The Half Brother: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

handkerchief and tried to wipe the Japanese alcohol from his pants. Peder didn’t move. “Shall we get ourselves to this meeting?” he asked. “Who’s there?” He sighed. “Two Danes and an Englishman.” “That’s funny is it a joke? Two Danes and an Englishman.” “They have offices in London and Copenhagen. They had a good bit to do with Driving Miss Daisy. I told you all this yesterday, Barnum.” I’d spilled sake all over his shoes too. I went down on my knees and started polishing them as best I could. Peder began kicking me. “Pull yourself together!” he hissed. I got up again. “What do they want, basically?” “What do they want? What do you think? To meet you, of course. They love The Viking” “Thanks a lot, Peder. Do we have to be all smarmy now?” “No. We’re going now, Barnum.”
    And off we went. The crowds were diminishing all the time. It was typical that the Norwegian stand was situated farthest away in a corner; we still hadn’t progressed beyond The Trials of the Fisher-folk, that keystone of Norwegian melancholy and it had pushed us out to the very fringes of Europe and of the festival. It took a whole expedition to reach Norway. Peder glared at me. “You sound like a whole goddamn minibar when you walk.” “It’ll be empty again soon, Peder.” I opened the whiskey and drank it. Peder gripped my arm. “We need this, Barnum. Its serious.” “Miss Daisy? Wasn’t that basically a really crap film?” “A crap film? Do you know how many nominations it got? These are big boys. Bigger than us.” “Why have they bothered hanging around for three hours then?” “I’ve told you, Barnum. They love The Viking.”
    They were sitting at a table in an enclosed section within the bar. They were in their early thirties, wore tailor-made suits, with sunglasses in their breast pockets, and had ponytails, earrings, large stomachs and small eyes. They were men of their time. I had already begun to dislike them. Peder breathed deeply and pushed up the knot in his tie. “You’ll be nice, polite and sober, Barnum?” “And ingenious.” I slapped Peder on the back. It was soaking. And then we went in to meet them. Peder clapped his hands. “The wanderer has returned! He got mixed up at the zoo! Didn’t notice the difference!” They got up. Smiles were polished. Peder had sunk as low as platitudes and it wasn’t even three o’clock. One of the Danes, Torben, leaned over the ashtray where two cigars lay dying. “Is Barnum a pseudonym or your real name?” “It’s my real name. But I use it as a pseudonym.” There was a ripple of laughter at this and Peder attempted to get us to raise our glasses, but the Dane had no wish to give up so easily. “Is it your Christian name or your surname?” “Both. Depends who I’m talking to.” Torben smiled. “Wasn’t Barnum an American con man? There’s a sucker born every minute.” “Wrong,” I said. “It was a banker who said that. David Hannum. But it was Barnum who said Let’s get the show on the road.” Finally Peder managed to squeeze in a toast. We clinked glasses and now it was the turn of the other Dane, Preben, to lean over the table. “We simply love The Viking. A magnificent script.” “Many thanks,” I said, and drained my schnapps glass. “Just a shame its never become a film.” Peder leaped in. “Let’s not get bogged down in technicalities.” “Oh, but I think we should.” Peder kicked me under the table. “We have to look forward,” he said. “New projects. New ideas.” I was at the point of getting up and couldn’t manage it. “But if you think the script is magnificent, why don’t you go ahead and make the film?” Peder looked down and Torben twisted in his chair as if he was sitting on a gigantic thumbtack. “If we’d got Mel Gibson to play the lead, it might have been possible.” The other Dane, Preben, leaned over toward me. “Besides, action is out,” he said. “Action is