"Paul Di Filippo - Pegasus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Di Filippo Paul)

Spinelost consulted a paper. "Well, the writer involved is someone named
Theodolite Sangborn. He's published--"

"Not necessary. I got everything I need to know about him along those lines out
of his SFWA file. I'm an instant Sangborn expert on his whole life, from his
formative childhood traumas down to how he deducted his mistress's hotel room as
a convention expense on his last 1040. Not to mention his entire miserable
midlist genre career. What I need from you is some idea of the kinds of demands
he's making, and who he's got in there."

Spinelost used his cheat notes to answer the last question first. "He's holding
his editor, a woman named Sherri Drysack. Ex-editor, I should say. Apparently
she made the mistake of deciding to pay him a visit in person to offer her
condolences--"

"On Bollix Books dropping Sangborn like a squirming roach when his last novel
stiffed. What a damn fool! Didn't she know her presence would be like holding a
lit match to a powder-keg?"

"Obviously not. I believe she's, um, fresh out of Bennington. Fine school, of
course, but.... Anyway, now Sangborn is using the leverage represented by her
peril to demand a new three-book, seven-figure con tract, with twenty percent
royal ties and assured softcover editions Oh yes, he also wants Leapsgerb
Studios to option his last book for; cool million."

I cursed eloquently. "These Heinlein wannabes with their de fusions of canonical
stature make me sick. They should consider themselves lucky to get a Whelan
cover, like Sangborn did on his Interstellar UPS, never mind option' and kick-in
clauses. And it always falls to Griefcom to hand them a reality check."

Spinelost coughed politely "Speaking of checks...."

"Don't get your boxers in a twist over nothing, Rube. Assuming I can bring this
whole debacle to a safe conclusion mutally agreeable to all parties, the city
will be fully compensated for any extraordinary expenses--as long as no charges
are pressed against our author, of course. Whichever publisher picks up Sangborn
will cut a check to the municipality tomorrow--and probably make a nice little
donation to the FOP. It's standard industry practice now. They just write it off
as a line item on the author's royalty statement."

"Very good. Still, I rather miss the old days--"

Just then a bullet zipped by over our heads like something out of Harrison's
Deathworld. Spinelost and the other suits fell to the ground, while the rest of
us hardened campaigners just groaned cynically at the requisite touch of
melodrama. From the innocent-looking suburban house where Sangborn was holed up
came a shouted threat.

"Hey, people! I want to see some goddamn action here, maybe a cover proof or a