put a stop to this?”
“That’s not up to us.”
“Who is it up to, then?”
“Fay, talk to him.”
Fay put a hand on his shoulder. “You all right?”
“I’m great.”
She made a half smile. “I know. You’re enjoying yourself.”
“Gus Pollock, for chrissake. Comes home in a box.”
“Fay,” the lawyer said again.
“What can I tell you? He’s a grown man. Am I his mother? If you ask me, they’re with him,” she said, pointing to the public section.
“There’s a way to do this,” the lawyer said.
“What way?” Lasner said. “Wait for somebody else?” He looked at Ben. “You’re the one who showed me. What happened. We’re making a goddam picture, what happens everybody waits. Who did he bring down here? The country club? No, a Jew business. I know,” he said, catching Ben’s expression, “it’s not the same. But how different? You tell me. What? Wait for somebody else?”
Ben looked at him, then glanced quickly over to the press section, everyone standing and talking but Ostermann, who sat still, his eyes on the witness table, seeing something new.