Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur (книги бесплатно без онлайн txt) 📗
At forty years of age, Eina was tall and willowy with dark Jewish eyes and a figure like a Vogue model. Once or twice over the years, they had almost become lovers. The closest they had come to it was three years previously, when they had shared a bottle of Dam Perignon in his flat to celebrate a particularly lucrative sale of subsidiary rights. She had drawn back from the very brink.
You are one of the most attractive men I have ever met, Danny, and I'm sure we'd make tremendous music together, but still you're more valuable to me as a client than as just another good romp. She had buttoned up her blouse and left him to the agonies of sexual frustration.
Now they spent the morning in the preview theatre at the studios watching the first four episodes straight through, back to back. Eina made no comment until the last tape was played out, then she stood up.
I'll take you to lunch, she said.
In the taxi she talked of everything but the production. She took him to Mosimann's in West Halkin Street. The club that Anton Mosimann had fashioned out of an old church was now a high cathedral of gastronomy.
Anton himself, resplendent in his whites and his tall chef's hat, rosy-complexioned as a cherub, came out of his kitchens to chat to them at their table, an honour afforded only to his more favoured members Daniel was in a fever of anxiety to learn Eina's opinion of his work, but this was an old trick of hers to build up tension and expectation.
He played along with her, discussing the menu and chatting unconcernedly about irrelevancies. Only when she ordered a bottle of Carton-Charlemagne did he know for certain that she liked it.
Then she flashed dark Jewish eyes at him over the rim of the glass and said in that husky sexy voice, Marvellous, Armstrong, bloody marvelous.
Your best yet, I kid you not. I want four coptes immediately. He laughed with relief. You can't sell it yet, it's not finished. Can't I?
You just watch my dust. She showed it to the Italians first. They always favoured his work. The Italians had an historical and emotional interest in Africa, and over the years Italy had proved to be one of Daniel's best markets. He loved the Italians and they loved him.
A week later Eina brought the draft Italian contract around to his flat.
Daniel contributed a plateful of smoked salmon sandwiches and a bottle to the proceedings and they sat on the floor, put Beethoven on the CD player and ate the sandwiches while Eina went over the contract with him. They liked it as much as I did, she told him. I've jacked them up twenty-five percent on the last advance they gave us. You're a witch, Daniel told her. It's black magic. The Italian advance almost covered the entire cost of production of the series. The rest of it would all be profit.
The big gamble had paid off handsomely, and he had no backers to share it with. After Eina had taken her commission, it was all his.
He tried to estimate what his ultimate pay-off would be. Half a million certainly; probably a lot more, depending on the Americans.
When all the world rights had been sold, it might be as much as three million dollars. He had impressed even himself.
After ten years of hard work, he had broken clear. No more overdrafts; no more taking his begging bowl from one arrogant sponsor to another.
From now on he had charge of his own destiny; he had creative and artistic control over his work, and the rights to the final cut. In future it would be the way he wanted it, not the view imposed upon him by his backers.
It was a good feeling, a bloody wonderful feeling. What have you got lined up for the future? Eina asked as she helped herself to the last of the smoked salmon. I haven't thought about it yet, he lied. He always had two or three projects in the warming oven of his mind. I still have to finish the last two episodes. I've had a few approaches from interested parties with money to invest. One of the big oil companies wants you to do a series on the South African apartheid society and the effect of sanctions on-'Hell, no! It was marvelous to be able to turn down an offer of work in such a peremptory fashion.
That's all cold porridge and last night's leftovers. The world is changing.
just look at Eastern Europe. Apartheid and sanctions are yesterday's news.
They won't even exist by this time next year. I want something fresh and exciting. I've been thinking about the rain forests not the Brazilian forests, that's been done and overdone, but the African I equatorial region. It's one of the very few unknown parts left on this planet, yet ecologically it's of vast importance.
Sounds good. When will you start? My God, you are a hard taskmistress.
I haven't even finished the last one and you're on to me about the next.
Since Aaron divorced me, somebody has to keep me -in the style to which I've grown accustomed. All the duties of matrimony with none of the privileges and pleasures. He sighed dramatically. You still on about that, silly boy. You could talk me into it yet, and you might not like it. Aaron didn't. Aaron was a big prick, Daniel said.
That was part of the trouble. she chuckled, huskily sexy. He wasn't.
Then she changed the subject. By the way, what happened between you and Jock? I had a very strange phone call from him. He said you'd had a major punch-up. He implied that you had blown your mind and gone over the top, nearly got him into all sorts of trouble. He said that you and he would not be working together again. Is that right? Not to put too fine a point on it, yes, that's right. We have come to a parting of the ways. Pity. He has done some fantastic work on this "Africa Dying" series. Do you have a replacement cameraman in mind? ] don't. Do you?
She thought about it for a while. Would you have any objection to working with a female? I can't think why I should, as long as she can stand the pace.
Africa is a raw, rough country. It takes a certain resilience and toughness to cope with the physical conditions. Eina smiled. The lady I have in mind is tough enough and talented enough. You have my word on it. She's just done a piece for the BBC on. the Arctic and the Inuit Indians, Eskimos to you. It's good, very good. I'd like to see it. I'll get you a print. Eina sent the tape round to the studio the next day but Daniel was so totally involved in his own work that he dropped it into a drawer of his desk. He meant to view it that evening, but instead he let it slide.
Three days after he had finished the series, the tape was still in his desk, forgotten in the excitement of all the other things which were happening around him.
Then Michael Hargreave called from Lusaka again. Danny, I'm going to send you a bill for these calls. Costing HM Government a ruddy fortune.
I'll buy you a case of bubbly next time I see you. You must be in the chips, dear boy, but I'll accept the offer.
The good news is that your friend, Chetti Singh, is out of hospital.
Are you sure, Mike? Good as new. Remarkable recovery, so they tell me. I had our man in Lilongwe check it for me. Only one arm, but apart from that Chetti Singh is back in business. You'll have to send him another leopard for Christmas, the last one didn't work. Daniel chuckled ruefully. Did you hear anything of my other pal? The Chink?
- Sorry, not a dickie bird. Gone home to Daddy and the Lucky Dragon.
Let me know if he pitches up. I won't be able to leave London for a couple of months at least. It's all happening here.
Daniel was not exaggerating. Eina had just sold the Africa Dying series to Channel 4 for the highest price ever paid for an independent production. They were also breaking their advance planning and screening the first episode at prime time on Sunday evening six weeks from now. I'm going to throw a viewing party for you on the big night, Eina told him. Oh God, Danny, I always knew you were the, tops. It's so good to be able to prove it. I've invited people from all the Continental and North American stations to watch it.
