Joseph Kanon - Stardust

Ben glanced at Bunny’s thin file. How long before anyone missed it?

“On a list. Probably nothing. Let me know about the Army though, okay? So I can scratch him off. Do I need to do anything about Ken? I don’t want him to think-”

“He’ll calm down. You’re the only one he’s got now, with the Krauts.”

“I thought he wasn’t interested in them.”

“They meet people. It all connects.”

Like a web, one strand to another. And who else was present, Mr. Kaltenbach? To the best of your recollection. Heinrich must have met people. If he was sympathetic enough to be approached now, invited to return, why not then? A gathering over coffee. One name, then another, until they found one for the newsreels. And who else was at the meeting, Mr. MacDonald? But Bunny would be protected, a friend to the committee. Until it began to eat its own, too hungry to stop.

Ben walked over to the window, looking out at the sunny lot. Cowboys and showgirls coming out of Makeup. Grips moving scenery. Everyone busy, unconcerned. Did any of them know what Minot was planning, what it would mean? For a second he saw the street in a freeze frame, a stopped moment before it all began. They’d turn on each other, running for cover, right into Minot’s hands.

At the gate, there was a commotion as some grips crossed the picket line. More pickets had come out today, not just the usual handful, and the guards had seemed jittery when Ben drove through earlier. Shouts now, instead of breezy catcalls. One of the grips shouted back, then had to be pulled away. Two of the picketers lunged toward him, then stopped, posturing. More shouts, name-calling. But no sticks or stones. A jurisdictional dispute.

He turned back to the paperwork, then saw her coming out of Makeup. She was in the same kind of white blouse and simple skirt they’d used in the test, but now wore heels, so that her legs stretched up. His eyes followed her toward the actors’ trailers, hair catching the morning light, watching the way she moved, the easy glide Bunny had noticed. But Ben had noticed other things, a leg in a mirror, eyes that darted across your face. He missed the swimming pool, sitting on the chaise still wet in terry robes, then the smell of chlorine on her skin, her thigh half open to its soft side.

She looked up into the mirror of her dressing table when the door opened.

“I saw you pass. Going over lines?”

She nodded to the script in front of her. “Today I meet the sister. She’s jealous.”

He closed the door behind him.

“Don’t. People will notice.”

“I’m family.”

“In my dressing room. What if Connie comes? It’s hers, too.”

“You share? You’re the star.”

She smiled. “Not yet.” She held up both hands to the mirror, wriggling them. “I haven’t put my hands in cement. Why do they do that?”

He shrugged. “Why do they do anything?”

“You think it’s all foolish. Only newsreels.”

He walked over to the chair, standing behind her.

“Next week we do the scenes in Germany,” she said to the mirror. “Did you see what they’re building? I live in a house that was bombed. In a cellar. It’s strange, you know? Where I’d be if I’d never come here.”

“Or dead.”

“Yes. You know my name, the character? Maria. No Saras here, either. Like Goebbels.”

“I thought they were making you Dutch,” he said back to the mirror.

“No, they want the ruins. So when I see his mother’s house-”

He put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her neck.

“Don’t,” she said, moving forward. “I’ll have to do the makeup all over again. It took hours.”

“To look like this? Not even lipstick?”

“It’s the hardest, Connie says. To look natural.”

He brushed his hand down the back of her hair. “It’s good to see you.”

She looked down. “Maybe it’s good. It gives us time to think.”

“About what?”

She looked at him in the mirror for a moment, then let it go.

“I don’t know,” she said, getting up and turning, so that now they were facing each other.

“How’s Dick Marshall?”

“The perfect gentleman.” She put her hand on his chest, holding him in place. “Not like you.”

“How about I come for a swim?”

She shook her head, still holding him back, their faces close. “He’s taking me to the Grove.”

“After.”

“After I sleep. The camera picks it up. If your skin-”

“There’s nothing wrong with your skin,” he said, moving closer.

“Not here,” she said, pushing her hand against him.

“I can come late. Leave early,” he said, his face almost on hers.

“Don’t,” she said again.

“No one would know.” When she didn’t answer, he waited for another second, then stepped back. “If that’s it,” he said, his voice ironic. He moved away, leaving it, but she reached for his arm, pulling him back.

“Maybe it’s best. For now.”

He stopped still, just looking, trying to read her expression. Could eyes be trained, like voices?

“I wish I knew what you wanted,” he said quietly.

She returned his look, then let her hand drop, moving away from him.

“I wish I knew that, too.” She went back over to the mirror, a final check. “I have to go. They’ll be ready. You, too. Before anyone sees.” She patted her hair. “I have to meet the sister.”

He glanced at his watch, shifting moods with her. “And I have a meeting. Lasner keeps asking me to meetings.”

“He likes you.”

“I think he does it to needle Bunny. All right,” he said, moving to the door. “Do I go first or do you want me to sneak out after you’ve gone?”

“You think it’s a joke. People look for that.”

“By the way, what I came for? Did Danny know a man called MacDonald?”

She thought for a second. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I came across his name in some papers.”

“What papers?”

“It doesn’t matter. Papers. He never mentioned a MacDonald?”

“No. That’s what you came for? More Daniel.”

“You’re sure?” he said, ignoring this.

“I don’t know. One name, all those years. How would I remember? MacDonald? Like the man on the farm?”

Ben nodded, waiting.

“I don’t think so.” She looked up. “I wish you would stop with this business.”

“When I know.”

“How? Who’s going to tell you? Daniel?”

“Maybe.”

“From the grave. You keep him alive, with all this. Here,” she said, touching her head, then turned and closed the script, her back to him. “It feels like cheating.”

He said nothing, looking into the mirror.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she said. “Two in the room, not three.”

“I only see two,” Ben said.

He was early for the scheduling meeting. With only one project to manage there was no real need for him to be there at all, but Lasner had insisted, another mark of favor the other line producers took in with nervous wait-and-see glances. Only Sam Pilcer, an old hand at musical chairs, seemed not to care. They were waiting in the conference room next to Lasner’s office, where Bunny had set up a television, the first Ben had actually seen outside magazines. On the small glass screen a clown was performing.

“Again with this,” Lasner said to Bunny.

“Just look at it.”

“Look at what?”

“Found money.”

Lasner waved this off. “You’re like Freeman at Paramount. Remember he set up that Kraut? Right before the war?”

“Klaus Landsberg,” Bunny said. “And what? Two years, minimal investment, and he takes it on the air. W6XYZ. What you’re watching now,” he said, catching Lasner’s puzzled expression. “It’s not an experiment anymore, Sol. The only question is how fast they can make them. Last four years, they’ve all been working for the government. Every electronics company in the country. Army contracts. Now watch. They can start turning these out.”