Free Death Sentence by Mikkel Birkegaard

said. He sliced through the air with both hands. ‘Even without the additional twist, I have a really good feeling about this book.’ He smiled and tapped the table three times. ‘You’ve really hit on something this time. People get the whole phobia and fear theme. I’ve spoken to some of the newspapers today and they’re reviewing it favourably. Weekendavisen wants your head on a plate as always, but otherwise it’s good news across the board. It’ll be a very busy book fair, I promise you. Our people have built a Frank Føns corner on the stand with large banners, “Face your fear” and so on. You’ll love it.’
    I was far from sure that I would. The book fair was a necessary evil for me and I was uncomfortable with all this attention. Especially now.
    ‘Interviews have been arranged.’ Finn’s smile disappeared. ‘TV3 is sending Linda Hvilbjerg.’ He held up his hands. ‘I know you don’t like her, but we’ve no choice and she’s popular.’
    I nodded. ‘It’s OK. I’ll just imagine her with a noose around her neck and I’ll be fine.’
    Finn laughed. ‘I don’t think she’s forgiven you for Media Whore yet.’
    Linda Hvilbjerg had hosted book shows on various TV channels for years and at one point I blamed her for the breakdown of my marriage. That was nonsense, of course. But I was so embittered in the years following the divorce that when I wrote Media Whore I put in so many similarities with Linda Hvilbjerg that any reader could see the character was based on her. In the book, the over-ambitious TV reporter, Vira Lindal, died suspended from a beam in the production suite with a script rammed up her vagina. Linda Hvilbjerg didn’t review the book on her show and has never had a good word to say about my books since, if she even mentions them in the first place.
    ‘I haven’t put you on the guest list for the party on Saturday,’ Finn continued. ‘But if you want to go, just let me know. We can always get you in.’
    I shook my head. ‘I’m busy.’
    I wasn’t, but I knew that after a long day at the book fair, going to a party with the same people was the last thing I wanted to do.
    We spoke for another hour. Mostly about the book fair, interviews and foreign interest in In the Red Zone . There had already been offers from Germany and Norway, a good indicator of further foreign sales. My breakthrough novel, Outer Demo ns, and its successor, Inner Demons , had sold reasonably well outside Denmark, but since then there have been no takers. The future prospects of In the Red Zone sounded promising, and the more Finn talked to me about contracts and expectations, the more hopeless it appeared to be to try and stop the huge machine that had been set in motion.
    On the way out, I picked up my post from reception. Ellen had put a small stack of letters and a single packet in a black plastic bag with the company’s logo.
    ‘I hope it’s a hit,’ she said, smiling.
    ‘So do I,’ I replied and returned her smile. Ellen is one of those thoroughly decent people who do their job without complaint and is always kind. I have never heard her speak ill of anyone and she has an aura of authority and professionalism that is a great asset to the company.
    ‘We need it,’ she whispered, looking around embarrassed.
    I leaned over the counter. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘We need a bestseller,’ she whispered. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve had one and I think money is a bit tight.’
    ‘Finn didn’t say anything about that.’
    Ellen shook her head. ‘He would be the last person to admit it,’ she said. ‘Or he’s just pretending he isn’t worried to protect the rest of us.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘If your new book doesn’t sell, the future looks bleak. That’s why he’s making such a big thing of it. He would do anything to promote that book.’

 
    Getting this far hasn’t been easy.
    My intention of switching off all emotion and letting the words flow unstinted has proved