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rumbled.
"Fine. Now go learn Japanese," Bronzini said as he mounted the bike and kicked
the starter. "Because you're going to need it."
Roam laughed. "Once you get to know him," he whispered to Remo, "he's a great
kidder. Here, let me introduce you. Bart, I want you to meet Remo. He's' our
stunt American. He'll be doubling for you."
Remo put out his hand, thinking that if he was going to watch over Bronzini,
he'd better swallow his dislike for the man and make friends.
"I'm a big fan," he lied.
"Then why don't I feel a breeze?" Bronzini sneered, ignoring the offered hand.
He roared off after a Nishitsu production van.
"Wonder what's eating him?" Sunny Joe said.
"He always acts like his jockstrap is too tight," Remo said. "I read it in a
magazine."
The base commander of the Yuma Marine Air Station was stoic when Bartholomew
Bronzini stepped into his office. Jiro Isuzw hung unobtrusively behind him.
"Let me say from the start," Colonel Emile Tepperman said brusquely, "that
I've never seen one of your films." Bartholomew Bronzini allowed a sheepish
expression to settle over his hangdog face.
"It's not too late," he quipped. "They're all on video."
His crooked grin was not returned. He wasn't sure if that was because the
Marine officer was a no-nonsense type, or that this was further proof, if any
was needed, that Bartholomew Bronzini's strong suit was not standup comedy. He
also wasn't sure why he was playing along with this dog-and-pony show. As
angry as he felt, he was a professional. He was going to finish this movie on
schedule-whatever the schedule was-and get the hell out.
"Sit down and tell me what it is you want the Corps to do for you," Colonel
Tepperman suggested.
"We'd like the use of your base for a day or two," Bronzini said. "Starting
tomorrow."
"Funny time to be starting a film. So close to the holidays. "
"We'll be shooting through the holidays," Bronzini told him. "Can't be helped,
sir. I figure it might be less disruptive with your soldiers on leave."
"I don't have the authority to grant such permission," the colonel said
slowly, eyeing Isuzu. "We have an ongoing signals intelligence operation at
this base."
"Who does have the authority?" Bronzini asked coolly.
"The Pentagon. But I hardly think they'd entertain-"
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"So far, we have received great cooperation from your State Department,
Congress, and rocal raw authorities," Jiro Isuzu broke in urgently.
The colonel considered the Japanese's words.
"I suppose I could make a phone call," he said reluctantly. "How many days
would this entail?"
"Two," Isuzu said. "Not more than three. We would also require the use of
uniformed personnel."
"For what?" Colonel Tepperman asked suspiciously.
"As extras."
"You want to use my people in your movie?"
"Yes, sir," Bronzini said, catching the ball. "I did it all the time in the
Grundys. Hollywood extras don't move or act like real soldiers. They don't
know how to handle weapons realistically."
The colonel nodded. "I stopped going to war movies years ago. Couldn't stand
the imbecilic things I saw. You know, in one film they had some idiot running
around with an U. S. M-120 grenade launcher attached to a Kalashnikov rifle."
"That will never, repeat, never happen in this film," Bronzini promised. "We
know our weapons."
Colonel Tepperman reached for his telephone. "Okay. I'll make that call," he
said decisively. "Do you have a part for a Marine colonel in this movie of
yours?" Bronzini looked to Jiro with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," the Japanese said smoothly. "This very ambitious firm. We have parts
for as many men as you have. But they must bring own weapons. We wirr need
many authentic American weapons."
"We have all you need."
"Of course, they must be roaded with prop burrets."
"Damn straight," Colonel Tepperman said as he listened to the ringing in his
phone receiver. "Hello, put me through to the commandant of the Marine Corps."
The base commander at Luke Air Force Range was stubborn.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I can't allow this," said Colonel Frederick Davis.
"I appreciate what you have in mind, but I can't have a movie crew tramping
all over my base. Too irregular."
"We wirr not require to be on the base for very rong," Jiro Isuzu said
eagerly. "An afternoon at most." Bronzini noticed the Japanese was sweating.
On a shooting schedule this tight, it was no wonder.
"No, I doubt it," Colonel Davis was saying.
"I'm sorry." Bronzini broke in. "What we want to do, sir, is a massive
parachute drop, using as many airmen as you can spare."
"You want me to provide airmen?" Bronzini nodded.
"In full gear."
"We wirr suppry the parachute, of course," Isuzu said. "And pay arr operating
expense. Okay by you?"
"And a per diem for everyone," Bronzini added. He noticed a faint gleam appear
in the colonel's evasive eyes. "My God, man, do you realize what's involved?
You'll need C-130 Hercules transports."
"We'd like three," Bronzini said with calm assurance.
"We want to have the men drop into the Yuma Desert. Naturally, we'll need to
film the planes taking off from here. And the operation in its entirety."
"Sounds spectacular," Colonel Davis mused. He had never been in combat, never
participated in a military operation on the scale this flat-cheeked actor was
describing.
"Think of the publicity for the Air Force," Bronzini said. "In the script,
they are the forces that engage the invading Chinese on the ground and destroy
them."
The colonel thought long and quietly.
"You know," he said, sitting up in his chair, "our recruitment people tell me
that every time you do a Grundy film, enlistments go up twenty percent in all
branches of the service."
"Maybe this time it'll be thirty. Or forty."
"Sounds tempting. But it is a lot to ask. I don't think I could get the
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Pentagon to go along."
"Marines arready say yes," Jiro Isuzu inserted.
The colonel's face clouded over. "Those jarheads," he muttered. "What kind of
parts are they getting?"
"Their base is overrun by Chinese Red Army in first reer," Jiro told him.
"He means the first reel," Bronzini translated.
"I might be persuaded to make a few phone calls," Colonel Davis said. "But
you'll have to do something for me in return."
"Name it," Bronzini said. "An autograph? A photo?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
