“What for?”
“I want you to handle the Ritchie-Benjamin deal.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “That started top level. That means you’re elected. Sinclair won’t have anyone but the network president handle it.”
“You come in,” I said. “I’ll take care of Sinclair.”
I put down the telephone and lit a cigarette. Sinclair wanted to play. He was entitled. After all, it was his bat and ball.
But he was going to be in for a few surprises. There was a whole new set of rules. And he would have to learn them, the first being that he shouldn’t play games.
CHAPTER FOUR
Angel’s report was on my desk when I went into the office the next day. I picked it up and skimmed through it. He was busy making points. The only person he didn’t try to assassinate was Sinclair himself.
I grinned to myself. Angel was too eager. Sinclair could read right through this one. It was too obviously self-serving. But he did make one good point. With me at the coast most of the time, there was a lack of direction in New York.
It was nothing new. We had all seen it coming for a long time. I had brought it up to Spencer almost two years ago. But he had sloughed it off then. “Spread yourself,” he had said.
I didn’t even bother. I merely concentrated on what I thought were the major items on the agenda. The rest had to drag behind. But no more.
I threw the report into the trash basket. Reports didn’t make television programs. I pressed down the intercom. “Let me know when Sinclair comes in,” I said.
“He’s right here,” Spencer’s voice came from the doorway.
I looked up and smiled. I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Mr. Sinclair,” I said.
He made a wry face as he took my hand. “I recognize that tone of voice,” he said. “So it’s going to be a formal meeting?”
“It’s time,” I smiled.
“Before we begin, am I allowed to say that I’m glad to see you, Steve?”
I grinned. “I’m glad to see you, Spencer.”
He nodded and sank into a chair in front of my desk. “Why did you send Perez to the coast?” he shot at me.
“To kill him,” I said. “I don’t like shits.”
“I asked him to do a job.”
“That was your mistake. He was working for me. It was me you should have asked.”
“His report makes sense.”
“So did mine two years ago. But you didn’t want to do anything then. I predicted we would have problems. Now that we have them, you’re ready to do something. You weren’t then.”
“He can’t be too bad,” he said. “After all, he did call you.”
“After he gave you the report. He was just playing it safe.”
“I’m chairman of the board and responsible for the financial affairs of the company. You can’t say this year has been a roaring success.”
“You forgot something,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“When you made me president of the whole company, I automatically became its chief operating officer. I don’t like anyone usurping my authority. Not even you.”
“Don’t be so touchy, Steve, I was only trying to help.”
“I know that. But you broke the rules. And you can’t do that anymore. It’s another kind of ball game now.”
“You mean to say I can’t take corrective measures when I see something wrong?” He was beginning to lose his temper.
“There is something you can do,” I said. “Tell me.”
“How the hell can I tell you anything when you’re out of the office all the time?”
“Did you ever hear of the telephone?” I was deliberately nasty.
He cooled off. “What are you going to do now? The board is looking for answers. Our billings are off by eleven million dollars this year.”
“Pressing the panic button won’t get it back.”
“You’re spending too much time at the coast,” he said. “Sales are suffering because of that.”
“They won’t hurt next September when our new programs begin.”
“That’s a long time off. It’s less than a week to the new year. We still have this winter and summer figures to worry about. Let’s face it, Steve. No one knows the agencies as well as you do. You have to come back here. You can’t be in two places at once.”
“Now you’re making sense,” I said. “I can’t be in two places at once. But you’re wrong about the other. There is someone who knows the agencies as well as I do.”
He looked his question.
“Jack Savitt,” I said. “You’ve forgotten that he’s spent his life on Madison Avenue selling agencies as well as sponsors and networks his programs.”
“But what about the studio?”
“He’s done his job there,” I said. “He got it started and running. He’s also brought along some top backup men ready to take over. I think it’s time we moved him up.”
He was silent for a moment while he thought that one out. “What do you intend to give him?”
“I’ve asked him to come in and handle the Benjamin proposition.”
“Wait a minute,” he protested. “That’s your job.”
“It’s the job of the president of Sinclair TV,” I said.
“But you’re still the president.”
“That was my mistake,” I said. “When I took over your job as president of Sinclair Broadcasting, I should have put another man in my old job. I think it’s about time Sinclair TV had a new president.”
“And what will you do?”
“The same thing you did when you had my job,” I said. “Drive everybody crazy.”
He began to laugh and got to his feet. He started for the door, then turned back to me. “Come up to Greenwich for dinner on Sunday?” he asked. “The snow is very pretty up there.”
“I will, if I’m not back on the coast by then.”
He nodded. “Just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Have you figured out yet when I can retire?”
I answered promptly. “When you’re sixty-five.”
He laughed and went out the door. I looked after him and then began to smile to myself. He lost the skirmish and won the war. He was still smarter than I was. I suddenly realized that he had gotten everything he wanted.
***
It was dark by the time I left the office, and I didn’t see her as I came out of the building. I crossed the curb to the car and was about to get in when she tapped me on the shoulder.
“You work late, Mr. Gaunt,” she said.
I turned to her. She wore another kind of fur coat this time. Red fox, I think. With a hood that covered almost all her face and all I could see were her eyes, dark and shining.
“I’ve been waiting since five o’clock,” she said.
“That’s stupid. If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you come upstairs?”
“Would you believe—I was afraid?”
“Of what?”
“That you wouldn’t—didn’t—want to see me.”
“It still would have been better than standing out here all evening and freezing your ass off.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” she said, taking an old-fashioned pocket flask out of her pocket. She held it upside down to show me it was empty. “After a while I didn’t even know it was cold.”
“You’d better get in the car,” I said, taking her arm. She didn’t move. “No. I wasn’t waiting for that. You don’t have to take me with you. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry I made such an idiot of myself last night.”
I didn’t speak.
“I don’t know what happened to me,” she said. “It was like—all of a sudden—I came unglued.”
There was something very young in her face. I took her arm again. “Get in the car.”
Quietly she got into the big Continental limousine. I followed her and closed the door. The chauffeur turned and looked back at us. “Where to, Mr. Gaunt?”
“Where do you live?” I asked her.
“Riverside Drive and Seventy-eighth,” she answered. She began to shiver and drew back into the corner of the seat, making herself very small.
The limo pulled out into the traffic. I turned the heater on full blast. The warm air poured over us. By the time we were in Central Park, it was like an oven.
“That better?” I asked.
“Y—yes,” she said. “Do you have a cigarette?”
I lit one and passed it to her. She dragged on it. After a moment, she stopped shivering. She looked out the window at the snow in the park. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You said Riverside and Seventy-eighth, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to go there,” she said.
“Okay. Where then?”
She looked at me, the smoke curling up from her face. “With you.”
“I’m going home to sleep,” I said, “I’m beat.”
She was silent for a moment, looking at my face. “Okay, then it doesn’t matter. You can let me off here.”
We were in the middle of the park. The snow was piled high at the edge of the road. “You’re crazy,” I said. “It’ll take you an hour to walk out.”
“I like walking in the snow.” She leaned forward and tapped the chauffeur on the shoulder. “Stop here.”
He pulled the car over to the curb and she opened the door and got out. She stood there, the cold air pouring into the car. “Thanks for the lift.”
She closed the door, climbed over a snowbank to the sidewalk and began walking. I watched her for a moment as the car began to move and passed her slowly. Her head was down and the hood was pulled over her face; all I could see was the tip of her nose. Then she was behind us and I sat back in the seat. A moment later there was a thud against the rear window behind me.
I turned and looked back. There was another thud as the second snowball hit the window. I saw her winding up with the third. “Hold it,” I told the driver.
He stopped and I went out the door. The third snowball whistled past me. I scooped up some snow, packed it into a ball and threw it. It broke across her shoulder. “Got you!” I yelled.
I made the mistake of stopping to gloat and she caught me with the next snowball. It broke across the back of my neck and poured icily down my collar. I picked up some more snow and charged her.
She ran for a tree and, hiding behind it, bombarded me as I approached. I could hear her yelling with glee. Fortunately her aim didn’t match her enthusiasm. By now I was close to the tree and she broke and ran again.
I caught her in the back with two in a row and then as she stopped short to scoop up some snow, crashed into her. We plowed into a snowbank and rolled over and over down the other side. We came to a stop and I rubbed her face with snow.
“This’ll teach you not to be such a smart ass,” I laughed.
She was suddenly motionless, looking into my face. “You’re laughing,” she said. “You really can laugh.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say.”
“No.” She shook her head earnestly. “You’re really laughing. And I never saw you laugh before.”
Her arms went up around my neck. Her nose was cold, her lips were warm, and her tongue was like a fire searching my mouth. After a moment, we caught our breath.
Her eyes went into mine. “Yeah,” she said. “Really. Yeah.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jack came in on the red-eye from Los Angeles. That put him down at Kennedy at seven a.m.; by eight fifteen my doorbell was ringing.
She came up like a shot. Her eyes were wide and frightened. She clutched the sheet to her. “Who’s that?”
“Easy,” I said. “My first appointment.” I got out of bed and reached for my robe.
“Will it take long?” she asked.
“Couple hours.”
“Oh.”
“You come out whenever you want,” I said. “You don’t have to hide.”
“I’m going back to sleep. If he leaves before noon, you come and join me.”
“And if he doesn’t.”
“I’ll kill him and drag you to bed.” She pulled the sheet over her head and I went out to get the front door.
Jack was all hopped up. Even the nemmies he had taken on the plane hadn’t worked. He kept jumping up and down all through breakfast.
“You mean the old man didn’t even raise one objection, not one squawk?”
“Not one squawk,” I smiled. “As a matter of fact, he seemed pleased about it.”
“Does he know I’m Jewish?”
“I imagine so. There’s very little he misses.”
“My God,” he said in an awed voice. “Imagine that? A Jewish boy, president of Sinclair TV. Ten years ago we couldn’t even get a job here.”
“Tomorrow the world,” I said.
He stared at me, then abruptly sat down. “My legs are weak.”
“You need some more coffee.” I filled his cup.
“I’ll be all right. It’s just that it all happened so quick. When you called me the second time yesterday and told me, I couldn’t believe it”
“You believe it now?”
He looked at me and nodded. “Yes. Do you know what convinced me?”
I shook my head.
“The snow,” he said. “When we came in for our landing I saw the snow and I knew it was true.”
“The announcement is going to the papers this morning,” I said. “You have a luncheon date with Sinclair, twelve thirty at Twenty-One; at two thirty you have a staff conference to meet the department heads.”
“Will you be there?” he asked.
“Not at lunch. But I will be at the staff meeting.”
He nodded. “I’ll clear everything with you.”
“No,” I said.
He was puzzled. “Who do I report to then?”
“Nobody.” I looked at him. “You’re head of the network now. It’s your baby. You make the decisions. All I ask is that you keep me informed.”
“Suppose I bomb?”
“Then it’s your ass,” I said. “But you won’t bomb. You’ll make mistakes. Sometimes you’ll guess wrong. But I’m betting you’ll be right more often than not.”
“That’s fair enough, Steve.” He opened the briefcase he had brought with him and took out some papers. “I’ve been studying the schedule on the way in. I have some ideas. Want to hear them?”
I nodded.
“You won’t like the first couple of things I’m going to tell you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I’m canceling the rest of the specials. No matter how you look at it, they got to be losers. Until we develop a replacement show, I’m going to movies.” He paused and looked at me.
I nodded. “What’s the other?”
“Angel Perez,” he said. “I know you don’t like him. But he’s bright and he’s tough and ambitious. I want him to be my executive vice-president.”
I was silent.
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it,” he said.
“I don’t have to,” I said. “You’re the one who has to live with him. Just watch your rear at all times.”