Gideon by Russell Andrews Page B

because Gideon can’t. At least, not well enough for a book. Furthermore, I need someone who can do this as fiction—a tight, well-crafted commercial novel. Because if Apex tries to publish this as nonfiction, we’ll get sued for billions of dollars.
    “By who?”
    “I really don’t like repeating myself,” she answered testily.” You will get no answer from me about Gideon.”
    “Look, I’m not trying to be dense,” Carl said. “But how do you expect me to agree to write a book when I don’t have the slightest idea who or what it’s about?”
    “I’m talking about a rush, rush assignment,” she snapped, as if that answered her question. “I’ll feed you information, highly confidential information delivered directly to you. You will absorb it, then turn it into fiction, adding color, texture, and atmosphere but keeping as close to the facts as possible. You’ll get it back to me, chapter by chapter, and I’ll edit it as you go along. The timing is vital. It must be published in six weeks. Now do you understand?”
    “No. I don’t understand anything .”
    “What else do you need to know?” she asked.
    “Let’s start with why you picked me.”
    “Because I need somebody who’s a nobody.”
    “Well, thanks for clearing that part up.”
    “I’m sorry if that sounds harsh,” she said. “But I can’t let a named journalist anywhere near this—he’ll try to find out who Gideon is, and the whole project will go up in smoke. If I go get an established novelist, I’ll have ego problems. They’ll all want their name on the book.”
    “What if I want mine on it?”
    “The only name on this book will be Gideon’s. I need a true ghost, someone who will do this job totally without credit and keep quiet about it. Forever. No one can know you’re working on this. You can’t tell a soul—not even your girlfriend.”
    “First of all, I’m not working on this yet. And Second of all, that’s not a problem. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
    “Of course you don’t. You and Amanda have been history for what, a year now?”
    He cocked his head and squinted at her curiously. “You do do your homework, don’t you?”
    Maggie’s lips stretched somewhat tightly across her face. He wondered if that was her smile. “You have no brothers or sisters,” she said, “your mother died four years ago, and you and your father barely speak.”
    “What else do you know about me?”
    “I know everything about you, Carl.”
    He hesitated, stroked his chin with his thumb. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, I mean, especially to you, but I think I’ll pass.” She looked at him in shock. He wondered if anyone had ever said no to her before. “I don’t like to be rushed,” he explained. “Especially when I’m completely in the dark. I have a tendency to bump into things and hurt myself.”
    Maggie let out a wary sigh, rolling her eyes at him as if he were a recalcitrant child. Then she reached over and picked up a soft leather briefcase that was sitting on the floor. She placed it on the sparkling coffee table, opened it, and removed a glossy-looking pamphlet. It was Apex’s summer catalogue. Without saying a word, she opened it to the centerfold, a double-page spread that read:

    GIDEON
    COMING THIS AUGUST … THE MOST EXPLOSIVE TELL-ALL STORY OF ALL TIME! IT’S SO SECRET, SO CONTROVERSIAL, WE CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU WHAT IT IS—EXCEPT TO TELL YOU THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A BOOK LIKE IT!
    FIRST PRINTING: 1,000,000 COPIES

    “A million copies,” he said quietly.
    “That’s John Grisham and Stephen King territory. Do you know how many novels you’d have to write to sell a million copies?” she asked.
    “About half a million,” Carl said miserably.
    “At least.”
    Maggie returned the catalogue to the briefcase. Next she pulled out an envelope, which she held in front of her, and gestured for him to open it.
    He did. Inside was a check for $50,000 made out to him. The payer was Quadrangle