SYLVIA LET MALCOLM GO in first.
She enjoyed watching the effect he had on poor, dull Andrea Friederichs: the lawyer clearly became positively moist the moment he walked into a room.
“Dear Malcolm,” the lawyer said, standing up and grasping his hand with both of hers. Her cheeks glowed bright red. Her eyes swept from his biceps down toward the curve of his backside.
Sylvia sat down opposite her and smiled.
“It’s great that we’re getting close to a financial agreement,” she said. The lawyer’s smile faded as she glanced at Sylvia. She put on her uglyduckling reading glasses and started to leaf through the papers on the table. They were in one of the smaller conference rooms of the Grand Hotel, the room the lawyer had reserved to conduct negotiations for the global rights to Sylvia and Malcolm’s story.
“Well, I’ve had final bids for both the book and the film rights,” she said, putting the documents in two piles in front of her.
“There are four parties bidding for both packages, six who want only the book, and three, possibly four, who just want to make the film. I thought we might go through them together so that you -”
“Who’s offering the biggest advance?” Sylvia asked.
The lawyer blinked at her over the thick black frame of her glasses.
“There are a number of different conditions attached to the various bids,”
she said. “Nielsen and Berner in New York, for instance, have a very interesting proposal including a television series, a computer game, a lecture tour… for the two of you.”
“Excuse me,” Sylvia interrupted, “
Dear Andrea took a theatrical deep breath.
“Not much at all. Their package is the largest in total, but it’s conditional upon your full participation in the marketing campaign.”
Malcolm stretched, making his T-shirt ride up. He scratched his stomach.
“The advance?” he said, smiling toward Andrea.
Her angular face broke into a foolish smile and she fumbled with the papers again.
“The largest advance is offered by Yokokoz, a Japanese company that really wants only the digital rights. They will make a manga series, with all the spin-offs that entails - collectable cards, clothing, and so on. They want to sell the book and film rights, without you having any say in where they end up…”
“How much?” Malcolm asked.
“Three million dollars,” Andrea said.
Sylvia stretched her back.
“That sounds pretty good,” she said. “Sign up with Yokokoz.”
The lawyer blinked.
“But,” she said, “the agreement has to be refined. We can’t leave the question of subsidiary sales open. You have to have control over the finished product…”
“Try to get them up to three and a half million,” Sylvia said, “although that’s not a deal breaker. But they have to pay us now. Anything else and the deal’s off with them. Right? We’re clear?”
Andrea Friederichs shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Clearly, she wasn’t clear.
“If I could just remind you about my fee,” she said. “I can’t take a percentage because I’m a member of the Association of Swedish Lawyers, but I presume we’re following usual practice?”
Sylvia raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Are we? I don’t remember signing an agreement like that. Nor does Malcolm.”
“No, I don’t.”
Andrea Friederichs clicked her ballpoint pen in irritation.
“A quarter of the total is usual in cases like this. We discussed it the first time we spoke. I must tell you that some agents take considerably more.”
Sylvia nodded.
“I know twenty-five percent is the norm,” she said, “but in our case I think five percent is more appropriate.”
The lawyer looked as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“What do you mean? A hundred and fifty thousand dollars? That’s quite absurd!”
Sylvia smiled again.
“You’re getting five percent.”
Andrea Friederichs started to get up from her chair. Her blushes had grown into fiery blotches covering her whole neck.
“Almost a million and a half Swedish kronor for a few days’ work,”
Sylvia said. “You think that’s absurd? I suppose that it is.”
“There’s such a thing as legal precedent…,” the lawyer began. Sylvia leaned over and lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper.
“Have you forgotten who we are?” she breathed, and she saw how Andrea Friederichs sank back in her chair, her face drained of color.
Part Three
Chapter 115
URVЕDERSGRЕND WAS DESERTED AND doing its best to show why it had been named after bad weather.
Gusts of rain tore and tugged at the street lamps and signs, the shutters and gables.
The reporters had finally given up and gone the hell home. That was the good news.
Dessie paid the taxi driver and hurried in through the doorway. Her steps echoed in the empty stairwell. She felt like she’d been away for ages. Her apartment welcomed her with gray light and complete silence and a certain unappealing mustiness.
She pulled off her clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the hall floor. Then she sank down and sat on the telephone table in the hall, staring at the wall opposite. Suddenly she was far too exhausted to take the shower she had been looking forward to all day.
For some reason her mother came to her mind.
They hadn’t been in regular contact during the last years she was alive, but right now Dessie would have liked to call her and tell her what had been written about her, about the terrible murders, about her own loneliness. And about Jacob.
She would have liked to tell her about the unusual American with the sapphire blue eyes. Her mother would have understood. If there was one thing she had experience in, it was doomed relationships.
At that moment the phone rang right next to her. It startled her so much that she jumped.
“Dessie? The phone didn’t even ring on my end. You must have been sitting on it.”
It was Gabriella.
