“So, say it fast.”

“You remember Centurion Studios? A large Hollywood film factory.”

“I believe so.”

“You remember that Vance owned a third of the shares when he died?”

“I didn’t know it was that much.”

“He’d been buying the stock for many years, every time somebody died and some shares became available.”

“Got it.”

“There’s a stockholders’ meeting coming up, and there will be a vote on whether to sell the studio. It has always been closely held, and Vance wanted to keep it that way.”

“Who’s buying?”

“I don’t know, some corporation or other. They’ll sell the property to developers, and the studio will just be a letterhead.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Vote my shares against the sale, and do what you can to get the other stockholders to vote against it.”

“How many are there?”

“A couple of dozen, maybe. I’ll send you a list, along with my signed proxy, to the Bel-Air house. You can have the guesthouse, as usual. Manolo and Carmen will take good care of you.”

Manolo and Carmen were the Filipino houseman and his wife who ran the place. Stone knew he would be taken care of very well indeed. “All right, I guess I can manage that.”

“Can you get there tomorrow?”

“Or the day after,” Stone said. He wanted to fly himself in his new airplane.

“I guess that will be all right,” she answered. “You remember Rick Barron?”

“Yes, I met him and his wife at Vance’s burial.”

“That’s right. Call him as soon as you get there, and take him and his wife, Glenna, to dinner. Rick is in his nineties now, but he’s sharp as a straight razor, and he’s leading the fight to keep the studio closely held.”

“I’ll be glad to do that.”

“In fact, invite them to the house, and let Manolo and Carmen do the dinner. They know all the Barrons’ favorite dishes.”