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Chapter 60: Who is the Beneficiary
🕑 Added 2024-10-03 10:14:41 +0000 UTCThe sky was faintly brightening, and a conference room at Warner Brothers was brightly lit. After learning about the fire at the Warner studio, many high-ranking officials, including Jeff Robinov, rushed over to listen to the preliminary investigation results alongside the crew's management.
The preliminary report from the fire department was straightforward, without convoluted technical jargon. The fire was caused by a dehumidifier in the warehouse running beyond its capacity, leading to an aging electrical short circuit that ignited a set piece. Moreover, Warner's mismanagement meant the warehouse's sprinkler and alarm systems were nearly useless, making the management partly responsible.
"The estimated loss is about $800,000. Fortunately, the film from *The Rock* was undamaged."
Hearing this from a Warner executive, Duke took a sip of strong coffee. In some ways, he was indeed lucky, as his connection with Sophia had spared him from what could have been a fatal blow.
"Are we sure this is just an ordinary fire?" Jeff Robinov suddenly asked.
No one spoke up. Although everything appeared to be a regular fire, no one in the fiercely competitive Hollywood dared to assure that it was just that.
"First, notify the authorities; second, I've dispatched someone to the film lab to oversee the negatives. We will make extra copies, with one sent to the bank vault; third, we will temporarily claim this is just an ordinary fire; fourth, we will leverage the media coverage from the fire to associate it with *The Rock*—turning this disadvantage into an advantage..."
No one in a high-ranking position in a large company is foolish. Jeff Robinov was not focusing on the fire's reality but rather how to maximize the incident's benefits.
"I request to personally keep a copy of the film," Duke added.
"That can be arranged..."
By the time the sun rose, everyone exited the conference room. Charles Roven walked beside Duke and gently patted his shoulder, covered in ash.
"We're quite lucky," Roven seemed somewhat reflective.
"Considering the losses from the fire," Duke forced a smile, "our luck is indeed good."
"Be cautious, Duke." He warned, "I suggest you don't speak to the media about any non-Warner promotional activities; someone is watching us."
He continued, "Behind every fire on a film set in Hollywood, there are often some unspeakable events. These events require no evidence, nor do they have any."
As Duke walked into the parking lot with Sophia, he contemplated Charles Roven's words. Having worked in Hollywood for over twenty years, Roven had seen the dark sides of the industry. As he said, certain seemingly innocent accidents may not need evidence.
As long as one can identify who stands to gain the most from the fire, that's enough. Even without any proof of foul play, it would be enough to raise suspicions.
Evidence—how important is it? If it were indeed arson, those who dared to act at Warner would likely leave few valuable clues behind. Even if a potential arsonist were caught, what would it matter? The crime rate in this country is so poor; the streets are filled with vagrants and unemployed people, some of whom would even kill for the money of strangers, let alone set a fire.
Even if everything were true, those ultimately held responsible would be the small fry who knew nothing of the real situation.
This is a realm ruled by commerce, a domain of wealth, a city of sins where money can mask many things.
"What do you think, Sophia?"
Encouraged by Sophia, Duke got into her BMW, sitting in the passenger seat. He asked, "You've been in and out of film sets since you could speak; you've seen and heard more than I have."
"Do you remember what happened in '79?"
Seeing Duke's puzzled expression, Sophia reminded him, "In 1979, there was a fire on the set of *Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back*. Uncle Lucas's project also faced a fire that destroyed many props, including R2D2 and some film reels. The true circumstances of that fire remain unclear to this day."
"I remember," Duke nodded. "I was in boarding school, and my mom mentioned it later."
"I'm easily influenced by the outside world, so I don't have the best advice..." She squeezed Duke's hand tightly. "You could learn from Uncle Lucas's approach. He had Fox's support and chose to temporarily forget it all, pushing forward until he reached the top of this industry. Now you have Warner's support."
Finally, she smiled, "Duke, you're confident, tenacious, and stubborn; I believe no one can bring you down except yourself."
"I'm not stubborn at all."
Looking into the rearview mirror, Duke checked the remnants of ash on himself.
"Shall we head back to North Hollywood or to the hotel?"
Sophia turned the steering wheel and teased, "Not worried about your gold-digging cat?"
"If it weren't for Nami's intervention, I might have done something foolish," Duke joked, "you know, something that could turn me into a dark knight."
"Dark knight?"
"Nothing," Duke shook his head.
Even now, he was uncertain whether he would have rushed into the fire to save film reels that weren't even there.
"I owe her a favor," Duke added.
"So you plan to repay her with feelings? By pursuing her as a girlfriend?"
"Dear, I'm not that foolish."
The car stopped in front of a hotel. Duke rummaged through his pockets for the room key and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Sophia, please call and order a set of men's and women's clothing to be sent directly to the hotel."
"Hey, Duke!" Sophia called out in discontent. "I'm your movie affairs assistant, not your life assistant!"
Unfortunately, Duke's tall figure had already walked into the hotel's revolving door. Sophia had no choice but to start the car and temporarily leave. After parking in a nearby vacant lot, she took out her phone and dialed the number.
Once inside the hotel suite, Duke stepped in front of the dressing mirror and examined his now ash-covered shirt. He took it off and tossed it onto the hanger, exposing his strong upper body as he entered the luxurious suite's living room.
The living room was unusually quiet. Apart from the faint sounds of his footsteps on the thick carpet, there was only the long, soothing breath coming from the couch. Naomi Watts lay on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, like a Persian cat, fast asleep.
But this cat seemed to have just crawled out of a chimney. Her golden curls were disheveled over her forehead, with scorched tips distinctly visible. Her face, covered in soot, hadn't been washed, and faint traces of dirt were visible on her nose and under her lips. A dirty dress strap hung over her shoulder.
"You sleep so well."
As he approached the sofa, Duke picked up Naomi and carried her into the bathroom.
In her dreams, Naomi felt enveloped in warmth, as if she had returned to the scene of the fire. She kicked off her high heels and ran over rough terrain, ignoring the pain in her feet as she rushed to the tall figure, pulling them both away from the flames.
Even now, she couldn't understand how she had mustered the courage to face the fire. After the initial calmness, fear crept in; what if the flames ruined her hair and looks? That was essential for an actress's survival.
But at that moment, she had only one thought: she couldn't let the destroyer act foolishly...
Slowly opening her eyes, Naomi found herself in a warm bathtub, with two large hands massaging the foam of the shampoo, awkwardly washing her body. The hands would occasionally mischievously flick her not-so-full chest when they passed over it.
Turning her body, Naomi hugged the strong figure beside her and instinctively nestled her head against his chest, gently rubbing her delicate face against his robust muscles, feeling blissful.
"Are you awake?"
Seeing her drowsy green-blue eyes, Duke stopped his motions and said something oddly out of place, "You can wash yourself; I'm going to rest."
Naomi said nothing. She grabbed Duke's arm with one hand and slipped the other under the foam, exploring until she found the right spot. Duke's eyes widened in surprise, and his breathing quickened. Before Naomi could do much more, he flipped her over, causing the bathtub and floating foam to shake.
By the time Duke carried Naomi into the bedroom, she seemed too lazy to even open her eyes. After a long while, she reached for the towel Duke had sent and wrapped it around her damp golden hair.
"Time to do my hair again," she said with a hint of regret in her voice.
Despite having had no rest all night, Duke was not sleepy. Lying beside Naomi, his dark eyes darted around until the blonde's self-talk quieted down. He finally spoke slowly.
"Naomi..." he turned to ask, "did you study singing while in drama school?"
"I did, why?" Naomi turned to face Duke. "But that was so long ago; I never thought about developing a music career; it was just a basic course."
"Nothing..." Duke gently pinched her nose. "If you have time, I suggest you practice your singing again; it might come in handy in the future."
Naomi Watts looked at Duke seriously for a moment, seemingly understanding something, and slowly nodded.
At noon, a fashion store delivered the clothes. After Duke checked out, as usual, he waved goodbye to Naomi Watts and they each headed in different directions.
The fire brought some negative effects, but Duke temporarily suppressed his desire to explore the truth. After a few days of rest, he threw himself fully into post-production.
