The Last Don - Mario Puzo [169]
The chief counsel said, “We studied the situation when Mr. Vail made his first threat against the Studio.”
Molly Flanders broke in angrily. “You call killing himself a threat to the Studio?”
“And blackmail,” the chief counsel said smoothly. “Now we’ve completely researched the law in this situation, which is very tricky, but even then I advised the Studio we could fight your claim in court and win. In this particular case, the rights to the property do not revert back to the heirs.”
“What can you guarantee?” Molly asked the counsel. “To a ninety-five percent certainty?”
“No,” the counsel said. “Nothing is that certain in the law.”
Molly was delighted. She would retire with the fee she earned when she won this case. She got up to go and said, “Fuck you all, I’ll see you in court.”
Bantz and Deere were so terrified they could not speak. Bantz wished with all his heart that Eli Marrion were still alive.
It was Melo Stuart who rose and restrained Molly with an affectionate and imploring hug. “Hey,” he said, “we’re just negotiating. Be civilized.”
He led Molly back to her chair, noticing there were tears in her eyes. “We can make a deal, I’ll give up some points in the package.”
Molly said quietly to Bantz, “Do you want to risk losing everything? Can your counsel guarantee that you will win? Of course he can’t. Are you a fucking businessman or some degenerate gambler? To save a fucking lousy twenty to forty mil, you want to risk losing a billion?”
They cut the deal. Ernest’s estate got four million up front and 8 percent of the gross on the picture about to be released. He would get two million and 10 percent of adjusted gross on any other sequels. Ernest’s three ex-wives and his children would be rich.
Molly’s parting shot was, “If you think I was tough, wait until Cross De Lena hears how you screwed him.”
Molly savored her victory. She remembered how one night she had taken Ernest home from a party. She was pretty drunk and extremely lonely and Ernest was witty and intelligent and she thought it might be fun to spend a night with him. Then when they arrived at her home, sobered up by the drive, and she took him to her bedroom, she had looked around despairingly. Ernest was such a shrimp and so obviously sexually shy and he was really a homely man. At that point he was tongue-tied.
But Molly was too fair a person to dismiss him at such a critical time. So she got drunk again and they went to bed. And really, in the dark, it hadn’t been too bad. Ernest enjoyed it so much that she was flattered and brought him breakfast in bed.
He gave her a sly grin. “Thank you,” he said. “And thank you again.” And she perceived that he understood everything she had felt the previous night and was thanking her not only for bringing him breakfast but also as his sexual benefactress. She had always been regretful that she had not been a better actress, but what the hell, she was a lawyer. And now she had performed for Ernest Vail an act of requited love.
Dottore David Redfellow received Don Clericuzio’s summons while attending an important meeting in Rome. He was advising the prime minister of Italy on a new banking regulation that would impose severe penal sentences on corrupt bank officials, and naturally he was advising against it. He immediately wound up his arguments and flew to America.
In the twenty-five years of his exile in Italy, David Redfellow had prospered and changed beyond his wildest dreams. At the beginning, Don Clericuzio helped him buy a small bank in Rome. With the fortune he had made in the drug trade and deposited in Swiss banks, he bought more banks and television stations. But it was Don Clericuzio’s friends in Italy who helped guide him and build his empire, helped him to acquire the magazines, the newspapers, the TV stations, in addition to his string