East of the City, page 23
The morning after the night before, and I wasn’t quite sure I knew what had happened back there with me and Lee Chan. Those T-shirts she’d asked me over to pick up, did I really buy that now? But if it was a set-up it was a hell of a lot more pleasant than the one Fielding had going. The only trouble was I just couldn’t see where this put us now, and I wasn’t sure that Lee Chan knew either. Before I’d left her flat I’d asked, casually, if she was still going back to San Fran. Too late, I realized it wasn’t a question she expected me to be casual about. Glaring, she told me she had a wedding to get to. When I bridled at that, she pulled the sheets up over her head and rolled over to face the wall. We really had laid the bruises down too deep to be healed in one night tumble.
Finally I came to the conclusion that we were pretty much where we’d been yesterday; Lee on her way to California and marriage; me still trying to deal with my problems here in London. After that dismal reckoning, I tried to think about something else.
Once I'd finished the orange juice I phoned Wainwright.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ I told him, ‘about that photo.’
‘Mm?’
‘I showed Angela.’
There was a pause.
‘Clive? I showed Angela.’
‘I heard you.’ The call had caught him asleep, but you could tell he was wide awake now. I went to my cupboard and ran a hand over my suits and ties. ‘I’m guessing she’s had a word with Allen about it.’
Clive made a sound of agreement. If Angela had done it already, Clive wouldn’t have to give the bad news about Justine to his biggest client. ‘So all cleared up then,’ he said, relieved.
I looked at the phone. Then I said, ‘No, Clive. Not all cleared up. Remember I told you where we found the photo? Remember I said Nigel Chambers’s card was there?’
‘Mm.’
‘And remember I told you how I saw Chambers out at the airport with Mehmet?’
He took a few seconds with that. Then he made the connection that I’d just made, one I should have made a lot sooner. If there were more copies of that photo of Justine and Sebastian, or others like it, and they’d gone from Chambers to Mehmet, then Mehmet was bound to use them against us. And the best place to use them against us was in court.
‘Oh shit,’ Clive said.
I told him I’d see him in his office in an hour. ‘You'd better call Allen,’ I said, and then I hung up.
While I was getting dressed I heard Katy out in the kitchen. Early for her. The first month she moved in with me she was never up before I left for work, and on the weekends she was never out of bed before ten. But gradually, as the weeks went by, she’d got better. But even now, early mornings still weren’t her best time. In the early morning, actually, my pretty twenty-one-year-old sister could look like a sixty-one-year-old slob.
And right then I didn’t feel up to the ribbing she was going to give me either, about not coming home the previous night. So I hung around in my bedroom waiting for her to go back to bed. Instead of that, I heard the sound of a pan being shoved around on the stove, and a radio coming on. I knew then that she was going to interrogate me over breakfast. I really couldn’t face that, so I picked up my briefcase, opened my door very quietly, and crept silently through the lounge. Something sizzled in the pan. I was about halfway to the door when Katy shrieked. It trailed into a laugh. Hesitating, I turned toward the kitchen. Then, deciding it must have been some joke from the breakfast DJ, I carried on towards the front door. I was almost there when she laughed again. This time it was followed by another laugh, a man’s, and it wasn’t the DJ. I faced the kitchen again. Just the radio now.
I went over there. When she saw me standing in the doorway she pointed at me, saying, ‘Here he is.’
The bloke in the suit turned: it was Bill Tyler.
‘Morning, Ian,’ he said.
‘You were in the shower,’ Katy explained. ‘I told Bill he might as well come up and wait.’
Bill asked me if I was ready for the big day in court. Ready enough, I said.
Katy poured some coffees, but when she started on my cup I told her I’d pass. I glanced at my watch, I really didn’t want to miss Clive.
Bill asked me why I hadn't made it back for the afternoon session at court the previous day. I explained that I had been checking up on something with Angela.
‘Well, you missed a good one,’ Bill told me. He started to give me a run-down on how he’d handled the Ottoman barrister. Clive, I thought, might have a very different story.
Katy asked me if I wanted some bacon and eggs. I shook my head, but Bill said, ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ and Katy laughed and went and opened the fridge.
While she was poking around in there, I asked Bill what he was chasing. He said to me quietly, ‘I came to pick up the three grand. The lads got the hump when I told them you turned it down. You were serious, yeah?’
Nodding, I asked Katy what she’d done with the bag Bill had dropped off the other day. She said she’d dumped it in her room.
‘Well, give it back to Bill before he goes,’ I said. I looked at Bill, it seemed he was really settling in. He was twice divorced, and I’d sometimes heard him complaining about how all the alimony payments were keeping him poor. The chance of a cooked breakfast had made his day. When I asked if he'd be in court later, he shook his head.
Then as I reached down for my briefcase, he said, ‘Hey, you don’t look the best, Ian. You look a bit tired.’
I glanced over to Katy by the stove, hoping she’d missed it. Some chance. She had a grin on her that almost split her face. ‘Yeah,’ she said, like she was really concerned. ‘Yeah, Ian, you do. Not a great sleep?’
‘Just fine,’ I told her, and before she could give me any more needle I picked up my case and left.
‘What if Angela hasn’t shown him the photo?’ Clive said.
We were in his office. I was sitting on the black leather couch, flicking through the latest Lloyd’s List, and not taking in a single word.
‘If she hasn’t shown him,’ I said, ‘then we’ll have to tell him.’
‘We?’
‘Me then, okay?’ Dropping the magazine, I got to my feet and wandered to the window. ‘But don’t do a runner on me, Clive. If I have to tell Allen, you sit tight.’
Clive nodded. He’d get to see what was happening without having to take responsibility for any of it, a real lawyer’s approach. He told me that Bill’s afternoon session in court the previous day had been a lot better than the morning session. The way Clive read it, the Ottoman case was nearly over, and we were just ahead on points. In his opinion, the only thing that could cock it up was that photo. The judge would be less than impressed to discover that the broker and the underwriter were, quite literally, in bed together. If that photo was produced in court, Ottoman was bound to look like the injured party. The judge, Clive thought, would crucify us.
‘Heard any more from that DC?’ Clive said. He meant Fielding.
‘He’s checking up some old policies I’ve written.’
‘Oh? The purpose of that would be?’
‘Policies brokered by WardSure.’
Clive gave me a look. This poking around by Fielding was damaging me all over the place. First with Lee Chan, and now Clive. I couldn’t blame them for having doubts. But unlike last night with Lee, I didn’t have the time to argue my case now with Clive.
So in the end I just said, ‘Clive, it’s bullshit.’
Then Allen came through the door without knocking. Clive leaned forward and hit the buzzer telling his secretary, ‘No calls.’
Unbuttoning his jacket, Allen sat and rested an ankle on his knee. I hadn’t seen him since the golf club carpark. I felt a little awkward after what had happened there, but he seemed to have forgotten all about it. He cracked some old joke about lawyers and whores, and Clive tried to smile. Then there was a silence.
Allen asked Clive, ‘Is this chargeable time?’ He wasn’t someone who joked about money. Clive said, ‘Ian’s got one or two concerns about what happens in court today.’
‘Angela and me went to see that bloke yesterday, Mr White,' I said. 'The Name who wrote that note, the business about not trusting Sebastian.'
‘The pig-sticker,’ Allen interrupted.
‘Yeah. Anyway, this guy White says Sebastian offered to cut him in on an insurance scam.’
Allen’s eyes never flickered.
‘Not recently,’ Clive reminded me.
‘Not recently,’ I agreed.
‘And the supposed scam,’ he added, ‘was paltry.’
What was he trying to do, soften the blow? I said, ‘It wasn’t a lot of money, and it was a long time ago, but that’s not the point.’
Allen said levelly, ‘What is the point, Ian?’
‘I’ve heard it from other sources too,’ I told him, remembering what Nigel Chambers had said. ‘From inside WardSure, his own brokers, there were a lot of people who weren’t happy with how Sebastian was running the company.’
Allen readjusted himself on the sofa, legs crossed now, and arms folded. ‘I couldn’t care less how Sebastian was running his company. What business would that be of ours? Not our worry.’
Turning, I glimpsed an army of suits through the window. Men pouring into the City, ready for battle. In an hour I’d be sitting in the witness seat at St Dunstan’s. Still facing the window I said, ‘Did Angela show you the photo?’
No reply. When I finally built up the courage to turn, I found Allen gesturing for Clive to leave, and Clive rising to go. So there it was. Allen knew.
‘Clive saw it too,’ I said quickly. ‘I think we need his advice.’
Allen considered the pair of us then waved Clive back to his seat. He asked me exactly how long the picture had been in circulation.
‘It turned up a few days ago.’
‘And you’ve been hawking it around?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Two.’ He pointed at me, then Clive. ‘Plus Angela. How many others know? Frazer?’
‘No. Look—’ I pointed to Clive — ‘I showed Clive because I thought it might affect the Ottoman case. I thought,’ I admitted weakly, ‘that you and Angela wouldn’t have to see it.’
Allen closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to break, you could see that, nowhere near it. But Justine was his daughter, and that photo had cut him pretty deep. Then opening his eyes, he said, ‘What changed your mind?’ and that threw me. Because what changed my mind was Angela behaving like a cow to old man White. But before I could think of how to put that, Clive butted in.
‘Ian’s concerned a copy of the photo might have found its way into the hands of Ottoman’s legal team.’
Allen made a sound deep in his throat.
‘But in my opinion,’ Clive went on, ‘if they had a copy they would have approached you by now. Pressured you to settle so the picture never saw the light of day in court.’
‘Blackmailed me,’ Allen said.
Clive pulled a face. ‘Negotiated a just and equitable settlement agreeable to all parties.’ Looking past Allen, he added, ‘They haven’t done that, by any chance? Run a copy of the photo by you?’
‘No.’ Allen hands rested on his thighs, he studied the floor between his feet. In his mind he must have been weighing it up, what he’d do if it happened.
Clive said, ‘And if they did try it?’
‘They haven’t,’ Allen answered gruffly.
‘There’s another possibility,’ I cut in. Clive faced me but Allen kept his eyes on the floor. Nobody, I noticed, had said straight out, that maybe Justine was a crook. I said, ‘Say they’ve got a copy of the photo and they haven’t trailed it past you yet. There’s still got to be a chance they produce it in court. If they did that today, with me in the witness seat, I’d be stuffed.’
You could almost see the wheels turning behind Allen's pale blue eyes. At last he asked me, 'Why?'
‘Allen, you saw that photo.’
‘I saw a picture of two adults doing what adults do. And if it’s produced in court there’ll be questions asked about exactly how that photo was obtained.’
I glanced at Clive, hoping for support, but he stared right past me. If someone was going to send Allen off the deep end, it wasn’t going to be him.
‘This wasn’t just any two people,’ I said.
‘No,’ Allen agreed. ‘One of them was my daughter.’
‘One of them was writing the Ottoman lead. And one of them was meant to be the independent broker.’ I opened my hands. It was too late to pussyfoot around. ‘You must see how it looks. Justine was having an affair with Sebastian. He put the Ottoman business her way, she signed the lead. Wham. Mehmet files a claim. Next thing we’re fighting the claim in court, and Sebastian gets incinerated in his own home.’
Allen said, ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that Justine was involved in anything but signing up for what she thought to be a good piece of business.’
‘I’m telling you how the Ottoman lawyers might play it. That’s all.’
Allen pointed. ‘You were meant to be supervising her. I haven’t forgotten that.'
It was a low shot, but a good one, it stopped me dead. If I’d been doing my job properly way back when, maybe there would have been no Ottoman policy on our books, and no court case either. To my immense relief, Clive took pity on me.
‘I don’t think Ian’s suggesting any inappropriate behaviour on Justine’s part.’ Clive looked at me.‘Are you?’
‘No,’ I said, taking my cue. I faced Allen again. ‘No, I’m just saying that if the photo gets produced in court today, there’ll be some pretty awkward questions. And I don’t know how to answer them.’
Allen studied me. ‘Any thoughts, Clive?’ he said finally.
Clive doodled on a pad. ‘That photo looked to me as if it might be rather old.’
‘How could you tell?’ I asked.
‘Let him finish,’ Allen said.
Clive carried on doodling. ‘When you think about it, the problem’s not so much that there was a relationship between them, is it? As you said, Allen. Two adults. No, I’d think the worst of it would be, say hypothetically, if Justine and Sebastian had deliberately attempted to conceal the true nature of that relationship. If they’d kept it secret, say, from colleagues?'
‘But that’s what they did,’ I said.
Clive winced. ‘Please.’
Allen told me to keep my ears open and my mouth shut. ‘You wanted advice, now listen up.’ He nodded for Clive to go on.
Clive said, ‘What might have happened here is that Justine and Sebastian had an affair that was over long before the Ottoman business was written. An affair that was well-known -’ here Clive gave me a meaningful look ‘- to at least one of Justine’s colleagues.’
Allen took up the thread. ‘And if that colleague was confronted by evidence. Say a photo?’
Clive shrugged. ‘He already knew all about it. Done and dusted years ago. He might even feel inclined to express distaste that anyone could pry, probably illegally, into such an intimate domain.’
I turned from one of them to the other, feeling like a cornered rat.
Allen stood up. He flicked at the creases in his trousers. ‘I won’t make it down to the court today, Clive, but if you could let me have a transcript?'
‘Hang on,’ I said. 'I’ll be under oath. I can’t lie.’
Allen reached over and squeezed my arm. ‘Nobody’s suggesting it.’
‘There must have been times, Ian,’ Clive volunteered, ‘when you saw Justine and Sebastian together. The syndicate taking him out to lunch. Drinks. Didn’t I see her in his box at Ascot last year?’
'That was all of us,’ I said. ‘Frazer and Angela and me. That was work.’
Clive shrugged. ‘Work. Play. I’m sure if you thought about it. I mean, memories. Not infallible, are they?’
Allen gave my arm a pat, then headed for the door. He paused there and looked back at me. ‘The Council wants the final word on who gets Angela’s seat on the 486 box. I think I’ll wait till I read tomorrow’s transcript before I let them know my decision.' He buttoned his jacket, and then strolled out and away down the corridor.
Chapter 27
* * *
In the courtroom they were all in the usual seats, but not me. I was in the witness seat, where the clerk had directed me before he disappeared into the private chambers out back to get the judge. Looking across, I saw Batri pinch the bridge of his nose while he read his notes. When Clive and me told him about that photo earlier, and the possibility of it appearing in court, Batri had done his nut. But that was half an hour ago, and now it looked like he’d got over the shock. From a seat behind our barristers, Clive smiled at me encouragingly.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been in the witness seat. I’d been involved in my fair share of disputed claims, and more than a few of them had landed up in court. But this wasn’t like those other times, not by a long chalk. I concentrated on my own breathing and tried to relax. When I leant forward my hands trembled on the desk, so I leant back and rested them, bunched into fists, on my knees.
‘All rise,’ said the clerk, and when the judge came in behind him I felt my stomach turn over.
We did the stand up, sit down bit, then as everyone was settling the judge had a few words with the barristers. While this was going on the public door of the courtroom swung open. Heads turned. From my seat up front I didn’t have to turn, I just looked up and there he was, Fielding, bobbing to the judge then strolling across to take a seat behind the Ottoman solicitors.
I shot a questioning look at Clive. He shrugged and shook his head, like I should forget Fielding and concentrate on the job.
‘Mr Collier,’ the judge said, ‘I believe you understand the procedure.’
Shaken by Fielding’s arrival I mumbled, ‘Yes,’ and the judge had the clerk swear me in. Bible in my right hand, I repeated the words mechanically, really working hard to stop myself from glancing Fielding’s way. Whatever he was doing here, I knew it couldn’t mean anything good for me. After I was sworn in, Batri did the usual introductory bit, then he handed me over to his learned friend. The Ottoman barrister got to his feet, straightening his wig. I looked past him to Fielding, and that bastard actually smiled at me.
