Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

He’d carried just short of $10,000 into the country and wished it could have been more, although the immediate intention didn’t include casinos.

‘OK,’ agreed Beckwith reluctantly.

‘Let’s hope my luck holds.’ Jordan was sure that in addition to it preventing any discrepancy between his income tax submission and the money he was making available here was Beckwith’s need to ensure he could afford to pay for his defence. Jordan made a mental note to check the scheme when his current problems were finally over. There might be an advantage he could use, although he couldn’t at that moment imagine what it might be.

‘You’ve got to depend more upon me than upon luck,’ warned the lawyer.

‘I know that,’ accepted Jordan. ‘I can’t believe how I’ve come to be caught up in all this.’

‘People can’t – or don’t – until it happens to them.’

‘Can we cut to the chase, right now?’ urged Jordan, finally giving way to his impatience. ‘You know from Lesley how it happened: my side of the story. What are my chances of being dismissed the action?’

Beckwith laughed at the question, pouring more coffee. ‘There are too many things I still have to hear and learn and question before I could even begin to answer that. And even after I do hear and learn and question, I don’t think I’d like to try an answer, even then. At this point I haven’t had the individual statements of claim from Alfred Appleton’s side, specifying the grounds for those claims against you. Or what I need from Alyce Appleton’s lawyers. This meeting is for us to get to know each other, maybe exchange a few thoughts. We’ve got a long way to go.’

The same warning that Lesley had given him, Jordan remembered. ‘How can we get any thoughts together until we know their case… cases?’

‘I said exchanging a few thoughts, not finalizing our side.’ Beckwith reached to his right, turning on a tape recorder. ‘So let’s start doing that right now. Who made the first move down there in sunny France, you or Alyce?’

‘You mean who spoke first?’

‘You tell it your way.’

Jordan hesitated for a moment. ‘She spoke first. I’d been reading in the hotel lounge. Remembered a phone call I had to make. She stopped me as I was crossing the room and told me I’d left my book behind. I said I was coming back…’

‘Did you make the call?’

‘Up in my room.’

‘I thought you were in a suite?’

‘I was. Up in my suite. Do we really need to be as pedantic as this?’

‘Harv, I need to be so pedantic I know the colour of your underwear… maybe Alyce’s, too if I’m going to be able to undermine what might be put against you. I ask the questions, any question, you answer them, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘So you made the call?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who to?’

Shit, thought Jordan, anticipating the follow-up question. ‘A restaurant overlooking Cannes harbour. I wanted to eat there that night.’

‘So there’ll be a record of the reservation in your name, the restaurant will be able to confirm the call?’

‘No,’ said Jordan, seeing his way out. ‘The line was engaged. I tried twice but then gave up. I walked down that night and managed to get a table without a reservation.’

‘With Alyce.’

‘No,’ refused Jordan again, the relief moving through him at the unchallengable escape.

‘Having given up trying to make a connection you went back downstairs?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I stopped on my way back to where I’d been sitting, thanked her for trying to stop me losing my book. On the way out I think I’d asked her to watch that it stayed safe.’

‘And?’

‘She’d been writing, earlier. It looked like a lot of documents, in a large envelope. She’d stopped by the time I got back. The envelope was beside her in a chair, along with a lot of her other stuff. It was the only chair at her table so I invited her across to where I was sitting, for a drink.’

‘So she spoke to you first but you hit on her?’

Jordan sighed, heavily. ‘I didn’t hit on her! She’d tried to do me a favour, I thought I’d buy her a drink to say thank you.’

‘I don’t care how long you stand in the box in court or how much you’re exasperated, I don’t want to hear a sigh like that again.’

Fuck you, thought Jordan. Aloud he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You will be, if you get caught out by another lawyer to make you lose your temper and it shows. I warned you already.’

‘I won’t forget again.’

‘I’m not going to let you forget. What happened next with you and Alyce?’

‘We’d talked about books, the first day we began speaking. I knew The Man in the Iron Mask was based on a true story of a prisoner once being imprisoned on one of the islands off Cannes and invited her on a trip the following day, without telling her what it was or where it would be. I rented a catamaran and took her there. We-’

‘Stop!’ demanded the lawyer. ‘Where are we now, first or second day?’

Jordan had to think. ‘Second. We spent all day together.’

‘What about the night?’

‘And the night.’

‘This has got to be exactly how it happened. So tell me – exactly – how it happened. Let’s go back to the first day you began talking.’

There’s nothing much to tell about that first day. After lunch I went into town, had dinner, alone, at the harbour restaurant and then went back to the hotel.’

‘Was she there?’

‘I didn’t see her.’

‘Why didn’t you invite her to dinner with you overlooking the harbour?’

Jordan shrugged ‘I don’t know. I just didn’t.’

‘Did you think something might develop between you?’

‘Not particularly. I was alone, she was alone. Everything was relaxed and easy.’

‘The second day you went on the catamaran trip to the island?’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Jordan.

‘What time?’

‘I don’t…’ stumbled Jordan. ‘In the morning. We had lunch on the boat, after looking at the jail.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘Manage it?’ questioned Jordan, confused.

‘When did you rent the catamaran?’

‘The first afternoon. After lunch I went into the town, found some yacht charterers and booked the catamaran and had it provisioned for the trip.’

‘So you set up a pretty big expedition?’

‘I chartered a yacht for a one-day cruise. To take Alyce somewhere I thought she’d be interested in seeing.’

‘You went out on the catamaran, you saw the jail where the man in the iron mask was held? Then what?’

‘We swam.’

‘Naked?’ Beckwith asked.

‘In costumes. The catamaran had a crew.’

‘And a cabin?’

‘Of course it had a cabin.’

‘Did you change together?’

‘Separately.’

‘Who changed first?’

Jordan had to think again. ‘I did.’

‘What sort of costume did you wear?’

‘What?’ queried Jordan, not understanding.

‘Trunks? Boxers? What?’

‘Boxer shorts.’

‘What about Alyce?’

‘A bikini.’

‘A brief bikini? Or a two piece?’

‘A brief bikini.’

‘How brief?’

‘Very brief,’ said Jordan, remembering his delay in getting back on to the catamaran.

‘So she was coming on to you?’

‘I guess you could say that.’

‘Harv, we’re not guessing here! We’re trying to keep your ass as far away from the burner as we can. You’re being accused of stealing Al Appleton’s wife literally from under him, causing him physical and mental damage and making his business – and income – suffer from what you did. There have been jury awards well over the $1 million mark on just one such criminal conversation claim and you’re looking at a damned sight more than just one. And the courts – and the judges – have the power to add on punitive damages, too. You understand what I’m telling you? How much it could cost you?’