Martha's voice was shaking. "Harvey Weinstein… he got there first. He snatched Russell Crowe right out from under us."
In the office, Band shot up from the couch so fast it was like he'd been launched. Coffee splashed all over the floor.
"Shit! That fat bastard!"
The smile on Link's face froze instantly.
He turned around without saying a word, walked to his desk, and casually flipped open a script. It was the latest draft of A Beautiful Mind. The corners were curled from being handled too many times. He held his pen and absentmindedly drew a line in the margin—then stopped.
The only sound left in the room was the soft scratch, scratch of the pen against paper, heavy and suffocating.
Everyone watched him. No one dared to speak.
A full ten minutes passed before he finally set the pen down and looked up. All emotion had drained from his eyes, leaving behind nothing but cold calm.
"Where is Russell Crowe right now?"
Martha blinked, then hurriedly flipped through her notebook. "At… at an Australian bar in Santa Monica. It's called 'The Kangaroo.'"
"Got it."
Link grabbed his coat and headed straight for the door.
Band panicked. "Link ! What are you doing?! We should be lining up a backup right now! Going head-to-head with Harvey—we can't win that fight!"
Link stopped at the doorway and glanced back at him.
"I'm not going to outbid him," he said flatly. "I'm going to give him something Harvey can't."
---
Half an hour later, The Kangaroo.
The bar was thick with smoke, the air heavy with the smell of beer and fish and chips.
In a booth, Harvey Weinstein sat there smugly, slapping a gold-embossed contract down on the table.
"Russell, this is an empire! You'll be a Roman general! This movie will make you a global superstar!"
Across from him, Russell Crowe sat in an old T-shirt, stirring the foam in his beer with a straw, not even looking up.
"Sounds like," he finally said, his voice rough, "another muscle-flexing role."
"This is an epic! This is Oscar bait!" Harvey shouted.
Just then, a figure stopped beside the booth.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Weinstein."
Harvey's smile stiffened.
Link removed his sunglasses, his gaze settling on Russell Crowe as he extended a hand.
"Mr. Crowe. My name's Link, from Pangu Pictures."
Russell lifted his eyes, gave Link a quick once-over, then glanced at Harvey's darkened face. A trace of mockery curled at his lips. He didn't shake the hand—just nodded toward the empty seat across from him.
"Another guy in a suit here to sell me something. Sit."
Link sat down.
Harvey sneered. "Don't waste your time. I've already made Russell an offer he can't refuse."
Link ignored him and looked straight at Russell.
"Mr. Crowe, I know you. You're tired of playing loud, brainless tough guys."
Russell stopped stirring his beer. He looked up, eyes flaring like an angry bull.
"Oh yeah? You know me? You don't know shit. You're just like the rest of them—looking to make money off me."
"True," Link said calmly.
The blunt admission caught Russell off guard.
"But I make money differently," Link continued, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Harvey wants you to play a hero. I want you to play a coward."
Russell frowned.
"A coward who's afraid to even step outside and buy milk. A coward who's been tortured by the voices in his own head for decades. A coward the whole world thinks is insane—except for his wife, who knows he's a genius."
"The only battle he ever fought was inside his own mind."
It was like the noise in the bar had been sucked away. Russell's eyes narrowed, the irritation slowly giving way to focus.
Harvey panicked and shoved the contract forward. "Russell! Ten million dollars! Plus worldwide profit participation! Whatever you want, I'll give it to you!"
Link calmly opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of plain A4 pages held together with a cheap binder clip. There were coffee stains on them, and the corners were slightly bent.
"Mr. Weinstein is selling you a job," Link said evenly. "A job that'll make you richer, more famous—and further away from who you really are."
He looked straight at Russell, his voice steady and certain.
"What I'm offering you is an opportunity. An opportunity to show the world who Russell Crowe really is."