In the film industry you said good-bye to most of your lovers at the end of a picture as politely as you did in the old days to your dancing partner at a ball.

The death of Steve Stallings did not affect the showing and wrap party in Vegas. That was Skippy Deere's expertise. And the emotional structure of movie making. It was true that Stallings had been a star, but he had ceased to be a Bankable Star. It was true that he had made love to many women in their bodies, and millions more in their minds, but his love had never been more than reciprocal pleasure. Even the women in the picture, Athena, Claudia, Dita Tommey, and the three other featured female stars, were less grieved than would be imagined by romantics. Everyone agreed that Steve Stallings would want the show to go on, nothing would distress him more than to have the wrap party and screening canceled because of his death.

Skippy Deere claimed it was his idea to hold the wrap party at the Xanadu Hotel and to show a very rough cut of the picture that same night. He knew that Athena would be leaving the country in the next few days and wanted to make sure that Athena did not have to reshoot any scenes.

But, in reality, it was Cross who proposed the idea of a wrap party and showing of the film at the Xanadu Hotel. He asked it as a favor.

Deere pondered this. "Just for publicity?"

"It will be great publicity for the Xanadu," Cross told Deere. "And here's what I'll do for you. I'll comp everybody on the picture and anybody you invite for one night -- room, food, beverage. I'll give you and Bantz a Villa. I'll give Athena a Villa. I'll provide security so nobody gets to see the rough cut -- like the press -- that you don't want to. You've been screaming for years you wanted a Villa."

Cross grinned at him. "Also you get hundreds of people loaded with big cash. The casino will get a good part of it."

That convinced Deere. "OK," he said. "But it has to be my idea or I can't sell it to the Studio."

"Bantz doesn't gamble," Deere said. "I do. You'll get my money."

"I'll give you fifty grand in credit," Cross said. "If you lose we won't press for payment."

"Certainly," Cross said. "But Skippy, you and I have done a lot of things together. And I've always come out on the short end. This time it's different. This time you have to come through." He smiled at Deere. "This time you can't disappoint me."

"Don't worry," Skippy Deere said, "We finish shooting in three weeks. Make your plans for then."

For one of the few times in his life Deere felt a thrill of apprehension and did not quite know why. Cross was not making a threat. He seemed genial, he seemed to be just stating a fact.

"Big money," Cross said. "And broads."

He invited Dante to come to Vegas to talk about LoddStone's and Losey's plan to make a picture based on Losey's adventures in the police department. Everybody knew that Losey and Dante were now good buddies.

She agreed. Now Cross had to make sure that Dante and Losey would come to the party.

Then Cross had to make sure that Athena would agree to come to the wrap party and showing of the rough cut. "I really need it for the Hotel and a chance to see you again," he said to her.

"I want you to put in a word for me with Jim Losey," Cross told Dante. "I want to be a coproducer on his film and I'm willing to invest half the budget."

Dante was amused by this. "You're really serious about this movie business," he said, "Why?"

"How come you don't invite me to this party?" Dante asked. "And how come I never get a Villa?"

"Class. Big money and class broads," Cross said.

"Put the word in for me with Losey," Cross said, "and you'll get both. Bring Losey along. Plus if you're looking for a date I can fix you up with Tiffany. You've seen her show."

Dante laughed. "You've got big money and broads already," he said.

To Dante, Tiffany was the ultimate personification of pure lust, her breasts so full, her smooth, elongated face with its thick lips and wide mouth, her height and long, shapely legs. For the first time Dante was enthusiastic. "No shit," he said. "She's twice as big as me. Imagine? You've got a deal."

It was a little too obvious, but Cross was counting on the fact that the interdiction on violence in Vegas by all the Families would make Dante confident.

Bobby Bantz, Melo Stuart, and Claudia flew to Vegas on the Studio jet. Athena and the rest of the cast arrived from the shoot in their personal trailers, as did Dita Tommey. Senator Wavven would represent the state of Nevada, as would Nevada's governor, who had been handpicked for the job by Wavven himself.

Then Cross added casually, "Even Athena is coming. And she's the main reason I want to stay in the movie business."

Cross was breaking all the rules. Athena had a Villa, but Claudia, Dita Tommey, and Molly Flanders also had apartments in that Villa. The remaining two apartments held a four-man crew of Lia Vazzi's men, to guard Athena.

Dante and Losey would have two apartments in one of the Villas. Lia Vazzi and his men would occupy the other four apartments.

A fourth Villa was assigned to Bantz and Skippy Deere and their entourages. The remaining three Villas were occupied by twenty of Lia's men, who would replace the usual security guards. However, none of the Vazzi crews were to be involved in the real action, they did not know Cross's true purpose. Lia and Cross were to be the only executioners.

Senator Wavven and the governor and their entourages would occupy another Villa. Cross had arranged a private dinner for them with selected showgirls. He hoped that their presence would help take the heat off any investigation of what was to happen. That they would use their political influence to smother any publicity and legal pursuit.

Cross shut down the Villas' Pearl Casino for the two days. Most of the Hollywood personnel, no matter how successful, could not afford to play the casino's stakes. Those superrich guests who had already booked were informed that the Villas were undergoing repairs and renovations and could not accommodate them.

In their plan Cross and Lia Vazzi had determined that Cross would kill Dante and that Lia would kill Losey. If the Don decided on their guilt and determined that Lia had actually done the job on Dante, he might wipe out Lia's whole family. If the Don found the truth, he would not extend his vengeance to Claudia. She, after all, had Clericuzio blood.

Also, Lia had a personal vendetta against Jim Losey, he hated all representatives of government, and why not mix a little personal pleasure in with such a dangerous business.

The real problem was how to isolate the two men and make the bodies disappear. It had always been the rule of all the Families all over America that no execution could be carried out in Vegas, in order to preserve the public acceptance of gambling. The Don was a strong enforcer of that rule.

Molly Flanders flew in early on the day of the party; she and Cross had business. She brought with her a justice of the Supreme Court of California and a monsignor of the Catholic Diocese of Los Angeles. They would serve as witnesses when Cross signed the will she had also prepared and brought. Cross knew that his chances of remaining alive were small, and he had carefully considered where his half of the Xanadu Hotel should go. His interest was worth $500 million, and that was nothing to be sneezed at.

Cross hoped Dante and Losey would not suspect a trap. They did not know that Lia had discovered Sharkey's body and therefore knew of their intentions. The other problem was how to prepare for Dante's strike against Cross. And then Lia established a spy in Dante's camp.

The will left Lia's wife and children a comfortable pension for life. The rest he divided between Claudia and Athena, with Athena's portion held in trust for her daughter, Bethany. It struck him that there was no one else in the world he cared enough about to leave his money to.

"Of course," Molly said. "I must say I was surprised when you gave me your instructions. I had no idea you and Athena were so close. And besides she's pretty rich in her own right."

When Molly, the judge, and the monsignor arrived in the penthouse suite, the judge congratulated him on his good sense for making a will at so young an age. The monsignor calmly surveyed the luxury of the suite as if to weigh the wages of sin.

They were both good friends of Molly's, who had done pro bono work for them. She had called in her markers at the special request of Cross. He wanted witnesses who could not be corrupted or intimidated by the Clericuzio.

Cross gave them drinks, and the signing of the will was completed. The two men left; though they had been invited, they did not want their reputations sullied by attending a movie wrap party in the gambling hell of Las Vegas. They were, after all, not elected officials of the state.

Cross and Molly were alone in the suite. Molly gave him the original of the will. Cross said, "You have a copy for yourself, right?"

"She may need more money than she has," Cross said.

"Her daughter?" Molly said. "I know about her. I'm Athena's personal attorney. You're right, Bethany may need that money. I had you figured differently."

"You did?" Cross said. "How so?"

"No," Cross said. "I have too many things here."

"And now you see how wrong you were," Cross said, smiling at her.

"That was small potatoes," Cross said. He thought of the Don and David Redfellow.

Molly looked at him coldly. "And I was very surprised when you let Bobby Bantz screw you out of your profit share in Messalina."

Molly said quietly, "I had the idea that you took care of Boz Skannet. I had you figured as a Mafia guy with no mercy. I remember about that poor kid I got off from a murder rap. And that you mentioned him. And that he was killed supposedly in some drug deal."

"Athena is going to France the day after tomorrow," Molly said. "For quite a while. Are you going with her?"

"OK," Molly said. "I'll see you at the movie screening and the wrap party. Maybe the rough cut of the film will give you an idea of the fortune Bantz gypped you out of."

"You know, Dita put in a card at the beginning of the rough cut. Dedicated to Steve Stallings. Bantz will be really pissed off at that."

"It doesn't matter," Cross said.

"Why?" Cross asked.

"Because Steve screwed all the women Bantz couldn't," Molly said. "What shits men are," she added. Then she left.

Cross went to sit on his balcony. The Vegas street below him was crowded, people sifting into the hotel casinos that lined the strip on either side. The neon marquees flashed their signs: Caesars, the Sands, the Mirage, the Aladdin, the Desert Inn, the Stardust -- purples, reds, and greens, a mixed rainbow to which there was no end until you lifted your eyes to the desert and mountains that lay beyond. The blazing afternoon sun could not subdue them.

The Messalina people would not begin to arrive until three, and then he would see Athena for the last time if things went wrong. He picked up the balcony phone and called the Villa where he had housed Lia Vazzi and told him to come up to the penthouse suite so that they could go over their plans one more time.

He had comped everyone who worked on Messalina, above the line and below the line, with room, food, and beverage. LoddStone Studios had supplied the list of over three hundred names. Certainly it was generous, certainly it created goodwill. But these three hundred people would leave a substantial part of their wages in the casino drop. This he had learned from Gronevelt. "When people feel good, when they want to celebrate, they gamble."

Messalina wrapped at noon. Dita Tommey had wanted the last shot of the rising sun illuminating a terrible slaughter of the Roman battlefield. Athena and Steve Stallings looking down. She shot a double for Stallings and used a shadow over his face for disguise. It was nearly three in the afternoon before the camera truck, the huge mobile trailers that served as homes on the set, the mobile catering kitchens, the wardrobe trailers and vehicles carrying weapons of the time before Christ, rolled into Vegas. Many others came as well, because Cross had treated this occasion in the Old Vegas style.

By four in the afternoon, everybody was in the Hotel and the Villas. It was not to be missed by anyone: everything free in the convergence of two glamorous worlds, Hollywood and Las Vegas.

The rough cut of the movie Messalina would be played at ten P. M., but without music and special effects. After the screening would come the wrap party. The huge Xanadu ballroom where the party for Big Tim had been held was cut into two parts. One to show the film, the other, larger part for the buffet and orchestra.

The press was infuriated by the tight security. Access was barred to the Villas and the ballroom. It was not even possible to photograph the players in this glamorous event. Not the stars of the film, the director, the senator and the governor, the producer and the head of the Studio. They could not even get into the screening of the rough cut of the film. They prowled around the casino and offered huge bribes to the gamblers below the line for their IDs to get into the ballroom. Some were successful.

Four crew members, two cynical stuntmen, and two women from the catering team sold their IDs to reporters for a thousand dollars apiece.

"Yep," Dante said, "and when we're done, I'll ask my grandfather for the Hotel. Then we'll be set for life."

"No, he couldn't," Dante said. "He'd be dead in six months."

"So we're all set," Losey said.

They were sitting in the living room of Losey's apartment. They hadn't called room service because the huge kitchen refrigerator was stuffed with trays of sandwiches and caviar canapés, bottles of imported beer and the finest wines.

Dante Clericuzio and Jim Losey were enjoying the luxury of their Villa. Losey shook his head in wonderment. "A burglar could live for a year on just the gold from the bathroom," he said aloud.

"The important thing is that we get him here alone," Losey said.

"I'll do that, don't worry," Dante said. "Worse comes to worst, we'll drive him out to the desert."

"I'll tell him Giorgio flew in secretly and wants to see him," Dante said. "Then I do the job and you clean up after me. You know crime scenes, what they'll look for."

"How do you get him here in this Villa?" Losey said. "That's the important thing."

"But what if he does?" Losey asked. "I'll be waiting here all night jerking off."

He said musingly, "The best way is to drop him into the desert. They may never find him." He paused for a moment. "You know Cross ducked Giorgio the night Pippi died. He won't dare do it again."

"Too much heat," Losey said.

Dante said with a grin. "We can take her out into the desert with Cross."

"Athena's Villa is next door," Dante said. "You just tap on it and get lucky."

"You're crazy," Losey said. And he realized this was true.

"Why not?" Dante said. "Why not have some fun? The desert is big enough to dump two bodies."

Losey thought of Athena's body, her lovely face, her voice, her regal air. Oh, he and Dante would have fun. He was already a murderer, he might as well be a rapist. Marlowe, Pippi De Lena, and his old partner, Phil Sharkey. He was a three-time murderer and too shy to commit rape. He was turning into one of those morons he had arrested all his life. And for a woman who sold her body to the whole world. But this little prick before him with the funny hat was really a piece of work.

They went over the details, and then Dante went back to his apartment. He ran a bath; he wanted to use the expensive scents in the Villa. As he lay in the hot, perfumey water, his black, horse-like Clericuzio hair soaped into a white, heavy topknot, he thought about what his fate would be. After he and Losey dumped the body of Cross into the desert, miles from Vegas, the toughest part of the operation would begin. He would have to convince his grandfather that he was innocent. If worse came to worst, he could confess to Pippi's death also, and his grandfather would forgive him. The Don had always showed him a special love.

"I'll give it a shot," Losey said. "I'll invite her in for a drink and if she comes, she's asking for it."

Also, now, Dante was the Family Hammer. He would apply for appointment as Bruglione of the West and the overlordship of the Xanadu Hotel. Giorgio would oppose him, but Vincent and Petie would be neutral. They were content to live on their legal enterprises. And the old man could not live forever, Giorgio was a white-collar guy. There would come a time when the warmaker would become the emperor. He would not retreat into society. He would lead the Family back to its glory. He would never give up the power over life and death.

Dante was amused by Losey's rationalization. "Everybody asks for it," he said. "We ask for it."

As he finished dressing, Dante thought of what his life would come to be. He would live in a Villa, as luxurious as any palace. He would have an inexhaustible supply of beautiful women, a self-supporting harem dancing and singing in the Xanadu Hotel showroom. He could eat in six different restaurants with six different national cuisines. He could order the death of an enemy, reward a friend. He would be as close to being a Roman emperor as modern times allowed. Only Cross stood in the way.

Dante left the bath and showered to get all the soap out of his ropy hair. He anointed his body with the colognes from their fancy bottles, sculpted his hair from delicate tubes of aromatic gels, reading the directions carefully. Then he went to the suitcase that held his Renaissance hats and chose one encrusted with precious jewels that had the shape of a custard. Its threads were gold and purple. Lying there it looked ridiculous, but when he put it on his head, Dante was enchanted. It made him look like a prince. Especially the row of studded green gems sewed along the front. This was how Athena would see him tonight, or failing that, Tiffany. But the two could wait if necessary.

Jim Losey, finally alone in his apartment, was contemplating the course his life had taken. He had been, for the first half of his career, a great cop, a true knight defending his society. He'd had an intense hatred for all criminals, especially blacks. And then gradually he had changed. He resented the charges in the media that cops were brutal. The very society he was defending from scum was attacking him. His superiors, with their gold-braided uniforms, sided with the politicians who talked shit to the people. All that bullshit about how you couldn't hate blacks. What was so bad about that? They committed most of the crimes. And wasn't he a free American who could hate whoever he wanted to hate? They were the cockroaches who would eat away all civilization. They didn't want to work, they didn't want to study, burning the midnight oil was a joke to them unless it meant shooting basketball under the light of the moon. They mugged unarmed citizens, they turned their women into whores, and they had an intolerable disrespect for the law and its enforcers. It was his job to protect the rich from the malice of the poor. And his own desire was to become rich. He wanted the clothing, the cars, the food, the drink, and above all, the women the rich could afford. And surely that was American.

It had started with bribes to protect the gambling, then some frame-ups of drug dealers to make them pay protection. He had been proud of his "hero cop" status, the recognition he received for the courage he had shown, but there was no monetary reward. He was still buying cheap clothes, he still had to be very careful with his money to make his paycheck stretch out. And he, who guarded the rich against the poor, received no reward, indeed was one of the poor. But the final straw was that in public esteem he was lower than the criminal. Some of his friends, law enforcers, had been prosecuted and sent to jail for doing their duty. Or fired from their jobs. Rapists, burglars, lethal muggers, armed robbers in broad daylight, had more rights than cops.

Over the years, Losey sold himself his story in his head. The press and TV reviled law enforcers. The fucking Miranda rights, the fucking ACLU; let those fucking lawyers do patrol for six months, they'd grow a lynching tree.

After all, he used the tricks, the beatings, and the threats to get some scumbag to confess his crime and to put him away from society. But Losey could not sell himself completely, he was too good a cop. He could not sell himself on having become a murderer.

Forget all that; he would be rich. He would fling his badge and his bravery citations into the face of the government and the public. He would be security chief for the Xanadu Hotel at ten times the salary, and from this Paradise in the desert, he would watch with pleasure as Los Angeles crumbled under the assault of criminals he would no longer fight. Tonight he would see the movie Messalina and go to the wrap party. And maybe get a shot at Athena. Here his mind cringed, even as he felt his body ache with the thought of exercising such sexual power. At the party, he'd pitch a feature film to Skippy based on his career, the greatest hero cop in the LAPD. Dante had told him that Cross wanted to invest, which was really funny. Why kill off a guy who would invest in his movie? That was simple. Because he knew Dante would kill him if he backed out. And Losey, tough as he was, knew he could not kill Dante. He knew the Clericuzio too well.

For a flash he thought of Marlowe, a good nigger, really sweet, always so cheerful and cooperative. He had always liked Marlowe, and his murder was the one thing he felt sorry about.

Bantz had brought his latest "conquest," a seemingly fresh young girl named Johanna, discovered by a talent scout in a small town in Oregon. She was signed to a five-hundred-dollar-a-week contract for two years. Beautiful but completely untalented, she gave off such a virginal air that the innocence was a separate attraction. And yet with a shrewdness beyond her years, she had refused to sleep with Bobby Bantz until he promised to bring her to Vegas for the showing of Messalina.

Bobby Bantz invited the above-the-line principals of Messalina to his Villa for celebratory drinks at five that evening: Athena, Dita Tommey, Skippy Deere, and as a courtesy, Cross De Lena. Only Cross declined, claiming pressure of duties at the Hotel on this special night.

Jim Losey still had hours to wait before the screening and the party. He could go gamble in the main casino, but gambling was a mug's game. He decided against it. He had a big night ahead. First the movie and the party, then at three in the morning he would have to help Dante kill Cross De Lena and bury him in the desert.

Deere and Bantz both knew that Losey playing himself was a fantasy, invented to con Losey so that he would sell his story cheap, and also for public hype.

Deere was telling Bantz about Jim Losey, the greatest hero cop in the LAPD, a big, handsome son of a bitch, who might even be able to play the title role himself, since it would be a story about his life. One of those great "true" life stories where you could invent anything bizarre.

Skippy Deere outlined the story with great enthusiasm. Nobody could sell a nonexistent property better. In a moment of pure exhilaration, he picked up the phone and, before Bantz could protest, invited the detective to the five P. M. cocktail party. Losey asked if he could bring a friend, and Deere assured him he could, assuming it was a girlfriend. Skippy Deere, as a producer of films, liked to mix different worlds together. You never knew what miracle might emerge.

Skippy Deere, with an adjoining apartment in Bantz's Villa, chose to be a squatter in Bantz's place, and so prevented Bantz from getting in a quick screw with Johanna, which made Bantz irritable. Skippy was pitching an idea for a feature film that he really was crazy about. Being crazy for a property was a legitimate part of a producer's job.

"I have all the men in place," Lia said. "I control the Villa compound. None of them know what you and I will do, they will have no part in that. But I have word that Dante has a crew from the Enclave digging your grave in the desert. We have to be careful tonight."

Cross De Lena and Lia Vazzi were in the Xanadu penthouse suite reviewing the details of what they would do that night.

"No," Cross said. "He can't decide against his grandson."

"After tonight is what I worry about," Cross said. "Then we have Don Clericuzio to deal with. Do you think he'll buy the story?"

"Not really," Lia said. "But that is our only hope."

"You're right, of course," Lia said. "But still, the Don has gone a little soft. He let those Hollywood people cheat you, and that in his youth he would never have allowed. Not the money, the disrespect."

Cross shrugged. "I have no choice. Dante killed my father and so now he has to kill me." He paused for a moment and then said, "I hope the Don was not on his side from the beginning. Then we have no chance."

Lia said cautiously, "We could abort everything and lay our troubles in front of the Don. Let him decide and act."

Cross poured more brandy into Lia's glass and lit his cigar. He did not tell him about David Redfellow. "How do you like your room?" he said jokingly.

"You don't understand America, Lia," Cross said. "Every poor man who sees the inside of that Villa rejoices. Because he knows in his heart someday he will live in just such a place."

Lia puffed on his cigar. "What nonsense. So beautiful. To what purpose? Why does anyone have to live like that? It is too much. It takes away your strength. It arouses envy. It's not clever to insult the poor like that. Why then would they not want to kill you? My father was a rich man in Sicily but never did he live in luxury."

At that moment the private phone in the penthouse rang. Cross picked it up. His heart gave a little jump. It was Athena.

"How gallant," Athena said coolly. "Then we can meet after the wrap party, I'll leave early and you can come to my Villa."

"Only if you come to my suite," Cross said. "I really can't leave here."

"Can we meet before the movie shows?" she asked.

Cross looked at Lia, who shook his head and frowned. So Cross said to Athena, "Can you come to me here, now? Please?"

"I'm leaving in the morning for L. A.," Athena said. "Then the day after, I fly to France. We won't meet in private until you come there… if you come."

"I really can't," Cross said.

"I'll send a car and security for you," Cross said. "They'll be waiting outside your Villa." He hung up the phone and said to Lia, "We have to watch out for her. Dante is crazy enough to do anything."

Melo Stuart brought a young actress with a great stage reputation that he and Skippy Deere planned to cast as the female lead in the Jim Losey Story. She had a strong Egyptian beauty, bold features, an imperious manner. Bantz had his new find, Johanna, last name not decided, the innocent virgin. Athena, who had never looked so radiant, was surrounded by her friends: Claudia, Dita Tommey, and Molly Flanders. Athena was unusually quiet, but still Johanna and the stage actress, Liza Wrongate, looked at her almost in awe and envy. Both came to Athena, the Queen they hoped to replace.

The cocktail party in Bantz's Villa was graced by beauty.

He waited for a long time before she said, "Yes, give me an hour."

Claudia asked Bobby Bantz, "Didn't you invite my brother?"

"Sure," Bantz said. "He was too busy."

"Thanks for giving Ernest's family his points," Claudia said, grinning.

"Molly robbed me," Bantz said. He had always liked Claudia, maybe because Marrion had liked her, so he didn't mind her kidding. "She held a cannon to my head."

Bantz stared at her blankly. He felt suddenly tearful. Never would he be the man Marrion had been. And he missed him.

"But you could have made it tough," Claudia said. "Marrion would approve."

He noted how her face flushed; really it was touching how young girls believed in their beauty, desired to be stars, as passionately as Renaissance girls wanted to be saints. When Ernest Vail's cynical smile appeared before him, Deere thought: Laugh as much as you like, still it was a spiritual desire. In both instances it would lead more often to martyrdom than glory, but that was part of the deal.

Meanwhile Skippy Deere had cornered Johanna and was telling her about his new film, which had a great cameo of an innocent young girl grossly raped and killed by a drug dealer. "You look perfect for the part. You don't have much experience but if I can get it past Bobby, you can come and test." He paused for a moment and then said in a warm, confidential manner, "I think you should change your name. Johanna is too square for your career." Implying the stardom that lay ahead.

Liza gave him a cold smile. "I have to see the script," she said. Deere felt that flash of resentment he always felt. She was getting the break of her life and she wanted to see a fucking script. He could see Melo smiling with amusement.

Deere kissed Liza on both cheeks. "I saw you in New York," he said. "Marvelous performance." He paused for a moment and said, "I hope you'll take the part in my new movie. Melo thinks it will be your breakthrough on film."

Johanna went off predictably to talk to Bantz. Deere joined Melo Stuart and his new girlfriend, Liza. Though she was talented on stage, Skippy had doubts about her future on the movie screen. The camera was too cruel for her kind of beauty. And her intelligence would make her unfit for many roles. But Melo had insisted she be the female lead in the Losey picture, and there were times when Melo could not be denied. And the female lead was just a bullshit, carry-the-water-bag part.

"Of course," Deere said. "But believe me I would not send you a script that was not worthy of your talent."

Before they could answer, Jim Losey and Dante Clericuzio entered the apartment. Deere rushed over to greet them and introduce them to the others at the party.

Melo, never as ardent a lover as he was a businessman, said, "Liza, we can guarantee you the leading female role in an A feature. The script is not a sacred text as in the theater. It can be changed to please you."

Liza gave him a slightly warmer smile. She said, "You believe that crap too? Stage plays are rewritten. What do you think we do when we try them out of town?"

Losey and Dante were an almost comical pair. Losey, tall, handsome, impeccably tailored -- full shirt and tie, despite the intense July heat of Vegas. And Dante beside him, his hugely muscled body bulging out of a T-shirt, his brightly jeweled Renaissance cap crowning his black ropy hair, and so short. All the others in the room, experts in make-believe worlds, knew these two were not make-believe, despite their weirdness. Their faces were too blank and cold. That could not be duplicated with shadows.

Claudia plucked his Renaissance hat from his head. "Cross told me about your hats. They make you look cute." She put the hat on her head. "Even the Pope doesn't have a hat this cute."

Dante reached up to give her a hug. "Cugina, you look beautiful. If you looked like that when we were kids I would never have beaten you up so much."

Losey immediately addressed Athena and told her how he looked forward to seeing her in Messalina. He abandoned his intimidating style and was almost fawning. Women had always found him charming, could Athena be an exception?

Dante helped himself to a drink and sat on the sofa. No one came near him except Claudia. They had not seen each other more than three times over the years, all they had in common were childhood memories. Claudia kissed him on the cheek. When they were children he had tormented her, but she always remembered him with a certain fondness.

"And he has a lot of hats," Dante said. "Now who would have thought you'd become such a big wheel in the movie business."

Claudia brought him over to Athena, who was still cornered by Jim Losey putting on his charm. Athena smiled at Dante's Renaissance hat. Dante made himself look disarmingly comical.

"What do you do these days?" Claudia asked.

Losey continued on with his flattery. "I know your movie will be great," he told her. "After the wrap party maybe you'll let me be your bodyguard back to the Villa, then we can have a drink together." He was playing the good cop role.

"I run a meat company," Dante said. "We supply the hotels." He smiled, then asked, "Listen, could you introduce me to your beautiful star?"

Dante was admiring her. He could see she loathed Losey and that she was afraid of him. But she had made Losey think he could somehow have a shot at her.

Athena was at her best refusing an advance. She smiled at him sweetly. "I'd love to," she said. "But I'm only going to stay a half hour at the party and I wouldn't want you to miss it. I have to catch an early plane tomorrow, then I fly to France. I simply have too many things to do."

"You are nice," Athena said. "But it's a small private charter and all the seats are full."

When she was safely back in her Villa, she called Cross and told him that she was on her way over.

"I can fly with you to L. A.," Losey said. "What time is your flight?"

The first thing Athena was aware of was the security. There were guards on the elevator to the penthouse suite of the Xanadu Hotel. There was a special key to unlock the elevator. The elevator itself had security cameras in the ceiling, and its doors opened up into an anteroom that held five men. One was at the elevator door to greet her. Another man was at the lone desk that held a bank of TV screens, and there were two other men playing cards in the corner of the room. Another was seated at the sofa reading Sports Illustrated.

They all looked at her with a special appraising, slightly astonished look she had encountered many times, acknowledging that her beauty was of a special variety. But it had long since failed to rouse her vanity; now it only made her aware of some danger.

The man at the desk pushed a button that opened the door to Cross's suite, and she went in, the door swinging shut behind her.

In reply, she caressed him, made him kiss her, drew him down on the bed. She felt that this was a man who truly loved her, would do anything she commanded, and in return she would give him his every wish. For the first time in a very long time, she responded both physically and mentally. She truly loved him and loved making love to him. Yet she always knew he was dangerous, even to her, in some way.

Las Vegas was showered in neon lights, the late sun baked the streets and gaudy hotels in a great band of gold. Beyond was the desert and the mountains. Here in time, they were isolated; the green flags of the villas hung limply in the air.

After an hour they dressed and went out onto the balcony.

She was in the office part of the suite. Cross met her and led her into the living quarters. He kissed her briefly on the lips and then led her into the bedroom. Without saying a word, they both undressed and held each other naked. For Cross it was such a relief to hold her flesh, to look into her radiant face, that he sighed. "I'd rather just look at you than do anything else in the world."

Cross pressed her hand. "You will," he said.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Cross said. "But I'll see you in France."

"I met your cousin, Dante," Athena said. "That detective seems to be a buddy of his. They make a charming pair. Losey was very interested in my welfare, and my schedule. Dante offered his help too. They were so worried about my getting to L. A. safely."

"But Claudia told me the two of you were enemies since you were kids," Athena said.

They were silent, the streets below were clogged with vehicles and walking people migrating to different hotels for dinner and gambling. Dreaming of pleasure fraught with risk.

"Claudia said you and Dante are cousins," Athena said. "Why does he wear those funny hats?"

"I've noticed it's very hard to get to see you," Athena said. "The locked elevator and all those guards."

Cross said, "It's just for the next few days, too many strange people in town."

Athena held his hand tightly. "Will I see you at the movie and the wrap party?" she asked.

"Dante is a nice guy," Cross said.

"Sure," Cross said amiably, "but that doesn't make him a bad person."

"So this is the last time we will see each other," Athena said and pressed his hand as if to nullify what she said.

Cross didn't answer for a moment. "You'll be safe," he said. "And I think I'll be safe. I can't tell you any more than that."

"I don't know," Cross said. "If I don't come, you'll know I'm dead."

"I said I'll meet you in France," Cross said.

"I'll wait," Athena said. She kissed him and then walked out of the bedroom and out of the suite. Cross watched and then went out to the balcony to see her emerge from the Hotel and onto the colonnade. He saw the car with his security guards drive her to her Villa. Then he picked up the phone and called Lia Vazzi. He told Vazzi to tighten security around Athena even more.

"When?" Athena asked.

"Things are that serious?" Athena said.

"And you can't tell me anything about it?" Athena asked.

By ten P. M. the theater section of the ballroom of the Xanadu Hotel was full. The audience was gathered waiting for the first rough cut showing of Messalina. There was a premiere seating section that consisted of soft armchairs with a telephone console in the middle. There was one empty seat with a wreath of flowers bearing Steve Stallings's name. The other seats held Claudia, Dita Tommey, and Bobby Bantz and his companion, Johanna, Melo Stuart and Liza. Skippy Deere immediately took possession of the phone.

"Yes," Cross said.

Then the picture came on the screen…

Against the black background the line "Dedicated to Steve Stallings" appeared, and the audience applauded in a muted, respectful fashion. The insertion had been opposed by Bobby Bantz and Skippy Deere, but Dita Tommey vetoed them, God only knew why, Bantz said. But what the hell, it was only a rough cut, and besides, the sentimentality would create some press.

Athena was the last to arrive and was cheered by the crew and stunt men below the line. The above-the-line people, the supporting cast, and all the people seated in the armchairs applauded and kissed her on the cheek as she made her way to the center armchair. Then Skippy Deere picked up the phone and told the projectionist to begin.

Athena was mesmerizing, she had even more sexuality on screen than she had in real life and a wit that was no surprise to anyone who knew her well. Indeed Claudia had written lines specifically to show off this quality in her. No cost had been stinted, and the crucial sex scenes were done in good taste.

There was no question that Messalina, after all its troubles, would be a major hit. And that, without final music and special effects. Dita Tommey was ecstatic, she was finally a Bankable Director. Melo Stuart was calculating how much he would ask for Athena's next picture; Bantz, looking not too happy, was worrying about the same thing. Skippy was counting the money he would make; finally he could own his own jet.

Claudia was more thrilled than any of them. Her creation was up on the screen. She had sole credit and it was an original screenplay. Thanks to Molly Flanders, she had gross points. Of course, there had been a little rewrite by Ben Sly but not enough for a credit.

The wreath for Steve Stallings had been brushed to the floor, and people were trampling it. Molly could see that Athena had detached herself from the crowd to pick it up and place it back on the chair. Athena caught Molly's eye and they both shrugged, Athena giving a shy smile as if to say, That's movies.

Everybody was clustered around Athena and Dita Tommey, congratulating them. But Molly had her eye on one of the stunt men. Stunt men were crazy bastards, but they had hard bodies and were great in bed.

Athena only spent an hour at the party. Receiving everyone's congratulations, she was gracious, and yet she observed herself being gracious and she hated it. She danced with the "best boy" and other members of the crew and then with a stunt man whose aggressiveness made her decide to leave.

The crowd moved to the other side of the ballroom. A small band was playing, but everyone rushed the buffet tables. Then the dancing began. Molly went up to the stunt man, who was glowering around; it was at these parties they were most vulnerable. They felt their work was not appreciated, and they resented like hell when the flabby male star was allowed to punch them out on screen when they could kill the faggot bastard in real life. Just like a stunt man, his cock is already hard, Molly thought, as he led her onto the dance floor.

The Xanadu Rolls was waiting for her with an armed driver and two security guards. When she got out of the Rolls at her Villa, she was surprised to see Jim Losey coming out of the adjoining Villa. He approached her. "You were great in that movie tonight," he said. "I've never seen a better body on a woman. Especially that ass."

Athena would have been wary except that the driver and both security guards were already out of the car, positioned. It was part of her theatrical training, the blocking out of the stage where actors position themselves. She noted that they placed themselves so that none of the lines of fire would jeopardize any of them. She also noticed that Losey viewed them with a mild contempt.

"That was not my ass," Athena said, "but thank you anyway." She smiled at him.

Suddenly Losey was holding her hand. "You're the greatest-looking woman I ever met," he said. "Why don't you try a real guy instead of those phony actor faggots."

Athena took her hand away. "I'm an actor too, and we're not phonies. Good night."

"I'm sorry," Athena said, and rang the bell to the Villa. The door was opened by a butler Athena had never seen before.

"Can I come in for a drink?" Losey asked.

Losey took a step to go in with her, and then to her surprise, the butler walked outside and quickly pushed her into the Villa. The three security guards formed a barricade between Losey and the door.

The butler remained outside the door. "Miss Aquitane's security," he said. "You will have to leave."

Losey took out his police ID. "You see who I am," he said. "I'll kick the shit out of all of you, and then I'll lock you up."

Losey turned away. He had more important fish to fry. In the next two hours Dante Clericuzio would be bringing Cross De Lena to their Villa.

The butler looked at the ID. He said, "You're Los Angeles. No jurisdiction." He pulled out his own ID. "I'm Las Vegas County."

Athena Aquitane had remained just inside the doorway. She was surprised her new butler was a detective, but now she was beginning to understand. "Don't make a big deal out of it," she said, and closed the door against all of them.

Both men put their IDs back into their jackets.

Losey gave each in turn a hard stare. "I'll remember you guys," he said. None of the men reacted.

Losey looked at them with contempt. "What the fuck is this?" he said.

Dante Clericuzio, Renaissance hat perched on his head, was having a great time at the wrap party. He used fun to prepare himself for serious action. A girl in the catering crew had caught his attention, but she gave him no encouragement because she had focused on one of the stunt men. The stunt man had given Dante threatening looks. Lucky for him, Dante thought, I have business to do tonight. He looked at his watch, maybe good old Jim had managed to snare Athena. Tiffany had never showed, though she had been promised. Dante decided to start a half hour early. He called Cross, using the private number with the operator.

Cross answered.

"I have to see you right away," Dante said. "I'm in the ballroom. Great party."

"So, come up," Cross said.

There was a long pause. Then Cross said, "I'll be down."

"No," Dante said. "These are orders. Not on the phone and not in your suite. Come on down."

Dante stationed himself so that he could observe Cross making his way through the ballroom. There seemed to be no security around him. Dante patted down his hat and thought back to their childhood together. Cross had been the only boy who had made him fearful, and he had fought him often because of that fear. But he loved the way Cross looked, had often been envious. And he envied his cousin's confidence. It was just too bad…

Once he killed Pippi, Dante had known he could not let Cross remain alive. Now, after this, he would have to confront the Don. But Dante had never doubted that his grandfather loved him, he had always shown his love. The Don might not like this, but he would never invoke his awful power to punish his beloved grandson.

Cross was standing before him. Now he had to get Cross to the Villa where Losey was waiting. It would be simple. He would shoot Cross, and then they would drive his body out into the desert and bury him. Nothing fancy, as Pippi De Lena had always preached. The car was already parked behind the Villa for transport.

Cross said to him abruptly, "So what is it?" He did not look suspicious or even wary. "Nice new hat," he said and smiled. Dante had always envied that smile, as though the guy knew everything Dante was thinking.

Dante played it very slow, very low-voiced. He took Cross by the arm and led him outside, in front of the huge colored marquee that had cost the Xanadu Hotel ten million dollars. The flashing blue, red, and purple bathed their figures in cold light blanched by the desert moon. Dante whispered to Cross, "Giorgio flew in, he's at my Villa. Top secret. And he wants to see you right away. That's why I couldn't say anything on the phone."

Dante was delighted that Cross looked concerned. "He told me not to tell you anything, but he's pissed off. I think he found out something about your old man."

At this Cross gave Dante a somber look, almost one of displeasure. Then he said, "OK, let's go." And he led Dante through the grounds of the Hotel to the Villa compound.

Dante opened the door with a flourish and doffed his Renaissance hat. He said, "After you," and smiled slyly, which gave his face a puckish humor.

Cross walked in.

The four guards at the compound gates recognized Cross and waved them through.

Jim Losey was filled with cold rage when he turned away from Athena's guards and walked back to his own Villa. Yet there was a part of his brain that assessed the situation, gave out a warning signal. What were all those guards doing around? But, shit, she was a movie star and that experience with Boz Skannet must have scared the hell out of her.

He used his key to get into the Villa, it seemed to be deserted, everyone was at the party. He had more than an hour to get ready to receive Cross. He went to his suitcase and unlocked it. There was his Glock, gleaming, wiped clean of oil. He opened his other suitcase, which had a secret pocket. In there was the bullet-filled magazine. He put them together, put on a shoulder holster and tucked the gun inside. He was all set. He noted that he was not nervous, he was never nervous in these situations. That was what made him a good cop.

Losey thought, What the fuck is this? He put the tray and bottle on the coffee table and said to Lia, "I've been looking for you."

Losey left the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. There were sure a lot of hallways in this Villa. From the refrigerator, he took a bottle of imported beer and a tray of canapés. He crumbled one with his teeth. Caviar. He gave a little sigh of pleasure, he had never tasted anything so delicious. This was the way to live. This was his for the rest of his life, the caviar, the showgirls, maybe some day Athena. He just had to do his job tonight.

Carrying the tray and bottle, he went into the huge living room.

The first thing that startled him was that the floor and the furniture were covered with plastic sheeting, giving the whole room a ghostly white glow. And then, seated in a plastic-covered armchair, was a man smoking a thin cigar and holding a glass of peach brandy. It was Lia Vazzi.

Lia puffed his cigar, took a sip of brandy. "And now you've found me," he said. He stood up. "Now you can slap me again."

Losey said to them, "You know I'm a cop?"

Suddenly there was a flood of men in the room. They seeped in from the kitchen, the connecting foyer, from the video/TV room. They were all bigger than Jim Losey. Only two of them had drawn guns.

"We all know that," Lia said in a reassuring voice. He stepped closer to Losey. At the same time, the two men pressed their guns against Losey's back.

Losey was too experienced a man not to be alert. He was putting things together. He had wondered why the other apartments in the Villa were vacant, it had struck him as strange. He casually unbuttoned his jacket and grinned at Lia. More than a slap this time, he thought. It would be an hour before Dante arrived with Cross, he could work while waiting. Now that he was armed, he had no fear of being one-on-one with Lia.

Lia flipped his hand inside Losey's jacket and came out holding the Glock. He handed it to one of the men and then gave Losey a quick pat-down.

"Now," Lia said, "you always had so many questions to ask. Here I am. Ask."

"I know you set that guy Skannet up," Losey said. "And I'll get you for it sooner or later."

Losey still had no real fear. He was just worried that Dante would arrive with Cross. He could not believe that a man like himself, who had had the great good fortune to remain alive in so many dangerous situations, could finally be overcome.

"It will have to be sooner," Lia said. "There's no later. Yes, you are right and now you can die happy."

He reached out to shove Lia away, to achieve a dominance over the situation. But suddenly there was a shocking line of fire slashing through his stomach and his legs trembled. He started to crumble to his knees. Something thick slapped against his head and his ear was on fire and he could not hear. He sank to his knees and the rug felt like an enormous cushion. He looked up. Standing over him was Lia Vazzi, and in his hands was a thin silk rope.

Losey still could not believe that anyone would dare to murder a police officer in cold blood. Sure, drug dealers would exchange bullets, and sure, some crazy nigger would blow you away because you showed a badge, as would fleeing bank robbers, but no mob guy would have the balls to execute a police officer. It would be too much heat.

Lia Vazzi had spent two whole days sewing together the two body bags he would have to use. They were of dark brown canvas with a drawstring at the head. Each bag could contain a large body. There was no possible leakage of blood from the bag, and once you drew the string, you could sling it over your shoulder like an army duffel bag. Losey had not noticed the two bags lying on the sofa. Now the men stuffed his body into one, and Lia drew the string tight. He left the bag leaning upright against the sofa. He gave orders to the men that they were to surround the Villa but were not to appear until he summoned them explicitly. They knew what they were to do after that.

Cross and Dante strolled from the compound gates toward Dante's Villa. The night air was oppressive with the cauldron of heat spewed from the day's desert sun. They were both perspiring. Dante noted that Cross was dressed in slacks, open shirt, and buttoned jacket, that he could be armed…

The seven Villas, their green flags waving slightly, made a magnificent sight under the desert moon. They looked like edifices from another century with their balconies, their frilled green awnings over the windows, their huge white doors decorated with gold. Dante held Cross by the arm. "Look at that," he said. "Isn't it beautiful? I hear you're fucking that great-looking broad in the movie. Congratulations. When you get tired of her let me know."

"Sure," Cross said amiably. "She sort of likes you and your hat."

Dante took off his hat and said eagerly, "Everybody likes my hats. Did she really say she likes me?"

"She's enchanted by you," Cross said dryly.

"Enchanted," Dante said musingly. "That's really classy." He wondered for a moment if Losey had been able to get Athena into their Villa for a drink. That would be the icing on the cake. He was tickled that he had distracted Cross, he had noticed the slight irritation in his cousin's voice.

They were at the door of the Villa. There seemed to be no security guards around. Dante pressed the bell, waited, and then rang again. When there was no answer, he took out his key and opened the door. They entered Losey's suite.

Dante led Cross into the living room and was astonished to see the walls and furniture covered with clear plastic sheets. Leaning against the sofa was a huge brown duffel bag standing upright. On the sofa was an empty duffel bag of the same kind. All under plastic. "Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?" Dante said.

Dante was thinking, Maybe Losey was in the sack with Athena. Which was a hell of a way to run an operation, but he would have done the same thing.

He turned to face Cross. Cross was holding a very small gun in his hand. "To keep the blood off the furniture," Cross said. "I have to tell you, I never thought your hats were cute and I never believed that a mugger killed my father."

Cross stepped forward. Very deliberately he fired through the plastic, then fired again. The bullets exploded, and Dante's face was almost covered with tiny bits of plastic turned red. Dante's left thigh seemed to separate from his body as Cross fired again. Dante fell, the white rug now held concentric circles of scarlet. Cross knelt beside Dante and wrapped his head with plastic and fired again. The Renaissance cap still on his head exploded upward into the air but remained attached. Cross saw that the hat was secured to the head by some sort of clip but now it rested on an open skull. It seemed to float.

Cross said, "All your life you were a Santadio."

Dante whirled sideways to give a smaller target and flung himself on Cross. His strategy worked; the bullet hit him in the shoulder. He had a fraction of a second of joy, that he would win, and then the bullet exploded, taking away half of his arm. And he realized there was no hope. Then he really surprised Cross. With his good arm, he began pulling up the plastic sheeting from the floor. Blood pouring from his body, his arms filled with plastic sheeting, he tried to stagger away from Cross, then held up the sheets of plastic as a silvery shield.

Dante was thinking, Where the hell is Losey? He called out to him, meanwhile thinking that such a small-caliber gun could never stop him.

"It's done," Lia said. "Wash off in the bathroom and go back to the Hotel. And get rid of your clothes. I'll take the gun and clean up."

"And the rugs and the furniture?" Cross asked.

The van had been modified by Lia Vazzi. It had double floors with a space between the two. Lia and his men squeezed the two bags into the hollow space and then rejoined the floor strips.

"I'll take care of everything," Lia said. "Wash up and go to that party."

He wrapped Dante's body in the plastic sheeting and, with the help of two of his men, stuffed it into the empty canvas bag. Then he gathered all the plastic sheeting in the room and stuffed it into the same bag. When he had finished, he drew the strings tight. First, they carried the bag containing Losey into the Villa garage and threw it into the van. They made another trip with Dante's body bag.

When Cross left, Lia helped himself to a cigar that was on a marble-topped table and looked for bloodstains while he was at it. There were none. But the sofa and the floor were soaked. Well, that was it.

Cross stood up and put the gun in the holster in the small of his back. At that moment Lia came into the room. They looked at each other.

Before him and after him were the members of his crew.

It was early morning before he pulled onto the pavement in front of the yacht that was waiting for him. He unloaded the two bags and brought them aboard. The yacht pulled away from shore.

As a Qualified Man, Lia had prepared for everything. In the van were two cans of gasoline. He himself carried them back into the Villa and poured them over the floors and furniture. He set a fuse that would give him five minutes to get away. Then he got into the van and started the long drive to L. A.

It was nearly noon when, far out at sea, he watched the iron cage holding the two bodies slowly descend into the ocean. They had made their final Communion.

The wrap party began to filter out just as dawn appeared, the sun rising ominously clad in red, a thin trail of blue smoke rising to meet it.

Molly Flanders disappeared with her stunt man, to his room in the Hotel rather than to the Villa, because Molly, despite her affection for the less worldly in power, had a tiny trace of the old Hollywood snobbism, she didn't want it known she was screwing below the line.

A thin pillar of fire rose triumphantly over the neon lights of the Vegas Strip. It mushroomed into a great pillow of plum and rosy clouds against the sandy mountains.

Cross was silent. He watched the green flag over the Villa being consumed by smoke and fire, heard the fire engines screaming down the Strip. Twelve million dollars going up in flames to hide the blood he'd shed. Lia Vazzi was a Qualified Man who spared no expense, courted no risks.

Cross had changed his clothes and showered and then had gone to the party. He was seated with Claudia, Bobby Bantz, Skippy Deere, and Dita Tommey celebrating the sure success of Messalina. Suddenly there were shouts of alarm from outside. The Hollywood group ran out and Cross followed them.

"Oh my God," Claudia said, holding Cross tightly by the arm. "It's one of your Villas."