And Is There Honey Still For Tea?

by Peter Murphy

  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.’

  ‘You said in your letter that you have worked with Mr Overton before,’ Hollander said, ‘so you must have great confidence in him.’

  ‘Miles is one of the best,’ Julia replied, without hesitation. ‘I should warn you that he is not the easiest of men to get on with. He can be rather brusque and direct. He’s not what you would call a natural diplomat. But he is very effective in court, and he is well respected by the judges. He is just the man for this case.’

  ‘What about his junior?’

  ‘I don’t know her personally yet,’ Julia replied. ‘But I do know her by reputation. Her name is Virginia Castle. She has only been at the Bar for a few years, but she is making a name for herself. Her job will be main
ly to do the legal research and help Miles to prepare, but she is more than capable of holding her own in court if we need her to.’

  ‘That sounds very encouraging,’ Hollander said, finishing his soup and setting his spoon inside the bowl. ‘It is good to have the best.’

  ‘We will need the best,’ Julia responded forcefully. ‘We are up against some of the best on the other side. Digby’s solicitor is Herbert Harper, the senior partner of one of the most highly-regarded firms in London. Herbert has been doing this for a long time, and he doesn’t miss a trick. And as for barristers, as a QC himself, Digby would probably have had his choice of QCs to represent him. He has chosen Bernard Wesley, who is every bit as good as Miles. He would probably have been my second choice if Digby had not collared him first. His junior is a young man called Schroeder; again, I don’t know him, but I understand he is also making a name for himself.’

  The waiter came to remove the soup dishes.

  ‘It sounds as though we will have a good fight on our hands, then,’ Hollander said.

  ‘Francis,’ Julia replied, ‘in Sir James Masefield Digby, you are taking on the British Establishment. The Establishment never gives up without a good fight. Even with whatever help the Service can offer, we are going to have our hands full.’

  8

  Miles Overton QC stood as Julia Cathermole and her client were shown into his room in chambers.

  ‘Julia, welcome. Do you know our junior, Virginia Castle?’

  ‘By reputation only, until today,’ Julia replied, taking Miles’s hand and kissing him lightly on the cheek.

  She turned to Virginia, who had made her way across from her seat by the side of Overton’s chair, her hand outstretched. ‘But I am pleased to have the chance to instruct you at last. Your reputation precedes you.’

  ‘As does yours, Miss Cathermole,’ she smiled.

  Julia laughed. ‘So people are forever telling me. And it’s Julia, please.’

  ‘Ginny,’ she replied. ‘Only Miles insists on Virginia.’

  They shook hands warmly, understanding and liking each other instantly. Ginny was seen as a rising star in Miles Overton’s chambers. As a woman of decidedly left-wing views, the product of a girls’ grammar school in Newcastle-upon-Tyne and the London School of Economics, she might well have expected to find it hard going in one of the more conservative sets of chambers in London. But Ginny had simply refused to expect – or accept – any such restrictions. She had a formidable legal mind which was envied by most of the men in chambers; she was known as a resourceful advocate, and a calm but tenacious fighter in court. She also had a charm and an engaging wit, with which she had learned to disarm even those who were least disposed to like her. She was popular in chambers as well as successful.