352 - Hollywood: Backlot Emperor (Patreon)

352 - Fallout

Content note: This is alternate-universe fiction featuring fictionalized portrayals of public figures; it does not describe real events. This Patreon edition adapts parts of chapters 351 and 353. This sequence depicts cannabis use, a paid-sex transaction interrupted before sexual contact, and non-graphic physical assault.

Cole Allen slammed his hand against his desk. Across from him stood Robert Field, until that morning one of the more useful editors at the New York Post. Now Allen could barely look at him.

"Give me one explanation I can believe, Robert," Allen said through clenched teeth.

The Daily News lay on the desk between them. Its headline about a Post editor caught in a prostitution and drug scandal seemed to glare up at him.

The two tabloids fought for the same readers and rarely missed a chance to mock each other. Their feuds sometimes drew in the owners, Rupert Murdoch and Mortimer Zuckerman. Allen knew exactly how much satisfaction the rival paper would take from this.

Now the Daily News had splashed Field's arrest across its pages. To Allen, it felt like a public slap in the face.

"I was set up, Mr. Allen. I swear it." Field looked desperate. "Someone sent that woman to me and arranged for the police to find us."

"Set up? You think the Daily News paid a woman and bought off officers just to catch you? If they wanted to hurt this paper, why choose you?" Allen asked.

"How else did they print it so fast?" Field insisted. "And she admitted what she did the moment we reached the station. Who does that? They had it planned."

"Enough." Allen forced himself to lower his voice. "Go home. Effective today, you're off the job."

Field stared at him, then began to shake. "Please, Mr. Allen. My wife threw me out. I have nowhere to go. If I lose this job too—please."

"It isn't open for discussion. Mr. Murdoch agrees. You made this mess, Robert."

"But I know things," Field muttered. "I know what we've done—"

Allen's expression hardened. "Watch what you say, Mr. Field. If you make accusations, we will respond through counsel."

Field went pale. He opened his mouth, then seemed to understand that his threat had ended any chance of mercy.

"Yes. I understand." He stumbled out of the office.

Allen felt a passing flicker of pity. It did not last. Field had brought himself to this point with an astonishing lack of caution.

Still, the speed of the Daily News story bothered him. Unless one of its reporters had been near the police station—or happened on Field at the moment of his arrest—the timing was remarkably convenient.

A setup was possible, Allen thought. Hiring someone would not have cost much. He had no proof anyone inside the NYPD had been bought, but neither would he dismiss the idea.

The question was who would go to that trouble, and why Field?

Allen tapped the desk, then picked up the phone. "John? Cole Allen. Yes, I've seen the Daily News. One of my editors has made a spectacular mess. You advise the NYPD, don't you? Could you find out what happened? I can't walk in there myself right now. Oh? Go on."

His surprise gave way to a troubled look. "All right. I'm listening."

When he hung up, Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose. The account he had heard was hard to believe.

"Yes, someone wanted to get at your paper," John had told him. "More precisely, they wanted Field gone. They think he crossed a line more than once. They may resent the Post too, but they say they don't want a fight with it. That's why I'm telling you. They knew you and I were close enough for me to make the call."

John had made clear that passing on the message was itself a request from the people behind it. They had done their research.

Someone angered by Field's coverage had used money and contacts to remove him without directly confronting the Post. Once the Daily News heard about the arrest and the cannabis, it would do the rest. Allen understood the mechanics, even if he found them ugly.

And whoever had arranged it had still embarrassed the Post. Their claim that they did not want a fight sounded hollow.

Allen could complain, but John Laux was no ordinary messenger. An NYU psychology professor and an adviser to the NYPD, he knew the commissioner personally and moved easily in Manhattan circles.

If the people behind Field's fall could persuade Laux to call, they had planned beyond one hired woman and one arrest. Allen suspected they had contacts higher up. That remained a suspicion, not something he could prove.

They wanted Field ruined and the Post warned that a smear campaign might have consequences.

Who had enough reason to do it? Allen considered the stories Field had pushed and thought of Adrian Vale.

The paper had recently run another hostile piece about the actor's private life. Field had delighted in the nastier insinuations for years. A deliberate strike at him would make sense.

The fool should have paid attention, Allen thought. He remembered rejecting several drafts on Adrian because they were needlessly vicious. An ordinary reader might have taken offense; a young star with money and allies certainly could.

Adrian had risen quickly in little more than three years. An Oscar nomination, a Grammy, a production company, valuable partnerships, and a fortune rumored to run into the hundreds of millions: Field had treated all of that as if it made him an easier target.

Perhaps he had been punished for it. Allen could not prove Adrian was involved. Even if John knew who had sent the message, the real organizer might be hidden behind several intermediaries.

He would tell the owner what he suspected and leave the larger decision to him. For now, he had a front-page humiliation to manage. Damn Robert Field.

* * *

While the Post wrestled with the Daily News story, Adrian laughed on the West Coast. The result was what he had wanted: Field was damaged, Adrian was not publicly linked to it, and the dispute had not yet become a war with the paper.

"I'm impressed, Sandy. Thank you. Tell Neil he did good work too. I love you both," Adrian said over the phone.

The plan had cost him more than a million dollars. Lucy had been brought in from Nevada to make the trail harder to follow; most of the expense, he understood, had gone toward a donation connected to a New York police fund. To Adrian, the price was worth it.

Neil's people had gathered a file on Field. After reading it, Adrian felt no inclination to let the editor go on using him for headlines without consequence.

Field's career was likely finished. Even if the Post and Daily News reached an understanding, Adrian believed another outlet would keep the story alive. That was the point of the plan.

As for Field's family, Adrian told himself that the man had chosen his own risks. It was a cold answer, and he knew it.

"Can you get back to acting now?" Sanders asked, unwilling to linger on the subject.

"Yes. Don't worry." Adrian glanced across the golf course, where Cate was getting ready for their next scene.