PAUL BRYAN'S JOURNAL
From the diary about this episode:
Besides the action covering the episode on Rachel Pike's cruise,- THE INHUMAN PREDICAMENT - there are also dreams Paul has while on board, which refer to other episodes. Thesehave been included here IN ITALICS for continuity - as well as on the individual episode pages.
Wednesday, August 3
Ultimately tedious session with Dr. Mason could have been made a little better by getting some responses to the list of questions I've brought from reading all the source material Barry has been sending me.
But rather than come alive with his own interest in the subject, Mason stated categorically that patients shouldn't read medical journals, and cut me right off, flicking the page of questions back across his desk.
I was extremely disappointed, and headed over to Garms, hoping Dr. Walker might be able to give me some answers, but he apparently didn't even have time to see me at all. What a different world from politics where donations on the scale of mine would ultimately allow instant access.
Barry, however, helped me with all the questions. When he couldn't answer from personal knowledge, he'd pick up the phone and check with the clinic's man in the individual field.
I keep wondering what the effect is of all these side things I'm picking up, but no one seems to know, Dr. Lamas in San Patrazio being the only one who's making a study of such things. Barry said that appointments with him were tough to get, but he'd try and secure one.
After handing over some new material he'd been collecting for me, Barry explained - logically enough - that most people who've found they have the disease in their system scale down their lives and stay close to home instead of what I've been doing.
With Katie working late to wind everything up before the trip, read through the letters Marcella gave me - first of all, Gina's. She's now left for London, and Kate declared that Odette seemed full of life again, having nurtured a match with a symphony conductor. I have to admit feeling kind of jealous.
Gina sounded more liberated than before - in love with Armand and all the men she'd been introduced to. It gave me heart, but the next letter, from Janet Green, was more than distressing.
Mike had been shot down in Viet Nam, but while he subsequently escaped a prison camp, he's returned broken, now in a Lakewood veteran's hospital. Janet says his psychiatrist wants to see me because Mike keeps mentioning my name.
Going to suggest to Kate that we change our plans, and fly to Frankfurt via LA tomorrow night, so that I can call on him. Janet's plea to do so is something I have to follow up, especially after skipping out on them in Tokyo.
en route to Germany
Thursday, August 4
Considering what he went through in the Viet Cong prison camp, Mike didn't seem so bad, but when I spoke to his doctor, it turns out that I'm the first person he's communicated with.
It was deeply disturbing news, and I'm heading for Germany with reluctance, wondering if I could have been of help, had we stayed a while longer.
Friday, August 5
Hadn't really expected a chance to drive the car at a race again, but with the fishing trip cancelled, the time was available, and Clive was willing, so against my own better judgment, took out the second machine at the Nurburgring, Katie, the only one of our lady backers here, cheering me on.
What was supposed to be a smaller than usual field turned out to be the opposite with a bunch of Formula 2 vehicles added to the race, and even though I surprisingly had no difficulty handling the Mastin, I got in trouble on my second lap.
There was a crash in the making building up as I approached Aremberg, and I arrived at a terrific mess with cars going in all directions, two of them colliding with me and the car just behind.
It looked like mass slaughter, and I passed out, waking up with a very sore shoulder, but the only driver with a serious injury was one of the Formula 2 boys, Guy Ligier who looked dead when he was thrown from his machine, but just suffered a broken leg.
Though only having wrenched my shoulder, I was taken to the medical station for a check. Nothing broken, just the car, and I feel bad about that.
Saturday, August 6
We were just about to go out to watch qualifying when Kate got a phone call, turning pale, and quickly reaching for a chair to support herself. Odette has suffered a stroke and died.
I held Katie, and felt shaken myself, but in a moment, she pulled away and said, “I must go to him,” speaking as if I were a desk clerk, someone of no significance.
She didn't pack a thing, just grabbed her handbag and rushed out the door. I followed her, saying I'd drive her to Cologne, and Kate just nodded, like a zombie all the way - in another world.
She came back momentarily when I embraced her at the departure gate, touching my cheek and saying, “you understand, don't you, Paul?”
And then she was gone. I felt frozen, realizing that our romantic life and friendship, however much they were in the forefront, were overwhelmed by my need for Kate as a soul mate to get through each crisis as well as every ordinary day.
If she wasn't with me one day, she would be the next. But now? Though I might have been the one she was with the last three years, at a time like this, it is clearly Armand who possesses her.
My mind was hardly on the Nurburgring where Pete's tenth on the grid was considered OK. Drink seems the only outlet I can think of right now.
en route to Spain - Barcelona
Sunday, August 7
It was in a fog that I attended the race and witnessed another non-finish for our Mastin, but everyone's minds were on John Taylor who was pulled out of his flaming car when he collided with Jackie Ickx on the very first lap.
On our way to the airport, Pete and I drove to the hospital in Koblenz, but the word there made it clear that John's life is in great danger. Death seems all around me.
When I spoke to Katie this evening, things seemed normalized. She said that Armand was completely broken up, and she was going to stay on for a few days, and might join Rachel's cruise the following week. It all sounds reasonable enough, maybe not as bad as I imagined.
at sea from Barcelona to Majorca
Monday, August 8
Rachel was deeply upset about Odette, and as such, said that her summer cruise would cut out the usual round of festivities, and concentrate on relaxation instead.
Her plans for equally matched men and women were also askew with Kate absent, and Rachel's own current beau having to return to the US after the crash of one of his airliners.
I thought she was going to ask me to be her escort - especially after the good time we'd had in Amsterdam, but she went on to explain that a European royal, whom she'd planned to pair off with Princess Ingrid of Sweden, had just broken his leg mountain climbing.
There will be more people joining the cruise later, but for the moment, she's asked me to look after Ingrid. In my present state of mind, I doubt that I'll be much fun for her, but find the young lady very sweet. No call from Kate today.
at sea from Majorca to Nice
Tuesday, August 9
We docked in Majorca, and I took Ingrid shopping, only to run into Ramon WITHOUT Diana. True love apparently couldn't conquer the decrepit state of Ramon's house, and Diana flew straight back to New York after getting one glance at it.
Despite the stars in his eyes over her in Cabo San Lucas, Ramon obviously picked up on the fact I was invited on the cruise. I could see that he had his eye on Ingrid, but was alarmed to find that he expected me to invite him to lunch on Rachel's yacht.
Reminding me how he didn't leave me to die on the drifting raft, I was left in an impossible situation, and he's managed to wangle his way as a guest, possibly to offer the comic relief none of the passengers who knew Odette feel like providing just now.
Rang Kate, and she said her plans were fluid, and that Armand was in very bad shape.
at sea from Majorca to Nice
Wednesday, August 10
A quiet day at sea, but I found my shoulder starting to bother me more since I've run out of pain killers. Along with my worry over Kate, it doesn't make me very good company, but Ingrid doesn't seem to notice, and I'm beginning to think that she is another Gina.
A woman of stature in the world, but with the life experience of a 15-year-old. Very darling though.
One of the other guests, a renowned Turkish surgeon, looked at my arm and gave me some sleeping tablets that would also have an analgesic effect, and said to take aspirins until I go to bed. His wife is a most striking woman - owns a sizable shipping line.
Wandering around the yacht, I've discovered that it's almost a two-class set up. On the four cruises each year that Rachel takes, she regularly brings along some members of her staff and business organization, and I found someone I know on board - Anita Diaz, who runs Rachel's Miami office now. She seemed very closed down and sad.
Going into the library to find a book, I saw a disturbing headline on the LA Times which had arrived via helicopter with the rest of today's mail for the ship.
Reading on, I found that Mike Green had assaulted hospital staff, escaped the psychiatric facility, and had gone on the run, a police manhunt in pursuit after he'd taken a hostage. And if I'd stayed? Would things have been better?
Slept for a couple hours, and woke up from a frightening nightmare in which it was I whom Mike had taken hostage. I'd tried to get him to turn himself in, only to realize that he thought we were in Viet Cong territory, not southern California.
Though he accused me of being a collaborator, I persuaded him it was a trick to get us free, and we then spent two days crossing miles of rough ground. He even set upon some kids around a campfire in order to take their food.
Endless running, like on a treadmill, me with a broken arm, searching for a parallel that kept moving away from us, each time we neared it. At one point, Mike even jerked my arm in an attempt to set it.
It was so real, the pain so intense. But the pills kept me from waking up and escaping the dream which finally ended when I told Mike that the police helicopters which had found us were US craft come to rescue us. But the pilot was an elephant.
at sea from Nice to Capri
Thursday, August 11
We docked at Nice instead of the scheduled port, and a number of guests flew in Rachel's plane to attend Odette's funeral. Maybe it was the pain in my shoulder, but when I saw Kate with Armand, I felt certain that she would not return to me.
The two of them looked desolate, and it seemed Kate was a million miles from me. As broken as they must be, I was more aware of my imminent mortality than any time since I first heard the diagnosis.
Notre Dame was filled to the brim, a massive team of officious and extremely efficient ushers appearing to know exactly where to sit everyone. I knew few of the faces, but couldn't help recognizing the President and Madame de Gaulle embrace both Armand AND Kate.
The scene at the family crypt on Armand's estate outside Paris was even worse. I'd never have gone on my own, but our group were propelled along in Rachel's limousines, and I barely had a word with Kate as she and Armand didn't stay at the huge reception.
She seemed like a ghost, not like I'd ever seen her before. Armand took my hands firmly, and just said “thank you” with deep feeling, then they left the room.
I went back to the apartment for an hour to be alone, and had pretty much decided not to continue on the cruise, but Rachel sent her assistant after me, and I flew back to Nice with him on a commercial plane, having no real will of my own.
He gave me his copy of the Herald Trib to read, and I saw that Mike had been captured when his hostage escaped uninjured, saying that he'd gone along with Mike to help him.
at sea from Nice to Capri
Friday, August 12
Compliments of the doctor in June's apartment building, I have enough pain killers to last the voyage, and had a good sleep last night, despite my troubled state of mind.
But though I'm going around like a zombie, Ingrid seems totally oblivious, and apparently, our liaison has been moving forward without my knowledge.
Tonight, she's declared that this is the first serious relationship she's had. I wanted to try and explain, but she was so endearing, the only decent thing seemed to be a show of affection.
AT THIS POINT THERE IS A DREAM SEGMENT INVOLVING SCENES AND CHARACTERS FROM "THE INHUMAN PREDICAMENT" ITSELF.
Saturday, August 13
Had the strangest bunch of dreams last night. In the first, I tried diplomatic means to disentangle myself from Ingrid. Then Rachel, followed by some Swedish officials tried to keep me away from the princess, insisting on her royal responsibilities, but we ran off together and got married.
Then we were back on Rachel's boat, but this time it was the Swedish Royal Yacht, and we were on our honeymoon.
I made a flowery declaration about the beautiful weeks ahead of us on the cruise, but then we got word the king was dead, and Ingrid was the new queen, so we had to return to her responsibilities in Stockholm.
But just after our coronation, standing on the palace balcony, waving at a cheering throng, a courtier called me aside, and said, “I'm deeply sorry, King Paul,” and repeated the words of the diagnosis.
Walked the deck for a while, and didn't get more than a further hour's sleep. Wrote a long letter to Katie, and asked if there was a better way we could keep in touch.
During the day, though in a very contorted mood, I tried to walk Ingrid all over the island, to beautiful romantic places, and make our time together as special for her as possible.
But I must have overdone it, because she came to my stateroom a few minutes ago, and said that she'd always felt like a sacrificial virgin who had no life of her own, but couldn't go on that way any longer.
What came next was very embarrassing. She said that she wanted to be my wife - starting tonight.
Not just her chiding from the dream, but Rachel's real admonitions about “maintaining protocol” with the princess hit me straight on, and I wondered what awful thing I'd done to have led this dear girl to make the assumptions she had.
To tell any infatuated woman - much less a royal princess - that you don't love her must be one of the hardest things in the world, but it was the only thing I could do.
Sunday, August 14
The two flowers - one blue and one yellow - that Ingrid had personally added to my breakfast tray every day were not there this morning.
We'd docked early, but the pill I'd taken last night for a dreamless sleep had kept me out until 9. Rachel was the first person I saw on deck, and she handed me a letter, saying that Ingrid had disembarked at 6, and was already off the island.
How to try and do every thing right, and fail completely in three easy lessons. I felt totally rotten, but thanked her, and walked off the boat.
Spent most of the day sitting by a rock pool, thinking about all the history of this place, and generally feeling sorry for Ingrid, and of course, most of all, myself. Hope that's all out of my system now.
Ramon lightened things a little by telling me that he attempted to fleece Rachel today, and that she turned the tables on him. Meanwhile, he's cooked up some deal with her assistant, but I know that Rachel's always ahead of Everyone.
Another lift was the arrival of Pete and June, he from testing in Malaga and she - well, I'm not quite sure, but know that they didn't come on the same plane.
I am shaken. On deck with Pete when a steward told me there was a call from Kate. But she spoke only briefly, and said that Armand wanted to talk to me.
My heart sank, and I noticed my hand trembling. But I couldn't have been prepared for his words. He said that a donation had just been made to The Garms Clinic for five million dollars.
“I pray it will help,” he added, and said that his only request had been that the name of the organization be changed to The Odette de Martignac Medical Research Foundation.
“Not just in her honor,” he told me, but in the knowledge her name would bring more contributions after his. He had already told Rachel, and asked me to collect donations from her other guests for Odette's charity.
His voice faltered, and my heart went out to him. I could hardly speak, but mumbled something about a beautiful gesture. Katie came on the line then, saying that she would call me in a few days.
A few days. As glorious as this contribution is, the words remind me that so little time must be left to me now that even a billion wouldn't help. And she won't be calling tomorrow or while I'm in Sicily. It must mean that she's not coming back.
at sea from Valetta to Palermo
Monday, August 15
Rachel approached me this morning, and said that she'd spoken to Armand about the foundation being set up in Odette's name, indicating that I would be collecting funds. I nodded, and she gave me a check for $750,000.
By mid morning I been handed a further million, and then was hailed by a man I'd been eager to meet since he boarded in Capri.
The great Swiss industrialist, Erich Krieger, was on deck with his secretary Michele, whom I hadn't seen previously. Even in the shadow of her dynamic boss, I couldn't help noting what a personable lady she is.
Krieger told me to come by his cabin this afternoon as he wants to make a donation for Odette's foundation. I phoned Barry Givens - purposely bypassing Dr. Walker. Barry said all hell had broken loose at the clinic over the bequest from the Count. Count?
I had never heard Armand referred to as a Count, but when I went back and found the order of service from Odette's funeral, and looked at it, there it was, Odette Comptesse de Martignac.
Barry said that the Board were being assembled to make a decision about changing the clinic's name, and Dr. Walker was already strongly opposed.
I asked if that meant they might not accept the money, and Barry wasn't sure. Told him it was possible I might even have a further three million, but the checks were made out to the new name. We agreed to stay in touch, and he reminded me about the appointment he'd made for the 30th with Dr. Lamas in Spain.
Journal continued in next column
Ramon tells Paul how the romance with Diana fizzled
Ramon overdoes it with Rachel
Ramon fruitlessly turns on the charm
Rachel asks Paul about Ramon's property
Ingrid comes to tell Paul she loves him
Rachel doesn't give the check to Ramon
Ramon tries to make a deal
Paul promises the time left to them will be wonderful
Rachel says Ramon was only worth $2,500
Put checks worth 2.4 million into Rachel's safe after lunch, including one in Swiss Francs for something over $500,000 from Erich Krieger.
He's a fascinating man - a little stiff, but with warmth underneath that shows through here and there. Telling me that he and Odette had been students together at the Sorbonne, he said that he was glad to do something in her memory - adding that he didn't usually engage in philanthropy.
I've listened spellbound to his most casual remarks, and began to understand how sheer force of personality could make the impossible happen. Nothing to do with charm or charisma, but pure strength of character.
What amazed me most was that he was aware of me from motor racing, and had seen me drive at Le Mans. When I turned to leave, he even invited me to his home for skiing in November.
It was probably a carryover from the moving call with Armand and Kate last night, but I almost found myself breaking into tears, and made a hasty exit after offering my thanks and acceptance.
.…. And walked straight into June Bradley. I'd barely seen Pete and June since they boarded, and she was overtly distressed at my appearance, asking what was wrong.“Armand …. Kate …. “ was my faltering reply, and she gave me a warm hug, and drew me into her cabin.
Mixing a drink for me, she said that her father would send the foundation a couple million, but she wasn't so rich. However, June then proceeded to write a check for $100,000, and pressed it into my hand, hugging me again.
We then had the most profound and serious conversation, and I realized that, without really knowing it, we had become deeply close friends. June spoke at length about Pete, their relationship, his future and theirs together.
I came away finally knowing that she was so much more than just the pretty rich girl I'd kept considering June to be, despite her Harvard MBA and high-powered job.
Michele certainly lit the room up this evening when she walked into the forward lounge on Krieger's arm. He's an incredible raconteur, and she is simply gorgeous.
A visionary industrialist, it's been a privilege to listen to his exploits of how the Swiss can slide into situations where other nationals would encounter only culture clash.
June said her father had been dealing with Krieger since before she was born, but that Pete was wary about the secretary. ???
But the main subject of conversation was the theft last night of the famous Carpella Collection from a Roman palazzo.
Besides concerns all these people have about the security of their property, there were loads of theories going round, and the robbery seemed to bring out the detective in just about everyone, including myself.
Having learned this afternoon that Krieger & Co. are leaving the ship tomorrow, I made a point of monopolizing Michele's company as much of the evening as possible, trying to drown out all the things that were plaguing my mind.
When I saw Michele back to her cabin, she invited me for a drink, and I was fascinated to see that she had the exact same luggage I did - the really unusual piece I'd bought when Kate and I were in Madrid.
We had a nice chat, talking mostly about The Carpella Collection. Such a captivating subject, but I was surprised to find Michele is also a racing fan - at the Riviera Rally last September when I navigated for Jeff Daulton as well as being with her boss at Le Mans.
Again and again, I saw how our paths had crossed, and wondered how I could have missed such a glamorous woman. When I got back here to my stateroom, stuffed another half million in checks into my cabin safe from this evening, and have lost track of the total.
Like Dr. Onol's pills, the Turkish meal we had last night certainly didn't agree with my psyche.
I was falling asleep with pleasant thoughts of Michele, and how it would be nice to spend some time in Switzerland, in a better mood than all the time since leaving San Francisco.
But then! What a dream. I'd gone on a cruise with Michele aboard Krieger's yacht - only it was this one, and was going to a race in Torino afterwards.
But our luggage got switched by the chauffeur, and the lovely dream turned into a nightmare, with some guy trying to run me off the road - but getting killed himself.
Then there was Michele slipping into my hotel room in the middle of the night - with a gun, saying that I had stolen the Carpella Collection from her boss. True enough, the jewels were in my bag, but it was Michele who'd been carrying them as a courier for Krieger.
It was very confusing, and she took them away, but the next moment I was kidnapped by Krieger's security men, and called on the carpet because the jewels Michele had taken from the switched luggage were fakes.
I then used Krieger's aged mother as a shield, and went on the run. It was like the dream when Mike and I were moving through the “jungle” of southern California.
On and on and on went the flight around the Riviera both with support and interference of the French police, becoming more and more surreal and confusing.
At one point I was entreating a cute phone operator who resembled Kate's maid for an Interlaken number. In the end, it turned out that Michele herself was the thief, and had set the whole thing up, based on our matching luggage.
How will I face them this morning! Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can get another hour or two of sleep.
Tuesday, August 16
While Erich Krieger was met by a long limousine, I was picked up by a battered police car with none other than Tonio getting out to greet me.
The caution of a police escort to Vabocelli reminded me of the chilling time I had spent nearly a year ago in the clutches of his brother and himself.
For some reason, we took a circuitous route to Vabocelli over back roads, and I got a little worried that maybe I was being kidnapped again, but the policeman said there had been some trouble on the main road, and it was closed.
The villagers were all concerned to know why Kate hadn't come along as expected, but I explained that she'd gone to the side of a bereaved friend, and her halo grew brighter in their eyes.
It is wonderful to be home again in this village, with the enveloping sense of comfort and caring I need so much right now, but this must surely be the last time I'll see my mother's birth place.
Wednesday, August 17
Think I've never eaten so much in so short a time, but it's been a joy, and nourishment for my soul to replace royalty and millions with simplicity and naturalness.
But these down-to-earth folk have followed each and every Formula 1 race, and went into detail over all of them, full of technical questions, some I couldn't begin to answer.
Their enthusiasm was nothing short of entrancing, and I truly regret that the time was so short, but the next stage of Rachel's cruise is a command performance.
Thursday, August 18
We drove back the normal road, and the policeman pointed to a spot where a terrible accident had taken place the day before I arrived. Four people killed, including a father and mother, all because one of the cars was in bad repair, and ran into the others.
The tragedy stuck in my mind despite the fact that the flight to Venice was clear enough to see all the terrain below. Left my overnight bag at the yacht, and found a message to call Kate, who said she would not be able to join the cruise, and couldn't leave Armand yet.
Though she insisted that nothing had changed between us, Kate kept reminding me of her wish that I feel free to experience whatever life might give me.
Her words kept echoing in my head as I crossed St. Mark's Square, and then wandered until I purposely lost myself among magical lanes again and again until departure time loomed.
Stayed on deck until the last sight of Venice faded from view, then went to look at my mail which included a letter from Joe Murray, probably in reply to the one I sent him, but I decided to put it aside.
at sea from Venice to Corfu
Friday, August 19
Had a chance to talk shop with Clive and Pete after lunch, and was filled in on the new developments for the Italian Grand Prix. Clive was referring to one in the steering when he astonished me with an aside, complimenting me for my handling of the car at the Nurburgring.
“I made a mess of it,” was my rejoinder, knowing that I shouldn't have taken the Mastin out without having spent time at the Malaga test track, but Clive's response was, “just the opposite.”
Apparently, when the mechanics were taking the T car apart to put it back together, they found a defective part in the steering system which virtually meant I was driving a time bomb.
As Clive went into detail, Pete covered his eyes and said I could have wiped out half of Formula 1. Both of them then praised me for the control I'd maintained over the faulty machine, but I just kept thinking of what could have happened, and said so.
When I repeated this a couple times, June tensely retorted that nothing happened, and I should be remembering that. I'd never seen her so uptight about anything. Pete just looked into his drink.
Rhona joined us then, and took an envelope from her purse and handed it to me, saying “from us, for the foundation.” The fourth donation I received today.
The two of them were charged up over Clive's presentation tonight of the Mastin GMD (the baby is going to be named Geoffrey or Georgia), and the subject moved to its launch at Monza.
Then we all turned towards the door of the lounge where a bellowing voice was entering attached to a large figure. It was Julian Hays, with a pregnant Diana trailing him, and he came directly over to me, nearly smothering me in a huge bear hug.
Just before all went dark, I saw the tall Clive and Pete shrinking back, but I was more than delighted to see the Hayses, and Julian called for three bottles of champagne.
There are a lot of new people on board from Venice, and this afternoon, Rachel introduced me to one of her sorority sisters, Dr. Jean Winter, a psychiatrist, and her banker husband Mark.
We got to talking about Mike Green and his situation, and Jean said that security was one of the trickiest problems she faced, mentioning a patient in her hospital who had escaped and hanged himself. I thought of the two brothers in Columbus.
Then the Carpella robbery came up again, along with Clive's show tonight, and Mark brought up a huge heist in his bank where robbers stole a sports car in a nearby garage for their getaway, not realizing it wasn't there for sale, but for repairs.
They had a huge accident, and were both killed instantly. His description of the inferno was chilling. I guaranteed him that the new Mastin was going to be one of the most technically sound sports cars ever built, and mentioned the presentation tonight.
Pete was sharing the stage with Clive to add a little glamour to the show, so I sat with June, and she told me that she'd received a letter today from Gin who'd just hired a new secretary - someone I knew.
Kathy Aller - who I'd dated when she worked for me at the DA's office. A shame that things didn't end very well for us. I felt bad the way she took it when I started seeing someone else - simply quitting and moving to Seattle. So now she is in New York.
Clive's presentation of the new road car was nothing short of thrilling. Just dynamic and enthralling - nothing like the easy-going man I knew, but a real star. Now I know how he got Rachel to invest three million in his company.
I'd found it difficult to sleep, having become so excited about the new car, but finally did, only to have a frightening dream I can't seem to shake, even though I'm awake, and have walked around the deck for the last half hour.
In the nightmare I was driving on a long highway. For a while it was Italy, then California, then the German Autobahn. It droned on and on - just unending straights, but suddenly there was a bend, and when I tried to turn, the car went the other way, and there was a mighty crash with lots of other vehicles involved.
I was carried away in an ambulance. One of the medics was from my accident at the Nurburgring, and in the hospital the doctor treating my injuries was Rachel's psychiatrist friend. She told me that the blood tests they did showed that I was dying.
As with the crash near Vabocelli, two members of a family had been killed in the one from my dream, leaving a daughter badly injured. I went to see the girl, and Joe Murray was her uncle - very concerned about the insurance payment she'd be getting.
Journal continued in next column
Paul is guest on the luxury yacht of financier Rachel Pike for a cruise around the Mediterranean, and enjoying a flirtation on board with her friend Princess Ingrid.
While the couple are having a drink after some shopping in port, they are approached by Paul's friend gigolo Ramon de Vega. After introductions are made, Ingrid goes to return a swimsuit, and Ramon explains how his union with a mutual friend never got off the ground. Now, he wants Paul to introduce him to wealthy Rachel. Paul is determined not to.
It isn't Rachel Paul is trying to protect, but Ramon, telling his pal that he is no match for the crafty and powerful business tycoon. But eventually, Paul gives in, and brings Ramon aboard the yacht, where he has but a few hours to ingratiate himself with Rachel before the ship sails to its next cruise port.
Paul introduces the two, and Ramon immediately gushes about having long wanted to meet Rachel to the point where the financier says she'd nearly suspect him of being a gigolo. Nevertheless, she invites him to stay for lunch.
After lunch Ramon sings a song, and Rachel, after remarking that it was a bit romantic for the early afternoon, gets up and goes to another deck to dictate letters.
Ramon follows her, and says the song wasn't romantic, but tragic - about a beautiful woman who gives up her afternoons to work, but try as he might to charm her, Rachel is unmoved, and goes back to her desk. Ramon remains at the railing, and Paul runs up, jestingly telling him not to jump, and Ramon confides that he's used all his best lines on Rachel without success, and only two hours remain before the vessel will sail.
As the ship is about to leave, Ramon expresses flowery sentiments about hoping to meet Rachel again, and she does an about turn, and invites him to join the cruise.
That evening, the princess appears to be getting more and more interested in Paul.
And Rachel is trying to find out what's behind Ramon de Vega. She comes to Paul's stateroom, and asks about Ramon's background and how well Paul knows him, but Paul only offers evasive responses.
The following evening the princess comes to Paul's stateroom for a serious chat.
Ingrid describes the difficulty of her position in society, having to live up to traditions and regulations.
She tells Paul she's feeling real freedom for the first time in her life, and has come to the conclusion that she also has a responsibility to herself, then declares her love for him, and believes it is something lasting.
Paul is sympathetic, but obviously deeply disturbed by the sentiments expressed.
After docking at Malta Ramon goes to Rachel and tells her that he must leave the cruise due to a flooding disaster on his Andorran ranch.
When she gladly offers to pay for the damages on his property, Ramon believes he's made good use of his time on board. But when she writes out a check for $30,000, it is not to him she hands it, but her personal assistant, Rudy Brademan, telling him to fly immediately to Andorra and make sure that everything is sorted out. Rachel is way ahead of Ramon, and enjoying the scene immensely.
Nothing Ramon can say will change her mind, and she won't allow him to go himself.
Desperate, Ramon goes to Brademan's stateroom to try and make a deal for Rachel's assistant to simply leave the ship and go nowhere, then split the money with Ramon when they dock in Athens. He explains his predicament, and suggests halving the money.
Brademan drives a hard bargain that leaves Ramon with only $12,500 of the funds he expected from Rachel.
After Paul phones a diplomat friend,in a delegation of men from her country come on board to see Ingrid. When Paul goes to see her the next day, Ingrid doesn't answer his knock on her door, and Rachel tells him that she hasn't responded to her either. The princess approaches him later in the day and apologizes. She explains that, though she loves him, obligations to her country take precedence in her life. Paul says that he understands that when the cruise ended she wouldn't be able to escape her life, but promises to make the time they have left together extremely special.
When they dock in Athens, Brademan doesn't keep his appointment with Ramon, so the gigolo returns to Rachel who says that they said their farewells the previous night, and she'll be spending the next two weeks working on board. She also tells him that Brademan, who's been with her 14 years, is on business in Paris. She feels $12,500 was too high a price to pay for Ramon's company, and gives him $2,500 to launch his next project. Ramon responds that while he appreciates that she doesn't like being overcharged, he doesn't wish to be underpaid, and gives the envelope back to her.
Notes & Comments:
hopelessly awful employment of the Ramon de Vega character, and difficult to see how it was a vehicle for the Paul Bryan one either.
Director of Photography
John McCartey &
Robert C. Bradfield
Color by Technicolor
Editorial Dept. Head
Assistant to Producer
Looked over at the letter I'd received from him, but still didn't feel like opening it. In the dream my own insurance man was trying to limit the award, and when I met him, he was Christopher Blunt from the haunted house.
I asked him how his brother was doing, and he replied casually, “oh, he hanged himself.” The next moment I was one of the traffic officials sitting around a table as a uniformed officer described the crash in detail - over and over. He kept saying that it was Paul Bryan's fault.
When I went to see one of the other victims, she was Kathy Aller whose boss had dumped her. I talked to him, and he was the Hays' unscrupulous lawyer, Tom Stone. Kathy had been driving to Seattle, and I told her that we could go there together in the car which had been crushed in the accident.
When she and I went to the garage to look at it, we were captured by a man who'd also been in the crash, but had left the scene. He was a bank robber, coming back to get the loot from his stolen car.
All through the dream I kept saying, “it was my fault,” and each of the other people agreed. I had bought a defective used car without checking it out.
As horrifying as all the incidents were, the dream then went into a phase where I was driving long, long straights with Kathy by my side, saying she always knew I'd come back to her because all my other women turned out to be unfaithful.
Saturday, August 20
The yacht had been docked at Corfu for a while before I woke up, and saw a note slipped under my door. It just said, “come to room 15, my prince,” and was unsigned.
At first I considered it to be a practical joke by Pete, but quickly remembered that he and June had debarked for Spain early this morning with the Darrels.
But whoever might have engineered the prank, I decided to go along, quickly dressing and shaving, then heading to the deck above.
When the door to stateroom 15 opened, the sight that greeted my eyes was as unexpected as one could imagine. Gina Milan. She embraced me warmly, and brought me in, delighted with her surprise coup.
After a few thousand kisses, she finally let me ask what was happening, and said that Rachel had invited her at Odette's funeral. I hadn't even seen her there, but apparently she'd been heavily veiled, only at the cathedral, and not the country estate.
Then came the flood of tears over Odette, and my heart went out to poor Gina who'd so quickly lost her new friend, maybe the first she'd ever had. I held Gina for a long time while she cried herself out, and found that the cruise invitation had been Katie's doing.
Though Odette's friend, Gina seemed clearly unperturbed by the presence of “Armand's lover.” The pain I felt in my heart from her phrase meant that I didn't even hear what she went on to say.
When my hearing started working again, Gina was telling me how Mme Tenati had forbade any possibility of going on Rachel's cruise, but her conductor friend had insisted.
“He couldn't join us,” she was saying, but was putting together a new management team. I asked her if it wasn't a bit sudden, but Gina was very positive. What else? There's no in between with this girl. After more kisses, she let me go, and we made a date for lunch.
I rang Kate, and she too seemed proud of the little surprise, saying that I should support Gina as much as possible. I dared not joke with her, but also feared being very serious about my feelings. Kate was very elusive as far as connecting.
Leaving the cabin my first sight was a raging Mme Tenati on her way to my door. She pushed her way in, and shouted that I was going to be the cause of ruining Gina's career.
After the call with Kate, it was all I needed to snap. Surely, I didn't threaten Angie Zeno as intensely, telling Tenati that it was she who had been ruining Gina's career for years.
Obviously, the woman hardly expected this retaliation. Being used to dominating everyone, she looked like she was going to have apoplexy - but I was fuming too, and just getting started.
I pointed out Gina's sensational reviews in London, New York and San Francisco, and audaciously claimed to be responsible for the unexpected and resounding emotion in her performance that all the critics raved about.
Thought Tenati was going to hit me, and moved behind the table. Then there was a loud knock at the door, followed by the booming voice of Julian Hays. I told him to come in, and with Julian looking ferocious, even when he's friendly, think Tenati got a real fright, and backed against a wall.
Julian gave her a menacing look, but she slipped out of the room when he turned to me, pulling out a check, saying it was for the foundation.
We went up to the dining room together, and I introduced him to Gina. “He'll protect you,” I told her, “Madame Tenati is afraid of him!” Though we all had a laugh, I know that she's in a difficult situation.
In the afternoon I was introduced to a syndrome everyone witnessed twice on the day - Gina in hysterics, railing at Mme Tenati, then tears, followed by begging for forgiveness.
Ramon had come by at the first, and whispered that I obviously preferred women of fire to cool ice princesses. If he only knew.
Learned from Rachel that it had been Gina herself who requested that Tenati accompany her on the cruise, but the disruption has gotten to a distress level that was affecting all the passengers by dinner time, and the pair had only been on board less than 12 hours.
Trying to play prince charming in these circumstances has not been easy, but we did make it away on shore for a few hours together, and that was fun, rambling around and getting tipsy on kumquat liqueur.
at sea from Corfu to Piraeus
Sunday, August 21
When I went to Gina's cabin last night, we had a long talk about her circumstances. She sang Armand's praises, said that he'd given her many hours of knowledgeable advice, not just for her career, but for life.
She mentioned me to him, and in the kindest way, Armand told her that he knew me, and that while he was sure that I loved her, I had another commitment in my life.
Gina had denied the idea, but he'd been gently persuasive, and she asked me if it was true, saying that had to be impossible. I replied that there was someone in my life, but we weren't together at the moment. “Then I will pretend it isn't so,” she replied.
Armand promised to support her in any way she needed, and Gina admitted that she'd imagined being his wife, but also loved Odette, who was the first real friend she'd ever had.
Tears started again, and when they were finally spent, Gina told me about the conductor Odette had introduced her to. He was very dynamic, and she admired him, even thought she could fall in love, but so far, they were only friends.
He's promised to organize the best voice coach around and take on her career himself, but if it's a romantic liason, that might not be the long-term prospect she needs.
So we have had this wonderful time together - broken up by several rows with Tenati and subsequent apologies. I just wonder if the relationship has gone too deep for Gina to shake the woman off.
at sea from Corfu to Piraeus
Monday, August 22
These beautiful waters and the kind hours they've given me with Gina are coming too quickly to an end, but I can only hope the time we've had together has helped to strengthen her resolve.
The scenes with Madame Tenati have grown more intense in their anger, but less forgiving in their finales.
Piraeus - Paris
Tuesday, August 23
Gina's conductor was at the dock to greet her, and she swept away with barely a glance at me, Tenati black-faced in pursuit.
Though they should have been out of earshot, I could hear the entire row that was going on beside the limousine, all three voices at top decibel.
The conductor was pointing at a parked taxi, and in the end, its driver took Tenati's luggage after Gina had driven off in the conductor's mile-long vehicle.
Went to Ramon's cabin, but he was gone, then found a note to meet him at a hotel in the afternoon. Was surprised when a steward came up to me then, saying that Rachel wanted to see me, since she'd bade all her guests goodbye last night.
She had a smug expression on her face, and said, since it was I who'd brought Ramon on board, I should know that he was about to receive an unpleasant surprise.
Told her that I wasn't Ramon's agent, just someone whose life he'd saved, and she nodded, saying Kate had told her that at the Monaco Grand Prix when Ramon had first tried to approach her.
“You knew all along?” I had to ask, and she just smiled, saying that once one got past the oily Riviera fortune hunter garbage, Ramon was actually a kind and interesting person whose dossier didn't do him justice.
Then she added, “you think I'd have allowed him on the cruise if I didn't know he was more than a common gigolo?” Saying she'd see me at Monza for The Launch, Rachel turned to her desk, and I went back to finish packing.
Feeling very much alone after Gina's departure. Unable to reach Kate, I've decided to go ahead with our original plan,to watch Hank Rodgers race at Nice.
Was just about to get a taxi to meet Ramon when I found him on board again. He'd apparently pulled his usual ranch disaster with Rachel at Malta, only to have her write out a large check, but hand it to her assistant to deal with the “trouble in Andorra.”
Ramon had rushed ashore this morning in hopes of getting a percentage from the assistant, but of course, Rachel was way ahead of him. When he returned to the yacht, she offered him a check for Services Rendered on board.
I asked if he took it, and he offered a huge grimace, saying in horror, “what? You mean take money from a woman for my time? Of course not!”
We drove into Athens for lunch, and I rang Kate, but she said things were still too uncertain to make any plans to meet me - maybe I should come to see her in Paris at Armand's. Where is this leading to?
I started acutely feeling the absence of Gina despite all her peaks and valleys of emotion - so suddenly gone now. Even Ramon's usually entertaining company didn't take me out of the gloom.
He's suggested we go to the Riviera, as there'll be a lot of money flowing at the motor race this weekend, but I didn't feel in the mood for more of that society. The decision was made for me when I rang Barry to say that we'd taken in 3.2 million, and asked what I should do.
He said I should take the checks to Paris for lodging in the Foundation account which already contained $45 million, adding that the board of the clinic would be meeting tomorrow about the name change.
So I booked a flight, and went back to the yacht to pick up the checks. Rachel's secretary gave me a typed list of all the contributions, and rang one of the security team to accompany me to the airport.
She'd arranged for someone from Armand's staff to meet my flight. verything like clockwork by Rachel. How could I have imagined that Ramon would have slipped on board without her knowing exactly who he was.
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