Part 55 (1/2)

Mr. Ronsen was then appointed a committee of one to go out to the studio and prepare a report to be delivered to the board at its next monthly meeting.

There being no further discussion to come before the board, the meeting was then adjourned. The time was 5.10 p.m.

Peter was walking up and down his office excitedly. It was dark outside his window. The clock on his desk read ten minutes past seven. For almost two hours since the meeting had adjourned he had been raving mad.

Now he turned to Johnny and looked at him. A thought had come to him suddenly. He glared at Johnny angrily. ”Those G.o.d-d.a.m.n besteds!” he shouted. ”Why did you have to give them a chance, Johnny!”

Johnny's mouth fell open. ”Me?” he asked, not believing his ears. ”What kind of a chance did I give them? You made the agreement with Danvere!”

”Agreement, shmagreement!” Peter shouted at him. ”If you stuck your nose out of the studio this wouldn't have happened. We would have had the six pictures ready on time!” He turned and walked angrily to the window and looked out. ”But no,” he said bitterly over his shoulder. ”You had to be a genius! A mocher, a know-it all! Mark told me how you came out to the studio and kept pus.h.i.+ng him for that picture and made him forget about everything else.” He turned to Johnny. There was a look of misery in his eyes. ”Why did you do it, Johnny?” he asked reproachfully. ”Was it because of the money you put into it? Was that a good enough reason to take chances like that with our business?”

Johnny didn't answer. His face had lost its color and he gripped the desk in front of him. He stared back at Peter, his eyes boring into him.

Peter turned back to the window, his shoulders slumping suddenly. ”Why did you do it, Johnny?” he asked again, almost brokenly. ”That ain't the only reason I feel bad either.”

He walked over to Johnny and looked up into his face. Sudden tears seemed to come into his eyes. ”It's just as bad thinking when I needed the money all that time, you had it for this and not for me. If I had the money and you asked me for it, Johnny, I would have given it to you.”

9.

The coolness that had developed between Peter and Johnny was immediately apparent to everyone except the two princ.i.p.als themselves. They prided themselves on being able to keep it from general knowledge. But Jane knew about it and she was worried. She was not afraid for herself, but she felt bad that her two friends should act as they did toward each other.

A small example of it was the time the phone on her desk rang. She answered it.

”Jane,” Peter's voice came through the receiver, ”tell Johnny I want to see him in my office.”

She hung up the phone feeling oddly disturbed. Ordinarily Peter would call Johnny direct on the interoffice communicator or walk into his office and call him. It was easy enough to do, since their offices were adjoining and had a connecting door. She pressed Johnny's signal.

He came on the phone immediately. ”Yes, Jane.”

”Peter wants to see you, Johnny,” she said.

There was a moment's silence. Then he sighed into the phone wearily. ”All right, I'll go in to see him.”

Her voice kept him from hanging up the phone.

”Johnny,” she said.

”Yes, Jane?”

”What's going on between Peter and you? You have a fight or something?” she asked.

His laugh rang into her ear, but his voice was cool. Something in it was telling her to mind her own business. ”Don't be silly,” he said, and hung up the phone.

Slowly she put the phone down. No matter what Johnny said, she still didn't like it.

He came back into his office wearily. He wished Peter would stop harping on the subject. He was getting d.a.m.n sick and tired of listening to how he had got them into all this trouble. But he couldn't say anything in reply. He had promised Doris that he wouldn't.

The phone on his desk rang. He walked over to it and picked it up. ”Yes, Jane?”

”Mr. Ronsen is out here and would like to see you,” her voice came through.

He wondered why Ronsen had come to his office. ”Send him in,” he said, and hung up the phone.

The door opened and Ronsen came into the office. A thin smile came to his face as he saw Johnny. He crossed the room to him. ”I wanted to see you before I left for the coast, Mr. Edge,” he said, holding out his hand to Johnny.

They shook hands and Johnny was surprised at the strength he found in the pudgy fingers. ”I'm glad you did, Mr. Ronsen,” he said, waving toward a chair. ”Sit down, won't you?”

Ronsen seated himself in a chair opposite Johnny's desk and looked at him. ”I suppose you're wondering why I came to see you, Mr. Edge?” he asked.

Johnny nodded his head. ”A little,” he admitted.

Ronsen leaned forward in his chair eagerly. Lights were dancing in his eyes behind the thick tortoise-rimmed spectacles. ”I was wondering if you had anything you wanted to tell me.”

Johnny looked at him. ”About what?” he asked cautiously.

Ronsen smiled slightly. ”About the studio. You know I'm going tomorrow.”

Johnny smiled back at him. Two could play at that game. His face was blank. ”I'm afraid there's nothing I have to tell you, Mr. Ronsen,” he said in a carefully polite voice. ”Except to rea.s.sure you that the studio is in capable hands. As to its operation, that is Mark Kessler's responsibility, not mine, and I feel that he knows what he is doing.”

The smile was still on Ronsen's face, but he sat there quietly for a moment. Then he seemed to stir himself as a thought came to him. ”Perhaps in that case the fault does not lie with the studio. Maybe it properly belongs elsewhere.”

The pretense stripped from Johnny's voice. ”Just what are you implying, Mr. Ronsen?” he asked.

”Larry,” Ronsen suggested, with the smile on his lips.

”Larry,” Johnny agreed. ”But that's still not an answer to my question.”

Ronsen looked at him. Edge knew more about this company than any other man alive with the exception of Kessler himself. He could be d.a.m.n useful if he could be persuaded to come over to his side. ”Perhaps the responsibility rests with Mr. Kessler.” He studied Johnny's face intently.

Johnny's face was calm, controlled. It revealed no expression. ”What makes you think that, Larry?” he asked.

Ronsen sank back comfortably into his seat. ”The man is getting old, you know. I believe he's over sixty. He may be subject to some slight degree of senility. Who can tell?”

Johnny laughed aloud. ”That's ridiculous, Larry. You don't know the man the way I do. All right, I admit he's no youngster, but he has a greater capacity for work and a better comprehension of the business than many a younger man could possibly have.”

”Than you, for example?” Ronsen prompted cagily.

Johnny smiled slowly. ”He's the president, isn't he? He owns the company.”