Swimsuit - James Patterson [57]
Zohn said, “I worry that we’ll be financially responsible to each and every one of the victims’ families.”
I was the forgotten person in the room, as loopholes and angles were discussed, but I saw that Len was fighting for the book.
He said to Zohn, “Eric, I don’t say this lightly. This is a guaranteed monster bestseller in the making. Everyone wants to know what’s actually in the mind of a killer, and this killer will talk about crimes that are current and unsolved. What Ben’s got isn’t If I Did It. It’s I Damn Well Did It.”
Zohn wanted more time to explore the ramifications, but Leonard used his executive prerogative.
“Ben, for now, you’re Henri’s anonymous ghostwriter. If anyone says they saw you in my office, say you came to pitch a new novel. That I turned it down.
“When Henri contacts you, tell him that we’re fine-tuning an offer I think he’ll like.”
“That’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes. You have a deal. This is the scariest book I’ve ever taken on, and I can’t wait to publish it.”
Chapter 74
THE NEXT EVENING, in L.A., the unreality was still settling in. Amanda was cooking a four-star dinner in her minuscule kitchen while I sat at her desk working the Internet. I had indelible pictures in my mind of the execution of Kim McDaniels, and that led me to multiple Web sites that discussed personality disorders. I quickly homed in on the description of serial killers.
A half-dozen experts agreed that serial killers almost always learn from their mistakes. They evolve. They compartmentalize and don’t feel their victims’ pain. They keep upping the danger and increasing the thrill.
I could see why Henri was so happy and self-satisfied. He was being paid for doing what he loved to do, and now a book about his passion would be a kind of victory lap.
I called out to Mandy, who came into the living room with a wooden spoon in her hand.
“The sauce is going to burn.”
“I want to read you something. This is from a psychiatrist, a former Viet Nam vet who’s written extensively on serial killers. Here. Listen, please.
“ ‘All of us have some of the killer in us, but when you get to the proverbial edge of the abyss, you have to be able to take a step back. These guys who kill and kill again have jumped right into the abyss and have lived in it for years.’ ”
Mandy said, “But Ben, what’s it going to be like to work with this… creature?”
“If I could walk away from it, Mandy, I’d run. I’d run.”
Mandy kissed the top of my head and went back to her sauce. A moment later, the phone rang. I heard Mandy say, “Hang on. I’ll get him.”
She held out the phone to me with a look on her face that I can describe only as one of pure horror.
“It’s for you.”
I took the phone, said, “Hello.”
“So how did our big meeting in New York go?” Henri asked me. “Do we have a book deal?”
My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I did my best to keep calm as I told him, “It’s in the works. A lot of people have to be consulted for the kind of money you’re asking.”
Henri said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I had a green light from Zagami, and I could have told Henri that, but I was looking at the twilight coming through the windows, wondering where Henri was, how he’d known that Amanda and I were here.
“We’re going to do the book, Ben,” Henri was saying. “If Zagami isn’t interested, we’ll have to take it somewhere else. But either way, remember your choices. Do or die.”
“Henri, I didn’t make myself clear. We have a deal. The contract is in the works. Paperwork. Lawyers. A number has to be worked up and an offer made. This is a big corporation, Henri.”
“Okay, then. Break out the champagne. When will we have a solid offer?”
I told him I expected to hear from Zagami in a couple of days and that a contract would follow. It was the truth, but still my mind was reeling.
I was going into partnership with a great white shark, a killing machine