It would be easy to expect that these misfortunes would floor him and send him back to the haze of drugs, spirits and nicotine. But, strange though it may seem, he gains strength from adversity. Better to be obsessed than dependent, that’s his mantra. Titus delights in the force of the writers’ battle. Eddie can sit there and thumb through bestsellers as much as he wants. Try to copy styles and themes. An idiotic idea. Eddie hasn’t got a chance against Titus’ fury.
Titus is in the midst of his best period ever as an author. He writes in six-hour sessions without leaving his chair, for at least two sessions a day. During his breaks, he eats, exercises, goes on the sunbed, and sleeps. He flosses his teeth regularly, and is rapidly losing weight although his muscles are getting bigger. He likes himself more and more.
He searches the Internet and returns to the library to find information that supports his story. Not once does he sneak a look at how other bestselling authors have done it. It’s great to let yourself be inspired, he thinks. But to inspire, that is even greater. He is on the right track.
Titus and his manuscript are slowly but surely developing into magnificent specimens.
The weeks go by.
The oppressive heat of July turns into the more relaxed summer feeling of August. The old lady on the balcony next door sorts the mushrooms she has picked, or weeds her flower boxes.
The evenings start to get darker.
Titus works away.
The innumerable press conferences and all the easy-to-understand metaphors made Håkan Rink popular with the media and the nation. He had their full confidence even though Serial Salvador hasn’t been apprehended yet. But they knew that he was near. Håkan Rink was a man they could rely on. A father, a father of the nation even. Even the prime minister expressed his admiration. He was invited to talk shows and attended celebrity opening nights. And when, in his bass voice, he said that ‘they saw light at the end of the tunnel’, his eyes glistened in the camera flashes. He too knew they were getting close now.
Better to be obsessed than dependent. This is my job. Trees grow up towards the sky, birds fly through the air, waves lap against the shore. And me? I write masterpieces, Titus thinks.
Sometimes Titus wonders what Eddie is doing. How far has he got? Will it be good? Or is it only about love? Despite Titus’ growing self-esteem, there is every reason to worry about the situation. He must think realistically. Eddie is a skilled craftsman. He can perform tricks with the alphabet. At the same time, Titus wonders if Eddie has the ability to concentrate; a writer of novels must be able to shut himself in for long periods, with only himself for company. Can Eddie really manage that?
He wishes he could tell Astra that he is racing against Eddie when he writes, but of course he can’t tell her. When he sold her the idea, he hadn’t mentioned Eddie at all, he had simply said that he had thought up a brilliant idea for a book, not that it was something he had cooked up together with Sweden’s hottest contemporary poet during a very drunken night. And that the poet was published by Babelfish, one of Winchester’s fiercest rivals! If Astra had known that, she would never have got Evita to back him, and he would still be sitting at the Association Bar and smelling like an ashtray. Now it was too late, he must go through with it.
Besides, he can hardly prove that Lenny did the break-in at Eddie’s bidding. He can’t even prove that it was Lenny who was inside his flat, and now it was probably far too late to secure fingerprints. Plus the police were not nearly as alert in reality as Chief Inspector Rink and his colleagues – they would just yawn and laugh at his accusations. What crime had been committed, did you say? Some unauthorised person has blown into the breathalyser lock on your computer?
And as if that wasn’t enough, he is forced to play a double game hereafter. Astra and her computer demand total sobriety. He has come to appreciate that, it’s not a problem. But he did risk it all when he openly showed Lenny that he was sober and alert, talked about the writing he was busy with, mentioned how hard he worked. That sort of talk put everything at risk. No, he doesn’t need any more gold-diggers wondering what it was that had revitalised him. From now on, he must play the old faded Titus Jensen if he is going to manage to keep the competition at bay: tipsy, seedy-looking, lean and cold under the surface. That can work. He has learnt so much about himself this summer; if anyone can portray the tired old Titus Jensen, then it is the new strong Titus Jensen!
That’s how it must be. He has painted himself into a corner. Now he is standing there, surrounded, pushed up against the wall.
But he has a fucking great manuscript on his hard drive.
Almost finished!
A bit too good to be true?
CHAPTER 24
The Best Nautical Metaphors in the World
To reach people one should use language that is full of imagery. Several investigations by American presidential election campaigns show that the candidate who uses the most metaphors wins the election.
The following metaphors are recommended for tight situations at press conferences and can be easily adapted to different branches and situations. The selection is based on quotes from the legendary Detective Chief Inspector Håkan Rink.
Regrettably, we have only seen the tip of the iceberg.
Now we must look beyond the horizon.
We must weather the storm.
A bit of spray never hurt anybody.
There is something fishy about this.
Now we’ve got the wind in our sails.
He has sunk very deep.
Other serial killers are waiting on the lee side.
They are splashing about in a backwater.
Like ripples on the surface.
We are following a strong lodestar.
And we have an inner compass.
We pour oil on the waters.
It’s a question of staying afloat.
Now he’ll have the wind against him.
The mist is lifting.
Full steam ahead.
Time to sever the hawser.
Now we’ll launch her.
We’ll reach shore yet.
The coast is clear.
We’ll soon be in harbour.
CHAPTER 25
Teambuilding
Astra is back from her holiday and has arranged a little meeting. Since only three people know about the project, they are gathering at Astra’s flat. Titus usually only visits Winchester’s either when he’s got a new book coming out, or if there is a party there. There is no reason to turn up now and start speculation as to what is in the offing.
Publishing people are experts on speculation and conspiracy theories. One might well think that book publishing is their core activity: to refine the work of their authors with the best interests of the readers in mind, to do everything in their power to market and sell books in the best way possible. And, indeed, they do all of that. But what really absorbs most of their time and energy is speculation and conspiracies: buttering up agents to try to steal profitable authors from other houses, getting authors with falling sales figures to write less often or even to switch to another publisher, watching every step that their competitors take. If, for example, another company publishes a book by an author they have turned down, they must be on their guard – the wrong rhetoric at that stage can lead to devastating articles on the arts pages, and their brand name could be undermined. If the sales figures are bad, then they must get their message out quickly: ‘We said no to that manuscript straight away. No commercial potential at all – a child could have seen that.’ If it’s a success, then the opposite applies: ‘Yes, we were sent the manuscript. We got it first, as usual. Unfortunately we were in the midst of a rather complicated re-organisation at the time because things are going so exceptionally well for us. The selection process fell between two stools. But we would like to be the first to congratulate the author.’