Obviously there was no more hostility between East and West. Eisenbludt was no longer an “enemy” film producer as he had been at the time Nicholas St. James and his wife Rita and his kid brother Stu had been prodded virtually at gun-point into descending into the Tom Mix for what they had believed, at the time, to be for perhaps a year at the longest . . . or, as real pessimists had forecast, two years. Fifteen. And out of that fifteen— “Tell me exactly,” Nicholas said, “when the war ended. How many years ago?” “It’s going to make you hurt,” Blair said. “Say. Anyhow.” Blair nodded. “Thirteen
...more
Majenta liked this
