Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [13]
His eyes didn’t answer.
‘Anders . . .’ His secretary sounded nervous over the intercom. ‘Herman Wennergren is on his way up.’
He didn’t move. Daylight crept closer as he waited for the chairman of the board of the newspaper.
‘I’m impressed,’ Wennergren said in his characteristically deep voice as he sauntered in and grasped Schyman’s hand in both of his. ‘Have you found a magic wand?’
Over the years the chairman had rarely commented on the paper’s journalism. But when the quarterly report was fourteen per cent over budget, official circulation figures showed steady growth and the gap between them and their competition was shrinking, he assumed it had to be magic.
Anders Schyman smiled, offering Wennergren one of the chairs and sitting down opposite him.
‘The structural changes have settled down and are now working,’ Schyman said simply, careful not to mention Torstensson, his predecessor and a close friend of Wennergren. ‘Coffee? Some breakfast, perhaps?’
The chairman waved the offer away. ‘Today’s meeting will be short because I have other business to attend to afterwards,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘But I’ve got a plan I wanted to discuss with you first, and it feels rather urgent.’
Schyman sat up, checking that the cushion was supporting the small of his back, and fixed a neutral expression on his face.
‘How active have you been in the Newspaper Publishers’ Association?’ Wennergren asked, looking at his fingernails.
Schyman was taken aback. He had never really had anything to do with it. ‘I’m a deputy member of the committee, but no more than that.’
‘But you know how it works? Gauging the mood in the corridors, that sort of thing? How the different interest groups fit together?’ Wennergren rubbed his fingernails on the right leg of his trousers, looking at Schyman under his bushy eyebrows.
‘I’ve no practical experience of it,’ Anders Schyman replied, sensing that he was walking on eggshells. ‘My impression is that the organization is a little . . . complicated.’
Herman Wennergren nodded slowly, picking at one nail after the other. ‘A correct evaluation,’ he said. ‘The A-Press, the Bonnier group, Schibsted, the bigger regional papers, like Hjörnes in Gothenburg, Nerikes Allehanda, the Jönköping group, and us, of course – there’s a lot of different priorities to try to unite.’
‘But it sometimes works. Take the demand that the government abolish tax on advertising,’ Schyman said.
‘Yes,’ Wennergren said, ‘that’s one example. There’s a working group up in the Press House that’s still dealing with that, but the person responsible for pushing it through is the chairman of the committee.’
Anders Schyman sat quite still, feeling the hair on the back of his neck slowly prickle.
‘As you probably know, I’m chair of the Publishers’ Association election committee,’ Wennergren said, finally letting his fingers fall to the seat of the chair. ‘In the middle of December the committee has to present its proposals for the new board, and I’m thinking of proposing you as the chair. What do you think?’
Thoughts were buzzing around Schyman’s head like angry wasps, crashing against his temples and brain.
‘Doesn’t one of the directors usually occupy that post?’
‘Not always. We’ve had editors before. I don’t mean that you would forget about the paper and just be chair of the association, which we’ve seen happen before, but I think you’re the right man for the job.’
An alarm bell started to ring among the wasps.
‘Why?’ Schyman asked. ‘Do you think I’m easily led? That I can be managed?’
Herman Wennergren sighed audibly. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, ready to stand up.
‘Schyman,’ he said, ‘if I was thinking of installing a patsy as chair of the Publishers’ Association, I wouldn’t start with you.’ He got to his feet, visibly annoyed. ‘Can’t you see that it’s the exact opposite?’ he said. ‘If I get you that post, which I may not be able to do, our group will have a publicity-minded brick wall at the top of the Publishers’ Association.