“You’re a clever man, Mr. Zukor.” Somehow, they were no longer discussing where the money had gone. “You’re describing what makes people go to your films, not ours.”

“My films make money.”

“Ours did, too. I think the story is in those ledgers.”

“Which you’re welcome to audit, as per the contract.”

McAdoo nodded. “I’ll have my men come by tomorrow.”

“The books will be here for them.” Zukor stretched out his limp hand for McAdoo to shake. “I’ll be sure to let them tour the studio first.”

Standing, McAdoo made a note to himself: try to find some auditors who didn’t care about the film business. One hug from Billie Burke had thrown him off course. Lord only knew what Zukor could throw in the path of a pair of twenty-two-year-old junior clerks from Bethesda.

Zukor watched McAdoo go. Finally, Miss Chambers spoke.

“Will that be all, sir?”

But she had barely managed the entire sentence before Zukor had pushed the button under his desk. A bookshelf swung open. Behind it was the mauve room. His eyes swept inexorably from the hidden chamber to Miss Chambers with a kind of parched joy. “There’s one more thing,” he said, and then opened and closed his mouth, taking in her expression with delight.

Outside, McAdoo walked to the front gate slowly. He was furious, and had no place for the anger to go. Hanging over the gate was the enlistment flag that every studio displayed, with one star for every employee now serving. Paramount’s flag had 220 stars, and McAdoo watched a man in overalls standing on a ladder to pin another star up.

He had no other destination in mind. Yet. But a car waited for him, courtesy of Zukor. He considered taking a taxi, but then thought that being spied on wouldn’t be that bad.

He climbed into the Cadillac’s backseat and asked to be taken to La Brea, the Chaplin Studios.

6

In Russia, the scaffolding of democracy was being erected. First, General Poole sent a message to the War Office. It read: “I occupied Archangel today.” He added, “The people simply went wild with joy to an extent almost beyond imagination.”

Then he ordered the reopening of the factories, which caused sighs of relief among the populace, until they realized he was concerned with one specific job. Three local carpenters were called up, and the remaining eight thousand workers were sent back home for another day.

A sawmill was set to work, two dozen boards were planed, and then the doors of the metals warehouse were thrown open and, under the watch of Royal Scots, a ten-pound box of nails was signed out, along with four hammers and four saws; then the warehouse was bolted shut again, and British troops took their materials to the public square.