Chapter 59: Fire

The pain in his shoulder momentarily overpowered his anxiety. Spitting another string of curses, Duke turned, hauled Naomi Watts over his shoulder, and cleared the reaching flames in a few long strides.

More and more people rushed to the scene. Firefighters arrived shortly after, and the blaze was quickly brought under control.

Standing by the doors of the soundstage opposite the fire, Duke slowly regained his composure. Though the air radiated heat and his smoke-singed skin stung, his chest felt icy cold. The fire had started inside the warehouse. It was easy to guess the fate of the highly flammable film stock.

His anxiety and fury gradually hardened into calm. Why had the fire started on the inside? Why hadn't the warehouse's fire suppression systems triggered? Why this specific warehouse? Why was it The Rock's equipment and film that burned?

Yes, fires broke out at Hollywood lots almost every year, including at the Big Six Companies. Productions like Forrest Gump and Batman had lost portions of their film stock to blazes. No one ever really figured out how those fires started, but... why had this one broken out right after the crew wrapped up?

"Duke..." Naomi's panicked voice sounded beside his ear. "Are you all right? You terrified me."

"Sorry..."

Turning around, Duke gave her soot-stained cheek a reassuring squeeze.

Naomi Watts looked just as battered as he did. Her small face was covered in soot, blackened like a native of Africa. Her blonde curls carried a faint burnt odor, the tips scorched and curling back. Her silver-white gown was streaked with stains, turned into a muddy black-and-white mess.

She had lost her high heels at some point, and a faint smear of red seeped from between the toes of her filthy left foot.

Slipping off his suit jacket, Duke draped it over Naomi's shoulders and said earnestly, "Thank you."

If she hadn't risked her safety to run in and drag him out, Duke didn't know what he would have done. Maybe he would have tossed the fire extinguisher and run, or maybe he would have charged into the flames to salvage any surviving reels. That film was his future and his hope! It was the opportunity he had fought so bitterly to secure, drawing on two lifetimes of experience!

Naomi Watts had saved him from injury. Duke seriously doubted he would get a third shot at life if an accident killed him here.

"Thank you, Nami," Duke repeated. Naomi clung to his arm, looking as if she feared he might bolt back into the blaze, and forced a smile. "We... we're friends."

His gaze swept over the bedraggled blonde's face, and Duke sighed inwardly. They were just casual bedmates; she hadn't needed to risk severe burns to help him. That fire and water were merciless was not just a saying. In this highly commercialized society, protecting personal interests typically overpowered everything else.

Undeniably, she was a deeply ambitious woman. But from the A-list superstars down to the lowest extras, could you find a single actress in Hollywood who wasn't?

A thousand repeated words could never match the persuasive power of actual deeds. Duke's impression of Naomi Watts shifted just a fraction. In a way, he owed her a favor.

Would he even have the chance to pay it back?

Watching the firefighters encircle the warehouse as the blaze was largely put out, a faint, helpless smile touched the corners of Duke's mouth.

"Reed! Reed!"

After he bellowed into the crowd a few times, the temporary night shift manager for Warner Studios came jogging over.

"What's the situation?" Duke kept his voice as steady as possible.

"Some props and cameras burned up." Reed knew exactly what the director cared about most and quickly added, "The film... we haven't found any traces of the film."

Duke gave a slight nod and waved the man off, his helpless smile deepening.

The highly flammable film didn't stand a chance in an inferno like that. It had likely already burned to ashes. Over six months of grueling work by him and the crew, the result of tens of millions of dollars—all of it gone up in smoke just like that?

"Duke..."

The rapid clatter of high heels rang out. Sofia Coppola came jogging over, clutching the hem of her skirt. She was still wearing her dress from the party; she had clearly turned back from the road.

She practically slammed into Duke, grabbed his shirt collar, and inspected him thoroughly from head to toe before letting out a long breath.

"I'm fine." Duke made a reassuring gesture.

"You look just like a black—" Sofia swallowed the offensive word that almost slipped out. Duke frowned and murmured, "The film is gone."

"The film?"

Her brown eyebrows shot up. Sofia took two steps back, crossed her arms, and tilted her head, staring at Duke with a very strange expression.

"Is something wrong?" Duke's frown deepened.

"Nothing," Sofia said with a teasing expression. "I just wanted to see if the tough Duke Rosenberg would break down."

"Sofia, I'm not in the mood to joke with you."

Hearing the anxiety in his voice, Sofia curled her lip. "Duke, I'm not in the mood to joke with you either. The film is still here."

"Still here?" Duke repeated subconsciously.

Sofia knew perfectly well that Duke was just struggling to maintain a facade of calm, so she said directly, "I have the film..."

"Where is it?" Duke stepped forward and grabbed her arm.

"At the Warner Bros. Film Lab!" Sofia took another step back and broke free of Duke's large hand. Rubbing her bruised arm, she said, "When we got back to Los Angeles last night, Robin went with me to drop the film off at the lab. Did you forget you promised to let me make a copy!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Duke looked up at the sky and pressed a hand to his forehead. The sudden relief from his tension and anxiety even made him slightly dizzy. "Why didn't anyone notify me?"

"You forgot..." Sofia blinked, reminding him. "I tried to tell you this afternoon on the golf cart, I said... Oh, sorry! I didn't get to finish before Nicolas ran over and interrupted."

"I'm going to kill you both!" Duke ground his teeth.

"Suit yourself."

Despite her words, Sofia called a few people over to grab chairs from the nearby soundstage. She placed one behind Duke and gently tugged him.

"Sit down and rest for a minute."

She handed him a bottle of water she had brought from inside. Duke glanced at it but didn't drink, passing it instead to Naomi Watts sitting on the other side. Sofia took all this in and frowned in displeasure, but said nothing.

The blaze ahead had been completely extinguished. The warehouse structure showed no signs of collapsing, but the flammable materials inside and out had practically been reduced to ash. Shortly after, two production managers and a Warner Brothers executive arrived at the scene.

"Sofia and I sent the film to the Warner Bros. Film Lab last night."

Robin Grande's confirmation prompted a collective sigh of relief. Although three cameras and a lot of rented props had been destroyed in the fire, the total losses only amounted to a few hundred thousand dollars. If the film had been destroyed, the losses would have been much worse, potentially ruining the entire project.

"I recall the warehouse having a manager!"

As his mood relaxed, Duke also thought of many things that didn't add up. "Why was I the first one on the scene when the fire broke out?"

"He attended our party and got drunk," Charles Roven said.

Duke could only sigh. Chaotic management at Hollywood studios wasn't a recent development. Despite so many accidents in the past, the major studios hadn't seen any substantial improvement. This was especially true for the security guards and lot managers, who, much like in the country where he once lived, had mostly gotten in through connections. Getting them to be responsible was truly difficult.

Although the fire investigation hadn't yielded any preliminary conclusions yet, on the surface, it looked exactly like the fires that frequently plagued Hollywood lots over the years...