The Burning Point (20 page)

"Val is always saying that."

They stopped a little short of the casino. Rainey shaded her eyes with her hand and studied the structure. "Except for the heavy equipment and construction workers wandering around outside, the building looks pretty much the same as always. I thought PDI had to rip the guts and windows out before demolition."

"Only the shot floors, where explosives are loaded, are stripped to bare concrete. The crews were ordered to leave the windows intact in case this movie job came through. Speaking of which, what's the movie about?"

"
Lethal Force
is your basic high testosterone thriller. Kenzie takes on a bunch of paramilitary groups, naturally emerging triumphant. The climax has him bursting out of the hotel in a tank just before it's blown to kingdom come."

"A tank." Kate blinked. "In a hotel?"

"The paramilitary types are having a convention, and the exhibits include a tank. Try not to think too deeply about this--it will make your head ache. Since the hotel is full of bad guys, it doesn't matter that the body count is astronomical. I'm The Girl, and sort of a reward for Kenzie's superhuman heroism."

"Doesn't sound like you're enjoying it much."

"Actually, the script isn't half bad." Rainey slid her sunglasses back on. "Kenzie and I wanted to do another picture together, and this one seemed like a good career move. I've persuaded Hank to give my character some intelligence and a little more to do. I even get to rescue Kenzie a time or two. This flick will never be remembered for character development, but it should make a good guilty pleasure."

"There's nothing wrong with entertainment. But how you holding up to life in the fast lane? You seem a little stressed." More than a little, in fact.

"There's always another fence to jump, Kate. It's a strange life for an introvert."

Quietly Kate said, "You don't sound very happy."

"Happy. Who expects happy?" Rainey glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who was watching intently as Hank Hawkins made sweeping gestures. "At least my life is interesting."

There was a long moment of silence before she burst out, "Sometimes I just want to jump off the carousel, Kate. Run away to a ranch or a desert island with Kenzie and raise cats and babies."

"You could if you wanted to. The two of you must have enough money for several lifetimes of luxury living."

"I could never leave the business. It's what I am." Rainey regarded her husband without expression. "And God knows that Kenzie would never walk away. But I'd love to be able to eat whatever I want and never wear any damned make-up again."

"There are other jobs in Hollywood besides acting."

"Interesting you should mention that." Rainey smiled mischievously. "My secret wish is to direct. Allow myself to become fat and mean and get my jollies by terrorizing hapless actors."

"You'll never be fat, and I doubt that you'd enjoy terrorizing the weak. You always preferred going after the rich and powerful."

"You're right," Rainey admitted. "But even if I don't bully anyone, I still want to direct. That's where it's possible to really tell the story you want to tell. Create a whole vision instead of just being a tool expressing someone else's vision, which is what an actor does."

"In today's Hollywood, it's not impossible for women to be directors."

"No. But it's still damned difficult."

As they neared the Palace, Donovan, who had been conferring with the job foreman, saw them approaching. He wound up his conversation and turned to amble in their direction, his long, easy strides a treat for the eyes. Rainey gave a low whistle. "Who's the hunk in the hard hat?"

"My ex-husband and current boss. The infamous Donovan."

"Good grief. He's as gorgeous as Kenzie." She glanced at Kate. "The one time I almost broke my vow never to return to Maryland was for your wedding. If I hadn't been in the middle of my first film role, I'd have done it."

"No matter. The first wedding didn't take, so maybe someday you'll get an invitation to a second one."

"I'll be there, I promise," Rainey said. "What is it like working for your ex-husband? You've never said much about why you left him. Has enough water gone under the bridge that this doesn't bother you?"

"It's worse than just having him as a boss. God help us, we're housemates." Kate outlined Sam's will as Rainey stared in disbelief.

"That's
diabolical
. How are you managing?"

Kate wondered how to answer that, and settled for, "So far, so good. But it's only been a couple of days since I started working with him."

"So tell me about how you're going to bring this building down. You were always the All-American girl when you were a kid. Who'd have believed you were a terrorist at heart?"

"Not a terrorist." Kate hesitated. "Destruction is an essential part of the cycle of life. Shiva the Destroyer, the god of annihilation and regeneration. The phoenix, perishing in flame and rising from its own ashes. The moribund swept away to make room for new life."

As Rainey nodded, understanding, Donovan arrived within easy speaking distance. "Were you able to set a time for the main explosives delivery, Kate?" he asked.

"Day after tomorrow. The security guards will start at 8:00 A. M. that morning. Mr. Kimmel was just going out to make a delivery, so he said he'll drop off the dynamite and caps for our next test shot within the hour."

"Good." Having settled that, Donovan turned to Raine. "I'm glad this job is giving you and Kate a chance to see each other, Ms. Marlowe."

"So am I." Rainey turned her mirrored gaze to him. "You know who I am. And you, of course, are the s.o.b. who broke Kate's heart."

"Rainey!" Kate exclaimed. "Behave yourself."

Ignoring Kate, Donovan said soberly, "For what it's worth, it's the last thing on earth I would have wanted."

"That's not worth much," Rainey said, her flexible actress voice dripping icicles. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"Believe me, I know that. Did Kate ever tell you why she left me?"

"No. She's too discreet and loyal to dish dirt on anyone, no matter how much they deserve it."

Exasperated, Kate said, "Will you two stop talking about me as if I weren't here?"

The atmosphere eased. Solemnly Donovan said, "No question that I'm the villain of the piece. Flogging at nine. Film at eleven."

Rainey's lips twitched. "Don't make me laugh. Makes it hard to maintain a good snarl."

"I have a pretty good line in light bulb jokes," Donovan said. "Would that undermine your snarl any?"

She broke down and laughed, glancing at Kate. "I should have known you had some good reason for marrying him."

"If you two are
quite
finished, can we talk about something else?" Kate said acidly. "The weather, for example."

Behind her, a deep voice said, "The weather is always a suitable topic, Ms. Corsi. So much nicer than ancient emotional history. Can I make you an honorary Englishwoman since you have such a fine grasp of British conversational style?"

Kate turned with relief to Kenzie Scott. "WASPs do rather well with such things, too, Mr. Scott. I got straight A's in meaningless small talk when I was in school."

"My kind of woman."

His gaze went to Donovan, and he put his hand on the small of Rainey's back in a gesture that clearly said
Mine
. Kate supposed that a man married to one of the most desired and desirable women in the world got a lot of practice in marking his turf.

The two men eyed each other measuringly as they shook hands. The assessment must have gone well, because Kenzie gave Donovan an easy smile. "I've been fascinated by the work your company does ever since I saw a film of PDI bringing down that huge hotel in Miami Beach. Magnificent. Wagnerian, in fact. I kept imagining the building collapsing in slow motion with a chorus of Valkyries wailing on the sound track."

"If you're interested, we have a DVD that shows a number of different shots. Not just buildings, but bridges and damaged oil platforms and other oddball structures. I'd be happy to send you a copy."

"Thank you. I'd enjoy that."

Donovan took off his hard hat and ran his fingers through his hair, loosening it into waves. "I hear that Hawkins wants to have a tank blast out of the hotel?"

"Yes, that's why he wants a building faced with glass. Think of the magnificent mess that will make! Very satisfying in the international market, since 'Boom, smash, tinkle' needs no translation. A lot can be done by the special effects lab, but Hank does want film of the tank crashing through a glass wall." Kenzie turned to Rainey. "I think I've convinced Hank to let me fulfill a boyhood ambition by driving the tank myself."

"Can I come, too?" Rainey asked. "Even highly insured superstars aren't likely to come to harm in a tank."

Kate felt a sense of relief. This conversation was a lot safer than talking about her, and more interesting than the weather. As the talk shifted to the movie she said little, more interested in observing than talking.

Kenzie was an intriguing puzzle. Despite his charm, he had an emotional armor that made it hard to get a sense of the real man beneath the elegant facade. Perhaps that was inevitable for someone who would be recognized in any country of the world. No wonder it was common for stars to marry each other--both understood the pressures.

For Rainey's sake, Kate found herself hoping very hard that Kenzie Scott was able to take off the armor when he was with his wife. Otherwise, what kind of marriage could it be? In the early days of her own marriage, when everything was working, Kate and Donovan had shared everything. It was only later that she had started to wall herself off from her husband.

And once she started to withdraw, she'd never learned how to stop.

Chapter 18

Rainey and her husband's visit was short, merely a quick stop between the airport and the hotel they would use while shooting in Las Vegas. With a wave and Rainey's wistful hope that they could get together within the next few days, the limousine left.

Donovan turned and cast a meaningful glance over the job site. Sheepishly the workers who'd stopped to stare at the stars returned to their jobs. "Now that your friends have left," he told Kate, "we can do another test shot."

Kate collected her hard hat and the test dynamite, which had just arrived--trust Donovan to notice the arrival of the special explosive transport truck even in the middle of a conversation with two major movie stars--and they started climbing steps to the highest of the shot floors. Then the radios crackled to life as Berrigan's foreman said, "Donovan, could you come to the first floor now? We've got a question here."

"I'll be right there," Donovan replied into his radio. "You go ahead and start setting up the shot. Bull's men should have drilled a hole in a column by the elevator shaft. I'll be up in a few minutes."

She was carrying the explosives and blasting cap in her right hand, so she used her left to sketch a mock salute. "Aye, aye, sir."

Whistling, she climbed to the shot floor. She'd done her first little shot, seen an old friend, met the Sexiest Man Alive, and was now trusted enough to set up another test. Today columns, tomorrow skyscrapers!

With a grin, she uttered a mental prayer that she would never have to explain publicly why the work of Phoenix Demolition delighted her so much. Her enjoyment of destruction was surely a sign of low character.

The shot floor was tranquil, the afternoon light glowing through the mirrored windows and illuminating floating motes of dust. She quickly located the drilled column, which stood beside the empty space that had contained a bank of elevators. A thin yellow plastic safety tape outlined the shaft. She peered over the edge at the ten floor drop. The harsh clamor of a generator in the basement floated up to her, not much more than a hundred feet away, but seeming much farther.

Stepping back from the shaft, she carefully prepared her charge. Puncture the end of the first stick with the brass punch, insert blasting cap. Straighten wires and half hitch them around the dynamite, then slide into bored hole.

Suddenly routine went awry. Instead of coming to a stop, the wires continued to slither into the hole. Barely in time Kate realized that something was amiss. Swearing, she grabbed the wires just before they vanished. Apparently the hole had been drilled all the way through the column.

Assume nothing
. She'd assumed that the hole was the right depth, and been wrong. Donovan would not have made such a mistake.

She tugged on the wires, but they didn't move. The explosive must be hanging out the back, directly over the elevator shaft. If she pulled too hard, she could break the wires, allowing the dynamite to drop straight down the elevator shaft.

She swore again, beginning to understand why demolition workers had a reputation for bad language. Probably the explosive was stable enough to drop ten stories without going off, but she certainly couldn't bet anyone else's life on that.

Even if there was no danger, she'd feel like a damned fool. Everyone on the site would know that Kate Corsi couldn't be trusted not to drop a stick of dynamite down an elevator shaft. She'd have to retrieve the explosive and get her job done before Donovan appeared.