Face Me When You Walk Away by Brian Freemantle Page A

psychiatrist. They shook hands, recalled their earlier meeting, laughed about it and then sat, regarding each other.
    â€˜I knew we’d get together eventually,’ began Blyne. ‘I see the wheat deal came off.’
    Either he reads financial newspapers, thought Josef, or he’s had someone prepare a dossier on me. Probably the latter.
    â€˜I was lucky,’ said the Russian, modestly.
    Silence grew between them.
    â€˜I think you’re going to be pleased we opened discussions,’ tried Josef.
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜We think Nikolai Balshev is going to get this year’s Nobel prize,’ he said, matching the bluntness he’d practised with the Briton.
    â€˜I figured something like that,’ said Blyne, unimpressed. ‘All this secrecy crap and flights to Europe.’
    It was a good reaction, judged Josef. He wondered how difficult it would be to unsettle him.
    â€˜But the Soviet Union are delighted at the prospect,’ offered Josef.
    â€˜What’s that mean?’ asked Blyne, nudging the lure.
    â€˜That immediately after the presentation in Stockholm, he’ll be allowed to tour the West, for personal appearances.’
    For several moments, the American sat completely still, only his hands moving around his lap in those gestures that embarrassed him.
    â€˜You mean to New York, right after the ceremony?’
    Josef nodded. ‘I won’t let him go out on those incredible author’s tours,’ he warned. ‘Fourteen cities in fourteen days, or anything stupid like that. But there will be some personal appearances.’
    Blyne nodded slowly. He’d recovered, decided Josef, and was calculating the potential.
    â€˜You will be the only American publishing house in history to bring out, with permission and therefore with the full approval of the Soviet Union, one of their Nobel prizewinners,’ said Josef. He paused, gaining effect. ‘… And that would be quite a coup for a publisher to pull off, wouldn’t it?’
    Blyne smiled and Josef was happy he had isolated the man’s thoughts.
    â€˜There’s something else, of course,’ said Josef.
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜I would imagine,’ continued the Russian, ‘that a publisher selected by the Soviet Union to publish one work would find other material forthcoming.’
    â€˜Are you giving me an undertaking?’ demanded Blyne, excited.
    â€˜No,’ said Josef.
    â€˜A hint?’ Blyne was stretching almost too far.
    â€˜No,’ repeated Josef. ‘I’m just expressing a Russian train of thought.’
    Blyne smiled. ‘It wouldn’t be possible to put those thoughts into some sort of written document, would it?’ he pressed.
    People should learn that negative questions prompt negative responses, thought Josef.
    â€˜No,’ he said. ‘A great deal will have to be on trust.’
    â€˜But there could be a definite contract for Walk Softly on a Lonely Day ?’
    â€˜If the terms are right.’
    â€˜What do you want?’
    â€˜Two million dollars advance,’ said Josef. ‘A different-from-normal paperback division. And I retain Canadian rights.’
    â€˜Bullshit,’ dismissed Blyne.
    â€˜It’s not bullshit and you know it. A million was paid for a Howard Hughes phoney. That was bullshit. This is kosher.’
    â€˜There’s nothing in it for me.’
    â€˜Now you’re talking bullshit. What about the paperback rights?’
    â€˜So?’
    â€˜So I’ll split with you, seventy-thirty. In the last three years there have been three cases of a paperback sale going for two million dollars plus. This book will exceed any of those. The moment you put your signature on a contract, you’re into profit. And there’s the investment for the future. And you know as well as I do that any publisher with access to Russian literature is being given the key to a gold mine.’
    â€˜I want to