Passing Through the Flame Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought, but I’ve got to be careful not to appear to need it, or they’ll take me to the cleaners.
    Almost as if he were reading Taub’s mind, George appeared with the tornedos Rossini. Pedro has really done it up brown, Taub thought as he inspected the entree. The filets of beef were covered with a half-inch layer of Strasbourg goose liver pate, which in turn was papered with a layer of truffles. The side dishes were cold asparagus vinaigrette, whole broiled mushroom caps, and spaghetti Caruso made with fresh chopped goose liver rather than the conventional chicken liver. Hector had dredged up a dusty bottle of Mouton Rothschild ‘59, and George brought it out in a plain basket with the cobwebs still clinging to the bottle.
    Taub had the satisfaction of seeing Carbo’s eyebrows go up a quarter of an inch as the food was served, the wine uncorked, and the aroma hit his nostrils. Williams made no sign of appreciation, but dug in with gusto. This was the strategic moment to drop the other shoe.
    “I believe we can be frank with each other,” Taub said. “I can tell you at this point that I’m confident that the details of the deal can be worked out to my satisfaction. However, to be blunt... there are differences on the board of directors....”
    Carbo waved his hand deprecatingly. “Believe me, Mr. Taub,” he said, “we understand the situation. As president of Eden Pictures, John Horst would hardly want his record company subsidiary to sell his studio out from under him, and of course he’s fighting the proposal with everything he’s got.”
    Taub took a deep sip of wine and a bite of filet. Thank God it was out in the open and hadn’t turned them off.
    “Horst is behind the times,” he said. “The film end of Eden is never going to get out of the red because the day of the big studio facility is over. There’s just no way to make enough films that will earn out enough money to justify the overhead of an old-fashioned major studio like Eden. The profits from Eden Records are all that’s keeping EPI afloat. Unfortunately, Horst has a vested interest in keeping the studio operation going—it’s all he knows.”
    “What I don’t understand,” Williams said, “is why anyone else would support Horst’s position, when it’s obvious that the studio is running at a built-in loss.”
    Taub shrugged. “There’s not much logic in it. Fifteen years ago, Horst took over Eden as a boy wonder. He’s not a boy anymore, and he’s not a wonder anymore, but in fifteen years he’s been able to stack the board in his favor with film people. Eden Records was started as a way of cashing in on a series of big musicals Eden made in the fifties, and it’s always been considered a side venture. Today the major part of EPI’s cash flow still goes through the studio—at a loss—while we bring in all the profit off the rest. The film people on the board are perfectly content to have the record end subsidize the film end forever, and the accounting has been purposely tangled up so that the stockholders would have a hard time figuring out what the real situation is.”
    “What a business!” Williams grunted. “I wonder how we managed to turn a profit on most of the films we invested in.”
    “You invested in individual films, not in a studio,” Taub said. “That’s how.”
    “Well the problem seems simple enough,” Carbo said. “Either the board of directors must be discredited with the stockholders, or Horst must be discredited with the board, leaving you in the dominant position.”
    “Preferably both,” Williams said. “As I see it, the key to the situation is Jango Beck.”
    “Exactly,” said Carbo.
    “Jango Beck?” Taub, who had been sipping at his wine, swallowed half a glassful. A nauseating vortex formed in his gut, the exact feeling of the world being pulled out from under him from the inside that he had felt nearly ten years ago in San Francisco, in the Den, in the darkness, with that scratchy