12

Stevens talked to Paul Valerian a second time. All that Valerian would agree was that when Fleur got possession of the estate, generous fees, greater than the lawyer could reasonably expect, would be paid. Not a penny more. When he was informed, Willoughby was angry. Stevens was being too amenable. He would send Jameson. He was determined to get rid of Paul Valerian and when they had, he’d take Fleur Caverel under his wing – and keep her there.

Richard Jameson and Paul Valerian met in a bar near Paddington station. Valerian was slouched over a glass of brandy; Jameson sitting very stiff before an untouched glass of soda water.

‘Ten thousand pounds, immediately,’ Jameson said. ‘It will be paid whenever you wish and it will be yours whatever the result. You take it – and go.’

Valerian put down his glass, leaned across the table and poked a stubby finger in Jameson’s chest. Jameson drew back, icy.

‘Fleur has been my friend for a long, long time. We began this together and we’ll finish it together. We are partners. You cannot separate us.’

‘It is ten thousand pounds certain, even if at the trial her claim is dismissed and she gets nothing.’

‘My answer remains no.’

‘Be reasonable, Mr Valerian. My principal believes that she has less chance of success if you remain.’

Valerian shook his head. ‘I know what he’s after. He’s after her. He wants to get his hands on her, and then he’ll cheat her out of everything. I’ll not allow it. My answer is no, no, no.’

Jameson got slowly to his feet. ‘My principal won’t like your attitude. And my principal is very important – and very powerful.’

Valerian looked up at him ‘Is that a threat?’

‘No, it is advice.’

‘I don’t need advice from you. I know what that man is after. Go back and tell him no. And leave me alone.’

Jameson reported to Willoughby. ‘Give him a few days,’ Willoughby said. ‘Then one more attempt, one last offer.’

‘And if he still refuses?’

Willoughby looked at Jameson long and hard and shrugged.