Read Online The Berlin Connection by Johannes Mario Simmel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Johannes Mario Simmel
Ads: Link
"Paragraph fourteen should read, Tn the event the movie Come Back cannot be produced within the specified limits all obligations of the Wilson Brothers will automatically cease. All payments, compensations or indemnities will be to the debit of Jorkos Productions ...' "
It was one week before we were to start shooting. We had rented a studio, equipment, hired actors and actresses, musicians and studio and technical staff. We had to compensate ...
I reached for my glass and emptied it. Jorkos Productions belonged to Kostasch and me. Even if we could make advantageous arrangements, the uninsured film would cost us a million German marks. I did not know if Kostasch had five hundred thousand marks cash. I did not. And there was only one person in the world who had and who was probably willing to give it to me, my wife Joan. My wife Joan, whom I wanted to leave in order finally, completely to possess her daughter. "Mr. Jordan ..."
I jumped. Natasha had spoken. "Excuse me?" "I said, is it not possible to postpone this film?" "We'd lose the people who are financing the movie." "And if—I'm sorry—and if someone else were to play your part?"
"That's not possible either. The movie is the story of
my life. A forty-year-old American, once a famous child star, making a movie in Germany, is given the chance of a comeback. Naturally, the contract is in my name ..." I looked at her quiet, composed face. My words came hurriedly. "My position is desperate ... if I cannot make the movie we'll have to compensate all concerned ... as soon as anything becomes known of my illness people will make outrageous demands ..."
"No one will hear anything from me."
"That is important . . . that is very important. I shall have to talk to my partner now..."
"Is he here in Hamburg?"
"No, unfortunately not. He won't be back until tonight from Diisseldorf—^he is looking for movie locations—that is if he does get back tonight ... he intended to stay until tomorrow . . ." Herbert Kostasch! Desperately I was wishing him back, my imagination credited him with marvelous abilities. Cunning, wisdom, craftiness. He would find a way out with one single great idea. Oh! Herbert Kostasch!
"I won't have to go to a clinic today or tomorrow, will I?'*
"No, but—"
"What I mean is, there is no immediate danger, is there?"
"Not if you rest. Your heart has to rest. You must sleep. You must not drink any more."
"All right. Well, no. You can still look after me for a day or two?"
"Only until tomorrow night. I'm just filling in for a colleague. Saturday I am leaving for the Congo."
"You are going to Africa?"
"Yes. I've signed a contract for five years with the city hospital in LeopoldvUle," she said and behind the thick lenses of her glasses her eyes were shining with contentment and happiness. I thought, it is true then, there are people, not only like me, with dirty secrets and desperate
passions. No, there are others with true purity of soul. People, who set out to help their brothers, black, sick, poor, despised ...
"You must sleep."
"But I have to reach my partner ... I have to telephone ..."
"Not now. If your partner is expected back tonisht you have until five o'clock." She took a box of ampoules from her Uttle bag. "I'm giving you just enough medication so you will be awake then. You cannot have any sedative containing barbiturates. It would put too much strain on your liver. I'll leave word you are not to be disturbed." She filled the ampoule. "I'll come by at eight tonisht to give you an injection for the nieht. I'm doins this providing you are going to stay in bed. Will you promise me that?"
"Yes."
"You give me your word?"
I did.
Suddenly I felt tears running down mv face. T wiped them away. I did not want to cry but the tears kept coming. Natasha was sitting next to me while she filled a syringe with the contents of the ampoule.
"I know how desperate you must feel now. You know there is a proverb in the Congo: The sun sets and rises, but
It was one week before we were to start shooting. We had rented a studio, equipment, hired actors and actresses, musicians and studio and technical staff. We had to compensate ...
I reached for my glass and emptied it. Jorkos Productions belonged to Kostasch and me. Even if we could make advantageous arrangements, the uninsured film would cost us a million German marks. I did not know if Kostasch had five hundred thousand marks cash. I did not. And there was only one person in the world who had and who was probably willing to give it to me, my wife Joan. My wife Joan, whom I wanted to leave in order finally, completely to possess her daughter. "Mr. Jordan ..."
I jumped. Natasha had spoken. "Excuse me?" "I said, is it not possible to postpone this film?" "We'd lose the people who are financing the movie." "And if—I'm sorry—and if someone else were to play your part?"
"That's not possible either. The movie is the story of
my life. A forty-year-old American, once a famous child star, making a movie in Germany, is given the chance of a comeback. Naturally, the contract is in my name ..." I looked at her quiet, composed face. My words came hurriedly. "My position is desperate ... if I cannot make the movie we'll have to compensate all concerned ... as soon as anything becomes known of my illness people will make outrageous demands ..."
"No one will hear anything from me."
"That is important . . . that is very important. I shall have to talk to my partner now..."
"Is he here in Hamburg?"
"No, unfortunately not. He won't be back until tonight from Diisseldorf—^he is looking for movie locations—that is if he does get back tonight ... he intended to stay until tomorrow . . ." Herbert Kostasch! Desperately I was wishing him back, my imagination credited him with marvelous abilities. Cunning, wisdom, craftiness. He would find a way out with one single great idea. Oh! Herbert Kostasch!
"I won't have to go to a clinic today or tomorrow, will I?'*
"No, but—"
"What I mean is, there is no immediate danger, is there?"
"Not if you rest. Your heart has to rest. You must sleep. You must not drink any more."
"All right. Well, no. You can still look after me for a day or two?"
"Only until tomorrow night. I'm just filling in for a colleague. Saturday I am leaving for the Congo."
"You are going to Africa?"
"Yes. I've signed a contract for five years with the city hospital in LeopoldvUle," she said and behind the thick lenses of her glasses her eyes were shining with contentment and happiness. I thought, it is true then, there are people, not only like me, with dirty secrets and desperate
passions. No, there are others with true purity of soul. People, who set out to help their brothers, black, sick, poor, despised ...
"You must sleep."
"But I have to reach my partner ... I have to telephone ..."
"Not now. If your partner is expected back tonisht you have until five o'clock." She took a box of ampoules from her Uttle bag. "I'm giving you just enough medication so you will be awake then. You cannot have any sedative containing barbiturates. It would put too much strain on your liver. I'll leave word you are not to be disturbed." She filled the ampoule. "I'll come by at eight tonisht to give you an injection for the nieht. I'm doins this providing you are going to stay in bed. Will you promise me that?"
"Yes."
"You give me your word?"
I did.
Suddenly I felt tears running down mv face. T wiped them away. I did not want to cry but the tears kept coming. Natasha was sitting next to me while she filled a syringe with the contents of the ampoule.
"I know how desperate you must feel now. You know there is a proverb in the Congo: The sun sets and rises, but
Similar Books
