Part 2: Dr Hendrickson
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‘This guy, he’s involved. You think I don’t read the papers?’
Sol is like a lot of producers, he goes to the end of a script and works backward. Anything new comes up? He’s in your face with it.
‘The guy,’ I say to Sol, ‘is probably bullshit … his name’s being slung about by someone who says a book was found in his car.’
‘What’s the deal with the book ?’
‘A bit of paper from it was found in a dead man’s pocket.’
I see a glint in Sol’s eye. This is good, blockbuster movies are predicated on death. I could be a contender.
‘And the dead guy was?’
Another thing about Hollywood producers, they don’t like waiting to the end for the end.
‘Tom Keane, but he wasn’t.’
Sol’s dumbing off again, he’s looked at his watch three times in the last two minutes. It’s a gold Rolex Oyster as if you didn’t know.
‘Tell me, Pete, before I fall asleep … how are you going to end this thing?’
‘Everybody works for somebody. Everybody gets paid for what they do. Sometimes you get fired for fucking up, other times you get killed. It depends on who you’re working for.
Sol smiles like he’s enjoyed a good share of corporate serial murders.
‘Build a yacht for a tycoon and it sinks you have one problem. He’ll kill your business. But you live.
Hand over phony information to your spy boss and you have two problems. If he thinks you know about it, he’ll kill you. If he thinks you don’t, then you’re too dumb to hold onto the job. Either way you’ll end up dead.’
‘Exactly, all they had to do was get him down to Adelaide.’
Sol smiles wide enough so I get to see his two gold-capped front teeth. They look buffed.
‘How, send him a train ticket?’
Your best mate makes a crack like that and you stow him one on the shoulder where it hurts, with Sol it’s different.
‘Very funny, Sol, you’re a riot.’
‘Someone down there had a message for him.’
‘A lady had a baby.’
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