| Subject: Chapter 205 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 205) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, October 10, 07:33:11am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (203 > )" on Monday, October 03, 07:35:40am
She began the debate in the usual style, undermining his expectations with flattery. "I don't know what you mean. From what I can see, you have everything anyone could want, thus far--money, power, position." She waited, watching his slight disgust with amusement. "What else is there you think I can give?"
There was the sound of grinding teeth in the room, before Jamie made himself stop. Given the imprisonment of his current life, the question was an insult. What the hell did this woman know about him? What the hell could she understand about being cooped up 24-hours-a-day for several years, always guarded, always observed, never even capable of taking care of his basic needs? His eyes glanced toward the empty bed in the corner--remembering when he used to rule these sort of houses, when he could have any whore he wanted at any time--before they cut back over to his current enemy. How in the hell did she get the right to make such evaluations of him, anyway?
He didn't have an answer to this, only found himself more annoyed, as he tried to discover one. Still, he managed to pull himself back--remembering his plan. His father had always said that you had to focus on the negotiation, on your goal; when you forgot it was when you lost. He almost snorted. He supposed the old man had some sort of point about that.
The obvious internal battle he underwent was brought back under control a moment later--the struggle only giving Madeline more power in the situation, more insight into her opponent. She was silent, as she listened to his reply, knowing he must be imitating his father's style again. "You haven't offered me anything yet but information. There's no reason I couldn't take what you've told me and sell it to one of those old gossip crones." His smile was cruel in its taunting. "You'd have a much harder time killing her then."
This was potentially true, but Madeline never gave up an argument--knowing he was bluffing, showing him the flaws. "If you did that, you'd take down yourself, as well." His eyes flared, even if she ignored it. "With your father in the papers, how long do you think it would take his business partners to take him down?" Her unpleasant smile grew. "And then where would you be left?"
The gruesome answer to this question was obvious, but he was too angry to admit it, lashing out at the thought of his one protection dying--even if having the old man out of the way was also what he wanted most. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Her irritating smile alone met him, making the rage deepen, his taunts far less shrewd. "You're just the whore of some Jew. If the banks get upset, he won't even be around for much longer." The look blazed. "How the hell do you think you have the right to say anything about my father?"
His opponent took all of this vitriol with her usual stoicism, pleased to have him unsettled once more. And the fact that he had incorrectly assumed Wolfe's religion from his job didn't particularly upset her, the standard in Hollywood too well known--even if the terror of her own background being exposed ran eternally deep; she didn't allow her mind to focus on this latter fact, returning him to the fold. "I take it you agree," she smiled, moving on before he could curse her further. "But you're forgetting one other fact. If you revealed your sister's background to the press," she was ignoring the question of whether any of them would be brave enough to publish it--which wasn't likely--"you would still be doing what I wanted. I need to be rid of her." Her even look pierced him bluntly. "And your plan would do just as well as mine." The smile deepened. "If you're willing to risk it."
He wasn't, of course, had just been bluffing, trying to take her unawares--but he had been caught in his own trap; he had to backtrack, pretending she hadn't just won such a preliminary battle. "You're assuming that I believe you at all, that my father would ever pass on his job to some little tramp one of his whores spawned." It wasn't really likely, in many ways--even though the thought of it still made his blood run cold. He shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "Still, I *could* do you a favor, if you're willing to give me something in return."
Madeline's eyes were cold. This was *not* what she had wanted to hear tonight. "And just what is it you think I should give you for the favor I'm already doing you?" It wasn't as though she really wanted to know, but it was better to have such nonsense in the open.
Good. Now, she was with him; his grin broadened. "If I do what you want, help *you* in this way," he only enjoyed her glowering, decided to prolong her agony, "what would you be willing to give me?"
This was the most the woman could stand, unwilling to listen to another second of this prattling. She stood from where she had been leaning lightly against one of the filthy walls. "As I've said before, *I'm* the one who's doing the favor." She started past him for the door. "I'm sure there's someone else who would be willing to help me out."
His words stopped her, forcing her to listen; he wasn't taken aback by her attitude, understood this part of the ritual. "But can they also provide something else you need?"
Her side was to him, her gaze on the door--but she *had* stopped. "Which is?"
He was smiling, looking toward her. "I have certain . . . sedatives I could get you." He was almost laughing. "They might make some of your property easier to control."
She really was paused now, listening in rapt fascination--and possible horror--to his suggestion; she was only rather appalled that she hadn't thought of it before. She understood his suggestion immediately, had certainly used versions of it in the past--Karen a notable example--and the particular drug he was clearly offering would be *far* more potent; she had to ponder. In some ways, it might not be a bad idea . . .
She delayed nonetheless, needing to keep her side of the deal going. "We already have a doctor. He's quite useful in such cases." She paused, still not focusing on him, even if her head did turn slightly further in his direction. "What do you think you can offer us?"
He had her now; he knew it. It was hard not to laugh. "A slightly more addictive version of what you have. One that's a little harder to come by." Legally, anyway.
The drug in question went unnamed, but the negotiation for it went on--Madeline's mind turning, intrigued. In many ways, it would be an excellent idea, if they could manage it correctly. The pills they used were certainly effective, but they did have rather unpleasant long-term effects. But with heroin . . .
She was almost smiling, as she looked at him, seeing the many benefits here. To say the drug was addictive was an understatement, but its beauty was that a person could function fairly normally, so long as their supply stayed constant. Michael might--weak as he had proven himself to be--need a bit of help through his idiotic grief; their supplying of the drug should make him malleable in the extreme, without particularly affecting his performance. If it became too much of a problem, they could always force him through withdrawal--could certainly threaten him with it, if need be. And then maybe they could finally bring his recalcitrant behavior to heel once and for all.
This thought had her completely, forced her to ask the question she had been so studiously avoiding. After all, while they *could* get such a supply elsewhere, having a permanent, and secure, link would make things much easier; she almost forgot that her plan required this man to die, her mind turning around ways to ensure a good stockpile, before he did. "What is it you want?"
It was a question she only half wanted the answer to--fearing he might require whatever he was negotiating for before he was useful--but he provided one, nonetheless, smiling all the while. "I'm giving you some valuable services." Her eyebrow raised, her look temporarily patient. "I'm sure that you could manage a producer credit or two in return."
That was all? She managed not to stare--just. And, even had he not been doomed to die in her current schemes, the request would also have made his offer quite null. Even if such a thing were to happen, the presence of his name on the screen--the very public admission, long before this, that he was still alive--would undoubtedly see to his very quick demise. The only reason he was breathing today was because of his father's protection, the fact that no one understood the truth. If that were to change . . .
"Agreed," she said, knowing it would never come to pass. This way, she would have his consent, would get what she needed out of him, before he died. And he had given her a new idea about how to control Michael, as well, which would prove immeasurably useful, she was certain; she had to smile. Soon, the future would be very secure indeed.
He agreed, if for very different reasons, the smile returned. "Glad to do business with you." When she turned to go, he only stopped her with one more question. "When do you have in mind for my sister's sudden demise?"
This made her smile widen, loving the thought of the girl's removal; it had been the only way to free the actor from Simone, as well--although she had had the benefit of not needing to be the one to act on such a desire that time. "I was thinking the night of October 31st." It was simply too symbolic to ignore.
His smile grew at the thought, enjoying its morbidity, if not fully understanding her plans for publicity. "Halloween. Nice." The woman did have a sense of style. You had to give her that, at least.
She smiled as well, seeing his agreement. "I'll get back to you with the details." Her look cut over to Hillinger, her true conspirator, before nodding to the man once more. Assuming that there were no more outside inconveniences--such as a conflicting announcement of the U.S. entering the war just as they planned to strike--everything, soon, would be able to begin.
She left after that, pushing past Hillinger's bodyguard, who hovered in the hallway, leaving Jamie well-satisfied--everything going according to plan. It had taken a bit more bargaining than he had anticipated, but he now knew his future. As soon as he could become indispensable to Premier, the other studios would no doubt fall in line; his smile grew. And then his father would have no choice but to let him out for good.
[End of Part 205]
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