The Last Don - Mario Puzo [22]
“Too much,” Pollard said. “We have a judge’s restraining order against you. You get within a block of Athena and you go to jail. We have security around Athena twenty-four hours a day. And I’ve set up surveillance teams to keep track of your movements. So for you this is found money.”
“I should have come to California sooner,” Skannet said. “The streets are paved with gold. Why pay me anything?”
“The studio wants to reassure Miss Aquitane,” Pollard said.
“She really is that big a star,” Skannet said musingly. “Well, she was always special. And to think I used to fuck her five times a day.” He grinned at the three men. “And brainy in the bargain.”
Pollard looked at the man with curiosity. The guy was handsome as the rugged Marlboro man in the cigarette ads, except that his skin was red with sun and booze and his body build was bulkier. He had that charming drawl of the South, which was both humorous and dangerous. A lot of women fell in love with such men. In New York there had been some cops with the same kind of looks, and they had scored like bandits. You sent them out on murder cases and in a week they were consoling the widows. Jim Losey was a cop like that, come to think of it. Pollard had never been so lucky.
“Let’s just talk business,” Pollard said. He wanted Skannet to sign the contract and take the check in front of the witnesses, then maybe later if they had to, the Studio could make a case for extortion.
Skannet sat down at the table. “Have you got a pen?” he asked.
Pollard took his pen out of the briefcase and filled out the figures of twenty thousand a month. Skannet noted him doing so and said cheerfully, “So, I could have gotten more.” Then he signed the three copies. “When do I have to leave L.A.?”
“This very night,” Pollard said. “I’ll take you to your plane.”
“No thanks,” Skannet said. “I think I’ll drive to Las Vegas and gamble with this check.”
“I’ll be watching,” Pollard said. Now was the time he felt he should show some muscle. “Let me warn you, if you show up in Los Angeles again, I’ll have you arrested for extortion.”
Skannet’s red face brimmed with glee. “I’d love that,” he said. “I’ll be as famous as Athena.”
That night the surveillance team reported that Boz Skannet had left but only to move into the Beverly Hills Hotel, and that he had deposited the fifty-thousand-dollar check in an account he had at the Bank of America. This indicated a number of things to Pollard. That Skannet had influence, because he had gotten into the Beverly Hills Hotel, and that he didn’t give a shit about the deal he had made. Pollard reported this to Bobby Bantz and asked for instructions. Bantz told him to keep his mouth shut. The contract had been shown to Athena to reassure her and persuade her to go back to work. He did not tell Pollard she had laughed in their faces.
“You can stop the check,” Pollard said.
“No,” Bantz said, “he cashes it and we got him in court on fraud, extortion, whatever. I just don’t want Athena to know he’s still in town.”
“I’ll double the security on her,” Pollard said. “But if he’s crazy, if he really wants to harm her, that won’t help.”
“He’s a bluffer,” Bantz said. “He didn’t do it the first time, why would he do anything now?”
“I’ll tell you why,” Pollard said. “We burglarized his room. Guess what we found? A container of real acid.”
“Oh shit,” Bantz said. “Can you tell the cops? Jim Losey maybe.”
Pollard said, “Having acid is not a crime. Burglary is. Skannet can put me in jail.”
“You never told me anything,” Bantz said. “We never had this conversation. And forget what you know.”
“Sure, Mr. Bantz,” Pollard said. “I won’t even bill you for the information.”
“Thanks a lot,” Bantz said sarcastically. “Keep in touch.”
Claudia was briefed by Skippy Deere. And instructed as was proper to their roles as producer and writer on a picture.
“You have to absolutely kiss Athena’s ass,” Deere said. “You have to grovel, you