RANSVESTIA

"So now you think you'll just pack up and go quietly," Cort had found the liquor cabinet and was pouring himself a double or triple rye.

"Why not?" Jean had at last found her voice. "You surely can't have any further use for Angie now that you know that he's... that he's my husband."

Cort grimaced. "Spare me," he growled. He tipped up the drink, swallowing half of it, his guts beginning to settle as the alcohol burned its way down his throat to his stomach. "But it's not going to happen that way."

"What do you mean?" Jean was puzzled.

"I've just come from a meeting with the Chairman of the Board and the two major shareholders of Pacific and some decisions were taken." Cort's voice was grim. The two female figures watched him as he drained the rest of his drink. "First of all," he said, as he returned to sit opposite them, "Cathy Lord will be paid off for her silence about Angie Saunders with the guarantee of a number of parts in future Pacific productions."

"You'll pay off a blackmailer," Angie's voice was incredulous.

"Why not?" growled Cort. "As soon as she's appeared once or twice, she'll be in no position to do anything. Blackmailers go to jail, you know; and if any of this becomes public, we'll make sure she ends up there."

"And what about Angie?" asked Jean, her voice rising. "She, er... I mean he, he wants out."

Cort smiled showing his excellent white teeth, but his eyes were hardly amused at all. "Some decisions were made about Angie Saunders' future," he snarled.

Jean felt Angie's hand tighten its grip on hers. "Well?” she whispered, almost afraid to hear what he would say.

"First," Cort's voice had a grating edge. "You're not quitting now that we're paying off Cathy Lord. You're staying and you'll have the lead in two Broadway shows we've bought up to film in the next year.

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