Free Hopscotch by Brian Garfield

publishers.”
    â€œVery well—if you feel the risk is that great. But send me a copy when you send it to the rest of them.”
    â€œNaturally.”
    â€œThere’ll probably be a matter of libel insurance. With a book of this kind the premiums may prove costly.”
    â€œThe publishers will have to pay for that.”
    â€œI’ll arrange that if I can.”
    Kendig said, “What’s the usual procedure for paying commissions?”
    â€œI take ten percent of the client’s gross receipts off the top. When I receive a check from a publisher I deposit the check in my corporate account and draw my own check for ninety percent of that amount, payable to the client. Naturally the client is welcome to examine my accounts at all times. There’s no written contract between me and any of my clients—it’s a handshake arrangement. When a client’s dissatisfied with my work he’s free to go elsewhere.”
    Ives continued, “In your case since you say I won’t be able to reach you the thing would be for me to open an account for you and make deposits as the money comes in.”
    â€œNo good,” Kendig said. “A bank account can be frozen by court order. I’ll want cashier’s checks, made out in my name, sent by airmail to this address in Switzerland.” He wrote it down and tore the page out of his pocket notebook and tossed it onto the desk. Ives picked it up curiously.
    Kendig said, “People from the government will be around to see you before very long.”
    Ives’ grin made him even younger. “They won’t learn anything from me. Not without a warrant.”
    â€œThey won’t use warrants. They don’t work that way. You’d find yourself up to your ears in income tax audits. Your driver’s license would be mysteriously revoked. Your credit rating would evaporate overnight. Maybe you’d find that certain publishers were no longer buying anything from you. You’d start to lose clients—they’d give some vague excuse for shifting to another agency. Your wife would find her charge accounts canceled. Your kids would be caught with narcotics planted in their pockets. I could give you a list of subtle persuasions ten pages long.”
    Ives’s manicured index finger touched the piece of notepaper. “Then you want me to reveal this to them?”
    â€œIt won’t do either of us any harm.”
    â€œBut they’ll trace the address.”
    â€œThey already know it. Those are my brokers in Zurich. One of them has my power of attorney to make deposits in my bank. He doesn’t have the account number. He takes the check and the power of attorney to the bank. The bank deposits the check in my numbered account without giving the number to the broker. It’s a dead end for the Agency. He can’t lead them to me. Neither can you. Just cooperate with them when they approach you.”
    â€œWhat if they insist I stop representing you?”
    â€œThen do what they ask. Inform the publishers you’re no longer representing me. Ask them to send the payments directly to that address.”
    At four o’clock he was ready to leave. Ives said, “I can only think of one thing more. Not to be gruesomebut I gather there’s a chance you could suffer a fatal accident. Have you made a will?”
    â€œYes. My Swiss brokers have it.” On the way out he added, “I’ve left everything to the Flat Earth Society.”

– 7 –
    C UTTER MADE A face when he stepped into the FBI building. Myerson beside him took off his hat, wiped the inside hatband and then his forehead where the hat had welted a red dent. Then he looked at the hat. “That’s appropriate.”
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œI walk in with my hat in my hand.” Myerson winced and blubbered his heavy lips around an exhalation. He patted his stomach. “I’m back on the cottage