The Fourth K

And so Jintz was worried. Was it possible that by some catastrophe his seat in Congress could be lost? There was no way out. His very life depended on the removal of Francis Ke

Senator Lambertino, "We can't let the President go on TV tomorrow."

CHAPTER

13

DAVID JATNEY SPENT a month reading scripts that seemed to him utterly worthless. He wrote the less than half page of summary, then wrote his opinion on the same page. His opinion was supposed to be only a few sentences but he usually finished using the rest of the space on the page.

At the end of the month the office supervisor came to his desk and said,

"David, we don't have to know how witty you are. Just two sentences of opinion will be fine. And don't be so contemptuous of these people, they didn't piss on your desk, they just try to write movies."

"But they are terrible," Jatney said.

The supervisor said, "Sure, they are, do you think we'd let you read the good ones? We have more experienced people for that. And, besides, this stuff you call dreadful, every one of them has been submitted by an agent.

An agent hopes to make money from them. So they have passed a very stringent test. We don't accept scripts over the transom because of lawsuits, we're not like book publishers. So no matter how lousy they are, when agents submit, we have to read them. If we don't read the agents' bad scripts, they don't send us the good ones."

David said, "I could write better screenplays,"

The supervisor laughed. "So can we all." He paused for a moment and then said, "When you've written one, let me read it."

A month later David did just that. The supervisor read it in his private office. He was very kind. He said gently, "David, it doesn't work. That doesn't mean you can't write. But you don't really understand how movies work. It shows in your summaries and critiques but your screenplay shows it too. Listen, I'm trying to be helpful. Really. So starting next week you'll be reading the novels that have been published and have been considered possible for movies."

David thanked him politely but felt the familiar rage. Again it was the voice of the elder, the supposedly wiser, the ones who had the power.

It was just a few days later that Dean Hocken's secretary called and asked if he was free for di

But he had heard of Michael's restaurant. David Jatney read all the newspapers and magazines and he listened to the gossip in the office.

Michael's was the restaurant of choice for the movie and music people who lived in the Malibu colony. When he hung up the phone, he asked the manager if he knew exactly where Michael's was located, mentioning casually that lie was having di

That evening when David walked into Michael's restaurant he was surprised that only the front part was under a roof-the rest of the restaurant was in a garden made beautiful with flowers and large white umbrellas that formed a secure canopy against rain. The whole area was glowing with lights. It was just beautiful, the balmy open air of April, the flowers gushing their per-fume and even a gold moon overhead. What a difference from a Utah winter. It was at this moment that David Jatney decided never to go home again.

He gave his name to the receptionist and was surprised when he was led directly to one of the tables in the garden. He had pla

He saw Dean Hocken at the table he was being led to, and with Hocken were a man and a woman. The first thing that registered on David was that Hocken had deliberately given him a later time so that he would not have to wait-an extraordinary kindness that almost moved him to tears. For in addition to being paranoid and ascribing mysterious evil motives to other people's behavior, David could also ascribe wildly benevolent reasons.

Hocken got up from the table to give him a down-home hug and then introduced him to the man and woman. David recognized the man at once. His name was Gibson Grange, and he was one of the most famous actors in Hollywood. The woman's name was Rosemary Belair, a name that David was surprised he didn't recognize because she was beautiful enough to be a movie star. She had glossy black hair worn long and her face was perfect in its symmetry. Her makeup was professional and she was dressed elegantly in a di

They were drinking wine; the bottle rested in a silver bucket. Hocken poured David a glass.

The food was delicious, the air balmy, the garden serene, none of the cares of the world could enter here, David felt. The men and women at the tables around them exuded confidence; these were the people who controlled life.

Someday he would be like them.

He listened through the di

David listened and watched. He took no part in the conversation, and when he was immobile his face was as handsome as in his photographs. The other people at the table registered it but he did not interest them and David was aware of this.

And it suited him right now. Invisible, he could study this powerful world he hoped to conquer. Hocken had arranged this di

Rosemary a chance to talk Gibson Grange into doing a picture with her. But why? There was a certain easiness between Hocken and Rosemary that could not be there unless they had been through a sexual period. It was the way Hocken soothed Rosemary when she became too excited in her pursuit of Gibson Grange. At one time she said to Gibson, "I'm a lot more fun to do a picture with than Hock."

And Hocken laughed and said, "We had some pretty good times, didn't we, Gib?"

And the actor said, "Hah, we were all business." He said this without cracking a smile.

Gibson Grange was a "bankable" star in the movie business. That is, if he agreed to do a movie, that movie was financed immediately by any studio.

Which was why Rosemary was so anxiously pursuing him. He also looked exactly right. He was in the old American Gary Cooper style, lanky, with open features; he looked as Lincoln would have looked if Lincoln had been handsome. His smile was friendly, and he listened to everyone intently when he or she spoke. He told a few good-humored anecdotes about himself that were fu