Craven Conflict

by David Cooper

  “Thoroughly enjoyed it, as far as I can tell. Good of you to suggest it. Now, what’s this about your Friday sessions at the Old Joint Stock? Will you be down there today? Good chance for a catch up. I’d welcome a chance to meet up with the Bastables crowd again.”

  Half an hour later, with Wagstaff having almost finished his first pint, Squire fought his way through the crowd to the firm’s customary tables, and was greeted with a theatrical cheer before he and Wagstaff took orders for the next round and joined the queue at the bar. Hutchings tagged along behind the two partners to offer his help in carrying drinks.

  “Pretty good turnout, Rufus. Maybe I ought to get something like this going at my end, before we all move down to the city centre?”

  “Maybe you should.” Squire glanced back in the direction of the firm’s regulars. “One exception today, by the look of it.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Our new recruit, the mysterious Mr Craven.” Wagstaff raised an eyebrow at Squire’s comment. “Seems to have fixed himself a meeting at half twelve. Not the done thing for a Friday. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it. Might need a bit of a nudge.”

  Hovering at Wagstaff’s shoulder, Hutchings chose to speak up.

  “Er…I don’t know if I should say anything, but…” Noting the enquiring glances from both partners, Hutchings continued. “I don’t think he was very pleased to find me sharing an office with him. I wonder if he’s got a problem with other people’s company?”

  Hutchings gestured towards the Friday gathering. It had offended him earlier that week to find that after one day together in the same office, Craven had decamped to the furthest corner of the department floor without a word. He chose not to share how annoyed Craven had been to find his files disturbed, or Craven’s obvious distaste for the animated holiday tales that he had been forced to overhear. For his own part, Squire had reached a more balanced view, and was not minded to exonerate Hutchings altogether, but the comments struck a chord with Wagstaff.

  “Has he, now? Can’t let anyone get away with behaviour like that, Rufus?”

  As Squire gave one of his familiar braying laughs in evident agreement, the barman brought the last of the drinks over and Wagstaff reached for his wallet. Hutchings picked up two of the glasses and smirked quietly to himself.

  * * * * *

  “That’s really harsh. I can’t believe you didn’t get the injunction.”

  Although Karen had soon regained her composure after the crushing blow of her defeat in court, she had hardly been able to concentrate on any client work as the rest of the Friday afternoon ticked away. Relieved at the thought that Dawn would be returning from her holiday on the following Monday, she had released the temp from her duties an hour early. Glancing quickly at one last email from Lennie about the further hearing on the following Friday, she decided that she would do her best not to allow the setback to spoil her weekend. A takeaway meal with Alex and Susie Harris, still close friends long after their mutual interest in politics had come to an end, would be a welcome start. Alex’s offer to take a quick look at the case papers for a second opinion was even more encouraging.

  “Any particular reason?” Although she was resigned to the defeat, Karen was still interested to know what Alex thought about the judge’s decision.

  “Well, for a start, there’s the main point you and Lennie homed in on. There was nothing to suggest you were blatantly in the wrong, or trying it on. So there was more of a case for protecting your business, because you were there first, and giving you the injunction. Then there’s a moral high ground point. I’d have thought the timeline was a real clincher here. Obviously the judge didn’t…”

  “How come?” Karen asked.

  “Well, take a step back to that Monday. Avery quits in the morning, he changes his company name to Wave Poofessional in the afternoon without realising his mistake, then right on the stroke of nine o’clock on the Tuesday morning this Chris Thompson bloke emails you and says he’s defecting.”

  “I know.” Karen scowled. “Wayne must have had a really busy afternoon, trawling through my database and setting himself up to launch. All in the space of a few hours.”

  “That’s just the point. I think it must have been planned a lot earlier. I can’t see that Avery would have done this unless he was certain he’d get off to a flying start. At your expense.”

  “What do you mean?” Karen asked.

  “Just picture this. Imagine he’s taken a complete leap into the dark, and only then does he phone Chris Thompson and his cronies, using the contact details straight off your database. Suppose they all say no, they’d rather stick with the tried and tested, namely you. Where does that leave him?”

  “I see…well, I think I do, but how would I find out when he started plotting?”

  “Phone records. You’ve already said in your evidence that he was addicted to his mobile. Ask for copies of his itemised phone bills, and see what you can find from the Thursday morning onwards.”

  Karen’s eyes lit up. “Jesus Christ, I never thought of that. I’d just assumed he’d spent the whole weekend wallowing in misery, the way he said he’d hardly eaten or slept…hang on though, how can I get hold of them?”

  “Mandatory disclosure. They’re relevant documents, and they’re within his control. Even if he’d have to ask his phone service provider for a new set of copies. Lennie won’t let anything like that slip by.”

  Karen thought for a moment.

  “Are you sure you can’t take this case on yourself?”

  “No, definitely not.” Alex’s answer was polite but firm. “Stick with Lennie. None of what’s happened today is his fault. He knows his business. And if you change horses in midstream, think what impression that will make on Avery…”

  “Mind if I take a look?” The discussion was by no means uninteresting to Susie Harris, who had just come through to join Karen and Alex after phoning to place their takeaway order. As an employment law professor of many years’ standing, she would never spurn a chance to read a judgment that had the slightest relevance to her chosen field. Alex passed the typescript over and Susie immediately noticed the judge’s name on the front sheet.

  “Tristan Chandler. There’s a name I’ll never forget. Professor of International Trade at Leningrad Central.”

  Both Alex and Karen were baffled at Susie’s description of the judge.

  “Private joke. He started at the Bar, then took up a seat at Bristol University for three years, not that long ago, then went back into practice at the Bar, and suddenly he’s become a judge. Strange career move for someone so radical. Gave my freedom of contract book a right slating in the Modern Law Quarterly…”

  “So that’s who it was?” Alex remembered how Susie had returned home one day with a copy of a less than complimentary review of a textbook that she had authored. It had been her brainchild for many a month during the sabbatical year that had coincided with her short lived venture into Conservative politics. Fully expecting that Susie would have figuratively hurled the venomous piece back at its contributor with as much force as she could summon, Alex had been amused to hear that Susie had calmly affixed a copy to the noticeboard outside her Birmingham University study and inscribed it with the sarcastic words ‘High Praise’.

  “The very man. Let’s just give this judgment a skim…”

  Susie abruptly halted her speed reading exercise five pages in, and read a passage meticulously before glancing at the cover once more. She resumed where she had broken off and went through the key section again, before reading to the end more slowly.

  “Karen, this reference to a statement from Anthony Wagstaff, can I take it this is Mr Avery’s solicitor, not one of the candidates that he stole off you?”

  Karen nodded, none the wiser, as Susie turned to Alex.

  “This firm, BLH Solicitors as they’re described on the front cover, have you any idea what the LH stands for?”

  “If it’s the man I’m thinking of, Lewis Ha
ckett. Edgbaston firm. I’ve only been on the other side of Wagstaff once. Real nasty piece of work. How come you’ve heard of him?”

  Susie stood up. “I just need to check something online. Back in a minute.”

  She passed the judgment back to Alex, who had by then thought of another point.

  “Something else about this timing issue, Karen. Wayne was a director of Ripple. When did he resign?”

  Karen hesitated.

  “I think it must have been after he left…no, hang on, that was when I told Dawn to send the form to Companies House…yes, now I remember, he said in his email on the Monday morning that he’d signed it ready for me, then and there.”

  “That could be helpful. He’ll have owed you wider duties as a director than as an employee. If you could prove he was up to no good before he resigned, you could get him on that too.”

  “Really?” Another burst of enthusiasm raised Karen’s spirits. “Mind you, that’s not going to help me on Monday morning if I get another flood of defections. I bet he’s held a few back just in case it went against him today. Looks as if I’m going to need a really strong defensive marketing campaign…”

  Karen paused in full flow as Susie returned.

  “I thought so. There may be nothing to it, but I’ve found a link between Judge Chandler and this man Wagstaff. Ever heard of Common Purpose?”

  Alex nodded, but the term evidently meant nothing to Karen. Susie went on, for Karen’s benefit.

  “They say they’re a charity specialising in leadership training. There’s actually a lot more to them than meets the eye. Some people say they’re a mirror image of the Freemasons, on the other side of the political divide. All about producing people who can influence change beyond their authority, by networking outside their immediate circles. Remember the Leveson Inquiry into phone hacking? There was a real row behind the scenes, about Common Purpose infiltrators. How much control those people might achieve over the media, even though it wasn’t obviously any of their business. All by pulling the strings of groups like Hacked Off.”

  Alex nodded again, recalling a conversation he and Susie had had some time ago about that very issue, but Karen remained confused.

  “You’re losing me. What’s all that got to do with my case?”

  “Probably nothing. It might only be a coincidence. But one of our postgrads is working on a thesis that links into all of this. She’s calling it ‘The Long March – Institutions Today, Professions Tomorrow’. It’s all about undermining from within. She asked me to let her know what I thought about a couple of chapters not long ago, and she’s used the local professions here in the Midlands as an example. Accountants, bankers, architects, and of course lawyers. That’s where I found your Mr Wagstaff.”

  “Where?” Karen asked.

  “On a link to an unofficial list of Common Purpose graduates, as they call them. People who’ve completed one of their intensive leadership training courses here in the Midlands. I had a look at the list myself, just out of interest, mainly to see how many of my own colleagues were on it. Mr Wagstaff’s name was on the last page, not far from the bottom. Right next to our head of sociology, who happens to be called Maurice Wadsworth.”

  “And I bet you’re going to tell us that you already knew Judge Chandler was one of them.” Alex chipped in.

  “Quite right.” Susie replied. “I checked him out thoroughly when he ripped my book to shreds. I don’t miss details like that. But I never expected to find him resurface quite like this. He’d be just the type to give one of his own kind a helping hand.”

  Karen finally latched onto the point that Susie was making, and was about to launch into a string of obscenities, when she was overcome by resignation.

  “I’m beginning to think everybody’s got it in for me. I take it there’s nothing here that would make it worth appealing this decision?”

  “I very much doubt it.” Alex replied. “It’s a nice conspiracy theory, but you’d never prove anything. And you’re only weeks away from the full trial. From what you’re telling me, I don’t think that Avery’s thought through what documents he’s going to have to disclose. If you can get hold of a few smoking guns, you ought to stand a good chance of winning the trial. Or forcing him to negotiate.”

  “I guess so. But first up, there’s this business next Friday. Not forgetting the fact that I’ve lost all faith in this Gilbert Hopkinson bloke. And I wouldn’t trust anyone else like him.”

  The last email from Lennie had suddenly come back into Karen’s mind, despite the promise she had made to herself not to think about it until she was back at work. Lennie had heard that Hopkinson might be unavailable for the following Friday’s hearing, and that his clerk had seemed reluctant to find someone equally senior in his place. Over and above this, he was still proposing what even Lennie thought was an exorbitant fee for the attendance. The fine detail was still a mystery to Karen, but she was still very much aware of the expense.

  “I don’t understand why Lennie thinks he has to look for a barrister in London.” Karen continued. “Surely there are people up here who’d do just as good a job at half the cost?”

  Alex knew from Lennie that it was now an established practice at Thornbury & Summerson to refer all of their barristers’ instructions to one of three designated London chambers, unless the firm’s client expressly told them not to do so. Few clients would be aware of their entitlement to deviate from the norm. And evidently Lennie had followed custom and practice on this occasion.

  “You’re quite right there.” Alex replied. “And if it was up to me, I know exactly who I’d want on a job like this, and it’s someone local. Leave it to me. You know I don’t want to tread on Lennie’s toes, but I’m sure he’d appreciate a polite suggestion.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the doorbell and the arrival of their takeaway, and all further talk of work and legal disputes came to an end.

  Monday 15 th April

  “God, am I pleased to see you again.”

  Moments after Dawn had sat down at her desk on her first day back from holiday, Karen was hurrying out to greet her. The effusive tone of her welcome seemed almost out of character.

  “What’s up? Was the temp that bad?”

  “No, something far worse than that. You first, anyway. How was your holiday?”

  Karen knew that she now needed Dawn’s support more than ever, following the court defeat. She was also still mindful that Dawn had seemed unusually distant and aloof on the morning when Avery had unexpectedly resigned. If there had been more to Dawn’s attitude on that occasion than met the eye, Karen was determined to find out if Avery might have been behind it. Ten minutes later, after Karen had listened to Dawn’s holiday memories with genuine interest and then explained what had happened in court on the previous Friday, she found out.

  “That weekend, before he quit, he asked me to leave as well and join up with him.”

  Karen’s jaw dropped.

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, serious. I wish I was joking, though. It really upset me.”

  Dawn was by now blushing deeply. Karen sensed that she would need to tread carefully, anxious as she was to uncover more of the story.

  “How come?”

  Karen could never have expected that Dawn, of all people, a paragon of stability and common sense in the office, would have made a mistake of the kind that she proceeded to confess. Almost a year ago, she had flown into a rage with Brian, her husband, over a short notice business trip that was taking him to Amsterdam for three days. She had been dismissive of his hopes of securing a game changer for his niche technology operation, and had jumped to the wrong conclusions.

  In turn, having had a soft spot for Avery throughout his time at Ripple, and feeling uneasy at the thought of him spending yet another weekday evening with only satellite TV and junk food for company, she had invited him over for a meal. Her idea that it would be nothing more than a kind gesture had proved wrong, once the wine had
taken its toll.

  “He nearly overstepped the mark. I only just came to my senses in time. I ended up belting him one and telling him to clear off.”

  It had been enough of a shock for Karen to hear that her most loyal and trusted colleague had almost been enticed away from Ripple. But this revelation was even more astounding.

  “Jesus Christ, Dawn. That’s awful. How come I never heard anything about it before?”

  “He came straight in the very next day and apologised. Suggested we just forgot the whole thing ever happened and never said another word about it. And I have to say, that suited me down to the ground. I was in the wrong for asking him over, and for…”

  Dawn’s unease was plain to see, but just as Karen was about to prompt her, she changed tack.

  “The very next day, Brian came back from Amsterdam, and told me he’d won a massive order. It just about set us up for the next three years. That’s why we’ve just been able to spend our tenth wedding anniversary in Mauritius rather than Majorca. No joke. Excuse me.”

  As Dawn fumbled in her handbag for a tissue, Karen frantically thought back to the sequence of events from only four weeks earlier.

  Could it really all have been pre-planned on Wayne’s part, rather than a knee jerk reaction on the day?

  It makes sense. What was it that Alex said about the timing? How Wayne would never have jumped if he hadn’t been sure he’d have some candidates to take with him?

  But how am I going to prove it?

  Once Dawn had regained her composure, she took out her phone. To Karen’s amazement she was soon looking at the answer.

  “Let me show you these texts…”

  * * * * *

  Wayne Thursday 14th March @ 22.32

  Hi babes, guess you’ve heard I’m not exactly flavour of month with Karen today. Haven’t eaten all day. Might need second opinion on idea I’ve been pondering for a while. How about it? You know how much I respect you : - ) Wayne

  Me Friday 15th March @ 08.54

  Wayne, I know something’s not right, but please don’t try to involve me. You know that’s for the best. Just promise to get your act together at Ripple and it will all be fine. Dawn