For The Death Of Me (5 page)

‘What's that likely to be?'

‘Which? The percentage or the gross?'

‘Both.'

‘Okay, let's say two and a half per cent of a budget of thirty million dollars. That's three quarters of a million.'

He gazed at me thoughtfully, as the waiter finally served each of us a beer with a wedge of lime jammed into the neck. ‘And that's all I'd get?' he asked, as he pressed it down into the bottle.

I did the same with mine, took a swig, then nodded. ‘That's the norm. We might cut you in on a percentage of the DVD profits, though, as an added incentive. If you'd been sensible enough to get yourself an agent, he'd have asked for that.'

‘How much?'

‘Same percentage, two and a half.'

‘What would the likely take be from that?'

‘That's impossible to predict.'

Dylan killed most of his beer on one gulp and waved for two more. ‘So out with it, what are you going to offer me?'

I glanced at my watch. ‘Until about two hours ago, I was going to offer you a hundred thousand US. Now . . . nothing.'

He almost fell out of his chair. ‘Nothing? Come on, I'm Benny Luker, author, and I'm letting you in on a book that's doing very nicely in the US. Forget the past, this is a commercial proposition I've got here.'

I sighed and opened the bomb-bay doors, ready to release. ‘Benny, I can't forget the past, and you can't wish it away either. I wasn't going into this deal on my own. I'm not a producer, that's not my thing. I've got a partner, who was going to do all the development work, and direct.'

‘Who?'

‘Miles Grayson.'

He looked at me blankly. ‘So?'

‘So? So! . . . Like Susie said, are you sure that Dutchman didn't shoot you in the fucking head, Dylan? Remember that scam you and your mate pulled? It involved kidnapping Dawn, Miles's pregnant wife, Prim's sister, and you went along with it. If he had caught up with you, he'd have shot you himself, as often as it took to get the job done. I fancy he still might.'

Comprehension spread across my undead friend's face. ‘Shit! I'd forgotten about him.'

‘Miles isn't someone you can forget.'

‘What if I wrote to him, and to Dawn, apologising for my part in that and saying I'd no idea it was going to get that serious?'

‘He'd probably do one of two things: come after you himself, or tell your publisher who you really are, and have your book taken out of print and remaindered. You better believe me, he's got the clout to do that.'

‘Then I'm stuffed.'

He was too, or he would have been if I hadn't been overcome by an unprecedented burst of sentimental generosity. ‘You're right, though,' I said. ‘There is money to be made. Tell you what, I'll give you a fifty-thousand-dollar advance for a three-year option off my own bat. I'll have Roscoe, my agent, draw up a contract and you'll sign it, no questions asked, same terms I've just outlined. There are two people in the world with a chance of persuading Miles to let you live and to go along with this project. I'm one, but it would be a long shot even for me. No, I'll have to get Dawn on-side.'

‘Do you think you can?'

‘Maybe, if her sister backs me up.'

‘Prim. Will she?'

‘I reckon. I still have some leverage there. I'd never use it, but she can't be certain of that.'

‘Leverage?'

‘Our son, Tom. I control her access to him. I love the wee chap, and I'd never cut him off from his mother, but it gives me a hold over her. She'll co-operate with me.'

‘If she knows what's best for her?'

‘I'd never put it that way, but she needs to stay on my good side and she knows it.'

Dylan stared at me; I think he was a wee bit scared. ‘God,' he murmured, ‘what a calculating bastard you've become.'

I grinned and gave him the old Jim Holton line. ‘Aye, and don't you forget it.'

4

After another beer or two, Dylan agreed to the deal. I arranged to meet him at the Columbus at ten next morning with an agreement for signature, and a cheque for fifty thousand, drawn on my dollar account, then we walked back down the hill and went our separate ways. He set off to look at the boats in the marina, and maybe indulge in a few day-dreams; I grabbed a taxi and went home.

When I got there I went straight to my office and called Roscoe in Los Angeles. I was in luck: he was at his desk. He has all sorts of standard contracts in his files, and knew exactly where to find one to fit the purpose. I gave him the numbers, and asked him to fill them in, then send the finished article to Audrey by e-mail, for her to prepare. He must have been busy, for he didn't bother to ask what the hell I was doing buying movie rights to anything. But if he was, some of that was my doing: Roscoe's star has risen alongside mine in the film world.

That done, I changed into Speedo trunks and went out to the terrace. Prim and Susie were in the pool with the kids, Jonathan included. He can swim almost as well as the other two, but we still make him wear armbands.

I dived in and surfaced beside Tom and Janet. ‘Hi, you two. Had a good afternoon?'

‘You've been drinking beer,' said my daughter, disapprovingly.

I nodded. ‘Yup, and you're just jealous 'cos you're not old enough.'

‘Mum took us out,' Tom told me, as if no one else ever did. It's funny: he calls both Prim and Susie ‘Mum', but we're never in any doubt which one he's talking about. The wee chap looked as pleased as Punch. For various reasons . . . all of them her own fault . . . Primavera hadn't seen much of him during the previous year, but clearly he didn't hold that against her.

‘Let me guess where.' I chuckled.

Prim swam across; like Susie, she did not see the need for a bikini top. Her nipples were different, bigger yet smaller, if you know what I mean. ‘The motor museum,' she said. ‘I come all this way, and I wind up looking at cars.'

‘Those are the rules with our boy,' I told her. ‘You can take him anywhere you like in Monaco, as long as it's the motor museum.'

‘Can't you wean him off it?'

‘Why should I? I like it too.' I grinned at Tom. ‘What was your favourite car today, son?'

‘The bubble car.'

‘Again? That's two days running. Usually he has a different favourite every visit,' I explained.

‘Maybe he wants to associate that one with both of us.'

‘That's very perceptive: you may well be right,' I granted.

‘What's your favourite, Mum?' Tom asked.

‘The Cadillac, nineteen sixty-three model,' Prim told him. I stared at her, surprised.

‘That's Dad's favourite too,' our son explained. ‘Can you buy one, Dad?'

‘There would be no point. I'd never drive it; all we'd do is look at it, and we can do that at the museum.'

‘Can we get a bubble car, then?'

‘I doubt if there's one to be found any more, Tom. Do you know, your Grandpa Blackstone used to have one of those, way back, before your Aunt Ellie and I were born. I've never been able to figure out how he got in and out of it.'

‘That's a strange choice of car for a young man,' said Susie, appearing beside us with a furiously paddling Jonathan in tow.

‘My mum's parents approved of it,' I said, ‘or so she told me, for a reason which probably occurs to you, but which we need not discuss in front of the children.'

‘I get the picture. How did your talk with Dylan go? Did you send him off empty-handed?'

‘No, tomorrow I'm going to send him off with fifty grand and an option agreement.'

‘You're going ahead with it?' Susie looked aghast.

‘I'm taking the first step. How many more will I take after that? Depends on one man's attitude, and given things that have happened in the past, it's not going to be easy bringing him on-side.'

‘Miles,' Prim exclaimed, getting the point at last.

‘The same; we're supposed to be fifty-fifty in the Luker deal.'

‘But need Miles ever know who Benny Luker really is?' she asked.

‘I've considered that,' I admitted, ‘but it would be virtually impossible to keep them apart for ever. Miles likes to eyeball the people he deals with; spinning him a story that Benedict Luker is a hermit in the J. D. Salinger mould wouldn't work for long.'

‘It wouldn't be honest either,' Susie remarked, pulling herself out of the pool, then taking Jonathan as I handed the wet, wriggling, rubbery lad up to her.

‘There is that, too. Miles has always been straight with me, I couldn't be otherwise with him.'

‘I'll speak to Dawn,' Prim declared, to my private satisfaction. Much better that she volunteer than I float the idea.

‘If you do,' I warned her, ‘be careful what you say, and how you say it. What you're telling her could have an even bigger impact on her than on Miles.'

‘No, it won't. Dawn's never associated Mike with the kidnapping. He didn't take her, and he wasn't there at any time. The way she sees it, it was all the other guy's doing. She knew Mike, remember; she cried when she heard he'd died.'

‘I bet Miles didn't, though.'

‘No,' she conceded.

‘If he doesn't go along with it,' Susie ventured, ‘what happens?'

‘I'll have given Dylan fifty thousand dollars for old times' sake. I'm not going to make the movie without his blessing, even though Roscoe could probably put me together with another producer.'

‘Fifty thousand,' she mused. ‘I suppose it could have been worse.'

‘What do you mean?' Prim asked.

‘I could have been married to the bastard.' She chuckled. ‘Imagine if I had been, and he'd resurrected himself looking for half my property. He would have, too.'

5

Prim stayed with us until past the kids' bedtime. She wanted to say goodnight to Tom, and that was fine, although I insisted that Ethel should get them all ready as usual, again so that he wouldn't feel different from the others. I like to think that I'm a considerate father; if I am it's because I had a good teacher.

When they were all tucked in, she went to see him and read him a story, probably something from his A. A. Milne collection. When she came back out to the terrace, where Susie and I had supper ready, there was a tear in her eye.

‘Is he asleep?' I asked her.

She nodded. ‘I barely made it to page two before he was off.'

‘It's been an exciting day for him.'

‘Are all his days like this?'

‘As many as we can manage,' said Susie. ‘Oz and I decided long ago to chuck the parenting manual out the window, and spoil them rotten.'

‘I've got no problem with that. You don't teach kids proper values by denying them things you can well afford. Making sure they appreciate them, that's the trick.'

We'd invited Ethel, Audrey and Conrad to eat with us. I flashed the terrace lights to let them know we were ready, then opened a bottle of cooking champagne as we waited for them to arrive. That was when my cell-phone started to chirp.

I glanced at the panel; it told me that it was Ellen, my sister. I frowned; we kept in regular touch, but it wasn't like her to call me in the middle of a Wednesday evening. I flipped Mr Moto open. ‘Hi, Ellie, what's up? We're just about to sit down to our tea here.'

There was a moment's silence. That was all, but it sent a chill through me. With my Sis, getting a word in is usually an achievement. But it wasn't my Sis. It was Harvey January, my brother-in-law. ‘Oz,' he said hesitantly, and I knew for sure it was bad. Harvey is a QC, and not given to stumbling on the phone.

‘Who is it?' It wasn't a matter of ‘what': I knew that. Something in my tone froze Susie and Prim in their tracks.

‘It's your father. Mac's had a heart-attack.'

We all spend some of our adult lives imagining, and dreading, moments like those, but we can't prepare for them. My legs went limp under me, and I sat down hard on the terrace tiles. I didn't want to hear the answer but I had to ask. ‘Is he . . .'

‘No, but he's very seriously ill. He collapsed at the golf club in Elie this evening; one of his playing partners was a doctor, who resuscitated him and kept him going till the paramedics arrived. They took him to Ninewells, in Dundee. He was unconscious when he arrived, and he's being assessed now. Ellen's on her way there.'

‘What are they saying? What's the prognosis?'

‘They're not making any promises, Oz.'

‘Harvey, I'm on my way.'

‘I'll tell Ellen. With luck you should get there around midday tomorrow.'

I glanced at my watch: it was ten past eight. ‘Fuck that. I'll be there tonight.'

I snapped the phone closed and picked myself up. Susie took hold of my arms. ‘What is it?'

‘Dad. Heart-attack.' Just at that moment, Conrad and Audrey walked out on to the terrace. They saw me and their expressions changed.

‘Audrey, I want a private jet on the ground at the nearest available airport, ready to take off in half an hour and fly me to Dundee, or as near as they'll let me land. Have an air taxi in position at the heliport right away. Conrad, I want you with me. This will go public and I cannot be fucked about by the media. Susie, drive us to the chopper pad; you can drop Prim back at the Columbus. Prim, find Dylan and tell him to stick around till further notice. I'll cover his hotel tab.'

‘I'm coming,' Susie protested.