The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [7]
‘Lovely, thank you.’ Stevie gently laid her cup and saucer on the bedside table and moved away from it.
‘Actually, Miss Duveen, we’d appreciate it if you’d do an interview for us, you know, telling the public how Kennedy-Jack is in danger—’ Stevie felt obligated to interject with ‘Please call me Stevie.’
‘Douglas, Stevie has some great stuff on cyber-stalking, how kidnapping gangs are stalking our baby on the internet.’
Douglas nodded sagely. ‘I’m not surprised. Quick work, Stevie.’
Before Stevie could explain that it was only a possibility that had to be considered in every case such as theirs, Douglas had sat down next to her and lowered his voice.
‘We believe there are powerful people who want us silenced,’ he confided. ‘We are making a documentary about our lives at the moment and it is one of the themes that is going to feature heavily. I’m producing and directing.’
Stevie considered this for a moment. ‘I’m sure it will be a tremendous success, Douglas, but I need to understand exactly what this has to do with Hazard Limited’s services and the threat to your son.’
‘It’s simple.’ Douglas Hammer gave a modest smile. His feet, Stevie noticed, were immaculately pedicured. ‘As you may know we—well, me in particular—have been very vocal about the corruption and evils of our administration. I’ve spoken out about this on many occasions on Larry King Live, Oprah, Jay Leno, Saturday Night Live.’
Sandy jumped into the conversation. ‘Everyone was talking about that the next day, Dougie.’
‘Look, the point is,’ Douglas sat up a little, his white shirt gaping nicely for effect, ‘that certain people in the administration are afraid of the power I have to change people’s minds. Say what you like, but the public listen to actors. They are the voice of the people, for the people.’ He paused a moment to let the line sink in. ‘Since our activism—especially since we started filming—’
The door opened again and the man with the video camera appeared. He zoomed in on Douglas, who now spoke to camera.
‘Since we started filming this documentary, things have begun to happen.’
‘What sort of things, Doug?’ asked the man with the camera, panning up to Sandy, softly lit by the floor lamp, then back to Douglas.
‘There’s been a campaign to smear me for starters—the trumped-up drink-driving charge, the lies about what I said to the police officer. I am no racist. Never in my life.’
‘And me.’ Sandy turned aflame with outrage to the video-man. ‘The paparazzi have become vicious. It’s positively criminal and disgusting. We just want to live normal lives like a normal family.’
Stevie watched Sandy shed another perfect tear, this one digitally immortalised.
‘Has anyone specifically threatened you or your family?’ Stevie was trying to get the meeting back on track. The video-man swung his recorder towards her. Stevie immediately switched off the bedside light and turned her face away, into the darkness.
‘Turn that off please. I won’t be filmed.’
Douglas gestured to the man who stopped filming. ‘There’ll be time for that later, man. It’s okay.’ He turned back to Stevie. ‘Nothing specific but it’s more a feeling—’ His eyes narrowed into a handsome squint. ‘Do you know what I mean? An instinct for danger.’
One of the hairdressers stuck his head into the room. ‘You’ve got flowers, Sandy! Gorgeous ones!’
An enormous bouquet was brought into the room, the uniformed porter staggering under its weight.
‘Read the card please, Dougie.’ Sandy lay back on the pillows.
She seemed to have become weak and fragile under the weight of her worries.
Douglas hopped over on nimble brown feet.
‘They’re from Kofi. Here, wait. Turn the camera back on. I want to do that again. From the top.’
‘Who could they be from? Read the card, Dougie,’ Sandy asked on cue.
‘They’re from Kofi, honey. He sends his warm wishes.’ Douglas gave his wife a loving smile. ‘You see, we have good friends on our side.’ He swung to camera. ‘Okay. Cut.’
Stevie was bewildered. Looking around the room she saw a photo of Nelson