Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

‘Then why?’ demanded Reid.

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Beckwith. ‘When I file for dismissal I’m going to make the point that if I lose the submission I can’t proceed to full hearing until I’ve received everything that’s legally got to be exchanged.’

‘Did you tell Bartle that?’

‘It was when I told him exactly that I thought he was going to offer negotiation.’

‘Maybe you’ve put a fox into the hen coop?’

‘Rather me doing it to him than the reverse, his doing it to us.’

‘You going to mention it to Harvey?’

‘Not unless I get the approach from Bartle. There’s no point until I do.’

‘I’d like to hear, the moment you do. It could affect everything as far as I am concerned.’

‘Of course you’ll know. If it happens…’ Beckwith pointed across the table. ‘You’ve dropped some more sauce.’

Jordan recognized Alyce’s voice the moment he picked up the telephone in his Carlyle suite. ‘Hello,’ he said, in reply to her opening, pleased the curiosity didn’t sound in his voice.

‘I want to say thank you again, for what you did today, said today. A lot of things wouldn’t have been brought out if you hadn’t been there.’

‘Change your lawyer if you’re not happy,’ offered Jordan.

‘He’s the best there is in Raleigh.’

‘Which doesn’t say much for Raleigh.’

‘From being with you in France I wouldn’t have thought you were this ruthless.’

‘This isn’t France and we’re not having an adventure. This is reality with blood on the floor.’

‘I wish it wasn’t,’ Alyce countered.

‘You and me both. How did you know I was here, at the Carlyle?’

‘Bob told me. He showed me your statement, too. Why did you tell me you were an investment banker when you’re not?’

‘I thought it sounded better: more respectable.’

‘We weren’t being respectable.’

Jordan hesitated, considering his reply. ‘And now look where we are.’

‘If you don’t get dismissed from the case I want to take full responsibility in court.’

‘You discussed that with Bob?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you think you should? It might screw up the way he’s going to argue your case.’

‘I did use you, to get my own back on Alfred.’

‘And told me as much in France. You didn’t know all this was going to happen.’ He’d have to tell Beckwith what she was saying: offering. It might do more to harm than help his defence, although he couldn’t think how.

‘We’ll see. You going to make the trip back to England?’

‘I think so. You going to stay on here in Manhattan?’

‘I think so. When will you be back?’

‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t need more than a day in London. I can fly back here on the last flight the second night.’

‘I want it all to be over soon.’

‘You said.’

‘You don’t mind my calling?’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘I’m sorry you got caught up in everything like this,’ Alyce apologized.

‘You said that, too. More than once.’

‘Take care.’

‘And you. Try to think more about the three years immediately after your husband left Harvard.’

There was a pause from Alyce’s end of the line before she said, ‘You have this number?’

‘No.’

‘You have a pen?’

‘Yes.’

She dictated it and added, ‘Call me when you get back?’

‘I will,’ promised Jordan. He knew from accessing the computers of Appleton and his enquiry agency that they weren’t under surveillance any more, so they didn’t have to bother about their lawyers’ warnings about being together.

Harvey Jordan extended his intended absence from New York by twelve hours, getting back into Manhattan by the middle of the third day. There were three messages waiting for him at his Carlyle suite, which he’d maintained to provide just such a contact point. One was from Daniel Beckwith. The other two were from Alyce. Before responding to any of them Jordan checked his intrusion traps, which were undisturbed, and after that settled before his laptop at the bureau and steadily worked his way through his illegal Trojan Horses, none of which he’d accessed from London, adhering strictly to the unbreakable operational rule never to cast his phishing nets from more than one dedicated computer. He was particularly careful going into the system of Appleton and Drake, alert for any indication that his entry had been picked up on, which there wasn’t. Still preying on the currency trades, he spread almost $22,000 between his five accounts.

From Beckwith’s system Jordan was easily able to infer contact from legal representation of both Alfred Appleton and Leanne Jefferies through the exchanges between his lawyer and Alyce’s, even though they were disjointed and incomplete because the two attorneys were obviously communicating, irritatingly, sometimes by email and on other occasions by telephone. Jordan’s further, even more irritating discovery was that Leanne Jefferies was being represented by Brinkmeyer, Hartley and Bernstein, the same firm engaged by Appleton but by a different partner. Leanne’s lawyer was Peter Wolfson, whose name was listed directly below that of Appleton’s attorney, David Bartle, on the company letterhead. Jordan ignored the immediate disappointment, quickly switching to his Trojan Horse stabled in the Brinkmeyer system in his search for electronic correspondence between Wolfson and Bartle. As he’d feard, there wasn’t any.

Jordan finally allowed the frustration to burst over him, physically hot. If Bartle and Wolfson were going to discuss everything between themselves within their own Madison Avenue building, which was clearly and most naturally what they would do, apart from occasional, but so far uninitiated, email contact with either Beckwith or Reid, there was no possibility of him eavesdropping on their thoughts or strategies. Objectively acknowledging his over-expectation, Jordan had still imagined he could sit upon the highest pinnacle overlooking everyone’s manoeuvrings and scrabblings, always to be ahead of every opposing move. What he had – precisely with all his computer entries – was the best spot in the foothills. Still sufficient. Still enough. But only just: not, by any assessment, as complete as he wanted his monitoring to be. But then he hadn’t yet accessed every site open to him. Still hopeful, Jordan followed his well-marked trail into every other hidden observation point in every other invaded computer. But found no further revelations, finally slumping back in the over-padded chair.

He’d hoped for so much more, some closely guarded confidence – confessions or admissions even – between the lawyers and their clients that he could have turned to his advantage. He at least knew things were moving forwards. For the moment, but not much more than a moment, he had to be satisfied.

Jordan was connected at once to Daniel Beckwith, who said, ‘Welcome back! I hear there’s more money in the pot?’

More for my benefit than yours, thought Jordan. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by the quickness with which Lesley Corbin had alerted Beckwith to his visit to Chancery Lane to deposit a further fifty thousand dollars – she was the essential conduit, after all – but he was. ‘I thought it was a good idea. What’s happened here while I was away?’

‘We’ve got our pre-trial submission hearing next Wednesday,’ said the American. ‘We need to meet before then, obviously. And travel down on the Tuesday…’ There was a pause. ‘You want Suzie to make your hotel reservation along with mine? Or do you want to do it yourself? The hotel choice isn’t great.’

Beckwith had been curbed, Jordan recognized. ‘We’ll need to be together in the same hotel. I’d be grateful for Suzie doing it at the same time as she books yours. What other developments have there been?’