‘I even thought at one stage he was going to suggest a pretrial consultation between us.’
‘To slim down the claims to an agreed settlement?’ guessed Reid.
‘There’s an argument for doing so. As you said at the meeting, the adultery is admitted.’
‘Do you think Jordan would go for it?’
‘He’s made the point a few times that gamblers don’t gamble. If he got the possibility of millions pared down to a few thousand – but with the guilt legally established – it might appeal to him.’ He gestured towards the other lawyer. ‘You just dropped spaghetti sauce down your tie.’
Reid scrubbed at himself with his napkin. His head still bent he said, ‘That would kind of divide us, wouldn’t it?’
‘And be a clever legal move for Bartle to make.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Nothing. Wait for him to come to me. Like I told you, it’s only my guess.’
‘When are you going to file your dismissal submission?’
‘Tomorrow. Everything’s ready.’
‘So we could get a submission date set as early as next week?’
‘Not if Bartle hasn’t complied with all the exchanges. And we’re still waiting on Leanne Jefferies. I really can’t see why he’s holding back on Appleton’s medical stuff.’
‘Unless it proves Appleton was or is infected.’
‘If it does, Appleton’s case is holed below the waterline,’ insisted Beckwith. ‘It can’t be that simple.’
‘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.
Seventeen
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.
