After seeing off Tina Fey, Frank Pierson returned to his study, sitting solemnly behind his desk. He opened the materials personally delivered by the other party. After reading only a few pages, his face grew darker. However, having worked in this circle for many years, he managed to control his emotions and forced himself to keep reading.
Two million dollars might an little to a director like Duke, but for Frank, it carried entirely different significance.
Although Frank Pierson was the vice chairman of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ rotating committee, his inco was not as high as the title suggested. Every year, especially during awards season, he did see significant earnings. But two million dollars was still no small figure for him.
Having risen to prominence as a director and screenwriter, Pierson’s heyday was in the ’60s and ’70s, with his most successful work being a remake of A Star is Born. Even at the peak of his career, the inco from his two professions was not particularly high. His current standing was achieved through years of accumulating experience and reputation.
Frank Pierson had spent many years climbing to his current position and was naturally conservative. He was also one of the core mbers of the Academy’s conservative faction.
In reality, at nearly eighty years old, he no longer had significant financial needs. But, as with many successful fathers, he had a few unmotivated sons. His $2 million investnt was made with his son’s future in mind.
Investing in a project like this, if successful, would secure a long-term source of inco.
Indeed, no one can guarantee a film’s success. But while Pierson had sided with Tim Robbins over Saving Private Ryan, he had never underestimated Duke’s comrcial acun.
In his eyes, Duke’s comrcial blockbusters were not only box office gold but also boosters for rchandise sales. A successful investnt in one of his projects could yield ongoing revenue, ensuring his unmotivated son’s basic living needs even after Pierson fully retired.
What Pierson did not expect, however, was that Duke Rosenberg would send his personal assistant with these materials and so startling information. Duke had discovered potential issues with the project under discussion—they might all be trapped in a ticulously designed sche.
Pierson didn’t doubt this claim much. Over a week ago, there had been definite news that Duke had already prepaid a $1 million deposit to Christopher Rokenkort. This directly involved Duke’s own interests, making it unlikely that he would deceive Pierson about such matters.
Closing the materials gently, Frank Pierson suddenly chuckled, though his laughter carried a hint of bitterness. Leaning back in his chair, he reflected.
Though he disliked Duke’s cinematic style, he was certain that Duke wouldn’t joke about such things.
At the sa ti, a complex mix of emotions surfaced. Who would have thought that soone he had known for over four years, soone well-connected and respected in Hollywood, had been operating as a master con artist for more than a decade?
If the person delivering the materials hadn’t been a fellow mber of the Hollywood Jewish Club like himself, he wouldn’t have wanted to believe it.
After all, this person had spent ten years establishing himself in Hollywood, befriending nurous celebrities and even dating a president’s daughter.
And this person turned out to be a fraud?
Having already fallen for one of Rokenkort’s sches, Pierson wouldn’t fall for another.
He picked up the phone and dialed the number of his retired friend Arthur Miller. This forr husband of Marilyn Monroe was more than just a director and forr Academy president. He had extensive connections in both Hollywood and Washington, thanks to the unique relationship between the film industry and the federal governnt.
If the matter wasn’t serious, Pierson wouldn’t have asked for the help of a bedridden, ill friend.
After making the call, he hurried to Miller’s Santa Monica villa to discuss matters further.
Starting an investigation from scratch would take a great deal of ti. But having clear materials to verify would make the process much easier.
Within three days, Pierson received confirmation from his old friend: there was a 90% chance the materials were accurate.
Facts trump fantasies. Pierson was now convinced that he and many others had been deceived by the emperor’s new clothes, ticulously crafted over a decade by Christopher Rokenkort.
Sitting in his study, Pierson once again flipped through the materials, familiar nas jumping off the pages one by one...
This was no longer just a personal matter; it concerned the honor of Hollywood itself. The Academy was more than just the Oscars—it also upheld Hollywood’s glamorous image, ensuring the industry’s dirty laundry didn’t beco public.
Most of the people involved in this case, including Duke, were Academy mbers. Many were seasoned professionals like Pierson or promising directors like Soderbergh.
After much contemplation, Pierson picked up the phone and dialed a rarely used number.
The voice on the other end belonged to a woman. Then a sowhat unfamiliar male voice spoke—it was one Pierson vaguely rembered.
"Duke," Pierson said solemnly, "Thank you."
"You’re too kind, Mr. Pierson," Duke replied, stepping away from a beachside lounge area. "I’m a victim too. If Rokenkort had succeeded, I would have lost far more than $1 million."
"We were all blinded by the promise of profit," Pierson admitted. At his age, there was no need for pretense. "We neglected the caution and due diligence that are essential before investing."
"Frank..." Duke gazed out at the vast ocean, his tone blending truth with pretense. "When I first ca into contact with him, I had my lawyers and accountants investigate. They found nothing suspicious. He negotiated patiently and stood firm on his terms—nothing seed off. I was just lucky..."
Unbeknownst to Duke, Pierson nodded. His own lawyers and accountants had also found no red flags before he invested.
"You know my relationship with the LAPD has always been good," Duke added.
This was common knowledge in Hollywood. Those who disliked the police had even cursed Duke for making two films glorifying the LAPD. "At a gathering with Sheriff Carter, I t a forr FBI employee who now runs a detective agency. I happened to think of this matter and asked for his help. The results were completely unexpected."
Speaking to soone as experienced as Pierson, Duke avoided fabrications. Over 90% of what he said was true, leaving little room for doubt even if Pierson decided to verify.
"I received this material just last week. To avoid any mistakes, I waited until it was thoroughly confird before sending it to you."
After a brief silence, just as Duke thought Pierson might hang up, the latter’s voice ca through again. "Duke, what do you plan to do?"
"I think we should hear what others have to say. After all, I’m not the only one who was deceived," Duke replied diplomatically.
"What’s your suggestion, Frank?"
"It’s best to keep things quiet for now. I’ll privately contact those involved and then report to the authorities."
This wasn’t just his problem. After a calculated pause, Duke said, "I agree with your approach. I’ve already had the materials sent to Steven and a few others I’m close with."
By "close," he ant fellow Jews.
"I’ll call them and inform the others," Pierson assured him.
Hanging up the phone, Duke exhaled deeply. He understood that in the eyes of the Academy’s conservative faction, he was a bona fide comrcial director. Their perception of him wasn’t favorable, and film critics certainly wouldn’t let him dominate awards season unchallenged.
Movies were just the foundation. What he was doing now was a necessary supplent.
Glancing back at the group chatting under a sun umbrella, Duke didn’t rejoin them. Instead, he stayed where he was, gazing out at the ocean. The future was as vast as the Pacific before him. He still had a long road ahead.
His phone rang again. This ti, it was Steven Soderbergh.
"You’re too kind, Steven. We’re all victims here," Duke said with a smile.
Over the next several hours, Duke’s phone rang repeatedly.
"Ben, no need to be so formal. Let’s focus on dealing with that guy."
"George, I hear you have connections in politics. Maybe have soone keep an eye on him for now."
"Daniel, I still owe you for that kick from years ago. No need for thanks—we need to stick together."
When the sun finally dipped into the sea, Pierson called again. "Don’t worry, Frank. I’ll cooperate fully on my end."
These conversations weren’t just about gratitude. Duke knew that at critical monts, what transpired today could influence their decisions.
How to steer things two years down the line would depend on Panny Kallis and Nancy Josephson’s skills—they were experts at handling people.
For now, Christopher Rokenkort had outlived his usefulness. In the coming days, he would bear the wrath of those he’d deceived. His eventual downfall was predictable.
With Pierson taking the lead, Duke no longer needed to expend much energy.
Handing his phone to Tina Fey, Duke gave Ivanka Trump a reassuring glance before turning back to Wallace Lee.
"Where were we, Lee?" Duke asked, slapping his forehead lightly. "Ah, yes—wolves and vampires!"
...
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