Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [50]
Fortunately for Kerney, Julia had elected not to accompany the production crew to the smelter. Freed from her company he gave his full attention to learning more about the intricacies of motion picture making, which in this sequence included some major stunts.
By nightfall the team had finished their work, except for Charlie Zwick, who continued talking on his cell phone to the mining company’s corporate attorney as he negotiated the details for using the smelter in the film. He was still on the phone, talking to somebody else about preparing a location lease agreement, when the weary crew wandered into the old mercantile store for a late dinner.
Kerney had hoped to eat quickly and then get back out to the Granite Pass Ranch for a surreptitious look at Walter Shaw’s panel van. But Susan Berman, the unit production manager, delayed his departure.
She’d approached him at his table with a slightly worried look on her pretty face, asked for a moment of his time, and explained that the county sheriff, because of staff shortages, had turned down her request to do background checks on all the cast and crew members before actual filming got under way.
Berman was a tiny, attractive brunette in her late thirties, no more than five two, with blue-gray eyes and a confident, businesslike demeanor.
“Since nine-eleven we’ve become much more security minded,” she said as she sat with Kerney, “and because Playas is now being used for antiterrorism training, we have to satisfy the government that there are no criminals, insurgents, fanatics, or terrorists working on the film. Thank God, they haven’t as yet told us to exclude hiring any bleeding-heart, progressive Hollywood liberals. That would totally shut us down.”
Kerney laughed. “When would you need the information?”
“After the cast, extras, and crew hiring has been done. About a week before we start actual production.”
“How many people?”
“Over a hundred,” Berman replied.
“Get me names, social security numbers, and birth dates, and I’ll have my department do a computer check for wants and warrants.”
Berman smiled warmly. “That would be great. I’ll fax the information to you in Santa Fe as soon as it’s complete. Did you have fun today?”
Kerney nodded. “The complexity of making a movie seems staggering.”
Berman laughed. “This is the mellow part of putting a film together. Wait until the cameras start rolling.”
“How does Johnny figure into the filming?” Kerney asked.
“His participation will be limited, but we’ll do our best to keep him happy. But as you saw this afternoon, it doesn’t always work out that way. Do you know him well?”
“Yes and no,” Kerney replied. “We go back a long way, but it’s been years since we’ve had any close contact.”
“Have you got any tips on how to deal with him?” Berman asked.
Kerney gave the question some thought as he looked at Johnny, who was sitting with Usher at another table. Usher was talking with his arms spread wide, as though he was framing a camera shot for Johnny to visualize. Johnny looked totally bored.
“I think Malcolm already has Johnny’s number,” he said. “Overwhelm him with technicalities and facts he knows nothing about while you stroke his ego—if you can stand to do it.”
Berman stuck the three-ring binder under her arm and smiled appreciatively. “That’s a no-brainer, Mr. Kerney. I started out in this business years ago as a script girl, and, believe me, I’ve got lots of experience feeding male egos.”
Berman left and Kerney soon followed, saying good-night to Gus and Buzzy on his way out the door. The dark sky was awash with stars, and a cool, downslope breeze rustled through the trees. At the ranch property he swung south on a cutoff dirt track near the rodeo arena that paralleled a pasture fence line. He passed through two gates, a dry wash, and made a wrong turn to a dead end before finding his way to the barn where Shaw garaged his van.
Kerney parked behind the barn and sat in the dark