his anger far enough to be able to think clearly, and to allow his
intuition to pick up the gut-impressions, the subtle hints of the
thinking and planning that were taking place across the table behind
Duncan Alexander's handsome mask of a face.
It was half an hour before he was convinced that something other than
personal rivalry and antagonism was motivating the man before him.
His counter offer was too low to have any hope of being accepted, so low
that it became clear that he did not want to settle. Duncan Alexander
wanted to go to arbitration - and yet there was nothing he could gain by
that. It must be obvious to everyone at the table, beyond any doubt
whatsoever, that Nicholas claim was worth four million dollars. Nicholas
would have settled for four, even in his anger he would have gone for
four - risking that an arbitration board might have awarded six, and
knowing the delay and costs of going to litigation might amount to
another million. He would have settled.
Duncan Alexander was offering two and a half. It was a frivolous offer.
Duncan was going through the motions only. There was no serious attempt
at finding a settlement.
He didn't want to come to terms, and it seemed to Nicholas that by
refusing to settle he was gaining nothing, and risking a great deal. He
was a big enough boy to know that you never, but never, go to litigation
if there is another way out. It was a rule that Nicholas had graven on
his heart in letters of fire. Litigation makes only lawyers fat, Why
was Duncan baulking, what was he to gain by this obstruction? Nicholas
crushed down the temptation to stand up and walk out of the room with an
exclamation of disgust. Instead, he lit another cheroot and leaned
forward again, staring into Duncan Alexander's steely grey eyes, trying
to fathom him, needling, probing for the soft rotten spot - and thinking
hard.
What had Duncan Alexander to gain from not settling now? Why did he not
try with a low, but realistic offer what was he to gain?
Then quite suddenly he knew what it was. Chantelle's enigmatic appeal
for help and advice flashed back to him, and he knew what it was. Duncan
Alexander wanted time.
It was as simple as that. Duncan Alexander needed time.
All right. Satisfied at last, Nicholas leaned back in the deep
leather-padded chair, and veiled his eyes. We are still a hundred miles
apart. There will be only one meeting ground. That's in the upper room
at Lloyd's. It's set down for the 27th. A-re we at least agreed on
that date? Of course, Duncan leaned back also and Nicholas saw the
shift of his eyes, the little jump of nerves in the point of his
clenched jaws, the tightening of the long pianist's fingers that lay
before him on the leather-bound blotter.
Of course/ Duncan repeated, and began to stand up, a gesture of
dismissal. He lied beautifully; had Nicholas not known he would lie, he
might have missed the little telltale signs.
In the ancient lift, James Teacher was jubilant, rubbing his little fat
hands together. We'll give him a go! Nicholas glanced at him sourly.
Win, lose or draw, James Teacher would still draw his fee, and Duncan
Alexander's refusal to settle had quadrupled that fee. There was
