‘Not even if we were able to fudge up some terms of settlement that would give each of them some kind of let-out?’
Spenser shook his head. ‘He believes he has found the chance to destroy Tancred and he’s not going to let that chance slip.’
He sipped from his glass of Chablis and looked down at the sole that, with typical neatness, he had been filleting with such dexterity. ‘And his new woman is encouraging him.’
‘How new is she?’
‘A few weeks.’
‘Who is she?’ Goodbody asked.
‘Wilson, Price’s PA, tells me that her name is Helena. She’s in her early forties, looks ten years younger, Siamese or Chinese, at any rate from somewhere in the east. She had been living in Palm Springs, California before she came to France. Wilson says that she’s a cut above the usual poule de luxe that Price goes for. Or at least she’s a very superior one, intelligent, cosmopolitan and Price is besotted with her. Wilson has never seen him like this before. She’s with him all the time, even in the office. Apparently he tells her everything and, at the moment, everything for Price is the campaign to get Tancred. Wilson believes that she encourages him.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Wilson says she’s very anti-British, quite open about it, violently against everything English and she’s amused that he is taking on the British establishment. Perhaps she’s just humouring him, playing up to Price’s obsession, but Wilson thinks that she really does dislike England and the English. He never lets her out of his sight.’
‘Never?’
‘Except when he comes to London. She refuses to come here. Says she loathes this country. Wilson says Price told him she had some unhappy experience in the past with an Englishman – or with England generally. She’s the reason why now he never stays overnight in London but returns to Paris. When he had to go to Beijing soon after they got together, he wanted her to accompany him but she wouldn’t. She said she never went back to the East. He practically locked her in the apartment while he was away.’
‘What has Price got against Tancred?’ Goodbody asked.
‘God knows. Something way back in the past that, I suspect, happened in South Africa. Tancred, you know, was once there when he was in the Foreign Service. Anyhow, ever since Tancred went into politics Price saw to it that his newspapers attacked him, especially when he was in government. They couldn’t touch him personally because they didn’t have anything on him, just criticised his Ministry and his appearances in the Commons, and generally denigrated him. So when Price read that diary there was no stopping him.’ He signalled to the waiter for the check. ‘Price believes he’s already half ruined Tancred by the publication and by forcing him into court, and that whatever the result, the smear of dishonesty will remain. But he’s also convinced he’ll get the evidence about Tancred and Sleaven. He’s sure it’s out there somewhere, that there is something that’ll prove there was corruption between Sleaven and Tancred; and he’s determined he’ll get his hands on it, however much it costs him. When he gets it and wins the libel suit he’ll demand a criminal prosecution. Tancred ruined, Tancred in jail. That’s what he wants.’ Spenser paused. ‘It’s revenge, but for what I don’t know.’
‘According to Talleyrand,’ said Goodbody, finishing his wine, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’
‘Well that’s not for Price. His is white-heat revenge.’ Spenser paused again. ‘Added to his obsession for revenge over Tancred, he now has this obsession with this woman who is prodding him on. Women,’ he went on morosely. ‘They are always a complication. Especially in business. Cherchez la femme. It’s as banal as that.’ They got to their feet to leave. ‘The result is that nothing will prevent Price having his day in court,’ Spenser added, ‘and there’s nothing you and I can do about it.’ Except look after myself, he thought, as the two walked to the door.
Outside, as they waited for a taxi, he said, ‘By the way, what do you make of young Godfrey Lacey?’
‘Quite sound as a lawyer but inexperienced. Not very forceful.’
‘He’s not – how shall I put it? He’s not quite one of us. I don’t believe he approves of his employers.’
‘Nor, I should remind you, does Mordecai.’
‘You must convince him. That young man does not matter. Ledbury does.’
A fortnight after these conversations Tancred’s solicitor, Cranley Burrows, flew to Toulouse, as he had on three previous occasions. This time he was followed. He travelled business class in the front of the aircraft. At the back were two of Price’s investigative team. At Toulouse airport Burrows was picked up by a car and driven north. A local driver in a black Citroën met Price’s men. They followed Burrows’s car at a discreet distance. After an hour and in the village not far from what turned out to be their destination, Burrows’s car drew up and Burrows went into the small village shop. The Citroën parked at the far end of the village out of sight. When Burrows reappeared and was driven away, the Citroën followed, but they were blocked by a farm lorry as they left the village. So when they came to the fork outside the village, Burrows’s car had disappeared. They decided to take the right fork but came into open country with no sign of any car ahead or of any habitation. They turned back and took the left fork. When the roof of a farmhouse came in sight the Citroën stopped and the two proceeded on foot.
In the late afternoon they saw Burrows leave. One of the London men followed him in the Citroën. The other remained, watching the farmhouse. When the Citroën returned, having seen Burrows on his way back along the autoroute to Toulouse, the watchers settled in, making an inn, the Lion Rouge about five kilometres away, their headquarters and reported to News Universal that it was believed that Tancred was residing in a farmhouse close to the village of Pontaix in the Alpes Dauphine Massif, although he had not so far actually been sighted. The house, they reported, was the residence of a Madame Turville who had lived there, apparently alone, for the past two years. She was a French citizen, wore a wedding ring and was thought in the village to be a widow in her early fifties. She had kept herself very much to herself since she had come to the farmhouse, but three months before she had begun purchasing more groceries in the village shop than before and she had been seen unloading from her car a significant number of the plastic bags of the type provided at the Supermarche in the nearest town. Also, a ‘foreign’ car had been seen recently in the usually deserted lane near the farmhouse. Finally, Madame Turville was receiving a great deal more mail than she had when she first came, much from the Far East and Australia as well as London, including some large packages in sealed envelopes.
Two days later they reported that Tancred had been sighted. He’d been seen walking arm in arm with Madame Turville early one evening in the meadow behind the farmhouse.
Goodbody passed on this information to Mordecai, although he took care to say nothing about the surveillance on Cranley Burrows and his firm.
‘So Tancred has a woman in France,’ Mordecai said. ‘What of it? So, I would remind you, has Price. How does that help prove that when Tancred was a minister of the Crown he was up to some corrupt financial dealings with Oscar Sleaven? I’m not interested in the man’s private life. That’s unimportant. I want evidence of some financial link and without it we haven’t a chance.’
‘I know, I know,’ Goodbody said wearily. ‘You’ll get it. Price is certain you’ll get it.’
Chapter Nine
Despite the location of Tancred, the surveillance in France was not thorough. The men from London were enjoying their time at the Lion Rouge, staying up late drinking marc with the proprietor and trying out their atrocious French on his daughter at the bar. As a result they did not rise early enough one morning to witness the start of an expedition undertaken by Tancred and Madame Turville. Very early they left the farmhouse and drove away in Madame Turville’s small Chevrolet car, she soberly dressed in grey and Tancred formally in a dark suit and dark tie. They drove west to Valence, crossed the E15/A6 autoro
ute and proceeded along the banks of the Eyrieux river in the direction of the small town of Le Cheylard. Here they stopped, entered a café, drank coffee and ate croissants. After an hour they returned to the car and continued west towards St-Agrève. On the outskirts of the town the car pulled up outside the wall of the church of Ste Marie-Claire.
For half an hour Madame Turville and Tancred sat in the car. Then they got out and entered the building. Shortly after this a hearse drew up and a coffin was taken into the church. There appeared to be no other mourners except three nuns in old-fashioned habits who had apparently accompanied the hearse in a small Peugeot. After a quarter of an hour the coffin was borne from the church, followed by the priest, with an altar boy holding a receptacle with holy water – and behind them Madame Turville and Tancred walking side by side. The three nuns brought up the rear and the small procession made its way round the side of the church to a prepared plot in the graveyard. There the priest said the prayers over the grave, and before the coffin was lowered both Madame Turville and Tancred sprinkled it with earth. After the priest and altar boy had returned to the church, Madame Turville and Tancred spent some time in the graveyard talking to the nuns whom Madame Turville eventually embraced, before she and Tancred made their way back to the Chevrolet and drove away.
As none of this had been observed, no report of it reached Price’s legal team.
Chapter Ten
At News Universal Spenser was no longer taking Godfrey to the conferences with Oliver Goodbody. The role of collecting and annotating reports from the investigating team had been handed over to the solicitors in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
A few days later when Godfrey arrived at the News building, the concierge at the front desk told him he was to report at once to Mr Spenser. Sprawled in a chair in Spenser’s office was a stout, florid man, in his shirtsleeves, his shirt bulging over the belt around his baggy grey trousers. Spenser was standing behind his desk. ‘Ah, Lacey,’ Spenser greeted Godfrey. ‘This is Michael Waite.’
The man in the chair grinned up at Godfrey and waved a hand. ‘From what used to be called the junior branch of the profession, old son, the solicitors’ branch, the blokes you barristers wouldn’t have a drink with.’ He laughed, his stomach heaving under his shirt. ‘How many years call?’ he asked Godfrey.
‘Three,’ Godfrey replied. Waite chuckled.
‘Michael was legal manager of The Star,’ Spenser said. ‘We’re very fortunate to have secured his services. He’s taking over, as Legal Manager so there’ll be less pressure on you, Lacey. Well, I wanted to introduce you and now I have some further matters to discuss with Michael.’
‘I’ll pop in and have a chat when I’m through with the MD,’ said Waite cheerily as Godfrey turned to leave.
The new Legal Manager had been allotted an office next to Godfrey, separated by a glass partition. Overnight all the Tancred libel papers had been removed into his office. Waite did not appear until after three. As he flopped into a chair, Godfrey caught the whiff of whiskey. ‘I’m glad to be on board,’ Waite began. ‘News pays a damn side better than The Star. How long have you been here?’
‘About a year.’
‘So you know the ropes. What I’ll want from you, old son, is the office work, answers to the letters, complaints, references to the Press Council, all that crap. The MD says you’re as bright as a button so we’ll make a great team.’ He got up and strolled round the room, picking up papers from Godfrey’s desk and glancing at them. ‘De-fam-ation,’ he went on, spelling out the syllables. ‘That’s my line. That’s why they’ve poached me from The Star. At, I’m glad to say, a handsome increase in salary.’ He sat down again and took off his jacket. ‘I gather they asked you to read the diary and advise before they published? Have you had any experience of libel?’ Godfrey shook his head. ‘How could you, with only three years call? The wig must be as white as a virgin’s arse.’ Waite chuckled.‘Unfair I call it, landing you with that. Anyhow I’ll be in charge from now on. But why they’ve gone to that bloody old fraud Goodbody, I can’t imagine. He’s not the fellow for a contest like this. They must have gone to him in order to get Ledbury. They’re pals, you know – that is if you could be a pal of Ledbury. Now there’s a real four-letter man. He was pretty good in his day, I’ll give him that, but in my opinion he’s past it now. However, his reputation for being so bloody offensive may put the wind up the opposition. Better to have him than that young ponce, Foxley. I hear he’s on the other side.’
This was news to Godfrey. Brian had not told him. Perhaps Brian had thought it would be awkward for him, Godfrey’s old pupil master being against his present employers?
‘Pity they didn’t get hold of me earlier,’ Waite went on. ‘I’ve been at this game for years. It’s the know-how, you see. Or rather the know-what. That MD seems a smart enough lad but if this case is not to become a right cock-up I’m the man they need.’
You certainly are, thought Godfrey. You’re just right for News Universal.
Next morning Waite telephoned Oliver Goodbody. ‘I’m the new Legal Manager at News Universal and I’ve taken charge of the Tancred case. I’d like a chat with Ledbury,’ Waite began. ‘He’ll know of me, of course, from The Star. I want to talk tactics for court. Pass the word, will you old son, and fix it up?’
‘The old son’ fixed it up. When Waite breezed into Ledbury’s room, Mordecai was seated behind the desk; Oliver Goodbody to his left. Waite flopped uninvited into a chair in front of them. ‘Nice to see you Ledbury,’ he began as he opened the file he was carrying. ‘I expect you remember me from my days with The Star?’
Mordecai stared at him balefully. After a pause he said, ‘I seem to have heard of you.’
Waite chuckled happily, ‘Nothing too terrible, I hope. You and I had some rare old battles in the past, you on one side, me on the other. Anyhow this time we’re on the same side, shoulder to shoulder eh?’
‘What do you want?’ Mordecai asked.
‘Just thought I’d make my number now I’ve taken over. I thought you’d like a chat. Must keep everyone in the picture, don’t you know.’
‘You’ve seen the Defence?’
‘I have, of course, but—’
‘Then you’ll know that the case for the defendants at present is that the words do not bear the meaning alleged by the plaintiff. When we are able to, we shall plead that the words are true. In other words that there were corrupt payments made to the plaintiff when he was a minister by Oscar Sleaven, the proprietor of a concern with whom the plaintiff’s ministry was doing business. Anything else?’
Waite was not put out. ‘The defence in the proverbial nutshell,’ he said genially. ‘Trust the old advocate to put it nice and succinct. But what I really came to chat about is the trial and—’
‘That is a matter for me.’
‘Oh, I know, Mr Ledbury, that you’re the big boss for the trial.’ He chuckled but not so convincingly as he had before. Mordecai continued to fix him with a baleful stare. ‘At The Star, counsel always encouraged my input, seeing as how I’ve had so much experience. So I thought I’d come along to have a chat.’
‘That is thoughtful of you but unnecessary.’
‘No, I’m very happy to assist. Always wise to have a council of war with counsel, I always say.’ He chuckled again. ‘Now, as to the evidence—’
‘There isn’t any – as yet.’
‘I gather that the News people haven’t come up with much—’
‘Much! So far they’ve come up with very little so if you want to make yourself useful, chase them instead of worrying me. When they do produce some evidence, you tell Mr Goodbody. So get busy and come back when you have something to give me.’
Waite chuckled, this time even more forcedly. ‘You want what every counsel wants, Mr Ledbury? The smoking gun, eh?’
‘When they find it, let me know.’ Mordecai pressed the bell on his desk. ‘Good day,’ he said.
Adams showed Waite out of the room through the
main door of the Chambers to the lift. As he got into the lift, Waite said loud enough for Adams to hear. ‘Stuckup old bastard. He’ll make a balls of it.’
Back in his room, Ledbury lowered his head onto his hands. ‘Don’t ever let that creature near me again. What’s happened to the young barrister?’
‘Gone.’
‘When?’
‘Resigned this morning. Spenser told me.’
‘And they’ve left us with that monster!’ Mordecai lay back in his chair. ‘We’ve still nothing, Oliver. Where’s that evidence that Price is so sure is out there?’
‘There’s still plenty of time. Price is certain he’ll get his hands on it. And what Richmond wrote was not just gossip. Tancred and Sleaven were up to something. Price’ll find the evidence. He’s certain. So am I.’
‘As certain as Price?’ Mordecai lumbered slowly to his feet. He looked at Goodbody, shaking his head. ‘All Tancred has to do is to lie low and come to court and he’ll get a great deal of money. He’ll get much more if we go into court accusing him of being corrupt and we’ve no evidence and we fail. That’ll get him a fortune. Yet Price is still demanding I go in with all guns blazing when so far he has not produced a single round of ammunition.’
‘Something will turn up.’
‘Mr Micawber,’ Mordecai said as he stumbled to the lift. ‘You’re as bad as Price.’
Chapter Eleven
Emerald Cunliffe lay in bed in her country house, her breakfast tray on her lap. It was a Saturday and she was engaged in the agreeable task of planning the placement for her dinner party before the ball that Sylvia Benedict was giving that evening at Wainscott.
The Richmond Diary Page 13