"I mean everything. Every last rupee or kopeck or shekel or whatever the hell currency they use over in Ebla. Every account the sultan has belongs to Taurus."
"Is it legal?"
"Is our little videotape venture legal?" Marmelstein countered.
Bindle grew confused. "Is it?" he asked.
"No."
He grew concerned. "Is it prosecutable?"
"Gray area," Marmelstein said. "Probably not."
"Can we set Ian up to take the fall?"
"Absolutely."
Hank Bindle's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas.
"I'm finally going to get to make the movie I've always wanted to make!" he exclaimed.
"How much do you think you'll need?" Marmelstein asked.
"Seven hundred million at least," Bindle said. "But we could go as high as a billion if I need reshoots. And forget about Koala directing. This baby is all mine. C'mon, let's get over to Taurus. We have a lot of work to do before Oscar night."
Bindle's jeep had remained close by. The two men climbed rapidly aboard. Leaving the rows of military hardware in their dust, they hightailed it out of the main gate of the old Summit lot.
The tanks waited solemnly behind them, their silent turrets angled in the direction of Beverly Hills.
TAURUS'S HOLLYWOOD LOT had once been the property of Manco, Blomberg large grinning hyena known the world over as the MBM symbol had for years hung proudly above the studio gates. But in these days of high-stakes studio mergers and buyouts, the hyena had given way to the bull. The star-cluster symbol of Taurus now adorned the walls of the venerable old film studio.
Remo had an easy time finding his way back from Long Beach by taking the Harbor Freeway up to the appropriately labeled Hollywood Freeway. He'd been ready to stop to ask someone where he could find the Hollywood annex of Taurus, but before he did he spied the familiar studio logo.
He found that this Taurus lot was easier to get on than the first. The guard at the front booth waved him through without even looking up from his magazine. There had been so many people driving on and off the complex all day long that he'd given up checking IDs a little before noon.
Once inside, Remo came to the rapid conclusion that Taurus Studios should probably begin scouring the night sky for a camel constellation to replace its current bull. The substitute would be a better representative of the studio considering the huge number of the animals the filmmaking company had imported for its latest production.
There were camels everywhere. Arab wranglers had pulled them into something resembling disciplined lines. Still, the stubborn creatures were not completely cooperative. Men with whips and riding crops patrolled the ranks, lashing out whenever an animal broke from the line.
The strangest thing about the sight was that it was far from unique. In fact, on his way here, Remo had noticed similar activities in many of the other studio lots around town. Taurus had obviously rented space from nearly everyone for Sultan Omay's film.
He was surprised by the harsh treatment the animals were receiving. As he watched the cruel men going from line to line he began to doubt the "no animals harmed" disclaimer he'd seen for years at the ends of motion pictures.
He spied Hank Bindle and Bruce Marmelstein chattering animatedly near one of the canvas-topped studio jeeps. The vehicle was parked near the first in a line of faux-adobe bungalows near soundstage 3. As he approached, Remo thought he recognized the two people the executives were with.
Remo pulled in behind Bindle and Marmelstein's jeep. He left his rental car and wandered over to the small group.
Hank Bindle was in the middle of a sales pitch to the new arrivals.
"So what do you think?" Bindle asked excitedly. "It'll be a love story-war event. I was thinking we could even give it a futuristic touch. Maybe The Bodyguard meets Full Metal Jacket meets Stargate."
"I don't know," said one of the new arrivals-a man with a wide cherubic face. His dull imbecile's eyes were hidden behind an expensive pair of sun glasses. "Can we give it a human touch? Maybe something that has to do with saving the manatee or Mother Earth?"
"I like the earth angle," the other stranger said. She was a woman in her early sixties who looked as if she were dressing for this weekend's sock hop. She was tall and as thin as a pin. Her giant eyes seemed to cause her wrinkled lids discomfort with every blink.
Bruce Marmelstein checked a leather-bound notepad.
"We can work in the earth," he said with an enthusiastic nod. He smiled broadly to the couple. "Earth is great," Bindle agreed. "We can fit Earth in. Maybe Mars, too. Maybe even some of those other planets they've got up there."
"An outer-space epic!" Marmelstein cried.
"A Star Wars for the next century!" Bindle exclaimed.
"It's got to have heart," the man insisted. "And a message."
"We can put a message on Mars," Marmelstein said.
"Total Recall!" Bindle exclaimed.
"Perfect!" his partner enthused.
"I wonder what this industry was like for the poor slobs who actually had to come up with the ideas the rest of you have been stealing for the last hundred years?" asked a sarcastic voice. It came from where they'd left their jeep.
When he turned to find its source, the face of Bruce Marmelstein fell precipitously.
"Oh, no," the executive complained. "You again."
"Yeah, me again," Remo groused as he walked up to the others. "And believe me, I'm not exactly thrilled, either. Your little Koala buddy wasn't at the harbor. They told me he'd be here."
"He isn't," Bindle said quickly.
"I'm sick of traipsing around this cracker factory," Remo said. "I'll wait for him." He crossed his arms, appraising the two new arrivals. "Do I know you?" he asked the man and woman.
"Really, don't be insulting," Hank Bindle said with a nervous laugh. "Of course you do. This is Tom Roberks and his lover, Susan Saranrap." He indicated the man and woman, respectively.
"Dead Guy Strolling," Roberts sneered haughtily. "Director."
"Zelma and Patrice," Susan Saranrap sniffed snobbishly. "Star."
"Watched two minutes of each," Remo Williams said with a friendly smile. "Bored."
"Hah, what a joker," Bruce Marmelstein interjected anxiously. "He's a friend of Mr. Koala, our liaison with the new owner." He turned to Remo. "I'm sure I can find someone who'll hook the two of you up."
The studio exec tried to steer Remo away from the two celebrities. He found to his dismay that every time he tried to take hold of Remo's arm, the arm was somehow not where it had been a second before.
"So, have you made any progress on your latest bomb?" Remo asked sweetly.