The Love Machine (15 page)

It was two minutes to seven. He went to the bar and mixed a light Scotch-and-soda for himself, a vermouth on the rocks for Judith. He wondered how she could drink the stuff. It tasted like varnish. But Judith claimed that all the great beauties in Europe
only drank wine or vermouth. Of course, Judith meant the great beauties over forty. Funny how a beautiful woman like Judith could have an age complex. She entered the den after knocking lightly. This tapping was a joke—asking permission to come into “his” den. But he went along with it. He realized in some way it nullified any guilt she felt for taking over the library.

She took her place on the twin leather chair across from him. And he thought as he did every night when he saw her sitting there, “God, she’s a beautiful woman.” She was forty-six and looked barely thirty-five. He felt a sudden swell of pride and sense of well-being. He loved the goddam den—it had become a part of their lives. Even if they were going to the theater or giving a dinner party, they had their drink together in his den while they watched the seven o’clock news. To Gregory Austin, nothing got going until
after
the seven o’clock news. And Judith had dutifully built their social life around this order.

The news began: “Good evening and welcome to
News at Seven
. We are saving the last five minutes of our program for an unscheduled appearance of the president of IBC News, the star of
In Depth
, Mr. Robin Stone.”

“What the hell!” Gregory sat on the edge of his chair.

“Since when has Robin Stone appeared on the seven o’clock news?” Judith asked.

“Since one second ago when I heard the announcement.”

“He’s a very handsome man,” Judith commented. “But when I watch him on
In Depth
I get the feeling that he takes extreme care to let nothing of himself ever leak out before the camera. How do you find him?”

“Exactly like he is on television. You hit it right on the head. He’s an enigma. Great surface charm, but everything else locked in.”

Judith’s eyes glinted with a touch of interest. “Let’s invite him to dinner one night. I’d like to meet him.”

Gregory laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? Several of my girl friends are dying to meet him. He’s never seen in public. And he’s really catching on.”

“Judith, you know my rule. I don’t mix with hired help.”

“When we go to the Coast we attend their parties.”

“I do that because I figure you get a bang out of it. Besides,
that’s different. They’re throwing the parties for us. We’re not inviting them to our home. The New Year’s Day bash we give takes care of them. And it’s great that way. Makes them feel they’re being presented at court.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “For a man who was raised on Tenth Avenue, you’re the biggest snob in the world.”

“No, it’s just business sense. Hell—I couldn’t care less about dinner parties or social status. But anything that’s hard to get is sought after.”

She laughed. “Gregory, you’re a wheeling-dealing bastard.”

“I sure am. Even our New Year’s Day party is no open house. Very few people from IBC make it.”

She smiled. “The eggnog party is so square that it’s
in
. And it was my idea. Do you know
Women’s Wear Daily
said it was becoming an annual event? It even made Ernestine Carter’s column in the London
Times”

“I think we had too many show-business names this year.”

“We need them, darling. A few of them add dash to the party. And it isn’t easy, Greg, getting the right people together at that time of the year.”

He waved his hand, and listened to a news item that interested him. She was silent until the commercial came on.

“Greg, when can we leave for Palm Beach? We’re usually there by the end of January. But you insisted on staying in town for the premiere of that dreadful
Christie Lane Show”

“I want to stay here for a few more weeks. I think we can build that show into a real winner. But you can go. I’ll get there by the beginning of March at the latest.”

“Then I’ll leave Thursday—I’ll have the house all set when you get there.”

He nodded absently. The news had returned to the air.

Judith stared at the screen without really watching. “Well, 1 guess Robin Stone will have to keep until next New Year’s Day …”

“Not even then.” Gregory handed her his glass for a refill.

“Why not?”

“Because I’d have to invite all the presidents of the other departments. Christ, Danton Miller only made it for the first time this year.” He leaned over and turned up the volume.

She handed him his drink. Then she hung over his shoulders. “Greg darling, my girl friends don’t want to meet Danton Miller. But they
do
want to meet Robin Stone.”

He patted her hand. “We’ll see, that’s a year away. Anything can happen by then.”

Suddenly he sat forward. The camera came in for a tight close-up of Robin. Gregory could see why Judith’s friends were interested. He was a hell of a good-looking guy.

“Good evening”—The clipped voice filled the room. “We’ve all been fascinated by the news story of a genuine adventure of modern-day piracy. I’m speaking of the Portuguese cruise ship
Santa Maria
that was seized at gunpoint in the Caribbean by twenty-four Portuguese and Spanish political exiles and six crew members. This raid was led by Henrique Galvão, a former Portuguese army captain. Three days ago, January thirty-first, Admiral Smith went aboard the
Santa Maria
thirty miles off Recife, Brazil, and held a mid-ocean conference with Galvão. Word has just reached me that Galvão has agreed to allow the passengers to leave the ship today. Galvão has been promised, along with his twenty-nine followers, asylum in Brazil by President Janio Quadros. There were also American tourists on board. But most of all, this reporter is interested in obtaining a filmed interview with Henrique Galvão. I am leaving tonight. I hope to bring back an
In Depth
interview with Galvão and perhaps some of the American passengers who were on the pirated ship. Good night, and thank you.”

Gregory Austin clicked off the set in rage. “How dare he just take off like that without reporting to anyone! Why wasn’t I told? He just returned from London a few weeks ago. I want
live
shows, not tape—that’s our main selling point against the competition.”

“Robin can’t do all his
In Depth
shows live, Greg. It’s the world-famous people who give it stature. I, for one, would be fascinated to see an
In Depth
on this Galvã;o. I’d like to see the man who at sixty-five has the courage to pirate a luxury liner with six hundred passengers.”

But Gregory was on the phone, demanding that the IBC operator track down Danton Miller. Five minutes later the call came through.

“Dan!” Gregory’s face was red with anger. “I’m sure you have no idea what’s going on.
You’re
sitting at ‘21’ relaxing—”

Danton’s voice was cool. “Yes, I was relaxing on a nice sofa in the lobby, watching our IBC seven o’clock news.”

“Well, did you know about Robin’s trip to Brazil?”

“Why should I? He doesn’t have to report to anyone but you.”

Gregory’s face went a shade darker. “Well, damn it, then why didn’t he tell me?”

“Perhaps he tried. You weren’t in the office today. I tried to reach you several times during the afternoon with some further reports on
The Christie Lane Show
. The out-of-town notices were great. I had them put on your desk.”

Gregory’s face went rigid with anger. “Yes, I
was
out this afternoon,” he shouted. “And I have a right to be out one afternoon in a month!” (He had purchased two new horses and had driven to Westbury to see them.) “Goddammit,” he went on, “you mean, if I’m not there one day the whole network falls apart?”

“I don’t think the network is going to fall apart because one guy takes off for Brazil. Still I don’t like the idea of Robin Stone using the seven o’clock news as a publicity bulletin for himself. Gregory, I don’t like the president of
any
department having this kind of authority. But, unfortunately, Robin does not have to check with me. Since you were unavailable, the announcement might have been his way of telling you. It’s faster than Western Union.”

Gregory slammed down the receiver. Danton Miller’s obvious pleasure over the situation spiked his anger into a helpless rage. He stood staring into space, his fists clenched. Judith walked over and handed him a fresh drink. Then she smiled at him. “Aren’t you being childish? The man has pulled a big coup, for
your
network. Everyone who heard the seven o’clock news will be looking forward to the interview. Now relax and have your drink. We’re due at the Colony at eight fifteen for dinner.”

“I’m dressed.”

She patted his face gently. “I think you might have one tiny run-over with the electric razor. We’re having dinner with Ambassador Ragil tonight. And he’s got three Arabian horses you’re keen on. So come on. Smile! Let me see the Austin charm.”

His frown disappeared. “I guess I like to be Big Daddy all the way,” he said grudgingly. “And you’re right. Making that announcement was a superb piece of showmanship. It’s just that it’s
my
network—I created it, built it. I don’t like anyone making decisions without my approval.”

“You also don’t like your trainer to buy horses unless you personally inspect them. Darling, you can’t be everywhere.”

He grinned. “You’re always right, Judith.”

She smiled. “And I think by next New Year’s Day Robin Stone will be big enough to rate an invitation… .”

When Amanda heard the news, she stood staring at the set. It couldn’t be true. Any second the buzzer would ring and Robin would be standing at the door. He was probably on his way now, and she’d drive to the airport with him.

She waited ten minutes. By eight fifteen she had smoked six cigarettes. She called his apartment. It rang monotonously. She dialed IBC. They had no idea of what flight Mr. Stone was using, but suggested she try Pan Am.

At eight thirty the phone rang. She banged her ankle against the table, rushing to it.

“This is Ivan the Terrible.”

Her face fell. She loved Ivan Greenberg, but tears ran down her face from disappointment.

“You there, Mandy?”

“Yes.” Her voice was low.

“Oh—did I interrupt anything?”

“No, I was just watching television.”

He laughed. “That’s right, now that you’re a big TV star you’ve got to keep up with the competition.”

“Ivan, I adore you, but I want to keep my line open. I’m expecting an important call.”

“Okay, pussycat, I know—I heard the seven o’clock news—the Great Stone Man is off, so I thought you might grab a hamburger with me.”

“I’ve got to get off the phone, Ivan.”

“All right, get a good night’s sleep—we have an eleven o’clock sitting tomorrow.”

She sat and stared at the phone. At nine fifteen she checked with Pan Am. Yes, there was a Mr. Robin Stone booked on the nine o’clock flight. The flight had gone on schedule—it had been airborne for fifteen minutes. She flopped into a chair while the tears ran down her face in black rivulets. Her mascara was all but gone and her false lashes were coming loose. She pulled them off and put them on the coffee table.

She got up slowly and walked into the living room. She had to talk to someone. Ivan had always been her confidant.

She dialed nervously and gasped in relief when he picked it up on the second ring.

“Ivan, I want that hamburger.”

“Great, I was just leaving. Meet me at the Tiger Inn: it’s a new joint on First Avenue, at Fifty-third. Right near you.”

“No, you get the hamburgers and bring them here.”

“Oh, I dig. Torture time.”

“Please, Ivan, I’ve got steaks if you like, and a salad—”

“No, baby, if you stay home it’ll be like real hysterics—and that means swollen eyelids tomorrow. Not when you’re sitting for me, pussycat. I had to work an hour on the lights when the Stone Man took off for London a few weeks back. You want a hamburger, meet me at the Tiger Inn. At least there you’ll have to keep your composure.”

“I look awful. It would take me an hour to redo my eyes.”

“Since when have you run out of dark glasses?”

“Okay.” She felt too weary to resist. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

The Tiger Inn was enjoying a flash of popularity. It was almost filled. Amanda recognized some models and some advertising men. She toyed with a hamburger and stared at Ivan, mutely demanding an answer.

He scratched his beard. “There’s no answer. He loves you this morning—and disappears this evening. With all the great cats in this town, you have to pick a character like Robin Stone. I mean, it’s not even your
scene
. After all, who is he, what is he? Just a newscaster.”