Stardust(184)
“Mr. Jenkins?” A secretary came up to them. “The union ’s here. About the musicians.”
“Right there,” Bunny said.
“Musicians? I thought Continental didn’t do musicals.”
“We didn’t have Julie before. She’s good. And we signed her cheap. It’s worth a shot.” Already head of the studio.
“Sam’ll be happy.”
“Well, there’s that, too,” Bunny said, dismissive, moving away. He opened the paper again, then shook his head. “No more stunts? Please.”
“He lied to you.”
Bunny handed Ben the paper. “Everybody lies to me. Mr. L will be pleased anyway. Like a one-two punch team, aren’t you?” He looked up at him. “Fay said you saved his life.”
“She’s exaggerating. I was just there.”
“He’ll be grateful,” Bunny said, his voice flat.
Henderson turned up an hour later.
“Everywhere I look, what do I see?” he said, tossing the paper on Ben’s desk. “You all over the page.”
The paper had landed with the bottom half faceup. A picture Ben hadn’t noticed before, pushed below the fold by the Minot story: Kaltenbach at a press conference in Berlin, surrounded by men in bulky suits.
“I didn’t know you guys read the papers,” Ben said.
“You’ve got a mouth for brains, anybody ever tell you? Let’s take a walk.”
“You can give me the lecture right here. Don’t worry, there isn’t any more. The Bureau isn’t going to come into it. If that’s what—”
“Give me a preview. Tomorrow’s edition.”
“This is it.”
“That’s not what it says.”
“We don’t need any more. Once they see this, they’ll come running. Look how fast you got here.”
Henderson stared at him. Ben picked up the paper, scanning the Kaltenbach piece.
“So he made it.”
“You didn’t see it? He denounced Ostermann. A real German would come back, build a new Germany. Ostermann’s a ‘cosmopolitan.’ Not even a German anymore.”
“They made him say it.”
“They’ll make him say a lot of things. Drove himself to Mexico. Funny, isn’t it, since he couldn’t drive.”
“Couldn’t he? Who told you that? Danny?”
Henderson motioned his head toward the door. “Show me the lot.”
Ben took him past the sound stages to the New York street, empty today, the brownstone fronts as silent as a ghost town.
“You’re trying to get yourself killed,” Henderson said.
“That was the idea, wasn’t it?”
“The idea was to find your brother’s mailman. Make him come after the list. Not after you.”
“When did you get all protective? They’ve already tried once. We both knew how this was going to work.”
“Not by going to the papers.”
“What are you worried about? That I’m going to embarrass the Bureau? Give away state secrets?”
“What state secrets.”
“That’s right. There is no list.”
“It’s classified,” Henderson said evenly. “It has to stay that way.”
“It will. You think I’d tell Polly? I’m that crazy?”
Henderson turned. “I’m not the one setting myself up as target practice.”
“Look, they know I have the letter. But nobody moves. Still safe. Even with you hanging around. But I go public, they’ve got to stop me. Come out where we can see them.” He opened his hand. “Then you go to work.”
“There’s talk of bringing you in,” Henderson said slowly. “Preventative custody.”
“To prevent what?”
“You talking out of turn.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“I just said it’s been discussed. People are nervous. Kind of thing, nobody ends up looking good.”
“You forget, I came to you,” Ben said. “Well, let’s just say you got to us anyway.”
“Give it one more day. They’ll bite now. We’re on the same side here, aren’t we?”
Henderson had stopped, looking at the street set. “There’s nothing behind that, right? You look at those windows, you think there’s a room there. It’s something, how they do that.”
Ben waited.
“You know, it’s a funny thing, people in the field, I’ve seen it happen. They work so many sides, it gets confusing. They don’t know which side they’re on anymore. I think something like that happened to your brother.”
Ben shook his head. “You didn’t know him. We’re alike.”