And Is There Honey Still For Tea? (5 page)

‘He is also an academic at a respected university,' Wesley pointed out.

‘He is an associate professor. I have no doubt that a little notoriety will do him no harm at Yale,' Digby retorted. ‘He is obviously a shameless self-publicist, and apparently merely starting his own journal was not enough to satisfy his ambition.'

Wesley seemed on the point of replying, but checked himself. ‘Well, it may not matter,' he said. ‘I was curious, that's all. His motives may become obvious as we go along.'

He paused again.

‘May I suggest that we all take time to think about this for a day or so in the light of what we have discussed? If, James, you then wish to proceed, Ben will draft the pleadings quickly, Herbert will serve them, and we will get the case under way.'

‘I don't need any more time to discuss the matter,' Digby said. ‘What I need is to start restoring my reputation. My instructions are to sue Hollander for libel without delay.'

Wesley nodded. ‘Your instructions are that this article is wholly false?'

Digby drew himself up in his chair.

‘Bernard, do you think for one moment that I would be here if …?'

‘I have an obligation to ask,' Wesley replied. ‘Think carefully, James. Is there anything in your past that could give rise to suspicion, even if it were unfounded? Anything to explain why Hollander may have got the wrong idea about you, put two and two together and made five?'

‘No,' Digby said. ‘And it is not a matter of getting the wrong idea. He is lying about me. We need to proceed with the action without delay.'

‘Very well,' Wesley replied. ‘But perhaps you would indulge me for a moment?'

‘Of course.'

Wesley walked to the bookcase to the right of his desk and took a volume from a shelf.

‘This is an anecdote of Chief Justice Holt in an old case called
Johnson v Browning
in 1704,' he said. ‘The Chief Justice said he remembered: “
another case very lately where a fellow brought an action for saying of him that he was a highwayman; and it appearing upon the evidence that he was so, he was taken in court, committed to prison, and convicted and hanged at the next sessions of gaol delivery. So that people ought to be well advised before they bring such actions
.”'

Wesley closed the book.

‘Just some food for thought,' he said.

6

Bernard Wesley had resumed his seat behind his desk. The consultation had ended, and everyone except Ben Schroeder and Jess Farrar had gone.

‘I've asked the two of you to stay,' he said, ‘because I think we need to make some further inquiries. I want to know more about Professor Francis R Hollander. I want to know who he is: his background, personal and academic; where he studied, what degrees he obtained; what his political affiliations are; and what he has written, apart from the present piece. If there is anything odd about him at all, I want to know. There is something not quite right about this case.'

‘You mean, because he is making himself too available?' Ben asked. ‘Acting as if he can't wait to be sued?'

‘That's part of it, certainly,' Wesley replied. ‘But I also want to know what his personal agenda is, and I want to know if there are people supporting him, people we can't see at present. He claims to have had no contact with the CIA before he went to them with the Stepanov story. Is that true? Is there anything in his background which suggests otherwise?'

‘I suppose it's possible,' Ben suggested, ‘that the American Government, or the CIA in particular, feels that it is not getting anywhere with our Government – too many people defecting and no one being held responsible – and they decided that it might be a good idea to bring it all out in public. If so, they might have put Hollander up to it.'

‘Yes,' Wesley agreed. ‘Then, the question becomes: have they done it speculatively, waiting to see what evidence might come out of the woodwork; or do they know something we don't? We may not be able to find the answers to all these questions without some help from James. But he is in too emotional a state to help us very much at the moment, so I want to make a start without him.'

‘I will start a trawl of the libraries tomorrow,' Jess volunteered. ‘I will start digging and see what I can find.'

‘Good,' Wesley replied.

‘I thought I might take a look at Stepanov,' Ben added. ‘According to Hollander, he is the man who recruited James. I am not sure how much information there will be, but it may be worth taking a look.'

‘I agree,' Wesley said. ‘And give Jess whatever help you can.'

‘Of course.'

* * *

Ben and Jess rose to leave, but Wesley gestured them to stay in their seats.

‘There was something else I wanted to mention,' he said. ‘There is no really delicate way to put this, but I think I am right in saying that you two are seeing each other. Is that the right expression? I'm not very
au fait
with how people express these things nowadays.'

Ben and Jess exchanged smiles.

‘Yes, we are,' he replied. ‘And seeing each other is a good way to say it.'

Wesley smiled thinly.

‘Yes. The thing is that Jess works for Bourne & Davis.'

‘Yes.'

‘And Bourne & Davis send you instructions, brief you for their cases in the courts.'

‘Yes.'

‘Ben, you understand the implications, don't you?'

Ben's smile suddenly vanished.

‘Bernard, if you're asking whether I know it's frowned on for a barrister to socialise with solicitors who instruct him …'

‘Or even solicitors who
might
instruct him, or their employees …'

‘Yes. I am well aware of that.'

‘Jess, I don't mean to exclude you from the conversation,' Wesley said. ‘But I've had a communication from the Middle Temple, the Inn of Court to which Ben and I both belong. They are concerned about what is called touting for work. It is a disciplinary offence for a barrister to use his social connections with a solicitor to tout for work. Obviously, a romantic involvement may count as socialising.'

Ben shook his head in frustration.

‘There is no reason for them to frown on anything,' he insisted. ‘Not in our case.'

Wesley looked him directly in the eye. He stood and walked around his desk to lean against the front.

‘Ben, it goes a bit further than being frowned on. The Inn has set up a committee to look into any cases of apparent touting which come to its attention. Apparently, they feel that the rules are being disregarded, that it's becoming more prevalent to have social contact between barristers and solicitors. They are afraid it is getting away from them. It's not a trivial matter. Technically, you could get disbarred for it.'

Jess looked at Ben in horror.

‘For God's sake,' Ben protested. ‘It
is
the second half of the twentieth century, Bernard.'

Wesley held his hands up hopelessly.

‘I agree with you,' he replied. ‘But as you well know, the Bar doesn't live in the second half of the twentieth century. Some would say it is only now dragging itself rather reluctantly into the second half of the nineteenth. Don't shoot the messenger, Ben. The Inn has raised the matter with me, about your particular situation and, as your Head of Chambers, I have a duty to bring it to your attention.'

He paused.

‘Look, I don't mean to pry. But do you mind my asking? How serious is your relationship?'

Ben closed his eyes. He was silent for some time. He looked at Jess, then back at Wesley.

‘It is very serious,' he replied quietly. ‘Jess kept me sane during the Cottage case. What with the verdict and the trip to the Court of Criminal Appeal, it was a very emotional time for me. And then, when Cottage was hanged … I know barristers are supposed to be objective and not get emotionally involved, but …'

‘You can't help it,' Wesley replied. ‘You have to put your feelings on one side to make a good job of the case, but that doesn't mean the feelings aren't there.'

Ben nodded. ‘I was able to deal with it most of the time, certainly while I was in court,' he said. ‘But Jess's support kept me going. She drove me to London to see my grandfather when he had his heart attack during the trial. After that, we gradually fell in love. I …'

Wesley pushed himself up off the table.

‘That's all admirable,' he said. ‘I'm not judging you, please believe me. In fact, I am all in favour. The only problem is how to get the Middle Temple off our backs.'

‘
Our
backs?' Ben asked pointedly.

‘Yes. It comes back to me as Head of Chambers, as well as you.'

‘My God,' Jess said quietly.

‘Look, don't despair, either of you,' Wesley said. ‘I'm not saying that we can't find a way to deal with this. I am sure we can. But we can't ignore it. What I am suggesting is that you allow me to undertake a little diplomacy on your behalf.'

Ben looked up questioningly.

‘I am a Bencher of the Inn, Ben. I am a member of the ruling body. I know how they think. I can talk to them in a way they will understand, and I have the seniority to be a bit more candid with them than you could be. Look, why don't the two of you come up to Hampstead for dinner? I was telling Amélie about you and, of course, she now insists on meeting you and Jess. She is an incurable romantic, I'm afraid. I should have invited you long before. How would a Saturday be?'

Ben looked at Jess. They both nodded.

‘A Saturday would be fine. Thank you, Bernard.'

‘Don't let it get you down. It may take a while, but I think we can get around it. So don't do anything drastic. Just be discreet. In particular, no public displays of affection. Understood?'

‘Understood,' Ben replied.

7

Tuesday, 9 March

Julia Cathermole walked carefully up the short flight of stairs leading from Pall Mall to the double doors which marked the main entrance to the Reform Club. Her heels were higher than she was accustomed to. Indeed, she had dressed for the day with unusual formality. The senior partner of Cathermole & Bridger, a small firm of solicitors with a rapidly-growing reputation, she preferred to impress through her work rather than her appearance. She had a natural sense of style which enabled her to look good in clothes of any kind, and she relished her sometimes unconventional approach to business dress. But there were occasions when she reverted to the more typical lawyer's black suit; occasions when she wanted to make a particular kind of impression on a client. Today was such an occasion, though she had been unable to resist a jaunty black-and-white silk scarf worn over her jacket and she had tied her hair back with a matching bow.

She looked around her. Straight ahead, a further three or four steps led to another set of double doors, which marked the entrance to the saloon. To her right was the porter's lobby. She approached the window and inquired for Professor Francis Hollander. The porter walked quickly around to the front of his desk.

‘This way, Madam, please.'

He more or less sprinted up the steps, opened the right-hand door, and held it open, waiting for her to catch up with him. He pointed to her right.

‘Through there in the morning room, Madam. The gentleman in the bow tie,' he said.

‘Thank you.'

‘Enjoy your luncheon, Madam.'

She would have identified him even without the porter's assistance. It was partly that his was by far the lightest-coloured suit in the room. Most of the members dressed in dark grey or black. But she thought there was something unmistakably American about his clothes and hair, about the look of his spectacles. He was sitting at a corner table to her right, by one of the two enormous windows which looked out over Pall Mall. Except for the windows, the morning room was enclosed by huge oak bookcases which held part of the Club's extensive library. The room was a place for members to take coffee, or something stronger, while catching up on the news from a wide range of newspapers. A cheering fire was burning in the central fireplace, casting a glow over the warm red leather chairs and sofas. A handful of members and their guests were engrossed in drinks and subdued conversation. He saw her as she entered the room and stood immediately, his hand outstretched.

‘Miss Cathermole?'

‘Professor Hollander.'

They shook hands.

He pulled back one of the two chairs at his table, and held it out for her as she took her seat.

‘What may I get you? The barman here mixes a mean dry martini. I can't resist them myself.'

She smiled.

‘I prefer gin and tonic, thank you.'

Hollander raised an arm, and a white-jacketed waiter instantly made his way from the bar on the other side of the room to take his order.

‘How was your flight?' she asked.

‘No complaints. It was long, of course, but comfortable enough. No complaints at all. I've had the weekend to get over it.'

‘I've been reading about your activities over the weekend,' she said pointedly.

‘Ah, yes,' he smiled. He had, of course, no good reason for not having consulted her before holding his press conference. It would have been the proper thing to do, the sensible thing to do, and appropriate, given her position as his prospective solicitor. Her implied reprimand was fully justified. But he had wanted to make sure that she did not talk him out of it. He had intended to throw down the gauntlet to Digby through the press, and he had done so in no uncertain terms. Digby had nowhere to hide now.

‘It's obviously not your first time in London,' she said, once it had become clear that he was not going to explain or apologise.

He smiled again. ‘No, I've been privileged to spend quite a bit of time here. I usually come over for the Hastings Chess Tournament during the Christmas and New Year period. I also spent a semester in Cambridge while I was working on my doctoral thesis, and I still have a number of friends there, and here in London. I'm getting quite used to it. As you see, I have even joined a Club to bolster my British credentials.'

The waiter brought her gin and tonic and a small bowl of salted peanuts. They raised their glasses in silence. She replaced her glass on the table.

‘As I explained when we spoke yesterday evening,' she said, ‘we have an appointment at the chambers of Miles Overton QC at 4 o'clock, so that we can get counsel involved immediately. Some solicitors like to delay involving counsel until the last minute, but I've always found that to be counter-productive. Counsel need to be involved from the beginning so that they can help to formulate our strategy. There are some matters we have to discuss first, but it's only a matter of five minutes by taxi, so we have plenty of time to talk over lunch.'

She took a sip of her drink and nodded her approval.

‘Let me start with the obvious. I'm flattered that you want to retain Cathermole & Bridger. May I ask how you found out about us, what made you decide we were the right firm to represent you?'

He looked down for some time. She had the impression that he was hesitating, calculating his reply. It worried her. She had asked him a routine question, and his reply ought to have been straightforward.

‘I was given your name by Donald Tate, who is on the faculty of our Law School,' he replied. ‘He said you would remember him from… what was it, a conference on private international law?'

She nodded. ‘Amsterdam, two years ago,' she said, ‘of course. How is Donald?'

‘He is fine. He is in line for promotion from associate to full professor, so it's a busy year for him. But he is fine. He remembered meeting you at the conference, he was impressed, and he had heard very good things about your firm.'

She looked at him keenly, disguising the scrutiny behind her smile. He had given her a plausible answer, but not a convincing one, given what was involved in the case he wanted her to defend. She remembered meeting Donald Tate and exchanging ideas with him – and several others – in a break-out session during the conference in Amsterdam. But that was hardly likely to have produced a very profound impression on him. She sensed that he was following her thoughts.

‘Well, I appreciate his recommendation,' she said.

‘Actually, that's not the whole story,' Hollander admitted.

‘Go on.'

‘Donald has a friend, an attaché at your Embassy in Washington, who knew your name.' He paused. ‘He said you had connections within … a branch of the Government Service.'

Julia nodded slowly, as she began to understand.

‘I see.'

‘I'm sorry,' he continued. ‘I assumed you knew. I thought you were responsible for the welcome at the airport when I arrived, even though he said he had not spoken to you.'

She looked at him blankly.

‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Hollander sat up in his chair.

‘When I arrived on Wednesday I was met at the airport by a man calling himself Baxter,' he said, ‘who gave me to understand that he is with MI6. He had a car with a driver. He gave me a ride into town, brought me all the way to the Club, as a matter of fact.'

‘And that was a complete surprise to you? You were not expecting to be met?'

‘Not at all.'

‘Did this man Baxter give you any explanation for meeting you in this way?'

Hollander hesitated. ‘I'm not sure “explanation” is the right word. He seemed to know that you were representing me. That's why I thought you must have …'

‘No, I have not had any contact with them about you …'

‘… or perhaps he guessed, or perhaps he heard something from the Embassy. In any case, his message was that MI6 and I had common cause.'

‘Meaning Sir James Digby?'

‘Yes. He said that the Service shared my interest in the outcome of any lawsuit Digby might bring against me.'

He paused again.

‘And he offered help.'

Julia looked up sharply.

‘What kind of help?'

‘He was less than specific,' Hollander replied quietly. He seemed embarrassed. ‘He said it was a technical matter, and that he would have to speak to you about it. But unless I misunderstood him, I think part of it was some contribution towards my legal costs.'

Julia's jaw dropped. It took her some seconds to recover.

‘MI6 wants to pay for your defence of the case?'

‘Well, as I say, he wasn't too specific. But he referred to the financial implications of the litigation a number of times. That's something we would have had to discuss today. You had sent me your letter of engagement, which explained the arrangements about fees and costs very clearly. I came over here in a position to give you a cheque for the retainer today, and I was making arrangements to meet the monthly bills and any expenses, as your letter indicated. But now, it seems, MI6 may want to help. I'm not sure how that would work, whether Baxter intends to pay your firm directly, or through me.'

‘Through you, I would think,' Julia replied thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if Baxter knows how much this is going to cost: a defended libel action with leading and junior counsel, and potential exposure for the other side's costs. I wonder if someone over there has done the arithmetic?'

‘He seemed to be aware that it could be expensive,' Hollander replied. ‘I assumed he had done his homework.'

‘Well, if we accept their offer, we will have to make it clear to them,' Julia said.

‘
If
we accept their offer?'

Julia nodded. ‘I need to understand what I would be committing you to – and what I would be committing my firm to. I want to know what the conditions are. I want to know more about what's going on.'

‘I got the impression that the money is not their main concern,' Hollander added. ‘They are more interested in something else.'

‘Are they indeed?' she asked. ‘Well, let's get to the point, then. What do they want in return?'

Hollander did not reply immediately.

‘They must want something,' Julia pointed out. ‘Even assuming that the Service has some interest in seeing you prevail, they are really pushing the boat out, aren't they? All right, they will recoup their costs if you win, but it's still a considerable risk. So, what do they want in return?'

‘They want information,' Hollander replied. ‘They want to know everything I can tell them about Digby.'

‘Is there more information?' she asked. ‘Things you didn't put in your article?'

He nodded. ‘Yes. I held back a lot of information. I didn't want to give away everything I know, at least not immediately.'

‘If it's information you want to use in court, you will have to disclose it eventually,' Julia said. ‘So I see no reason why you shouldn't tell the Service, too. But I want to know everything you know, whether we use it in court or not. Understood?'

‘Understood,' he replied. ‘But I think they know about Digby already.'

Julia nodded.

‘Perhaps,' she replied, ‘but it would be good to know that, one way or the other, wouldn't it?'

* * *

‘My father was with the Service for many years,' Julia said. ‘I have never worked for them, but I have had some contact through one or two cases my firm has been involved in. That probably explains why Donald's friend made the connection.'

They had taken their seats in the restaurant, always referred to in the Club as the coffee room, where Hollander had reserved a corner table at the far end of the room, away from the windows overlooking Pall Mall, but with a view over the lawn at the rear of the Club. A waiter had taken their orders for vegetable soup and baked halibut, accompanied by a bottle of the Club's White Burgundy. The room was relatively quiet, and they were undisturbed, except for the waiter approaching to offer bread and a carafe of water.

‘Does that mean you grew up abroad?' he asked.

‘Yes, to some extent. But my parents sent me back home to boarding school as soon as I was old enough. I went out to wherever they were at the time for school holidays, of course, so I got used to a lot of travel. But it wasn't until I left University and began my legal studies that I eventually began to lead a more settled life.'

‘I'm sure your father has long since retired?'

‘Oh, yes. Actually, he died about five years ago.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Thank you. My mother is still alive. We have this old, rambling house in Norfolk, and she still lives there with a lot of help from a cleaner, a nurse and a gardener. Fortunately, my parents were not short of money. Professor Hollander …'

‘Francis, please …'

The waiter arrived with the soup. A second waiter brought their wine and opened it quickly, cradling the bottle in his arms, without setting it down on the table. He offered Hollander enough to taste, and it was pronounced excellent. The waiter filled two glasses. She waited until he had retreated.

‘Of course, and please call me Julia. Francis, when we go to see Miles Overton this afternoon, I would like you to take my lead as far as mentioning the Service is concerned. I don't want to tell him about Baxter and the offer he has made until I've had the chance to think about it more. I will have to talk to Baxter myself before we commit to anything. I don't want Miles worrying about information that may, or may not, be forthcoming. And I certainly don't want him worrying about where his fees are coming from. That's all done through his clerk, anyway, and my firm is responsible for his fees, whatever the source.'

‘Fair enough,' he replied. ‘I'll take your lead on that. What are we expecting to cover this afternoon?'

‘The law,' she replied. ‘It is important to understand the claim Digby is going to make against you, and what defences you may have. Barristers are procedural experts too, so we will look to him to adopt a strategy for the case as a whole.'