Free Hard Case Crime: Blackmailer by George Axelrod Page A

puzzles, I propose to offer you ten percent of all profits realized from printed matter. That is to say, reprints, twenty-five cent editions, translations, regular sales, book clubs, whatever. And five percent of any subsequent motion picture sales.”
    It was coming at me so fast that I couldn’t function.
    “In other words, Richard, I am asking you to front for my corporation.”
    I tried to think clearly.
    “None of the big publishers would give you a deal like that,” I said.
    “Of course not,” Walter said. “That’s why I asked you. At no expense to yourself you are being cut in for ten percent of what may well amount to a million dollars in profits. Plus the tremendous prestige of publishing what will unquestionably be the most talked-of book of the year. Naturally, the terms of our agreement will be confidential. For all anyone on the outside can know, you are publishing the book in the normal way.
    “As for me, I am eliminating a middleman, as it were. I, as president of my corporation, have a responsibility to my stockholders. I could, of course, eliminate you too. I could publish the book myself—form a subsidiary company, The Heinemann Press, perhaps. But that would only attract attention to myself. I would just as soon have the book published in as normal a fashion as possible. There is certainly nothing dishonest about this deal. As a matter of fact, it is done all the time. In reality, I am publishing the book and paying you a commission for certain services rendered. The use of your name, and so forth. The only thing is, Richard, I want the book for the late spring. So you must decide quickly.”
    I was somewhat overwhelmed.
    There was something wrong with the whole thing, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. The only thing I could think of to ask was, “Where does Max Shriber figure in this?”
    “Max,” Walter said, “Max is one of my stockholders. Or partners, if you prefer.”
    “Who else has a piece of this book?”
    “That, Richard, I am afraid I am not at liberty to divulge. Not until you have agreed to take the book. Once the papers are signed and you too are a partner, then everything will be open and aboveboard.”
    I was trying to think. I walked into the bathroom and washed my face with cold water.
    I came back in again.
    “All right,” I said. “You want fast action. When can you give me a copy of the manuscript?”
    “Oh, dear, no,” Walter said. “I haven’t made myself clear. No one, Richard, but no one can see the book until all papers are signed.”
    “If everything is so on the up and up,” I said, “if this whole thing is so honest, how come you’re getting fancy now? If I’m going to publish the book I’ve certainly got a right to see it.”
    “I agree,” Walter said. “But as yet, you haven’t agreed to publish the book.”
    “How can I agree till I read it?”
    “My dear boy, you are talking about the novel that Charles Anstruther spent the last six years of his life writing. If you read it and didn’t like it, you would stillbe compelled to publish it. Anyone would. After all, the man won a Nobel Prize.”
    “If you can give me a good reason why I can’t see it now, all right,” I said. “But it has to be good.”
    “I can give you two excellent reasons,” Walter said. “One, it is part of my overall promotion strategy that absolutely no one is to see the book. This will create interest in it. And it will prevent loss of impact. Many publishers make the great mistake of allowing hundreds of advance copies of a new book to drift around before publication. They dispel a great deal of excitement that way. To show you that this strategy is paying off, I have had two firm offers from movie companies, sight unseen.”
    “O.K.,” I said. “I can see why you don’t want a lot of people reading it. But I’m not a lot of people. I’m going to publish it.”
    “The second reason is even simpler,” Walter said. “The Winding Road to the Hills