As Dryden had told it, Dr. Fishback of his own volition had ruled that Goldine must take a dope test. By good fortune, Dryden was in the medical room to have his twisted ankle examined, and overheard Fishback on the phone ordering the marshal to pick up Goldine after the 400 metres. Learning that the test would mean a car ride to the hospital, he had waited to see whether Klugman or anyone else was going along in support, learned that they weren’t, and insisted that he be allowed to accompany her. Fishback had given his assent, provided Goldine was agreeable.
On the way to the hospital, Fishback had changed his mind and driven instead to the Salk Institute. They had arrived there at five-forty, the test had been administered at six-ten, but the physician in charge, who had to sign the medical certificate, was off duty till six forty-five. Satisfied by the analyst that the test was negative, Fishback had not waited any longer, but Dryden had thought it wise to collect the written evidence of Goldengirl’s test. During the interval before the physician arrived, he had twice tried ringing the stadium, but nobody picked up the phone. Soon after seven o’clock, when he had collected the certificate, he got the idea of phoning the heliport. He had asked for a message to be delivered to the pilot of the Jet Ranger: that, as it was already too late to fly to Cambria Pines before sundown, he was taking Goldine, by then exhausted, for a meal in La Jolla. They had run into a little trouble afterward getting a cab, but finally stopped one at nine-ten. By nine-fifty they had found Brannon, deputed to meet them at the heliport, and got into another cab, which had delivered them to the hotel. Time: ten-fifteen. Supporting evidence: one certificate signed by Dr. Lyle-Gordon of the Salk Institute, one check from the Plaza Inn and — a nice touch — one crepe bandage around Dryden’s right ankle. As he had mentioned to Goldine in the cab, it scored tactically to check in at ten, rather than seven. By then, the consortium was more anxious than angry.
How they felt after a night’s reflection it was difficult to judge. When Dryden appeared in the hotel restaurant at nine-forty, he learned that several of the party had already breakfasted and checked out. A curt note left by Serafin informed him that a cab was ordered for ten-thirty. The second party would take off from the San Diego heliport at ten forty-five, destination Cambria Pines.
‘You’ve read the report, then. She seems to have created the right amount of interest at this stage, wouldn’t you say?’
It was Lee. He must have arrived in the lounge when Dryden was deep in the newspaper.
‘Looks like it,’ Dryden said tersely. The polite smile and couch-side voice were a little difficult to stomach this morning.
‘“The mystery blonde,”’ Lee went on. ‘Isn’t that a helpful start toward the image? I thought mysteries made good copy in the advertising business.’
‘It’s a theory,’ said Dryden without enthusiasm.
‘Perhaps I should stick to things I understand. The psychology of mass communications always overawed me. I am quite baffled by demographics and computer readouts. Did you sleep well?’
‘You want me to tell you about my dreams?’ said Dryden in a growl. ‘Yes, I passed a comfortable night. I believe some of the party made an early start this morning.’
Lee’s smile widened slightly. ‘As I understand it, yes. Dr. Serafin ordered seven-thirty calls for each of the consortium so that they should be in Cambria for a meeting at eleven. I can imagine certain of them were not too enthusiastic about that, but they have all checked out. Dr. Serafin usually gets his way.’
‘So who does that leave for flight two, apart from ourselves?’
‘Just Klugman and Brannon, I believe,’ said Lee. ‘Goldengirl traveled with the consortium.’ He got up. ‘They are very likely still in bed. I’d better arrange for them to be called.’
‘Is that necessary? We could tell the cab driver to call back in an hour.’
‘That wouldn’t do,’ said Lee. ‘Dr. Serafin has arranged for you to join the meeting at two o’clock.’
Dryden got there at two-ten. There was no delay in the flight; the Jet Ranger managed the three-hundred-mile hop along the coast to Cambria in a little over two and a half hours. Time for a leisurely lunch before he ambled across to the casa Armitage had made available for the meeting. The ten minutes after two o’clock had been spent on a second cup of coffee. The consortium could wait awhile. He was playing this his own way.
They sat around a table in the big studio living room. Serafin grim-faced at the holdup in the agenda. Sternberg in the demanding act of removing his linen jacket with help from Armitage. Cobb politely stifling a yawn. And Valenti lighting his next Panatella from the butt of the last.
Dryden slid into the vacant chair opposite Serafin. ‘You were expecting me?’ he mildly inquired.
‘At two o’clock,’ snapped Serafin. ‘We don’t have much time. I promised Mr. Sternberg to wind up by three, as his helicopter is coming to take him to an appointment in Las Vegas. Gentlemen, we come to the last major item on the agenda: the management of Goldengirl’s commercial future. You will remember that Mr. Armitage suggested at our last meeting that we arrange for Mr. Dryden to be with us this weekend to acquaint him with our plans, with a view to inviting him to act for Goldengirl after her victories in Moscow. One way and another, Mr. Dryden’ — he looked over his glasses — ‘you must have gained a pretty comprehensive insight into the project. I take it by now that you have come to a decision about your agency’s participation.’
‘You coming in?’ said Valenti.
‘Can I get a few things clear first?’ asked Dryden. This was his turn at bat and he was not going out with one swipe. ‘You’re offering Dryden Merchandising the exclusive right to act as agent for Miss Goldine Serafin in negotiating contracts with commercial groups interested in using her name, picture, personal endorsement—’
‘The lot,’ said Valenti. ‘How about it?’
‘Radio, TV and movies,’ Dryden went on, ‘theater and nightclub appearances, books, magazines and newspapers — all exclusive?’
‘You’re the top agent,’ said Sternberg, wheezing after the struggle with his jacket.
‘And I have the reputation of my agency to protect,’ Dryden pointed out. ‘If Dryden Merchandising is better regarded by big business than most other agencies, it’s because we have a name for taking 100 per cent reliable people on our list. No junkies, jailbirds, political extremists — people who could destroy a brand image overnight. You understand that if anything adverse — I’m speaking hypothetically — became public knowledge, my agency couldn’t have anything to do with Goldengirl.’
Valenti looked suspicious. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘It’s a simple safeguard,’ answered Dryden. ‘Let’s suppose, to take a wild example, one of you supported some controversial cause — the movement to ban dogs from urban areas, let’s say — and you planned to use Goldengirl as a voice for your arguments. The moment she made these views known, she would be commercially finished.’
‘That figures,’ said Sternberg. ‘I like dogs, anyway.’
‘We understand that Goldengirl’s character must be seen to be exemplary and uncontroversial,’ said Serafin, giving no hint that he took the comment as a personal imputation. ‘Is that agreed, gentlemen? Do we take it, in that case, Mr. Dryden—’
‘Not yet. The timing of the promotional campaign,’ said Dryden. ‘You want everything to be ready to make an impact at the most favorable moment, the peak of public interest, as soon after the Olympics as possible?’