End Games - 11 Read Online Free

of the vast room, the interviewer at his heels.
    ‘Just one more thing!’ she called. ‘When does filming actually start?’
    Aldobrandini ignored her. He locked the door behind him, then crossed the two antechambers leading to his private quarters at the far corner of the building. Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed supine on the sofa. Pippo appeared.
    ‘Beulah, peel me a grape,’ commanded his master. ‘No, pour me a potent whisky and soda.’
    ‘I’ve got Marcello on hold.’
     
    Aldobrandini giggled.
    ‘Well, don’t squeeze him too tightly, caro , or he might spill all over you. God, I’m wrecked! Why do I even bother doing interviews?’
    ‘Because it’s in the contract that you have to, and because you’re an applause whore.’
    ‘Ah yes. And tomorrow?’
    ‘Spanish, French, Swedish and Russian press, plus Fox, CNN, the BBC, some Japanese cable station and three highly influential media bloggers.’
    ‘Dear Christ. All right, pass me Marcello. And that drink.’
    Pippo handed over a portable phone and shimmied off towards the liquor cabinet.
    ‘Marcello, how delightful to hear from you. What news on the Rialto?’
    ‘Cut the crap, Luciano, this is serious. Jeremy’s off the movie.’
    Pippo returned with a brimming beaker, half of which Aldobrandini downed at one go.
    ‘That’s absurd. I spoke to him only the other day.’
    ‘Yes, but what Jeremy didn’t know then was that his agent had heard some bad buzz about the project and had decided to dig a little himself. He didn’t like what he came up with and advised his client to pull, which he now has. It’ll go public tomorrow, so you’ll need to be prepared when you meet the media. Those Austrians hadn’t heard, I hope?’
    ‘They didn’t mention it, but I’ve kept them hanging around the palazzo all day because I was simply too overwhelmed to talk to anyone.’
     
    ‘Well, it’s bound to come up. I suggest you spin it as a creative disagreement thing. Both you and Jeremy are great artists and can only achieve your full potential if you are in complete accord. Unfortunately on this occasion your views differed, and so with the greatest regret you have mutually decided that further collaboration would not be fruitful. You wish Jeremy all the best in the future and look forward to working with him again. Negotiations are in progress with a number of other big Hollywood stars, but it would be inappropriate to mention names at this stage.’
    Aldobrandini sat drinking and thinking. This was a blow, no denying it. The author of Revelations played a key part in the high concept he had in mind for the film. Saint John had not only declared his work to be an account of a mystical experience, but had grounded this by locating it on the island of Patmos. That island could easily be invoked with some shots of Calabrian caves and shoreline, but the figure of the prophet himself was central. The idea was to leave the audience uncertain whether his visions had been an objective visitation or a subjective hallucination, but it was the visual image of John himself that must convince them that any of this was worth their attention. For that, the slim, saturnine and massively talented British actor had seemed perfect. Aldobrandini could just see his lugubrious yet oddly fragile frame hung with a simple cloak, while the inspired face, the expression pitched on the cusp between the ecstatic and the demonic, gazed up at the heavens. The El Greco look.
     
    ‘So what did Jeremy’s agent find out?’ he asked Marcello.
    ‘Well, that’s the other thing we need to discuss. I have to say it’s slightly disturbing. No more than that at this stage, but we need to tread carefully.’
    ‘Cut the crap yourself, Marcello.’
    ‘He didn’t give me all the details, but basically it goes like this. He was in LA last week and of course mentioned our project. The response was, “It’s great that Luciano’s back in harness, but who’s this Rapture